Chapter 3: Breaking Bad Connections
Dohyuk tossed and turned before waking. He’d never been one to sleep deeply. His throat was dry, and he fumbled for water on the nightstand, but unfortunately, he hadn’t brought any. A slightly irritated sigh escaped as he got out of bed. The clock showed 3 AM—too early to get up and start the day.
As he left the bedroom heading for the kitchen, he paused. There was a figure in the living room. For a moment his nerves went on edge before he remembered—it was that Muryeong person, the shaman or whatever that his mother had left behind.
Had he been sitting there the entire time?
He sat on the sofa with perfect posture, so still that Dohyuk wondered if he was even alive. Motionless enough to be mistaken for a doll, with no trace of presence. This piqued Dohyuk’s interest slightly.
Making as little noise as possible, he sat across from him. Strangely, as if aware of Dohyuk’s presence, the man slowly raised his head and looked in his direction. Even though his eyes were covered and it was the middle of the night without a single light on—meaning he couldn’t possibly see anything—he acted as if he could.
Dohyuk gazed intently at him as well, as if looking into those unseeing eyes. A quiet, prolonged silence followed. As time passed, it became increasingly unclear whether the man was actually aware of his presence or not. There was absolutely no reaction. It really felt like sitting in front of a doll.
Had he turned his head in Dohyuk’s direction purely by chance? Perhaps because he was supposedly a shaman, Dohyuk had subconsciously harbored pointless expectations. Even though he couldn’t sleep, this was a waste of time.
Just as he was about to stand, the man spoke.
“If you have questions, you may ask them.”
His voice was quieter and clearer than Dohyuk had imagined. Though not as thin as a woman’s, it had a strangely androgynous quality. Was he young? With his eyes covered, it was impossible to tell.
“What’s your name?”
Since it seemed he’d have to keep him around for a while, he asked.
“…You may call me whatever you like.”
The answer was unexpected.
“Whatever I like?”
Dohyuk asked again, slightly taken aback, but the other person remained silent. A small scoff escaped him. He’d thought he was the only one being guarded, but apparently not.
“You don’t even tell your clients your name?”
He asked in a languid tone, leaning back on the sofa. Though his words were polite, they clearly conveyed his objection: how dare someone who works for money refuse to share even their name?
“It’s not that I won’t tell you. It’s that I have nothing to tell.”
His voice was quiet and calm, yet distinct.
“Nothing to tell?”
Dohyuk’s brow furrowed. Was he imagining it, or did that sound like he had no name to begin with?
“So call me whatever you wish.”
His demeanor remained serene, contrary to the absurdity of his words.
“What do they call you there?”
It was ridiculous to claim he had no name. From what his mother had said, Muryeong was a shamanic group. Since it couldn’t consist of just one or two people, they must have ways to address each other—whether by rank, name, or something else.
The man fell silent again. When such a simple question went unanswered, Dohyuk’s stubbornness kicked in unnecessarily. In truth, he’d never been particularly curious about the man’s name. He was merely reacting to being told there was nothing to tell.
As the other maintained his silence, Dohyuk also closed his mouth and simply stared at him. The man was clearly aware of his gaze. No—perhaps he was sensing not Dohyuk’s gaze but the intensity he was radiating. Either way, he seemed to know that Dohyuk was now “waiting” for his answer.
His shoulders moved slightly as if he’d exhaled. For a deep breath, it made remarkably little sound. Dohyuk only noticed the subtle movement because he was watching so intently.
Was he finally going to answer? Dohyuk considered himself second to none in patience and stubbornness, so he was prepared to wait one hour, two hours—however long it took. He thought the man might be backing down since he’d sighed first, but his lips remained sealed.
“Let me change the question then.”
Dohyuk crossed his arms and lifted one corner of his mouth slightly. It had been a long time since someone had sat before him maintaining such unwavering composure.
“What can you do? I heard you have spiritual power, but are you really saying you can take on misfortune directed at me? How would you prove that?”
“…I am not a scapegoat.”
This answer, too, defied Dohyuk’s expectations. It was laughable that someone brought in as a scapegoat would claim not to be one. This might be his chance to send him back immediately.
“You’re not a scapegoat? Then why are you sitting here?”
Even if he had claimed to be a scapegoat, Dohyuk wouldn’t have believed it—but how was someone who wasn’t even a scapegoat, yet took a huge sum of money, any different from a con artist? Was this really a group that served the top 1% of political and business circles? Were there only empty-headed fools in those circles?
The thought that there might be some truth to that drew a sneer from him. The politicians and businesspeople he’d met all lived for their own self-importance, but beneath the surface, they were filthy and vile. Those with the most to hide were often the most susceptible to pointless distractions.
