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The man, when he regained his senses, felt the damp air.

It wasn’t the natural moisture from being near a lake, but rather the stuffy dampness that emanated from a dark, enclosed space.

As he felt the unpleasant moisture clinging to his skin, he instinctively took a breath, and the thick, moldy odor that seemed to cling to his lungs made him wince.

‘Underground?’

This uncomfortable dampness and mildew carried the unique coolness of being below the ground.

It was a sensation only brought upon by digging deep into the earth.

He sharpened his five senses.

To understand even a little about this pitch-black space where nothing could be seen.

“Ah, you’ve awakened, have you?”

As the man concentrated his senses to figure something out, someone spoke to him as if they’d been waiting.

The very voice he had heard before.

The man who had suppressed him by turning into a swarm of insects.

It was the Next Shinto Priest.

“I thought it was about time you woke up. So, how is it? Are you clear-headed?”

How far away could he be?

5 meters?

3 meters?

The presence felt vividly close, not too far away.

But that presence was indeed peculiar.

It didn’t feel distinctly human, yet it had the shape of a person. He could sense a gaze, but it didn’t come solely from a head; it felt as if eyes were scattered all over the body, firing gazes from every part, and although he should’ve sensed a human scent, it felt as though there was an empty space where the scent should’ve been.

That was not all.

If it was a person, there should be body heat, yet instead of the unique warmth of a human, he felt a chilling coldness. If it were breathing, there should be at least a faint sound of breath, but none of that was perceived. It felt like a doll mimicking a human.

“You, what are you?”

With that, he had to ask.

Who are you?

Someone who seems human yet isn’t, what on earth are you?

Just what is this bastard pretending to be a person doing?

And the Next Shinto Priest took the man’s question with delight.

“Who am I? That is truly a philosophical and profound question.”

He muttered like a scholar enjoying a debate, writhing in the dark and shifting his form.

His posture was that of crossing his legs and propping up his chin with one arm.

There was nothing strange about that appearance.

But the feeling of incongruity arose because…

No matter how hard the man strained his eyes, there was nothing beneath the Next Shinto Priest.

There was nothing he could sit on, nothing to support his body.

Nothing at all.

“There was a riddle like this: it certainly belongs to me or to those who use it more.”

The Next Shinto Priest spoke with a tone tinged with laughter.

“Do you perhaps know the answer?”

“Why should I care?”

“You seem to have no intention of answering, so I’ll just say it: the answer is name.”

Name.

A word to define me.

A word formed by letters, language, and sound.

“In the old days, when names didn’t exist, it must have been quite inconvenient. You would have had to put in a great deal of effort to introduce yourself.”

In the times when names were not properly used, people would have used various methods to introduce themselves to others.

To prove their bravery, they might have said, “I am a warrior who single-handedly hunts beasts with nothing but a spear and an axe, and I am a warrior who killed ten other tribal warriors trying to harm me.”

To indicate where they came from, they might have stated, “I am a traveler from a sacred lake located halfway up the mountain where the moon sets the quickest.”

The introductions must have been very complex and long-winded.

But once names were created, things changed.

Instead of saying, “I am a warrior who accomplished this and that,” it became much easier and simpler to say, “I am someone with this profession.”

It would be far simpler to introduce oneself as, “I am Mike, the elephant hunter who caught hundreds of elephants with a single gun and became very rich by selling their ivory, son of the great hunter Charlie, who carries on his legacy,” than simply saying, “I am the elephant hunter Mike.”

But paradoxically, this condensed word, while convenient, became a ceiling that trapped me.

The letters, the words, the sounds, the language.

They themselves became a mold.

“Thus, paradoxically, I warmly welcome your question. That question is indeed the one that penetrates everything.”

Jinseong’s words felt profoundly deep.

But the man’s response to such profound-sounding Jinseong was simple.

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

Talking about names and molds while having kidnapped someone.

Of course, it could only feel like nonsense to the man.

If he had heard it somewhere like a temple, shrine, or church, it might be different, but speaking such things after kidnapping a person in a room would surely make one seem insane.

Jinseong simply smiled at the man’s perfectly reasonable reaction.

“Listen, I am here with you to eliminate that mold.”

