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When the lights went out, most visitors are uninvited guests.

Be they human or not.

*Startling.*

*Clap!*

Sounds can be heard.

It’s the sound of an unwanted presence making its way in.

Footsteps of an entity that arrived without any promise.

When darkness descends, politeness dictates one should promise to leave, yet the footsteps of the rude one echo instead, showing no intention of courtesy.

The sound of those steps resembles that of a foot stepping on a floor mat, soaked with moisture, or like someone who has just waded through a slimy substance, departing from it.

Or perhaps—

“It’s mud.”

It sounds like someone is walking with their feet caked in mud.

The noise made while trudging down a rain-soaked mountain path.

The very sound of walking on the exposed tidal flats as the water recedes.

The noise made by some rude individual dirtying another’s house with mud-covered feet.

That sound is heard.

However, the strange thing is that—

It isn’t even raining, nor is there a pond or lake nearby.

Just where did this person making this muddy sound come from?

*Startling.*

A disagreeable noise resonates.

A sound of muddy feet soiling the room.

And with that squelching noise, a tiny flame flickers somewhere in the room.

*Flicker!*

The flame quietly ignites.

The pattern etched onto the linen made of flax bought from the market begins to smolder. The blue fire slowly rises and starts to weave its way along the pattern drawn by Jinseong, revealing the design bit by bit as if tracing out faint constellations in the night sky.

That pattern is for protection and meant to chase away beings that are not human.

The burning of that rune indicates that the one who stepped into this place is not human, and the blue hue of that flame suggests that it was crafted by human hands, neither beastly nor otherworldly.

Thus, Jinseong realized that the object’s nature was that of a magical creation.

‘The sound made by muddy feet. A noise that could come from making two footsteps. A short stride, seemingly hunched yet bursting with vigor. Laced with the faint scent of mud and that nutty aroma, alongside the light fragrance of blood.’

If it’s magic, guessing is not difficult.

The source of that squelching sound is—

‘A mud doll crafted in the South American style. And it’s in the shape of a child.’

There are many magics that involve using mud as a material.

Many magics craft mud into various shapes for manipulation.

There are spells that create human forms out of mud, including those of children.

However, there are not many spells that craft a child’s form while simultaneously exuding nutty and bloody scents. And among those few known spells, there exists only one exceedingly well-known magic.

That is the doll manipulation magic used by the wicked magicians of the Aztec era in South America who casually engaged in human sacrifices.

‘A mud doll, indeed.’

Several seeds are finely ground into powder, mixed with the blood of a sacrificed child to form a dough. Then, fine mud is blended in to shape it into the likeness of a child, and tools crafted from the bones of the child used as materials are employed to carve the pattern.

A piece of skin taken from the sacrificed child is laid on the ground and dried in the sunlight, continuously covering and uncovering it as the scent of blood starts to fade.

By repeating this, a doll emerges, merging the faint scent of blood with that nutty aroma and the smell of mud.

The doll, though lacking distinct joints, gains fissures in the mud that form them, and despite being shriveled, retains some oddly soft parts, allowing it to walk. If the child’s skull is used as part of the materials, it can easily be manipulated, making it truly an odd and peculiar magic.

‘Yet this scent of blood feels unlike human blood.’

This magic has many uses.

It can be utilized for reconnaissance, sent into suspected traps.

It could host a ghost, or be the medium for other magics.

However, its materials and processes are so brutal that using it as it was originally intended becomes nearly impossible.

Thus, the solution was to substitute the materials with something that can stand in for humans.

‘Using pig’s blood.’

This is the method of using pigs instead of humans.

In ancient times, foreigners admonished the inhabitants of South America to consume pigs instead of humans, signaling that through the recognition of Him who carried the sins of all, the sun could continually rise and set according to divine order.

Thus, the evil shadows roaming South America dissipated and peace finally arrived.

Therefore, it’s only natural that pigs can also be used instead of humans.

*Flicker!*

Jinseong stroked his chin momentarily in thought.

Whether to crush the mud doll formed from the pig’s blood, seed powder, and mud, or to lash out at the shaman who sent the doll with black magic, or perhaps ascertain what message the doll held—

Indeed, just for a moment.

For a fleeting moment, Jinseong pondered.

“Surratt Al-Maida states: There are things not permitted to you—the flesh of the dead, blood, and pork that has not been offered in the name of God! Why have the foods received by the chosen been allowed, with the good foods sanctioned by God existing, and creatures tamed according to His teachings permissible, yet you seek to consume foul flesh?”

He decided.

“Oh, the one true and great God says: I molded Adam from dirt and placed him securely with a drop of seed, and from that seed I created flesh, and from flesh, I shaped bones, and then clothed those bones with flesh! O, infidel! Blasphemer! How can the essence of what is not permitted be deemed as anything but His own? Truly, you are base and profane, and before His power, you shall not dare to defile this place!”

Jinseong recited the invocation, looking towards the source of the footsteps.

Then he spread his arms slightly.

*Snap!*

He clapped loudly to create more sound.

*Boom!*

And in sync with that noise, another sound came from outside.

It resembled a water balloon bursting, or perhaps the sound of a decaying corpse swelling and bursting with gas.

Or it might have been akin to the sound of a palm striking a bug and bursting it, as if His power had descended, exploding the unclean with divine punishment.

Thus, the mud doll shattered.

So simply, so effortlessly.

‘While I am curious about who sent that mud doll, I have no reason not to shatter it.’

Jinseong’s decision was straightforward.

To break the mud doll.

Magic, after all, can escalate small things into much larger problems.

If he left that mud doll untouched out of curiosity, and it were to become a medium for malice, Jinseong didn’t mind it, but Li-se and Odilia might be harmed. Thus, destroying it first seemed the safest option.

Another reason for the destruction was to understand the intent of the one who sent the mud doll.

Having broken the mud doll through magic, it would now be time to observe the shaman’s reaction beyond that doll.

If it were sent with ill intent, consequences would surely follow.

If there were good intentions, an apology would come.

If a simple conversation was needed, once aware of Jinseong’s presence, they would reveal themselves and seek to engage peacefully.

So, what shall it be?

The seeker who sent the mud doll, what was their intention behind plunging the hotel into darkness and sending that mud doll?

Is the mud doll a messenger or an assassin?

The time to uncover their intent has arrived.

* * *

“It’s broken. Army.”

He was there.

He stood there, upright, stroking his beard with an ominous look in his eyes, gazing at the hotel. One hand continually caressed his beard while the other scratched his neck. With a gentle raise of his nails, he dragged them across his throat once, twice, thrice. Five crimson lines marked his skin, layering upon each other.

The lines piled higher and deeper, progressively burrowing inward. The nails delved in deeper and deeper, tearing flesh as the transparent skin began to peel away, and blood started to stain his fingertips.

Ah, its color was so deep, there’s no way those lines could match it even in layers.

Thus, he stopped scratching his throat only after seeing that dark color.

“Ugh. Just when I was allergic. The cost. It itches and stings terribly. Ugh.”

He is there.

He stands with blood trickling from his neck, his face twisted as he gazes at the hotel.

He is—

“I can hardly forgive this anymore.”

An uninvited guest.

“Ah, that book of mine.”

Something he desired existed.

 

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