NOVEL WEB Chapter 888
The ritual of magic successfully concluded, it was time for the spectators to have their say.
Countless people who flocked there began sharing their impressions of the ritual in their own ways. Some, with a disappointing tone, scoffed that it was no different from the Jongmyo Daeje held twice a year, while others excitedly claimed that a true ritual of magic exudes an intimidating aura far beyond mere appearances.
Some people loudly complained that the state promotes such superstitions, causing the country to become what it is, while others asserted that such practices are idolatry and should be eradicated, even threatening to file complaints to prevent such things from occurring.
As the myriad opinions drifted by, the number of people quickly dwindled. Those who came to witness the ritual began to return home, each carrying their own thoughts, leaving only the key figures of the event behind to continue the after-party.
However, in that event filled with representatives, there was a significant void.
“I wish Shaman Park Jinseong had been here,” someone lamented.
“You know, magic is really something else. It could be so simple if you just used energy, but instead it tortures people with talk of costs…” another remarked.
“Well, if reading the heavenly secrets was easy, that would be stranger still. But still, it’s only right to give him time to hear congratulations and good wishes. The heavens really are heartless.”
The protagonist of the ritual was Park Jinseong. Yet he was absent from the after-party he should have illuminated.
His absence was due to the extremely valid reason of “the cost of magic.”
“Oh dear, did you see that young man’s face? Pale and terrifying, with veins bulging and then receding… To endure such pain for the Republic of Korea, there’s no patriot quite like him. He’s nothing like the youth of today.”
“That young man is no ordinary youth. He was raised in the Gwangyang Group. Even if he doesn’t share blood ties, he received an education on par with chaebols. Besides, he wasn’t born from just anybody, but from a lineage full of nationalistic fervor. With good seeds in good soil, it’s no wonder he has that patriotism.”
Though it’s common for people to gossip if someone declines to attend an after-party, none among them criticized Park Jinseong’s rudeness.
His pale, near-fainting visage seemed to indicate he could collapse at any moment, with hands trembling as if unable to withstand the pain, and clear signs of distress vividly apparent.
No matter how significant the event, it was hard to speak ill of someone in such a state.
The attendees of the after-party swallowed their disappointment and enjoyed the event, aiming to “build connections.”
Though their biggest goal of establishing rapport with Park Jinseong was unmet… it couldn’t be helped.
Meeting with people was a tiresome and arduous task. Particularly when confronting numerous faces that had transformed into serpents, their conversations laden with meanings resembling sharp knives.
The exchange with people who carefully wielded their hidden fangs was severely draining on one’s spirit.
This is why people lacking sociability or eloquence tended to avoid entangling with power holders.
However, Park Jinseong’s refusal to attend wasn’t due to such tendencies. It was neither because he feared the energy drain nor because he thought it would mentally tire him out, nor was it because he believed there would be no gain from it.
What brought Park Jinseong back to his residence instead of attending the event was, surprisingly, the aftermath of the ritual.
Even in the brief moment he entered the elevator ascending, there was a reason he swayed.
It was, astonishingly, due to the aftereffects of the ritual of magic.
Even Park Jinseong, who could usually withstand considerable costs, found it challenging to endure the impact that washed over him.
『 Fire and metal shall rise greatly. The sharp blades fashioned in the dark energies will reach toward the sky, as the bright yang from above descends to the earth, dispersing. Though it is an energy, it has no form, thus cannot be seen or touched, yet it exists and spreads in all directions. The light of metal and flames will dazzle the world, and its momentum will be overwhelming, impossible to easily halt. 』
Words that couldn’t be vocalized, whispers that hinted at a towering movement.
An ominous flow of peculiar dread swirled like clouds and filled Park Jinseong’s mind.
It struck him in an instant, then receded like a thunderbolt, gifting him a feeling of void akin to groping the floor in a dark night, resurrecting the smell of blood within the depths of his memory while causing synesthesia to emerge repeatedly—
“Something… feels different…”
It was a bizarre and curious situation.
Typically, divinations are fleeting insights that fall and vanish in an instant, ambiguous as mist that soon disperses, flaring grandly in flames before extinguishing with a flicker. Thus, they should arise like daydreams, only to grow faintly dim and disappear from the mind.
But now, Park Jinseong was experiencing something different from the usual divination.
