Chapter 10 …
I burst out of the cathedral doors, forcing my way through the scattering crowd as I retraced the path I had taken earlier. Either Botis would recover enough from the blow and chase after me, or he would begin pursuit immediately without even giving himself time to recover.
Either way, I had to summon Basago before Botis caught up to me. And to do that, I needed to get as close to the cemetery as possible.
After running hard for a while, I reached the station and immediately hailed a taxi. At this hour, getting to the wooded hill behind the school meant going all the way around campus. Even if I were a student, there was no way the school would easily open its gates this late at night.
The curfew for the main gate was 11:30 p.m. It wasn’t impossible to pass through, but the paperwork alone made it a hassle.
Using a vehicle was better than running on foot, and if I was going to do that, a taxi was the best option.
The moment I flagged one down, I shoved myself inside and demanded that the driver take me to the cemetery behind the school. The driver asked if I really intended to go to a cemetery alone this late at night, but I hurried him into starting the car first.
“Why would you go there at this hour? And more importantly, aren’t you hurt? Isn’t that blood on your forehead?”
“I suddenly felt like visiting my mother, who passed away last year. I’m not injured—I just fell and got dirt on me. Look, there’s no wound. It just looks red… I guess I rushed out too fast.”
“Oh… I’m sorry. I was insensitive. Still, you shouldn’t just keep going every day and living only in longing.”
“Yes, I know. It’s okay. I’m just not used to it yet. I’ll get there little by little.”
Mom, I’m sorry for lying so carelessly.
Whether the driver pitied me or clicked his tongue, I silently apologized to my mother while tracing Basago’s sigil in my mind—or on the back of my hand. Thankfully, I remembered the summoning circle perfectly.
But the problem of where to draw it still remained. The back of my hand was too small for it to have much effect, and I hadn’t prepared any proper materials to draw a large circle. Since The Lemegeton was a grimoire, something roughly book-sized should work—but still…
As I pondered the conditions required for drawing the magic circle, the taxi stopped. I got out immediately. At that moment, a sudden chill ran down my spine, and I leaned back instinctively.
Sure enough, a bluish blade flashed past my eyes in an instant.
“What was that?! Are you okay?! Hey—are you alright?!”
I heard the driver shout in shock, but I sprinted straight into the cemetery, yelling back,
“I’m fine! It’s nothing!”
The cemetery was packed with gravestones jutting out at odd angles. I’d attended this school for years without realizing it was a Catholic cemetery.
I ran swiftly between square headstones engraved with baptismal names like Grace, Agape, Martina, and Teresia.
The moment I heard a sharp screech from behind me, I ducked—and ended up rolling forward instead. My body scraped and bruised violently as I tumbled, but thanks to that, I avoided the attack. The bronze sword embedded itself in the tree ahead with a thunderous crash.
I immediately changed direction. No matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t find a suitable place to draw the summoning circle. In the end, I rubbed the dried blood still on my forehead, knees, and arms, forcibly reopening the wounds. After glancing around, I muttered a prayer under my breath and kicked one of the gravestones.
Or maybe it wasn’t a prayer. I wasn’t sure anymore.
What did it matter? I was about to be stabbed to death by a demon at the tender age of seventeen. This wasn’t the time to be picky.
My leg throbbed, but I kicked again—harder. Each time my foot struck, the soil beneath the stone shifted.
Once the gravestone loosened enough, I threw my weight into it and wrenched it free from the ground.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
I apologized sincerely to the deceased—whoever they were—and hugged the gravestone to my chest. Just as I tried to stand, the bronze sword came flying at me again. I reflexively leaned back to dodge, but ended up falling spectacularly, like something straight out of an action movie.
I rolled down the slope for quite a while before finally managing to regain my footing. A groan escaped me. Thanks to that, the healing Raphael had done was completely undone—my leg was a mess again.
It hurt unbearably, but survival came first. Using the clotted blood I’d scraped from my body, I roughly outlined the framework of the magic circle on the gravestone. Then I dipped my hand into the blood flowing from my leg and drew the finer details.
First, the large circle. Then the smaller one. Between them, I inscribed the demon’s name—not in any human language, but in their own.
Just as I was about to add the inner patterns, a loud bang echoed. I glanced up to see the bronze sword rattling violently after colliding with something in midair.
It looked as though it were trapped inside a translucent, dome-shaped barrier.
On closer inspection, the barrier was centered around a particular gravestone.
“A barrier?”
The sword wouldn’t hit empty air otherwise. It must have been a place blessed by a priest connected to this Catholic cemetery—or perhaps the burial site of such a person.
Remembering Solomon’s words about the cathedral’s sanctuary being unusually powerful, it seemed likely that a remarkable clergyman had once lived here.
Either way, it worked in my favor.
Clutching the gravestone, I moved farther away and recalled Basago’s sigil. Botis would need some time to break free of the barrier. I had to finish the circle before then.
I steadied my breathing and resumed.
With blood streaming down my leg, I smeared it onto the stone and carved the sigil, engraving Basago’s mark around a crescent-shaped pattern. Then—
Bang.
The barrier shattered.
The bronze sword, now leaking bluish energy, floated into the air.
I hadn’t yet learned the full summoning incantation for Basago, but I had no choice except to try.
Watching the sword raise its blade toward me, I hugged the gravestone with my right arm and gently placed my left hand on top.
That was when it happened.
Just as I was about to recite any words at all, my mouth was suddenly covered by someone else’s hand.
And of all moments—
The sword screamed through the air toward us.
