199 Chapter
199 Chapter
The Jisan Village festival continued through the night.
Outsiders were allowed to rest in any of the fully opened private homes, and they could enjoy alcohol and meat for free until dawn.
In the end, quite a few of them chose not to leave, remaining in the village.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, I heard there’s some big event on the last day. Like… some kind of shaman ritual?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t know. But I’m gonna film it and make Shorts content.”
Some outsiders idly stayed up all night muttering to each other, while others drunkenly passed out in random rooms.
And then—on the morning of the final day.
“Oh.”
“Looks like it’s starting now.”
[The Blessing of Jisan is coming~]
At last, the ritual began.
Doom doom doom
To the beat of janggu drums played by the festival musicians, the villagers lined up on both sides, creating a long corridor-like space.
From the tiled-roof house—
To the Seonang Shrine.
And finally, from the tiled-roof house at the village center—the starting point of that path—something emerged.
[Sansanbaekjisanbokjusiopgedaeirijaya.]
It was a massive human palanquin.
Four people, rooster feathers stuck into their chests and heads covered with plain cloth, were carrying someone.
“Oh.”
“Yo, this is getting real.”
The outsiders, merely curious, exchanged indifferent remarks. But hidden among them were those whose eyes gleamed in silence.
What a mess.
Deputy Eunhaje.
The man once addressed by Kim Soleum as such observed the movements of the palanquin-bearers and villagers from afar.
At this rate, it seemed the project’s mission could be carried out without obstruction.
His sharp gaze turned outward.
Toward the area filled with abandoned houses—toward the well.
The well.
That was the true objective of his mission.
The agents of the Disaster Response Agency had yet to determine exactly why the villagers were less aggressive near the well, or why it was comparatively safe.
They’d investigated it outside festival periods, but found only a blocked, disused well.
But this “reporter” knew the exact reason. He knew what he had to investigate.
That well had once been a passage connected to somewhere else.
And during the bizarre duration of this festival, the village itself transformed into a high-grade anomaly—sometimes reactivating that passage’s function.
Which is why it had to be investigated now.
But—
“……”
The reporter glanced at Kim Soleum, riding atop the human palanquin, then quietly began to move.
Not toward the well between the abandoned houses—
But in the opposite direction.
[Sansanbaekjisanbokjusiopgedaeirijaya]
Meanwhile, the procession continued.
The festival musicians parted the way, the palanquin passed, and the villagers bowed in worship. Others stumbled along behind it in fervent devotion.
But they kept a certain distance. As though getting too close was not permitted.
The problem was—some among them didn’t care whether it was permitted or not.
“Whoa! Check this out—it’s the first time they’ve held this in decades!”
Some outsiders followed close behind, shoving smartphones in for a better view.
The drunken and dull-witted ignored the invisible boundaries, even tapping the hooded palanquin-bearers on the shoulder.
They’d only come to this countryside festival for the free food and booze anyway.
But the villagers didn’t stop them.
They only stared with calm, smiling faces.
“Wow, not bad for a backwater town.”
“Professionalism. Real pros.”
The villagers did not flare up.
They simply watched—nervously, earnestly—ensuring the palanquin’s safe arrival.
“……”
At last, the palanquin arrived safely at the Seonang Shrine and came to a stop.
The four bearers cautiously lowered the “chosen one” they had carried on their shoulders.
Two of them stepped toward the shrine and cut the golden rope.
Snip.
The rope dropped to the ground. The remaining two removed the rope tied to the chosen one’s feet and rehung it on the shrine.
Then the shrine’s door was opened.
Inside was…
“The door’s opening! Whoa! Look at that! Gold!”
A golden rooster.
That golden rooster statue—the one that represented the “Special Prize”—had been enshrined inside the Seonang Shrine all along.
But the size of it was enormous.
“Is that not just gold-plated?”
“Holy shit.”
In the center of the shrine—where an altar should have been—was a large round wooden platform, and atop it stood a structure nearly the size of a human.
The outsiders’ expressions morphed from awe into something far more primal—greed.
They barely registered the pole behind the golden statue—jammed in upside-down in the floor of the shrine.
Just like the sticks jammed upside-down inside the raffle box.
[Sansanbaekjisanbokjusiopgedaeirijaya]
The one who had been riding the palanquin finally moved.
Dressed in a white robe, they stood before the shrine. One by one, villagers approached and placed paper sheets atop the robe.
The papers were thick with ink, crowded with writing.
Korean characters. Chinese characters.
The names of villagers.
And after bowing three times, they poured liquor over the robe.
Sluuurrrp.
The Shinsanju flowed, washing away the black ink and causing the names to vanish.
It looked as if the liquid were soaking into the person clad in white.
“Liberate us from worldly truth, O Blessing of Jisan, O Proxy.”
“Liberate us from worldly truth, O Blessing of Jisan, O Proxy.”
“Liberate us from worldly truth, O Blessing of Jisan, O Proxy.”
The villagers bowed. They prayed. They wept. They screamed, vomiting up old, deep-seated terrors, raising both arms or begging toward the heavens.
