Fox Sister

“It’s about time… you need to understand what you must face.”

The Master’s voice, low but firm, broke the quiet of the morning table.

I froze and looked up at the Master’s face.

The usual playful and kind expression was nowhere to be seen,

and his tightly shut lips and sharp gaze radiated a heavy seriousness.

“You’ve heard of the Dangun Myth, right?”

Caught off guard by the Master’s words, I nodded slowly.

It was a story everyone had heard at least once,

but I couldn’t fathom why it was brought up now.

“When Hwanwoong first descended to this land,

it is said there were three great curses.”

The Master’s voice was deep and solemn.

It felt like listening to an ancient tale of evil spirits.

“The curse of war that endlessly calls for bloodshed, Blood Oath.

The famine curse that brings eternal hunger to the barren land, Eternal Deprivation.

And… the curse that devours even the souls of the dead, Black Mist.”

The strange names sent shivers down my spine.

My hair stood on end, and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for the Master to continue.

“Because of these three curses, this land became a living hell.

It was too terrible to witness.”

A shadow of darkness fell over the Master’s face,

and just hearing those words made my heart heavy and oppressed.

“Hwanwoong sealed those curses.

And in the deepest part of Mu Gyeong Sa, ‘Black Lotus Tower,’ one of them, ‘Black Mist,’ remains sealed.”

It was hard to believe.

Even dealing with yokais and ghosts sometimes seemed unbelievable,

and now we were talking about mythical curses…

It felt like an ancient legend had suddenly come to life.

“As time passed, because the curse’s power was too strong,

its fragments were separated and sealed individually.

But if those fragments are released,

the person the shaman spoke of will surely come here.”

Each word from the Master felt heavy and chilling.

I remembered the horrifying scenes from the village.

The lifeless eyes of frozen people, their empty expressions…

Everything seemed connected to the ‘Black Mist’ the Master was describing, making me tremble.

The Master slowly rose from his seat.

Even though the morning sunlight shone on his back,

it felt like a thick shadow covered the surroundings.

I tensely awaited his next words.

The silence was oppressive, and the air grew heavier.

The peaceful temple suddenly felt like the eye of a massive storm.

“…It must be stopped at all costs.”

The Master’s gaze suddenly turned skyward.

I followed his lead and looked up.

Though the clear morning sky was filled with soft sunlight,

an invisible dark cloud loomed above, creating an eerie sense of unease.

“The weather feels ominous.”

Breaking the long silence, the Master spoke in a low voice.

His face showed hesitation and anguish.

“…I didn’t want to use this…”

With a small sigh, the Master reached into his robes.

He slowly pulled out a small object wrapped in old cloth.

His movements as he unfolded the cloth were careful and reverent.

“Since I took you in and set you on this path, this is my duty.”

What appeared beneath the cloth was a talisman slightly smaller than the palm of a hand.

Unfamiliar patterns were intricately carved into it,

and they faintly glowed with an odd light.

Its atmosphere was completely different from any talisman I’d ever seen.

Instead of the clean, pure energy I was used to,

this one emitted a sharp, oppressive aura,

as if it could cut through my fingertips.

The patterns wriggled like living things,

their strange and complex forms impossible to comprehend.

It was clearly not something within the realm of normal sorcery.

This was something unknown and mysterious.

The Master carefully placed the talisman in my hand.

It felt cold and dry, like a withered leaf,

yet its weight pressed heavily against my chest.

“There’s something I haven’t told you.”

The Master’s voice was low and resolute.

“The prophecy of your early death at twenty hasn’t changed.

If tonight becomes perilous for your life…

do not hesitate to tear this talisman.”

His words struck me with deep shock.

A tense sensation ran down my neck like a blade.

“And… no matter what happens,

even if it’s just by a single moment, you must endure.”

The Master’s final words sounded like a strict command.

After breakfast, under the Master’s guidance, a busy day began.

I drew talismans using vermilion ink

and carefully attached them to the locations the Master indicated.

In the afternoon, I filled jars with soil and oil, infusing them with magical power.

The jars glowed with white and red, emitting a gentle energy.

Looking out the window, the western sky had already turned red.

