Osratida - Chapter 18

The most excited person in this group was, without a doubt, President Mishima, followed closely by the interpreter. A man named Jang Hyun-woo was simultaneously interpreting the conversation between the president and Kyojin while eagerly recounting details about the castle they were about to enter. The more he spoke, the more Shinhee’s face darkened.

If he told the interpreter that the ‘samurai who committed seppuku to protect his family’s honor instead of surrendering to the enemy’ was currently pricking up his ears right behind him, how would his expression change? Shinhee’s footsteps grew heavier as he climbed the stone steps.

Following Hyun-woo’s instructions to remove his shoes before entering, Shinhee placed them under the wooden floor and stepped up onto the veranda. The corridor, made of gleaming polished wood, welcomed the group. Shinhee cautiously set foot on the floor.

With every step he took, a samurai ghost, bl00d streaming from his right eye, matched his stride right beside him. Shinhee let out a sigh. This was seriously unpleasant. Meanwhile, the child spirit, as curious as ever, looked around before spotting the samurai ghost and greeting him with a bright smile and a wave.

The castle, said to have been built 500 years ago, was grand in scale, but the low ceilings reflected the stature of the people from that era. Even Shinhee found it uncomfortable, as he was nearly brushing against the ceiling, so he could only imagine how much worse it was for the tall executive walking ahead.

As expected, while the situation wasn’t as bad as near the outer walls, there were still ghosts of the long-dead scattered throughout the castle, some appearing in truly gruesome states. If it was this bad during the day, he didn’t even want to imagine how it would be at night. While the rest of the group made it up to the third floor, Shinhee was still midway through the second, having slowed down to keep an eye on his surroundings.

“Are you very uncomfortable?”

Shinhee, who had been walking with a hand against the wall, looked up at the voice in front of him. He had assumed Kyojin would be much further ahead, but he was right there, unable to stand up straight due to the low ceiling.

“No, I’m fine. Just a bit tired…”

Then Shinhee’s eyes widened. From the wooden floor, a pale hand suddenly shot out, about to grab Kyojin’s foot. Without thinking, Shinhee yanked Kyojin’s arm and shoved him forcefully against the wall.

Caught off guard, Kyojin’s pupils wavered, momentarily losing their usual composure. The scent of fragrant soap, familiar from somewhere, felt almost as though it was seeping directly into his skin due to their close proximity.

Shinhee’s ebony hair swayed right in front of Kyojin’s nose. But Shinhee himself wasn’t even conscious of Kyojin’s presence—his focus remained solely on the pale hand still writhing on the floor.

“…What are you doing?”

It was Kyojin who broke the silence with his firm voice.

“Oh, my apologies.”

Realizing what he had done, Shinhee quickly stepped back and apologized. Because Kyojin stood with the window behind him, his face was cast in shadow, making it hard to read his expression. In hindsight, their position had been quite compromising.

“I heard you were something like a shaman, but you really do seem to see ghosts well.”

As Kyojin smoothed out his rumpled clothing, he made the remark. Shinhee merely scratched his cheek instead of responding.

“Only sometimes, when my energy is weak.”

In truth, he could see ghosts all the time and even communicate with them, but for some reason, he didn’t want to tell Kyojin the whole truth.

Childhood trauma was powerful. It had shaped him then, and it would continue to do so. As he had once resolved, what he told Minam would be the first and last time he ever confided in someone. He didn’t want to be treated that way ever again.

Kyojin merely shrugged. “Be careful,” he said before walking past Shinhee.

That was why what Shinhee did next was purely impulsive.

“But it seems my energy has been weak all day.”

As Kyojin walked ahead, Shinhee reached out and grabbed his left hand, placing it over the prayer beads wrapped around his own wrist.

“…Hold onto me. Just think of it as a necessary precaution. …There are a lot of ghosts here.”

The backlight no longer obscured Kyojin’s face, but Shinhee couldn’t see his expression—he had bowed his head low. His face and neck were probably burning red, but he wanted to believe that the darkness inside the castle hid his embarrassment.

Regardless of how this had started, Kyojin quietly held onto Shinhee’s wrist as they walked. Even with the prayer beads between them, the warmth of Kyojin’s large hand made Shinhee’s skin tingle.

He had been the one to shamelessly grab Kyojin’s hand first, yet now he felt overwhelmed by a strange, unfamiliar sensation. This wasn’t the typical nervousness one felt around someone of the same gender—it was something else, something unclear, perhaps unique to Kyojin’s presence.