“Ha, enough of the nonsense. Do you even know who you’ve caught? I’ve caught an Onmyoji of the Onmyo Association!”

The man shouted as if he couldn’t take any more nonsense.

Then he started to put on a tough act.

“Do you even know what an Onmyoji is?”

“Hmm, what do you mean?”

“Our Onmyoji considers each other as family. It’s not some empty words like what a black company calls ‘family,’ but we truly care for one another like blood relatives or clan members!”

The man shouted, glaring fiercely.

“Although our blood is different, we are bound together by the great power of Onmyōdō. We do not turn our backs on our companions who have mastered Onmyōdō, and we never abandon our family bonded by the commonality of Onmyōdō!”

“Is that so?”

“Touching such an Onmyo Association? You will receive a horrifying retaliation!”

“Hmm.”

“Release me at once. If you’ve done such rudeness unwittingly, at least it can end with a light punishment! But if you do something foolish, you will face truly terrible consequences!”

The man spoke with a confident tone.

As if he truly believed in something.

In fact, he had many beliefs.

He knew there was a senior who was aware that he had gone to the villa called ‘House of Death,’ and there were equipment provided by the Onmyo Association. Additionally, there were the Curse Scripts engraved on his body and the Divine Objects embedded through procedures.

“Hmm.”

As he himself said, the Onmyo Association viewed Onmyoji with great anxiety.

An irreplaceable valuable existence, a family belonging to the clan known as ‘Onmyo Association.’

That’s why they took the safety of Onmyoji incredibly seriously.

They made defense-related Divine Objects and Artifacts available pretty easily, and along with basic equipment, defensive magic and tracking magic were embedded. Furthermore, they engraved Curse Scripts onto bodies so that they could use magic in times of crisis and embedded Divine Objects into their bodies to easily track them should they end up losing their lives or facing torture.

The fundamental disposition of Onmyoji was to pursue safety with paranoia, and this trait was amplified on a group level.

“If I can just escape this crisis, I’ll act like other seniors.”

Moreover, those were merely the basics.

In fact, other seniors used various methods because they felt even those weren’t secure enough.

Some carried GPS devices, while some underwent surgeries to have GPS devices embedded inside them, fearing they might be lost. It was common to see them swallowing specially designed GPS devices before missions. Having Divine Objects and Artifacts wrapped around their bodies was a frequent sight, and some seniors disguised themselves as different people every time they went outside the Onmyo Association, fearing that there might be those who recognized them.

He considered the one who was the most obsessed with security to be a senior nicknamed ‘Hikikomori,’ who used a golem and robots he bought from a known Alchemist and his own creations.

This senior didn’t even try to go outside the Onmyo Association.

“Come to think of it, the first to respond when an Onmyoji goes missing is that senior. I might get to see his face again after a long time.”

With that thought, the man displayed an arrogant demeanor.

Slightly tilting his chin and staring into the dimly visible humanoid shape in the darkness with his bulging eyes. He even tilted his head slightly, as if urging him to hurry and release him.

And seeing the man’s arrogant self, Jinseong said nothing.

Instead, he simply picked something up and tossed it in front of him.

Thud.

What Jinseong threw landed at a distance that the man could see if he strained his eyes.

‘Huh?’

It was a piece of cloth.

Roughly torn from decent clothing, it looked so shabby that it seemed like it had rolled out from a trash can in an alley.

“Ah, this clothing is embedded with tracking-related magic?”

Jinseong said with a tone mixed with amusement.

“Mixing magic within a pattern, very classic and standard methods. Finding it wasn’t all that hard, you see.”

Starting from that word, something began to be thrown in front of the man repeatedly.

“This is a magic that entices specific birds while pretending to be a garment ornament.”

A broken ornament was thrown.

“This is a magic that lures specific insects from all directions whenever it touches a certain blood.”

A torn piece of cloth was thrown.

“This one is quite novel. These appear to be shoes inspired by a tracking incense used in China. Although it’s not magic, it was quite interesting—a pair of shoes that leaves behind subtle traces of tracking incense with every step!”

The shoes he was wearing were thrown.

And.

“Indeed. I also saw what’s on your body.”

Jinseong calmly pronounced words like a death sentence.

 

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