As twilight deepened and darkness began to cover the world,

lanterns lit up around the temple grounds.

I shivered, feeling an unsettling chill down my spine.

Tonight, something was bound to happen.

The strange talisman in my pocket felt unusually heavy.

Then it happened.

A sudden bell sound shattered the night’s stillness.

Urgent footsteps echoed across the wooden floors,

and amidst the chaotic noises, my heart began racing.

I quickly rose and opened the door.

In the hallway, flickering lantern lights cast shifting shadows,

while monks’ shouts and animal-like growls mixed together.

Instinctively, I ran toward the source of the sounds.

The temple yard had become a battlefield.

Under the lanterns, dark silhouettes surged forward relentlessly.

Seeing their forms took my breath away.

They were human-shaped but devoid of life,

rotting flesh and milky white pupils marked these undead beings.

Cold, sinister energy caused goosebumps to rise all over my body.

Monks fought desperately at the gate, blocking the undead,

their weapons dripping with dark crimson blood.

Still, the undead kept advancing without end.

Hastily pulling out the white jar from my robes, I threw it with all my might.

As it shattered, a white mist rose,

and sharp thorn bushes sprouted instantly, blocking the undead.

This gave the monks a chance to regroup.

“Over here, look!”

An urgent voice called from behind.

Turning my head, I saw a young monk pointing toward the deepest part of the temple,

where the Black Mist was supposedly sealed – Black Lotus Tower.

Dark smoke was rising from there.

“Black Lotus Tower… Someone has invaded Black Lotus Tower!”

My mind went blank.

The Master’s words and the curse of Black Mist came rushing back.

If the seal breaks… this would only be the beginning.

I rushed toward Black Lotus Tower.

The towering structure loomed like a giant shadow in the darkness,

seeming like an omen of the end of the world.

The sound of my pounding heart echoed in my ears.

The front of Black Lotus Tower was bathed in blood-red light.

Even the sinister energy seeping from the tightly shut doors was overwhelmed by the heavy scent of blood.

The cold night air carried a chilling wind that highlighted the horrific scene.

Stiff monks’ limbs were tangled together,

and broken prayer beads lay scattered in pools of dark crimson blood.

Through the bloody haze, I caught sight of a figure in a robe.

Sitting casually atop a pile of corpses was a man.

His short-cropped hair and crossed arms exuded an unnerving calm,

as if openly admitting his role in this carnage.

A strange sense of unreality enveloped me.

As I stared at him, fragmented memories surfaced.

I had definitely seen this face somewhere before.

Noticing I’d spotted him, the man tilted his head curiously.

His gaze was like a child discovering a new toy,

yet it carried the calculating coolness of a predator sizing up its prey.

Slowly, his lips curled into a grin.

The man’s smile was disturbingly cheerful,

contrasting sharply with the gruesome scene around him,

which only made it more terrifying.

“Aren’t you my dear sister?”

His clear, cheerful voice sounded foreign.

There was an unnatural quality to it,

a cold, eerie undertone beneath the playful tone.

Suddenly, a flash of insight struck me.

The scattered puzzle pieces of memory snapped into place.

Recognizing who this man truly was made my blood run cold.

The face, the voice, the eyes…

It was Third Brother.

The reality was almost suffocating.

My lips dried up.

I managed to ask with a trembling voice,

“…Why are you here?”

My voice was low and shaky,

but it carried the suppressed anger evident in every syllable.

The sight of the gruesome scene combined with the presence of my brother refused to make sense.

Yet a horrifying possibility was taking shape in my mind.

“Did you… kill the monks?”

The question came out sharp with rage and horror.

Though my voice trembled, it carried unmistakable hostility and distrust.

The brother’s expression didn’t waver.

Instead, his smile deepened.

The laughter was no longer innocent or carefree.

Only cruel, twisted mockery remained.

His cold gaze pierced through me,

as if reading every hidden emotion buried deep within my heart.

That look was both mocking and filled with some warped joy.

“Sister, don’t make that face. It’s as if I’ve done something terribly unforgivable.”

His voice remained playful yet carried a chilling indifference.

---