The despair and desperation couldn’t be drowned out, even by the music of the festival troupe.
“Uh…”
“Hey. This feels kind of off, doesn’t it?”
Most of the outsiders began to awkwardly back away.
They were starting to sense something strange.
And then—
“Let’s get a closer look at this gold statue. Oh wait, what’s that… it smells kinda nice… like alcohol…”
Thunk.
It was the moment a smartphone-wielding outsider set foot inside the shrine.
“Huh?”
[Sansanbaekjisanbokjusiopgedaeirijaya]
The golden rooster began to melt.
Bubbling.
As though sizzling, the statue melted and seeped into the grooves in the floorboards…
And soon touched the foot of the one who had dared to enter.
That golden liquid.
“……”
The outsider looked down at their foot in a daze. Their mouth opened.
“I see it now!”
Thud.
Their smartphone fell to the floor.
“The world is ■■! We’re nothing but ■■ scribbled within it!”
“Please don’t look at me don’t look at me don’t ■■ me—”
“I have value I’m fascinating no?? I’m not?? What is this what?? My name, sir?”
The madness spread like contagion.
“What… what the hell?”
“What’s wrong with them?”
Those at the edges gasped at the sight, recoiling—or craning their necks for a better view.
But it was already too late.
“AAAH!”
Most of them slipped into delirium.
Screams. Incoherent rambling. People slumped with blank, empty eyes.
Madness and silence coexisted.
But the villagers didn’t look back at them.
They’d seen it all too many times—those who touched the Shinsanju, glimpsed the truth of the world, and were consumed by its terror.
Outsiders were outsiders, nothing more.
And they—the family of Jisan Village—would not share their fate.
Because this, this long ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Jisan Festival they had so painstakingly prepared, was finally approaching its end—
[He is coming!]
Only those unlike these defiled ones—those who had served the ritual with devotion for decades, who had awaited the Blessing of Jisan as the Chosen—only they would receive liberation!
“A new pole is being erected at the Seonang Shrine!”
The clamor of the kkwaenggwari gongs drowned the frenzy.
The chosen one began calmly walking toward the Seonang Shrine—unbothered by the chaos.
Still holding the golden stick, the Special Prize.
All it would take was to drive that small stick into the golden liquid now pooled beneath the shrine, and the chosen one would melt into it, becoming the Blessing of Jisan.
A sacrifice—no, a god—who would deliver liberation from that terrifying truth of the world.
The villagers believed that they, at last, would escape this monstrous and brutal world, avoid misfortune, and be freed.
But then…
…….
“Everyone.”
A flat, bureaucratic voice.
“There’s a procedural error here.”
“…?!”
The chosen one glanced at the golden stick in his hand and sighed.
“At this rate, you’ll be damned. Or, in your terms, you might say it’s been ‘defiled.’”
A silence like death fell.
Then, a voice screamed:
“The Blessing of Jisan speaks falsehoods to abandon us!”
“Doubtful.”
The one in white slowly raised both hands—
Toward the sky.
“I know.”
He spoke in their language:
“I have been cleansed by the Shinsanju and awakened to the truth of the world. I already know what kind of Blessing of Jisan should raise the golden pole at the shrine.”
The truth.
“You twisted the teachings. Perhaps you read a few random pages of the Nameless Scripture somewhere, or heard parts of it and misunderstood.”
Confusion.
Whispers. Groans from those who didn’t understand.
“What did you believe liberation from worldly truth was? Fleeing from this cruel, painful, unjust world? Escaping misfortune and living as chosen exceptions under the Blessing’s protection?”
The villagers lifted their heads.
An answer, through action.
“I see. In that case, let’s begin here.”
Kim Soleum spoke.
With the certainty of knowledge.
The most important doctrine of the Brilliant Nameless Sect.
The First Teaching.
“There is no freedom in this world.”
“This world belongs to the Name. Only those chosen by the Name hold meaning. One must accept this truth, cultivate oneself for His selection, and plant the primordial seed across the earth.”
“Your free will holds no meaning. Only the will and choice of the Name carry significance.”
“Those too weak to accept this truth have sought refuge in death, but that is no escape.”
He declared:
“There is no escape from the Name.”
…….
“This is the liberation.”
Silence as heavy as a corpse.
The chosen one, clad in white, looked around at the villagers and asked:
“Do you not wish to accept it?”
No.
No.
Impossible!
“In that case, choose another auspicious day and prepare a different holiday and ritual. For the Blessing of Jisan you summoned with these methods—”
He pointed to himself.
“—was me.”
The disappearances of outsiders. The sacrificial lottery. The living offerings.
From all corners came cries:
“No!”
“It can’t be!”
“We’re defiled—this is defilement!”
But they could not kill the one before them.
If he were to die within this village, he would become a new god.
That was the procedure.
In the end… they had no choice but to let him go.
“Aaaagh!”
The musicians staggered, and people collapsed all around.
The village festival ended in chaos and confusion.
And the chosen one—Kim Soleum, who had steered it all to this conclusion using his specialty in information warfare and psychological manipulation—
As expected.
