Chapter 07 …
Since the pastor had come up in conversation, I decided it would be better to at least briefly tell Solomon about my village as well. After class, I borrowed a radio from the academic building office so I could play Handel’s music later, and as I headed up to the dormitory, I gave him a short account of my childhood.
After my grandfather passed away, I grew up at the village head’s house, and I learned some basic things at the pastor’s home.
Thanks to special consideration, I was allowed to attend classes at my proper grade level, but everything before that was still an unknown territory to me. I knew only bits and pieces of miscellaneous knowledge I’d picked up from reading books on my own. It was the pastor who taught me English and math, even if only roughly. Around that time, Asel came to stay at the pastor’s house as well, and he became my one and only friend—a truly kind and good one.
If there were things I lacked as a human being, then what had filled those gaps until now was probably the ring on my left thumb, and the people of the village who took care of me.
Solomon listened calmly, then spread both hands and gently patted my head.
“They’re important people to you, Sola.”
He said it kindly. I thought that was probably true. After nodding lightly, I changed the subject as if it were nothing.
“Have you found out anything about Duke Botis?”
“I’m being careful, since he’s not someone to meddle with lightly. I’ve narrowed down the area roughly, but it seems he’s hidden inside an object. I can’t sense him very clearly.”
“He can hide inside objects too?”
“That’s Botis’s special talent. Because he can conceal himself freely within matter, even Baal or Agares—who possess immense physical destructive power—would have trouble subduing him properly. If the object Botis inhabits is destroyed, he can simply move on to another.”
“So he’s hard to deal with.”
“If we can confirm Botis’s dwelling, it would be better to stay far away from the area and first form a contract with Vasago. Among the higher demons, Vasago is exceptionally specialized in the mental realm and magic.”
In truth, I had already asked about Vasago several times and received explanations. Even though Solomon referred to him as a highly skilled necromancer, none of the materials I had looked up actually labeled him a “necromancer.”
Vasago’s abilities originated in the mental domain. He was adept at splitting souls into fragments, breathing energy into them, and manipulating them like limbs at his command. Because of this, he possessed extraordinary talent for gathering information or uncovering hidden treasures.
His so-called necromancy followed that same principle. Unlike other necromancer-type demons who “summon wandering spirits” to use corpses, Vasago was a demon who required “empty shells devoid of contents.”
“So Vasago is Botis’s worst possible counter. That makes summoning Vasago the top priority.”
“That’s right. For now, there doesn’t seem to be much to do except wait for a foggy day. And those low-grade evil spirits that come around occasionally—I can’t just leave those to you.”
“I’ve always been curious. When an evil spirit shows up, why do I have to keep my mouth shut and stay quietly in a corner? Otherwise, you always dragged the spirit far away, didn’t you?”
At my question, Solomon crossed his arms, chose his words, and explained in a way that was easy to understand.
“Low-grade demons don’t have visual perception of the material world. Someone like Botis can possess a physical body, and demons who’ve been summoned by someone—or particularly powerful ones—can construct flesh through their own power. But the ones that come looking for us these days are mere spirit forms without that level of ability. So instead of sight, they perceive existence through sound, energy, and emotion.”
Circling above my head, Solomon continued in a gentle voice.
“Great demons can form a clear visual sense just from a presence alone, but miscellaneous evil spirits can’t. In your case, your emotions don’t strongly leak to the surface, so all you need to do is conceal your voice and your name—those are what allow them to pinpoint your existence.”
“What happens if my voice gives me away?”
“You’ll be cursed. Prolonged exposure of your voice is the same as revealing your name. Voices and names inevitably carry a connection to a person’s roots. Only those with magical ability can place curses on others, but until you fully understand the situation, it’s better not to reveal your voice at all.”
Solomon spoke calmly.
“You don’t yet have the power to protect yourself from their malice. And I’ve grown too weak to block it for you.”
“Do curses kill people?”
“Not unless they’re cast by a high-ranking demon or someone with special abilities. But they’re painful. And unsightly. Your body turns black. In the long term, illness or deterioration may follow, so… well, I can’t say they have no effect on one’s life.”
