“So it’s that bad? No, then how can you not be able to nullify it when you know this much about it?”

“Just because I know doesn’t mean I can do everything. If that were the case, I’d still be human, right? Even in medicine, there are incurable diseases that we know the treatments for but can’t cure. If I could, I would’ve done it right away.”

Master Jemungakju declared after a brief moment of hesitation, his expression grim.

“The only way… is for the person himself to break it.”

As he said this, he looked at me. My eyes widened. Ambassador Daesabu, who was also looking at me with Master Jemungakju, narrowed his eyes and asked again.

“What? The person himself? Even touching it almost led to chaos before, didn’t it?”

“That’s why I said it won’t be easy.”

Master Jemungakju responded as if he had a headache, touching his forehead. Once again, the room fell silent.

“I can help to some extent. But this is similar to gaining enlightenment.”

“Enlightenment?”

“Yes. I can provide protective spells for focused concentration and burn incense to regulate your heightened sensitivity, but breaking the wall is something you have to do alone. Controlling someone means taking hold of their innermost being. That’s why people who use soul-binding spells are especially scorned. Unless you’re using a false spell, no one can touch another’s inner being.”

As soon as he finished speaking, all eyes turned to me as if it was coordinated.

Serious concern, anger at the fact that nothing could be done, compassion for me being in this situation—all these emotions were complexly mixed in their looks.

But I…

Unexpectedly, I was able to read one fundamental emotion lying at the bottom of those complex eyes.

It was affection.

For their disciple, or perhaps for their pupil, and ultimately for someone they couldn’t help but believe was innocent despite being under a spell from the demonic arts.

‘…I see.’

I realized one particular truth.
Formless emotions don’t actually solve problems. They can, however, provide the strength needed to reach a solution.

This was something my family taught me when I was still on Earth.

Now, I’ve lost the people who taught me that. But the space I thought was empty due to such loss was already filled with a new family.

‘It feels a bit obvious now.’

For a moment, I felt like I could do it.

And I had to.

‘I have to solve it eventually anyway.’

If I don’t, I too, who reside in this body, will inevitably… fail.

The ‘Ha Hyun’ I saw in my dreams briefly flashed across my mind. Although it’s a future that has now vanished, I didn’t want to leave this body to go through that again.

So I broke the weighty silence that had been building.

“Then I will accomplish it.”

“……Yeo Heun.”

“I can’t live being controlled by others. If there’s a way, I’ll try to figure it out.”

I briefly glanced around the talismans surrounding the bed.

Then I looked directly at the master of the temple and asked,

“Please tell me the way.”

Days later, I was alone in a small room located deep within the temple.

The heavy scent filling the room wasn’t entirely bad, but it wasn’t something you could call good either. The smoky haze rising from the incense burner clouded my vision.

‘This incense is supposed to calm my volatile qi.’

Even while preparing the incense, the High Priest didn’t make much fuss. He said the incense was too potent for kids my age.

But sometimes, what’s potent can also be medicinal. Given that my qi had already been disrupted once, I thought it might be alright just this once.

Of course, I didn’t say that in front of the High Priest. If I had, I would have surely been scolded, so I kept my mouth shut.

In the quiet room, lit only by the flickering of two candles, I mulled over the master’s advice.