It was akin to wandering in dense fog, repeating the blooming and withering of a flame, experiencing something dream-like, perhaps becoming a lotus that flourished and shriveled.
He was constantly flitting between unvoiced information and articulated realizations, dredging up numerous memories and recalling the feelings of those moments.
The smell of blood pervaded the air.
He could taste metal.
Feeling gazes prickle and sensing heavy odors brush past his eyes.
The shocking sensation of his tongue gauging distance, the gentle touch becoming a sound that shook him, rapidly replaced with a repugnant odor, clamoring to escape.
“Is it the cost?”
The cost of magic?
Is this confusion and the mental turmoil the actual price of the ritual?
Through his synesthesia, Park Jinseong maintained his sanity, asking himself if this truly was the cost of magic.
But then he shook his head inwardly.
This was akin to the cost of magic but somehow different.
His unconscious mind began to speak: the current phenomenon had drawn closer to the essence of magic, and what tormented him now was merely its resonance. This torment, which might just as easily be called an echo, was causing this tumultuous synesthesia to erupt.
Is there any foundation for this?
No, there is none.
Yet without basis, Park Jinseong’s unconscious conjured such thoughts, deeming it right.
His intuition, tempered and honed through time, was whispering that this was the correct answer.
“If so, then what is the essence of magic?”
The scent of blood spread within his mouth.
He felt a warm liquid pooling there.
A tickling sensation swept over his lips, and he began noticing the liquid dripping down to the floor.
Park Jinseong glanced down to identify its nature, but due to his dazzled sight reacting to the sound, he couldn’t distinguish if it was spittle or blood.
“What is the essence of magic that causes such a surge of sensations?”
Even if the cost of the ritual was severe, this wasn’t it.
Not even when shells repeatedly struck the bunker and his brain shook, did he feel such a sensation.
That was merely dizziness or lightheadedness; it had never spiraled into this chaotic synesthetic outburst.
“This is not just a mere surge of senses.”
The smells of blood, moss, mildew, ghostly whispers, scorched flesh, and acrid water clung to his nose.
Despite being on a high floor, he could smell the ghosts lurking far below.
“My sixth sense is entangled in this synesthesia.”
Park Jinseong felt an expansion of his senses.
What was once perceived as a mere amplification of the five senses began to incorporate the sixth sense, feeling things typically beyond human perception—the essence often called inspiration. This expanded endlessly to envelop the entire building, unable to extend further but stacking upon itself.
It was a sensation as if his soul had become intoxicated.
The distinction between body and spirit blurred, and even the soul began to mix, creating a turbulent sensation.
A feeling as if one were melting and sublimating—
As though dissolving into a dream, colors mixing and pooling onto the ground like a puddle, brilliant light flickering then receding, signaling, transmitting communication beyond sensation, transmitting unspoken sounds and non-verbal expressions through arrays of light, embedding numerous whispers laden with meanings.
And amidst that torrential flood of information, Park Jinseong saw.
Flames.
Metal.
Smoke spreading like flowers.
Burning gunpowder.
Black mist in the shape of a wicked dragon.
A pig writhing and dancing.
Witches dancing with brooms.
Square guns and black soldiers.
Sparkling jewels strewn across the street.
…
…
…
A multitude of scenes flashed before him as if attempting to cram as much information as possible into his mind within as short a time as possible. They were complex enough to be challenging to express with a single sense, and at the same time, their borders were so ambiguous that it was tough to articulate them whatsoever.
Yet he could remember them distinctly, a sensation as if he had been channeling information into the realm of the unconscious…
Park Jinseong frowned at that peculiar sensation and began to roll his body on the floor to shake off the dizziness that was creeping up like seasickness.
Fortunately, the synesthetic upheaval was gradually subsiding, and his equilibrium began to regain its stability. Park Jinseong slowly moved his arms, attempting to grab the sofa—
Clunk.
Was it due to the sensory anomalies or the trembling of his arm?
Instead of gripping the sofa tightly, his arm knocked against the side table, sending the objects on it crashing to the ground.
Crash-!
Among the clutter, his smartphone tumbled, the sound of its screen shattering resonated as it rolled across the floor, accidentally turning on and illuminating the dark room.
On the screen of the now active smartphone, a single message had arrived.
『 Odilia:
The golden rose just changed color!
Is it ominous? Should I do some purification? 』
A message riddled with typos exuding a sense of urgency.