“Does it rot? Like sepsis?”
“Similar. But usually, it rots the soul. Someone with a strong mind can endure considerable pain and turmoil of the soul, but those who can’t may, if they’re not careful, become tainted by darkness and walk a path from which they can’t return. There are even vicious ones who deliberately aim for that outcome when casting curses.”
I mulled over Solomon’s words, then frowned. To be tainted by darkness and walk a path of no return—did that mean ceasing to be human?
“Are you saying a magician can become a demon?”
“If the human was exceptionally capable, yes, that could happen. Magicians are generally in a state where they qualify to become demons. Anyone with strong spiritual sensitivity is vulnerable to spiritual fluctuations. So be careful. At least until you find a way to protect yourself.”
“I suppose so. That would definitely be troublesome.”
Becoming a demon was, from my perspective, an unsettling prospect. By ordinary standards, it would be a completely abnormal life. I had an obligation to live an ordinary one.
“My grandfather would hate it.”
I added sulkily. As I set the radio down in my room and plugged it in, I spoke again.
“So you’re saying that unless it’s unavoidable, it’s better to avoid it if possible?”
Solomon smiled quietly at my words.
“Exactly,” he replied gently.
That ended the conversation.
Until my roommate returned, I played Handel’s oratorio for Solomon and reflected on what we had just discussed while he listened.
Those who summon demons to fight demons. Those who call upon darkness to oppose darkness.
What kind of profession was a magician, anyway? I couldn’t quite grasp it, but either way, it wasn’t something to make a lifelong career of.
What I needed in my life was a more stable and safe profession. Positive, moderate feedback guaranteed by academics and grades—ordinary, peaceful work—that was the blueprint for my life. Not magic.
Worrying about my future while listening to Handel’s elegant, majestic music, I opened a workbook.
I didn’t yet know much about demon summoning, and there were only two and a half years left until the college entrance exam. The priority was obvious.
So I decided to follow that obvious priority.
After completing one full cycle of the first-year curriculum, I regained some peace of mind. That was when I started looking into demonology again.
Organizing the material based on Solomon’s direct corrections was surprisingly fun. After all, wasn’t Solomon the foremost authority in this field? Every day was essentially a lecture.
Objectively speaking, he was a good teacher, and I found myself growing genuinely interested in the subject.
“Asel, want to hang out with me today?”
I looked up from sketching out the flow of Asia Minor’s history in the corner of my diary while waiting for the final bell. An awkward scene was unfolding right beside me. Asel, having been suddenly asked out, raised both hands with an uncomfortable expression.
“Ah, um, sorry. My uncle is coming over today.”
“Then, Sel, could you at least take this?”
“Uh… could you call me by my proper name…?”
“But all your friends call you that.”
“Well, still…”
“Wait, Asel—do you like chocolate?”
What a mess. I quietly slid my chair away. It wasn’t a scene I wanted to get involved in.
Asel had always been popular with girls, so this wasn’t unexpected, but compared to our extremely rural hometown, his popularity here was on another level entirely.
He really did have the look of a refined young noble—delicate features, fair skin and hair, and an unusual eye color rarely seen in this region. By any standard, he was a beautiful boy.
Even I, who had grown accustomed to that pretty face, had to admit he was objectively attractive. He looked less like someone from reality and more like a character out of a shōjo manga or novel.
On top of that, perhaps because in our tiny village most of the people around his age—if you could even call them peers—had been girls, he was comfortable around them. He spoke gently and had a considerate personality that got along well with anyone, regardless of age or gender. It would be stranger if he weren’t popular.
Asel tried to refuse the chocolates, but in the end he was forced to accept several. He had already collected more than a dozen.
City kids sure were aggressive. Maybe one person’s boldness encouraged the rest—or maybe this was just a city trend. Resting my chin in my hand as I watched, I eventually handed Asel a plastic bag when he was staring helplessly at the chocolates on his desk.