Watched it all unfold with sunken eyes.
Without joy.
***
I knew this would happen.
I looked around at the insane spectacle.
Yes, this was indeed a ghost story under the jurisdiction of the Brilliant Nameless Sect. But it wasn’t a proper site of their doctrine.
Probably on purpose.
“This village was ‘experimented on’—given rituals just accurate enough to let the ghost story take form.”
To fully understand this process, I would need Baek Saheon’s help.
I had to figure out how exactly the ritual worked, and what teachings they truly followed.
And—
Baek Saheon had manipulated another villager who’d drawn a golden stick to buy me enough hours in the dawn to hear everything and analyze it.
…Did he pick up another brainwashing artifact in the meantime?
I no longer had the will to retrieve it.
It didn’t matter. Not anymore.
Anyway—thanks to that, I was able to pinpoint their mistakes.
And since all of my knowledge of the Brilliant Nameless Sect was authentic, the villagers had been all the easier to manipulate.
As for me—having long suspected what this so-called “truth of the world” really was—I was immune to its influence.
…I mean, I read all this on the wiki already.
In any case—
“Jisan Village will now be trapped in its own schism, torn between what is right and what is not, each side believing what they want to believe.”
And once that division breaks their unity, weaknesses will emerge.
The SDRA should be able to intervene before next year’s holiday.
So before the chaos settled down—
I’d slip away.
The festival was over.
The village had rejected me as the chosen one.
Which meant… it should be safe to leave now.
“……”
I tried to walk out of the Seonang Shrine.
Splat.
A ripple spread beneath my step in the golden liquid.
That had been the golden rooster.
Judging by the color, it looked like the circular wooden platform beneath it hadn’t melted.
Probably still resting on the floor.
Only the gold had melted, huh…
Thud.
“……”
I stopped in my tracks.
Thud.
The ground trembled. No—
Thud.
The floor.
It split apart, and the golden liquid began pouring downward.
“…!”
I threw myself out of the shrine, narrowly avoiding the collapse.
And between the broken boards of the wooden platform—
Clear liquid surged upward.
Shinsanju.
…!
I realized.
The golden rooster had been a pressure stone.
And the circular wooden platform—
Had been a lid.
That golden statue had been holding something buried under the shrine in place.
A massive ceramic liquor jar.
And inside—something was sealed, slumbering in restraint.
Awakened by the true doctrine I had spoken.
Chrrrkkk—
Countless legs scraped the floor.
AaaaAAAAAH!
A long-bodied creature burst out from within the clear liquor.
A monstrous centipede—twisting, squirming—covered in dozens of legs.
AaaaAAAAH!
But those legs—were all human arms.
Hands clasped in prayer.
Palms together.
And its faceless, featureless head—like a human mask with holes—twitched unnaturally.
Like some fallen monk from ancient folklore.
A form I recognized instantly.
The Centipede Acolyte.
A ghost story from the Brilliant Nameless Sect, one that delivers its teachings. Born of a creature inspired by the power of stories, it spreads mutated followers wherever it is acknowledged by a religious functionary.
But its body—was already half-rotted.
The arms spilling out from the shrine were bloated and melting in the liquor.
Even its eyes were dissolved.
In one rural village’s legend, they say the villagers misunderstood its teachings and sealed it in a liquor jar—using the resulting liquor to offer ritual sacrifices.
So this was it.
The one who had brought the doctrine here.
The reason they placed rooster symbols everywhere—the centipede’s favorite prey.
Not that it seemed to help.
AaaaAAAAAH…
Name.
Name.
This creature had become consumed by its own faith in the Sect.
It could no longer communicate.
It could only transmit doctrine and revelation—
Violently. Incomprehensibly.
There is no Nirvana. No Enlightenment.
This is the truth of the world.
When the end of the Final Law arrives, offer suffering, madness, and delusion.
Regurgitate your relics and attain eternal life.
This is the true form of the Path.
This is the Law of Impermanence.
This is the truth of the world.
When the end of the Final Law arrives, offer suffering, madness, and delusion.
Regurgitate your relics and attain eternal life.
This is the true form of the Path.
This is the Law of Impermanence.
I had to respond.
I knew that.
But…
“…Do I really have to?”
My arms went slack.
…I'm tired.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done this.
When will it end?
My head tells me: Just hold on for one more month. Get the wish ticket and you’ll be free.
But part of me thinks: What harm is there in just… listening to that centipede preach for a while?
What’s the worst that could happen if my body breaks apart?
Maybe I—
“Agent Podo.”
A strong hand gripped my shoulder.
I turned my head.
That firm expression. Those shining eyes.
Agent Cheongdong was standing there.
“Just as promised, I returned on time. …And as I said before.”
When I come back—
“I’ll have found a way to rescue you.”
His grip tightened on my shoulder.
“According to the rules.”
And those rules were—
‘In any supernatural disaster, two agents are deployed to extract the rescue target.’
Agent Choi’s guillotine axe slammed into the shrine’s roof—ghostfire bursting into a brilliant blaze.