“Your mother, Cha Seonyoo-ssi, requested that I prevent any misfortune that might befall her son.”
So he wasn’t a scapegoat but could prevent misfortune? His statements didn’t align at all. What made him so confident despite such inconsistency?
“What I do is…”
He stood up. Wondering what he was about to do, Dohyuk narrowed his eyes as the man stepped forward, approaching him. His hand reached out toward Dohyuk. Instinctively, Dohyuk was about to grab his arm, but stopped just short when the man’s slender fingers made a gesture as if grasping something in the air.
“Connected to Kang Dohyuk-ssi.”
As his index finger and thumb tensed, a small white light briefly formed and then vanished. What was that? Dohyuk frowned and looked again, but the light that had momentarily pierced the darkness was no longer visible. Was it an illusion?
“I break bad connections.”
He lowered his arm that had been suspended in the air. Dohyuk’s frown deepened. Was he claiming that this simple action had severed his bad connections?
“Ha.”
A short, mocking laugh escaped him.
“You’re really trying to get an easy payday.”
It was outrageous that he could earn millions with just a few theatrical hand gestures. Since the man had been brought by his mother, Dohyuk had tried to maintain a minimum level of courtesy, but he clearly wasn’t worth engaging with. He felt his mood sink at the waste of time.
Despite Dohyuk’s cynical reaction, the other remained composed. That strangely grated on his nerves.
As Dohyuk rose from the sofa, the man took a step back. It was as if he knew what Dohyuk was about to do. But that didn’t matter.
In one stride, Dohyuk closed the distance and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him close. His waist, even more slender than it appeared, fit within one arm.
“What—!”
Before the startled man could push Dohyuk away, Dohyuk had already untied the cloth covering his eyes. With a soft sound, the white fabric came undone and fell to the floor, and the man looked up at Dohyuk with widened eyes.
Though it was dark with no lights on, they were face to face, and Dohyuk’s eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. Thanks to the ambient light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the man’s face was clearly visible. As were his pale eyes, so light they had a bluish tint. Now that he looked, his hair was also a light brown. He’d thought it was dyed, but was he mixed-race?
A mixed-race shaman… How absurd.
“So you’re not blind after all.”
Dohyuk released him and stared into his blue eyes. Now that the cloth covering his eyes was removed, his age became somewhat discernible. Early twenties, or mid-twenties at most.
“You said I could call you whatever I want? Since you can break bad connections, I’ll call you Yeon.”
The man was hired for money and appeared significantly younger than Dohyuk. Above all, Dohyuk wasn’t generous enough to keep using formal language with someone from a group of frauds.
“As long as you don’t cause trouble, you’re welcome to stay for a while.”
Though his mother had brought him, there was also the possibility he was a plant. Dohyuk trusted no one. At times, he even doubted and was wary of his own mother.
“You can use the living room and the room at the end of that corridor.”
He gestured toward the hallway opposite his bedroom. It was one of several spare rooms, usually used as storage for things not in regular use.
“Don’t enter any other areas without permission. If you respect that boundary, I’ll play along with your games to a reasonable extent.”
There was only one reason he didn’t immediately throw him out. The Muryeong group supposedly dealt with the top 1% of political and business circles. They must know their clients’ private scandals. If he could extract that information, it could prove useful someday, so there was no need to antagonize Muryeong. Even con artists had their uses.
Leaving him behind, Dohyuk took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and returned directly to his bedroom. Though he didn’t think he’d fall asleep again, he had no intention of playing along with this man’s games any longer.
Left alone in the living room, Yeon gazed at Kang Dohyuk’s firmly closed bedroom door before taking a long, quiet breath.
‘Yeon.’
A deep voice from distant memory came vividly to life, lingering in his ear.
How cruel connections can be.
A bitter smile appeared briefly on Yeon’s lips before vanishing.
‘If you don’t step back, I will cut you down. Even you are no exception.’
‘He’ hadn’t been a kind person either. Remembering Kang Dohyuk’s face—that cold, contemptuous look he’d shot him—Yeon couldn’t help but laugh weakly. How could he be so consistent? Indeed, a person’s true nature doesn’t change easily, even after repeating countless lifetimes.
After picking up the cloth that had covered his eyes from the floor, he stared pensively at his right hand. For a moment, he’d seen numerous colorful threads connected to him. He’d been covering his eyes because he didn’t want to see unnecessary things…
A red thread tied to his right hand wavered in the air. The other end of that thread extended into Kang Dohyuk’s bedroom.