As he thanked me and began putting them into the bag, I pulled out my phone from under the desk. It was the first phone I’d ever owned, bought for me by the village head when I entered high school. I hadn’t really had a chance to use it until now—this was my first real use.
[I want a peaceful school life. Trivial jealousy at this age is exhausting. Even if people find out later that you’re close to me, I don’t think today is the right day. Give me the address and I’ll come to you first.]
Asel checked the message mid-task, shook his head, and typed a reply.
[Right… As always, admirable wisdom. Go toward Exit 3 from the station and keep walking—you’ll see a building that anyone would guess is a church. It’s an old church that was remodeled, so it stands out.]
[Okay. Put the chocolates in your room if you don’t want them stolen. They were gifts—you should eat them yourself.]
[Got it. I’ll head over first.]
With the reply received, I closed my phone as soon as the final bell rang and stood up. Since I’d left my bag in the dorm earlier, planning to go out, I could head straight out.
It was drizzling when I stepped outside. I took an umbrella from my locker and, as I headed toward the entrance, whispered quietly to Solomon, who now sat on my shoulder as if it were his own home.
“This is inconvenient. I don’t think we can do a demon summoning today.”
“It can’t be helped. If it rains today, it’ll still be humid tomorrow and fog will form. Let’s do it then.”
“Yes, sir.”
After that, we chatted briefly about Vasago and Botis as we made our way to the church. Just as described, walking straight from Exit 3 led us to a small Gothic-style church. Behind it stood a small house; seeing them clustered together within a low fence, it was likely the priest’s residence.
But just as I was about to step inside the church grounds, Solomon suddenly made a sound like someone choking.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hm… as expected of a sanctuary belonging to a devout believer. I can’t enter.”
“Even though you’re a messenger who carries out God’s will?”
“Well… it’s because I once committed a sin. The Father forgave me, but among my brothers were those who could not. In such cases, I cannot enter their sanctuaries.”
“You’ve committed a sin? You mean the legend about having a thousand wives and three thousand children, and accepting their foreign gods?”
“That wasn’t the only reason… In the past, while commanding demons, I was briefly tainted by darkness. All of my sins stem from that period. Fortunately, the Father forgave me, and I restored my own spirituality. But… it seems the roots of faith governing this sanctuary still harbor resentment toward me. I can’t enter there.”
It might have had to do with denomination, doctrine, the version of scripture used—or perhaps the first priest who had served here. Since it was something I didn’t really understand, I decided to let it pass.
“Then what should we do?”
“Enjoy your visit. The power dwelling in that building is no ordinary thing—low-grade evil spirits won’t even be able to approach. And Asel will be arriving soon, won’t he? Coincidentally, the place where I lost Botis’s trail isn’t far from here, so I’ll search the surrounding area. Would it be alright if I come get you tomorrow morning?”
“You sound like a guardian. You’re so small—shouldn’t I be protecting you instead?”
“I was once a king, you know. You’re underestimating me.”
As I replied with a faint smile, Solomon winked playfully and hopped up onto my head.
“I’ll probably head out tomorrow morning. See you then.”
“Alright. Have fun.”
With that brief farewell, Solomon floated up into the air and fluttered off to the west. I watched until he disappeared from sight, then stepped inside the low fence.
It was a lovely church. It didn’t seem particularly old, but it was clearly inspired by Gothic architecture. The pointed roof and circular rose window were striking.
I went around the church to the attached residence and rang the bell. A small child answered the door—one of the kids from the orphanage where I’d stayed around the time of the orientation. He greeted me first.
“Hi, Sister Sola.”
“Hi, Woojin. You got here early.”
“We came right after lunch. Where’s Hyung Asel?”
“He had something to take care of, so I came first. He’ll be here soon.”
“Woojin, who is it?”
As I was greeting the child, a deep voice called out from inside. I peeked in and met eyes with a priest I didn’t recognize, who had been roughhousing with the kids and was now awkwardly standing up. He was probably Father Choi Taewon.
“Hello.”
