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Iserin had shifted her interest away from Jinseong.

Rather than completely abandoning it, she had merely postponed it, but nonetheless, the flickering flames of her slightly dark desires were temporarily quelled.

However, just because one fire was extinguished doesn’t mean another can’t ignite elsewhere.

Iarin, Iserin’s sister and a human capybara who hears the sounds of human leopards, was that very spark.

“Brother!”

She was someone whose body moved before her head did.

Unlike Iserin, a ‘biologically programmed relative mate who insists she’s the older sister at all times’, Iarin charged straight into Jinseong.

She didn’t even knock at the door.

Instead, she climbed the walls of the mansion and pounded on Jinseong’s window with her fists.

“Are you in there? Answer me if you are!”

Iarin knocked on the window relentlessly, as if she were a loan shark demanding money owed, her senses sharp as she attempted to spy past the pitch-black curtain that blocked any view inside.

“Hey, come out! I know you’re there!”

Moreover, as time wore on, Iarin’s insistence began to resemble more and more the behavior of a loan shark.

At first, there was a slight playful tone, but it soon carried hints of annoyance as her hands knocked on the window.

The minimal respect she had shown by calling him brother seemed to have vanished, replaced only by the word ‘hey’.

If more time passed, that ‘hey’ would surely evolve into something worse—something significantly more disrespectful.

Was it because of Iarin’s tenacity?

Jinseong finally moved.

With a whoosh.

He pulled back the curtain as if the noise was unbearable, locking eyes with Iarin through the window, and just like that, Iarin’s previous thug-like demeanor morphed into a bright smile.

Then she feigned innocence, knocking gently at the door.

Knock, knock.

In stark contrast to her earlier attempts to forcefully break through the window, she knocked lightly, as soft as a feather.

But behind those shining eyes, she seemed ready to leap inside as soon as Jinseong unlocked the window, just like a leopard pouncing on its prey.

Jinseong knew Iarin well enough to foresee her intentions, so he didn’t even touch the window’s lock but simply stared at her.

In return, Iarin gazed back at him, half acting nonchalant and half insistent.

After a long, charged silence, she pointed at something.

At the window’s lock.

It meant she wanted him to hurry up and open it.

But Jinseong slowly shook his head to convey his refusal.

Instead, he kept staring at her, as if urging her to hurry up and say what she wanted.

“Hey, brother. I’m standing here in this awkward position. Can’t I come inside?”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Open up.”

“Just talk from there.”

“Is there something good inside? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know if it’s good, but it’s definitely dangerous.”

Iarin kept pushing.

She urged him to unlock the window and welcome her inside as his guest.

With a swoosh!

But Jinseong stubbornly ignored her requests and pulled the curtains shut again. Then he turned his back and left the room, using teleportation to appear right beneath Iarin in an instant.

He glanced up at her as she sensed his presence and came down.

“What’s so interesting that you came looking for me?”

“What do you think?”

Jinseong asked with a remarkably casual tone, akin to asking a child if they want another piece of candy.

“It’s about our bunnies.”

‘Our bunnies.’

This was the term Iarin used to refer to Anastasia and Ella.

“Looks like our Asha is caught up with some strange fellow, and the big bunny seems really troubled. Can’t you ease her worries, brother?”

“Worries, huh?”

“Yeah. She can’t eat properly. She can’t even handle spicy tteokbokki, spicy beef tripe, spicy pig’s feet, or spicy jjamppong. Not to mention, she can hardly stand spicy chicken feet or spicy cheesy ribs. Isn’t that a huge problem?”

Iarin began to spill her worries to Jinseong in a manner similar to a high school girl gossiping.

As if she wanted him to acknowledge her complicated feelings.

“Plus, whenever she tries to express intimacy, she freaks out, and when I suggest going shopping, she isn’t keen at all… she just sits there practicing witchcraft with some weird plants! Isn’t that odd?”

Iarin’s message was straightforward.

Because Ella and Anastasia were acting differently from usual, she was asking if he could somehow fix it with some magic or something.

But Jinseong declined Iarin’s indirect request for ‘help’.

“It’s unavoidable.”

He had no intention of changing the prophecy.

He was curious about the face of the shaman who had cast black magic on William, so he would intervene in that, but he had no plans to alter or manipulate the prophecy. He wasn’t thinking of saving William from his crisis either.