As I struggled violently, an adult man’s arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me backward. I let out a muffled sound as I fell into his chest.
My bangs were sliced clean in midair, and the bronze sword streaked past us, failed to correct its trajectory, and embedded itself in a tree.
Whether he was a friend or foe, one thing was certain—I was in a stranger’s arms.
As I struggled again, the hand covering my mouth finally withdrew. Instead, he took hold of my left hand.
His fingers were thick and jointed, yet delicate—those of an adult man. Warmth seeped faintly through the skin of our clasped hands.
On the fourth finger of his left hand was a ring.
A thin, double-banded man’s ring, set with a small, luminous blue gem.
The same ring I wore on my thumb.
“I failed to teach you the language of contracts. That was close. Therefore, true heir ‘Sola,’ listen and learn.”
A gentle, warm whisper brushed my ear. His voice was far younger—and far more pleasant—than I had imagined.
The moment I stopped resisting and lifted my head, the sword lodged in the tree trembled and was pulled back into the air.
“I, Solomon, son of Bathsheba, command the one born of darkness.”
He spoke gracefully.
White-gold hair shimmered beautifully in the darkness. His strange, transparent silver-gray eyes curved kindly the moment they met mine. Beneath a loosely draped green cloak, white ceremonial robes fluttered.
Solomon—young and beautiful—tilted his head and spoke as if carving the words into my ear.
“In the name of the holy one, I command you, son of darkness.”
The arm around my waist tightened. A vibration pulsed from the hand clasped over mine—carrying words that belonged to a lofty, elegant realm beyond human language.
“Basago.”
Cold and distant, Solomon pronounced the demon’s name.
“Rise now from that darkness, and fight for me.”
I could only stare blankly at him until another deafening crash jolted me back to reality. The sword that had attacked us lay rolling uselessly across the stone ground.
A translucent barrier surrounded us.
But it wasn’t only the barrier that was translucent.
The arm holding me—Solomon’s arm—was fading as well.
I realized he was forcibly burning through his spiritual essence. Something had to be done.
And since I knew exactly what that something was—
I moved my lips.
“I, Sola, daughter of Seo Mirae and Moon Kang-yoon, command the one born of darkness. In the name of the holy one, I command you, son of darkness, Basago.”
Solomon’s nearly transparent hand overlapped mine atop the gravestone. The blood-drawn magic circle began to emit an eerie chill.
Pointing at the hovering sword, I finally shouted,
“Rise now from that darkness, and fight for me!”
In that instant, my vision flipped into darkness, and my senses were flung into an indistinct void.
The world shook.
Amid an explosion of light, the form of an unfamiliar boy wavered like a mirage. He was a skinny child, barely reaching my waist.
Maybe I was hallucinating.
The boy, with loosely tied reddish-brown hair, looked up at me and grabbed at someone’s clothes.
Not mine.
I turned around—and met Solomon’s face again.
Dark stains clung to his neck, face, and arms like bruises. His silver-gray eyes shimmered sorrowfully.
He looked like he was about to cry.
“Poor child… neither fully human nor able to define yourself, wandering for so many long years.”
Solomon whispered, wearing a pain I had never seen before.
“I will give you a name. It will bind you to this land and draw you before me. I cannot save you—but I must stop you from walking a path from which you cannot return.”
The boy’s eyes shone in different colors: one slowly turning violet, the other a tender green tinged with gold. They trembled, as if afraid.
“Solomon.”
The boy looked between us and asked faintly,
“Who… am I?”
The man known as the wisest king in history knelt before the child, cupped his cheek, and pulled him into an embrace.
“Yes, Basago. Your name shall be ‘Basago.’ After the gentlest and wisest demon I have ever known.”
Solomon whispered,
“Will you fight for me?”
The world flipped once more.
Darkness receded, and cold light poured down into the familiar cemetery.
“Are you the heir of Solomon who called me—human girl Sola, bearer of the Ring of Promise?”
A soft, gentle voice spoke.
I snapped out of the vision and looked up blankly, still held in Solomon’s arms.
Deep crimson hair shimmered before my eyes.
The man was emaciated, skeletal. Only his bony hands emerged from beneath a thick robe. Around his right wrist coiled a thin, plate-like bracelet like a serpent.
It gleamed gold, then vanished back into the robe as he moved.
Between the torn edges of his clothing, metallic ornaments flashed. His long, thin body in tight black garments came into view.
A monocle rested over one eye.
His eyes were different colors—clear blue-violet like dawn, and vivid leaf-green.
Both curved into the same gentle smile.
“You, Moon Sola, daughter of Seo Mirae and Moon Kang-yoon.”
His voice was melodic.
A devil—undeniably handsome—extended his hand toward me.
“From now on, simply call my name, my contractor. In any era, I will fight for the bearer of the Ring of Promise.”
His cloak rippled behind him.
“Speak to me the ugliest desire buried deep within your heart.”
He laughed playfully.
“To me.”
With a flick of his thin hand, a crash rang out.
Botis screamed.
Only then did I realize how dire the situation had been.
The bronze sword was already dangling in his hand like a toy.
Smiling gently, he tossed it aside.
“So this is the gentle demon,” I thought. He had an impressively nasty face.
“First, let’s deal with that contemptible little thing daring to charge at us.”
Even now, his personality was highly questionable.
As he stepped forward, conjuring razor-sharp magic, I clutched Solomon’s fading hand and thought bitterly—
If this man was considered the most gentle of demons, just what kind of monsters were the rest?
For the first time, I deeply regretted ever agreeing to help Solomon.
