“So, are you all done talking?”
The village chief stroked his beard and let out a hearty laugh. But with the monster alert already triggered, that smile no longer felt warm or reassuring.
…Let’s gather some information first.
Han Jaeyeong boosted their mana and temporarily altered their eyes. Fairy eyes could pierce through the true nature of a target. It consumed a great deal of mana, so they didn’t use it often, but this situation left no choice.
Han Jaeyeong immediately withdrew the mana from their eyes and took a step back.
Just as the system alert had indicated, the old man before them could not be called human. Yet he wasn’t the same type of monster as the lifeless idol from the Yeongjongdo dungeon either. This was…
“He’s a ghost.”
A human is made of body and soul. The soul is the source in which mana resides, and the body is merely its vessel.
But the figure before them had no physical body at all. Only the soul had taken on a visible form.
So that’s why we could understand each other even without the translator…
Even Xuemei, whom they’d encountered before, had language barriers. But this being—this “person,” or rather, this soul—only
appeared
to speak. In reality, it was closer to telepathic communication. Naturally, there was no need for a translator.
“Haha, a ghost? I may be old and near my end, but not so far gone that I’d be called a ghost.” The chief brushed it off casually, as if Han Jaeyeong had made a joke.
Han Jaeyeong exchanged a glance with Jeong Daon.
They don’t seem aware of their own state.
Let’s probe a little more.
“…My apologies for the sudden intrusion,” Han Jaeyeong said carefully. “We were wandering nearby and came here after spotting signs of people.”
“I see. Travelers, then? Explorers?”
“No. Monster hunters.”
As they spoke, Han Jaeyeong closely watched the old man’s expression. If he were aware of being a ghost, he should have reacted.
“Monster hunters? Well now…” The chief laughed as though he’d heard something completely unrelated to himself. “If something that dangerous were roaming nearby, how could ordinary farmers like us possibly survive? I’m afraid we won’t be of any help.”
“Is that so? For ordinary farmers, the castle behind you looks rather impressive.” Han Jaeyeong gestured toward the inner keep’s walls, still standing tall and proud. That grand, towering castle had been visible even before the villagers appeared, and its imposing presence hadn’t changed.
“That castle isn’t ours,” the chief said, shaking his head. “If you’re thinking of going there, I’d advise against it. That is a cursed castle. Our village has, for generations, avoided approaching it.”
“Why?”
“In a small village like ours, it’s best not to ask why rules exist,” the chief replied coolly. “Especially if you’re an outsider who threatened our people.”
He was no easy opponent.
Beside Han Jaeyeong, Jeong Daon let out a sigh. “He looked easy. You should’ve threatened him like I did.”
That only worked because you’re terrifying by default…
Han Jaeyeong didn’t give up and pressed on, “Could you tell us more about this cursed castle?”
“All I know is that it has been called cursed for generations. But perhaps there’s some strange magic at work… From time to time, outsiders wander in. No matter how much we warn them, they all end up heading for the castle.”
“And what do those who returned say?”
“No one ever returns. Not a single one,” the chief said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
A chill crept down their spine.
“If we truly understood the curse, it wouldn’t be called that, would it?”
“…One last question. Outside the outer wall, there were countless corpses of soldiers—”
“What nonsense is that?” The old man burst into laughter, as though he’d heard something utterly absurd. “Well, after wandering for so long, one might start seeing things.”
“So you’re saying you’ve never seen those bodies?”
“Hmm… We neither leave the outer wall nor enter the inner castle. That is the village rule.”
“Never? Not once in your life?”
“That’s right.”
Han Jaeyeong fell silent for a moment.
However, it seemed the village chief had no idea how unsettling his words sounded as he continued, “So, have you asked everything you wanted? To be honest, we’re not a village with the means to entertain outsiders. We can offer you a barn to sleep in for one night… but after that, I’d like you to leave.”
"..."
“If you plan to stay tonight, use that house. Then, I’ll be on my way.”
Han Jaeyeong didn’t stop the old man as he turned and went back into his home.
Jax, who had already retreated inside and was watching warily through the window, hastily drew the curtains the moment their eyes met. The village fell silent again, as though no one lived there at all.
After a long pause—
“What exactly is going on…? Are these people really ghosts?” Yu Hanul asked. Unlike a mage, there was no way he could fully grasp the situation.
Han Jaeyeong nodded. “Yes. They aren’t living humans. And it doesn’t seem like they’re even aware that they’re dead…”
“Then who would do something like this, and why?”
“My guess is that they’re being used as living batteries to maintain the barrier.”
“Living batteries?”
While speaking with the chief, Han Jaeyeong had noticed a constant flow of mana feeding into the massive illusion barrier surrounding the castle. That mana was being supplied through the ghosts standing right in front of them, the same beings that the system recognized as monsters, absorbing mana from the surroundings.
