---

The magical ritual called Seonggwang Eunsangje, which was created by observing the elephant shining white under the starlight, was a magical symbol thanks to the elephant being regarded as a sacred animal. This ritual possessed efficacy related to health and recovery. On top of that, the fortune belief added an effect of granting a bit of luck.

But nothing could be good all the time.

The effect of this ritual wasn’t to grant the “symbolism of the elephant,” but rather to make one resemble the elephant to utilize its symbolic power, thus turning the shaman into an elephant-like figure as the cost.

Elephants have ivory.

Elephants have rough and hard skin.

Elephants are herbivorous animals.

Humans do not have ivory.

Humans have soft skin.

Humans are omnivorous.

Humans and elephants are similar yet different beings.

But one of the principles of magic is quite literally similarity.

The similar will give birth to the similar, and the like will call forth the like.

This is known as homoeopathic magic.

And according to this principle, humans start to resemble elephants.

Humans lack ivory, but they have teeth, so their teeth grow to resemble ivory.

Humans have soft skin, but it becomes rough and hard like an elephant’s.

Humans can eat vegetarian food, and thus they are transformed to only be able to consume such food.

Seonggwang Eunsangje truly is an honest magic that gives three benefits in exchange for three costs.

It makes one resemble an elephant.

It grows two previously nonexistent teeth, makes the skin rough and hard, and for a while, forces a vegetarian diet.

However, while having rough and hard skin can be managed with some care, being limited to a vegetarian diet is not much of an issue either, since there are plenty of vegetarian options available. Even for mercenaries, who need to carry out great tasks with small rations, vegetarian combat meals have been well-developed, so this cost is not too problematic in modern times.

What truly brutal was the sprouting of previously nonexistent teeth, and those teeth were none other than wisdom teeth!

It seemed Jinseong was quite unlucky, as he had already lost three wisdom teeth during middle school without having even fallen in love, and on top of that, he needed to extract more because of the rituals.

Thus, upon learning of the cost of Seonggwang Eunsangje, he couldn’t help but curse.

“To grow wisdom teeth is truly dreadful. With this, I have become someone who has extracted wisdom teeth five times.”

Still, the nature of magical rituals is that one never knows what costs they might pay. Jinseong merely thought he was unfortunate and went to the dentist to have his wisdom teeth removed.

And when the second ritual was conducted, he tried to rationalize himself.

“Ah, another wisdom tooth has sprouted. But considering how unlucky one could be, wisdom teeth can grow anywhere, so I should be grateful they were generated in a normal position.”

Seven wisdom teeth extracted so far.

Wisdom teeth can also be used as magical materials, so it’s not all bad…

Yet, for Jinseong, who had memories of having them extracted while still under anesthesia, it wasn’t exactly a welcomed cost.

But even now, he simply blamed his unfortunate luck for being hit by the same cost twice, without further thoughts.

Yet when he encountered the same cost during the third ritual, he began to feel something strange.

“Isn’t the cost completely the same?”

Two wisdom teeth.

Rough skin.

Forced to eat vegetarian.

All three times were identical.

What was even more peculiar was that the location of these costs manifested in the same spots.

Wisdom teeth on both upper sides.

The roughening skin primarily on hands and feet.

“Three rituals. Three identical costs. Can this be considered a coincidence?”

Immediately, Jinseong began his experiments.

He used Seonggwang Eunsangje for the fourth time.

Wisdom teeth sprouted in the same location, and the skin on his hands and feet became rough.

He used it for the fifth time.

Wisdom teeth sprouted in the same location again, and the skin on his hands and feet became rough once more.

This recurring pattern of costs that couldn’t be considered a mere coincidence continued to manifest identically up to his tenth attempt, and only then did Jinseong confirm that this Seonggwang Eunsangje demanded the same costs.

However, a question arose.

Why had other shamans not discovered something so easily identifiable?

Was this a unique phenomenon only visible to him or in this magic?

To verify, Jinseong told another shaman about this ritual.

This shaman accepted the ritual without resistance, as its effects were minimal and its costs were not too high…

And paid a different cost.

The shaman didn’t grow any wisdom teeth nor was he forced into a vegetarian diet.

Just the roughening of the skin on his hands and feet.