Of course, he intended to help ensure that Anastasia wasn’t in danger, but that was quite different from what Iarin wanted.

Iarin wished for Ella and Anastasia to absolutely avoid being entangled with that crazy bastard who made her blood run cold just by hearing his name.

Jinseong’s role was merely to be an insurance policy and a bystander.

The prophecy would come to pass, and Anastasia would become involved in the dream world.

Even if the witches warned her not to get entangled with that crazy bastard, the reasons behind why Anastasia inevitably gets involved in dreams remained a mystery. Perhaps William might sacrifice something the witches desired in exchange for help, or it could be that the Artua Clan would directly reach out for assistance. Or maybe, with heavenly finesse, William would convince Anastasia, or possibly, Anastasia, with her mind elsewhere, would just happen to fall into William’s dreams while wandering through her own.

Yeah.

Who knows?

Because prophecies are nothing but outcomes.

The seed simply yields fruit without generating stems or leaves.

Thus, no one could understand how cause and effect flowed or shaped in that way.

William, the half-baked prophet, couldn’t grasp the details, and the fortune-telling that could assist the half-baked prophet could not be discerned due to skewed fortune.

Therefore, Jinseong could not fundamentally resolve Iarin’s worries.

No, he simply wouldn’t.

But he could offer a temporary solution.

“However, I can offer you peace of mind. Isn’t that what shamans do?”

What a shaman could do.

What people asked of shamans was fortune-telling and protective charms.

“Therefore, I shall give you a talisman to prevent that crazy bastard from approaching. If the safety of your home is guaranteed, wouldn’t your state of mind improve significantly?”

Using a talisman, of course.

Jinseong pulled out several colorful markers he carried for writing and floated them in the air.

Then he looked at Iarin’s plain white t-shirt.

“Though it’s called a talisman, it’s unrelated to magic, so no payment is needed. Now, hand over that t-shirt.”

“Huh?”

But Iarin didn’t instantly react to Jinseong’s goodwill.

Instead, she looked at him oddly.

She blinked and then glanced down at her plain white t-shirt.

The t-shirt.

A white t-shirt.

One that was plain and unadorned, a simple white short-sleeve t-shirt she wore for ease while practicing martial arts.

A t-shirt thrown over to sweat a lot without any particular design.

“Bring this to me? Right now?”

For a moment, Iarin wondered if this non-blood relative had mistaken her for a guy.

Otherwise, how could anyone say something like that without batting an eyelash?

“What are you asking for?”

“I’ll draw on that t-shirt, so just put it here.”

“Huh? Ah, ah!”

Finally comprehending his words, Iarin beamed and grasped the bottom of her t-shirt.

Then she stretched it out flat, as if seeking an autograph from a singer, and presented it to Jinseong.

Jinseong nodded as if she did well and started moving the pen he floated in the air.

The pen darted around freely, drawing on the t-shirt as if it were moving like a martial artist wielding a sword.

As if Iarin’s held-out t-shirt was the canvas.

And so the completed drawing was….

“Wow. That’s a horrid drawing. It’s been a while since I’ve seen something drawn so poorly.”

The creation was less a drawing and more an affront to art, with shapes resembling Santa and Rudolph that appeared strangely off-putting yet somehow infused with effort.

Iarin cocked her head and remarked,

“Hey brother, didn’t you draw somewhat decently before? Weren’t there some primitive cave paintings and weird symbols you drew like a ruler was used? Is this on purpose?”

“Indeed.”

Jinseong affirmed her statement.

“Make this into a large sculpture for display. While it’s not bad to place it near the mansion, it would be better to set it where it could be clearly seen from outside, perhaps at the front gate or on a wall.”

Having said that, he glanced at the poorly drawn image on the t-shirt and rubbed his chin.

“On second thought, if this eyesore is set outside, who knows what sort of remarks will arise? It should be positioned inside, out of sight from outside. But it should definitely be placed somewhere visible once someone enters the mansion.”

“Really? Hearing that gives it a vibe of being a ghost-repelling charm.”

“Something like that.”

“But a talisman should have a name. What would this one be called?”

Was it because the drawing was so unattractive?

Iarin displayed considerable curiosity.

“The Christmas.”

Jinseong replied, satisfying Iarin’s curiosity.

It was the name of an object that would trigger trauma the instant one stepped into the mansion, and also the name of the sculpture that would make William panic and run away.

 

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