Ordinarily, maintaining a barrier spell requires a core: something that anchors and holds the mana in place, just as Jeong Daon had used minerals as the core when setting up a barrier at home. But in this case, the “core” sustaining the barrier was these very people—these beings classified by the system as monsters.
“Is something like that even possible?”
“In theory.”
It was possible. Humans, too, have the capacity to draw in and store mana.
“But it’s insane.”
The reason people aren’t used as barrier cores is simple. A normal human body can’t withstand the amount of mana required to maintain a spell of this scale. Even if someone somehow succeeded in creating the barrier and survived, their mana circuits would eventually burn out, leaving them in the so-called “water balloon” state. A grand mage with a highly trained body or profound enlightenment might endure it, but the people here were, by all appearances, ordinary civilians with no special abilities. In other words, by normal means, humans cannot serve as the core of a barrier.
However, there was one method, at least in theory.
“They discarded the cumbersome physical bodies and fixed only the souls inside the barrier. Depending on the circumstances, a human soul can last far longer than a body.”
In fact, without a body to suffer, such a state could be maintained almost indefinitely.
Yu Hanul grimaced. “…You call that a method?”
“What do you want me to do? It already happened.”
A barrier that could only be sustained by souls wandering endlessly within it, their bodies long gone. For whoever created it, there was no benefit in the long run.
Yu Hanul asked in a dark voice, “Then… the monsters we’re supposed to defeat are the villagers themselves?”
“…It looks that way.”
“…”
“What, do you expect me to just live here for the rest of my life, then?”
Han Jaeyeong didn’t sound particularly happy saying it, either. No matter how the system classified them as monsters, they were still talking, reacting, standing right in front of them. Humans are, in the end, creatures ruled by what they see. Even knowing rationally that it wouldn’t be murder, hesitation was unavoidable.
Still, Han Jaeyeong was a pragmatic person.
“We don’t need to draw our swords on them directly. We just need to disable the barrier, even briefly.”
The grand spell had been layered with extreme precision, but Han Jaeyeong was no ordinary mage. Creating a temporary disturbance, punching a hole in the barrier, was well within their ability.
And Han Jaeyeong wasn’t alone. Jeong Daon was here too, a mage whose incantation magic was unrivaled in sheer destructive power.
If even a small gap opened in the barrier, the souls that could only function normally within it would inevitably destabilize.
“While we’re stranded here, no one knows what might be happening back in Korea. We need to return as soon as possible.”
Ultimately, the place Han Jaeyeong was responsible for wasn’t here; it was Korea. More specifically, the HP Guild. If they’d had the luxury of time, like when they found Xuemei in a dungeon, they would have protected them without hesitation. But this wasn’t a situation that allowed for such compassion, or demanded it.
Han Jaeyeong wasn’t a hero.
“And tragic as it is, those souls are undeniably beings that go against the natural order.” Even if they aren’t aware of it themselves, existing as souls trapped inside a barrier like this isn’t something positive. “Look at the dead outside the castle walls. To sustain this barrier, every living thing in the surrounding area is being drained to death.”
It had taken several days to even reach the castle after arriving in this dimension, and throughout that vast area, there hadn’t been a single living creature to be found. Judging by that alone, the barrier must have been maintained for decades at least, steadily siphoning away the life force around it. At that point, no matter how unaware these souls might be, they could hardly be called innocent.
“I’m not trying to criticize you, Han Jaeyeong,” Yu Hanul said hesitantly. “I understand your position… but.” He paused, then asked, “These people don’t know what’s been done to them, do they?”
"“Probably not.”
Their unnaturally limited range of movement, and the way they refused to approach the inner castle, calling it a cursed fortress that no one should enter, made it obvious that whoever created the barrier had imposed restrictions on the souls themselves.
Yu Hanul looked straight at Han Jaeyeong. “Han Jaeyeong.”
“Ah, I don’t know.”
“Please hear me out.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I want to at least look for another option first.”
“Why?!” Han Jaeyeong snapped. “What other option could there be, when this is the fastest way—!”
That was when—
“Wait.” Jeong Daon, who had been quietly listening until now, raised a hand and cut in. “I agree with Yu Hanul.”
“
What?!
” Han Jaeyeong exclaimed, genuinely shocked this time. “Why? Don’t you want to get back to Earth as soon as possible? Your brother would be worried sick. I feel sorry for these souls too, but—”
“You think I’m saying this out of simple pity?” Jeong Daon let out a short, derisive laugh.
Still, Han Jaeyeong eyed her suspiciously. Jeong Daon had a habit of refusing to admit when she acted out of compassion. “Then what is it?”
“That’s what I want to ask you,” Jeong Daon replied. “Aren’t you curious, Han Jaeyeong?”
“About what?”
“What’s inside that place.” As she spoke, Jeong Daon pointed toward the castle walls, still standing proudly and aloof. “I want to know what’s inside that so-called cursed castle.”