“Wow, just for this little cost, I can heal my internal injuries. That’s fantastic. I’ll let my fellow shamans know about this.”

The shaman expressed great gratitude to Jinseong, able to heal internal injuries with almost no cost, and shared this information with other shamans. Then, many shamans began to take a liking to this ritual, each paying different costs.

Some shamans grew four wisdom teeth.

Some shamans found salads tasting more delicious.

Some shamans had an extra stomach added and their intestines grew longer.

Some shamans’ feet turned as hard as rocks.

As this ritual spread among more shamans, the costs began to intensify, and eventually became so great that it could no longer be considered manageable.

At that point, numerous shamans began to abandon the ritual with comments like, “Old magic is always like that,” “The cost is absolutely terrible,” and “The effect is lacking, but the cost is just too severe.”

Observing all this, Jinseong couldn’t comprehend why the costs of magic hadn’t been properly researched.

“Magic rituals demand inexplicable costs.”

Assuming the typical efficacy of a magic ritual is 100, the cost also being 100.

Naturally, using a magic ritual would mean receiving 100 efficacy in exchange for paying the cost of 100.

This honest equivalent exchange is “very excellent” for a shaman.

When it comes to being ripped off by others, being able to buy something at full price is something to cheer about.

“Summoning magic, contracts, spells, martial arts… all of these are unfair to humans.”

Magic can’t produce 100% efficiency. There’s always energy loss in the process of utilization.

Summoning magic demands costs in exchange for lending power from other beings.

Contracts cause transcendent beings to seek to change contractors according to their taste, as the contractor has to bear the burden of changing their life and fate for borrowed power.

Martial arts must also incur losses during the accumulation process, sometimes putting strain on the body.

There are plenty of magic rituals where the costs feel excessive compared to the effects. The magic ritual itself has become a target of avoidance, as people listen to the chaotic sounds of poor choices.

But to pay a cost of 100 in exchange for a benefit of 100?

It’s only natural that it would seem heavenly.

Then how about the sequence that follows?

Could anyone really keep this nectar-like information to themselves?

No, they couldn’t.

Most humans would want to share such engaging information with their surrounding friends and family. This instinct comes from being social animals, and also perhaps from the desire to seek admiration.

Thus, shamans share this nectar-like information with their close ones.

With companions, friends, lovers, and family.

But when two or more know something, it’s not a secret anymore.

The person who received the information spreads it to someone they deem trustworthy, and that person spreads it to another.

Thus, the nectar-like magic ritual gradually spreads out.

But then a problem arises.

The costs begin to balloon massively compared to the initial information!

The benefits remain the same.

It grants exactly 100’s worth of benefits.

However, while some pay a cost of 1, others are charged 199.

“Benefits are uniform. Costs are random.”

Two people perform the magic ritual.

Thus, they both equally receive a total of 200 benefits.

However, the total cost of 200 isn’t split evenly.

While the total amount of costs due has remained constant, the division occurs randomly.

What was fair when it number one becomes unfair with numbers more than one.

And as the number increases, the results grow increasingly dreadful.

Twenty people perform the ritual.

The total benefit is now 2,000. Each of them receives an equal share of 100.

But… the costs?

Someone is lucky and ends up paying 1 or 10, while another unlucky person could face an astronomical cost.

Thus, once a highly praised magic ritual morphs into “very awful.”

With evaluations labeling it terrible in efficacy, the ritual gradually starts to be forgotten.

In the end, two conclusions loom ahead.

One, if the original shaman uses this ritual again.

“That shaman will again make an honest payment for costs and figure out the mechanics behind this magic ritual.”

When that happens, that shaman will naturally come to one conclusion.

This magic ritual must be made to be known by only one person.

The result is a single person transmission.

“And the other is…”

The other will simply be forgotten.

It occurs when the original shaman dies or suddenly becomes horrified by the mutated costs and stops using it. In this case, the magic ritual meets its future to be forgotten or only referenced in some historical text.

“The essence remains unchanged, but the evaluations of people lead to prosperity and decline, which is truly a pity.”

Thus, the truth about the costs of magic rituals quietly slips into darkness.

Those who don’t know are blissfully unaware.

Those who once knew, remain silent.

Those who attempt to inform, find themselves unable to provide proof.

Those who are aware hope that everyone else remains ignorant.

“Just like me.”

 

---