Despite being in the early days of spring, the enclosed space made it feel much warmer than it should have. Wiping away the sweat on his flushed face, Shinhee let out a shaky breath.

He had no idea what he had been thinking.

At this moment, he was more nervous than if he had a hundred vengeful spirits in front of him. Even though some ghosts trapped inside display cases were eagerly waiting to mess with him, he had no room to react. If someone checked his body temperature right now, it would probably be over 40 degrees.

Shinhee found the whole situation absurd. He had been the one warning Kyojin to be careful of the spirits, and yet, in the end, he was the one relying on him.

Kyojin, for his part, said nothing and simply continued walking as Shinhee had led him.

It must have looked ridiculous—two men walking side by side, barely touching, with an awkward grip on each other’s wrists. They weren’t walking affectionately at all, and yet Shinhee’s mortification hit him like a tidal wave.

Besides, Kyojin didn’t seem to care at all whether a ghost grabbed his ankle or his wrist. Well, of course—not like he could see them. And yet, despite his indifferent expression, he didn’t shake Shinhee off. Was he being considerate?

Shinhee, feeling a ticklish sensation in his chest, cleared his throat.

Before they knew it, they had reached the stairs leading to the third floor. A complete silence had settled over the castle.

“There don’t seem to be any ghosts here!”

Shinhee declared in a loud, formal tone, instantly regretting it.

It was as if he were reading aloud from a textbook. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. If people could die from humiliation, this would be it.

Kyojin slowly let go of Shinhee’s wrist and gestured toward the stairs, silently telling him to go ahead.

The child spirit tilted its head curiously as it observed them.

After reuniting with the rest of the group on the third floor and touring the pavilion, it was already past 1 PM.

As soon as Shinhee stepped out of the building, he collapsed onto the ground.

He had no idea why he had even completed the castle tour in the first place.

His mind was a complete blur, and he was too dazed to notice the gaze fixed on him. As he blankly thumped his chest to ease the tightness there, someone suddenly spoke.

“Are you okay? You look tired….”

The unexpected English made Shinhee nearly fall over in shock.

A woman with a face full of concern had approached him. It was Yukie.

She spoke fluently, in a stream of English Shinhee could barely understand.

“We met a few days ago. Do you remember me?”

With his mind still hazy, Shinhee stared at her in a daze.

The flood of foreign words overwhelmed him. He felt like he was breaking out in hives from sheer exposure to English.

“I’m happy to see you again. My name is Yukie. I don’t think I’ve heard your name yet. May I ask what it is?”

Out of her long, fluid sentence, the only words Shinhee managed to understand were Yukie and the question asking for his name.

“Uh, name? If it’s ‘name,’ then she must be asking for my name. My name… What was it? How do you say it in English? Is this the time to say, ‘Hello, I’m fine, thank you, and you?’”

Shinhee’s vision blurred for a moment, and a cold sweat broke out.

“Ah, I am… no English…”

He mumbled in a barely comprehensible mix of words. Having spent his life buried in old books, he had never once needed English in his twenty-seven years, but even that wasn’t an excuse for his poor skills.

As he opened and closed his mouth, struggling for words, someone suddenly wrapped an arm around his shoulders in a friendly manner.

“Shin-chan, there you are!”

“Huh?”

Shinhee let out a confused sound at the unexpected, overly familiar nickname. Shin-chan?

Hyunwoo, who had called him so casually, grinned and added with a teasing tone.

“Shin-chan. Cute name. It suits your pretty face perfectly.”

“Shin-chan? What the…?”

Who on earth was he calling Shin-chan?

[Ah… Is that perhaps his nickname?]

[That’s what we call him among ourselves. Anyway, the president is looking for you, Yukie.]

Then followed a smooth exchange in fluent Japanese. As soon as Hyunwoo gestured toward the other side, Yukie bowed her head and turned away.

Shinhee’s expression stiffened. Did he see that wrong? He could have sworn she shot him a sharp glare just now. As he tried to analyze her expression, Hyunwoo lightly patted his back and whispered in his ear.

“Shinhee, you should be wary of people who suddenly act too friendly. You never know when or how you might get enchanted.”

Ignoring his words, Shinhee pushed Hyunwoo’s clinging hands away, distracted by the thought that maybe he had offended her by not knowing English.