“Ah—uh—so you’re Sola… Sorry to greet you like this.”
Father Choi matched Asel’s description perfectly—a cheerful middle-aged man. His hair was half gray, but his face still held traces of youth. When our eyes met, he looked embarrassed and flustered, quickly straightening his clothes and posture before greeting me properly.
He wasn’t difficult to deal with at all. If anything, he rambled nervously about how hard it was to interact with high schoolers these days, only calming down after a while. He scratched his head sheepishly.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Father Choi Taewon, in charge of this church. This is perfect timing—could you play with the kids for a bit? Pastor Yoon Seowon said he’d be coming soon, so I was about to go meet him. The person who brought the kids stepped out for charity-related work…”
“Yes, I’ll stay here. Please go ahead.”
“Oh dear, I’m sorry to ask right after you arrived.”
“It’s okay.”
Apologizing repeatedly, Father Choi hurried out of the residence. He must have been quite worried about the children. With no other choice, I sat down with them and started working on a puzzle while waiting for someone to return.
Even though this wasn’t the church itself but merely the residential annex, the atmosphere felt refreshing and the air was clear. Occasionally, there was a faint sense of noise, but that was probably because the church was located in the city center.
It didn’t compare to what I’d felt from the angel in my childhood, nor even to the quiet, peaceful church in our village. Still, considering how polluted the area must have been due to its location, it was quite good. The pleasant air lingered enough that Solomon might reasonably call it a “historic sanctuary.”
Living with Solomon nearby and wearing the ring seemed to have heightened my sensitivity lately. I wrinkled my nose slightly, then turned my attention back to the children.
Suddenly, the air grew clear. As if the stifling haze that felt like noise had been swept away, a pleasant breeze washed over the space.
Startled, I looked toward the door and walked over to open it. Asel, carrying the group’s luggage, widened his eyes—apparently he’d run into them on the way and arrived ahead of them. He had just been about to ring the bell when I opened the door, and he asked in confusion,
“How did you know?”
“Just… a feeling.”
I answered vaguely, then glanced at him again. He tilted his head, even more puzzled.
Even as he did, I leaned slightly toward him, wondering if I was imagining things. But it wasn’t an illusion. A sweet, pleasant scent was coming from Asel. After sniffing a bit, I finally asked outright,
“Did you put on perfume?”
“No way.”
He laughed as if I’d said something ridiculous and carried the luggage inside. I blinked, thinking it over, then finally nodded in understanding.
Asel had said something similar on the day Solomon sat on my shoulder—maybe to those with talent, spirituality felt like a kind of pleasant fragrance.
Having reached that conclusion on my own, I helped him carry the luggage inside. We put it in an inner room and closed the door so the kids wouldn’t touch it, then returned to resume the game we’d been playing. But for some reason, Asel hesitated and stopped.
“What is it?”
When I followed his gaze and asked, he gave a lukewarm response. He was looking at a decorative bronze mirror and a sword.
The mirror, propped up on a table, was covered with reddish stains that could have been rust or mold. The sword, its blade dulled, hung horizontally on the wall. In front of them were neatly arranged metal chalices and bells used for church rituals.
“Are those used for rituals? Even the sword?”
“Hmm, I don’t really know much about church stuff. I only know they use a chalice for communion. But for some reason, my eyes keep going there. Anyway, it’s interesting.”
After tilting his head and drawing his own conclusion, Asel sat down and started a game of Jenga with the kids. But I couldn’t brush off his words so easily. I glanced over a few more times, then examined the items again.
The reddened bronze sword, the bronze mirror, the bronze bell… Something about them felt unsettling, though I couldn’t tell why.
As I slowly scanned them, a chill suddenly ran down the back of my neck. It felt as though someone with cold hands had touched me. I frowned, rubbed my neck, and turned around—but the other children were completely absorbed in pulling blocks from the precarious Jenga tower.
“Hm… yeah.”
I fiddled with the ring on my left thumb and turned my gaze away from the sword. For some reason, it felt like that was exactly what I needed to do.
