Mu-ryeong's Spirit-Chapter 47: The End of Despair (2)

To be clear, he hadn't felt any particular fondness for the boy. If anything, his overly kind appearance had sparked an inexplicable sense of unease.

The other student, dressed in the same school uniform, looked far too young—almost like a middle schooler. Yet despite the stiff, unreadable expression on his face, he stared directly at Hwan-young.

Why wasn’t he looking away?

If he was scared, shouldn’t he at least pretend not to see?

Hwan-young was well aware of the kind of looks people gave him. He could tell whether it was fear, admiration, or disgust. And this time, the emotion in those clear brown eyes was, without a doubt, fear.

There was no point in acknowledging it. Hwan-young wasn’t the type to initiate conversation, and there was no reason to return a forced, awkward nod.

So, he simply turned his gaze away, acting as if he had seen nothing.

That should have been the end of it.

Except, his personal space had been invaded, which meant he needed to find a new place.

'...Ah, my nametag.'

The only reason he returned to the back garden was something trivial—he had dropped his nametag at some point.

There was a spare one at home, but getting reprimanded for a uniform violation on the very first day of school would be an unnecessary hassle.

He assumed the other student had already left for class by now.

But when he arrived, he found something completely unexpected.

"..."

The ghost from earlier was still there.

No—calling it a ghost didn’t quite feel right.

It was something else entirely, a grotesque mass of darkness, oozing like ink as it dripped and twisted in the air.

A monster.

And he was touching it.

Not banishing it, not fighting it—holding it.

The boy cradled it gently, as if it were something precious. His bare hands, which should have been coated in filth, remained spotless as he calmed the creature.

For the first time, Hwan-young felt something radiating from him—something cleansing, something warm, as if his presence alone washed away the filth in the air.

He was glowing.

There was no actual light, yet it felt as if something pure was shining from his fingertips, gradually washing away the darkness.

Slowly, the blackened mass faded.

What remained was no longer a monstrous form, but a translucent spirit—not quite human, yet no longer a threat.

And then, with one simple gesture, he let it dissolve like mist.

Hwan-young understood instinctively—this boy hadn’t simply destroyed the ghost. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

Unlike himself, who caused spirits to vanish without a trace, the boy had merely sent it where it was meant to go.

Was he an exorcist?

No. That didn’t feel right.

Hwan-young knew about exorcists—the kind who erased spirits permanently, treating them as nothing more than dangerous entities.

To him, exorcists were monsters, feared by the dead but revered by the living.

But if there were those who specialized in exorcism...

Then perhaps there could also be someone who specialized in salvation.

A savior—one who rescued the lost and guided them to their rightful place.

It was a foolish hope.

Yet, it was enough to make him wait—to make him wonder.

And since the boy had picked up his dropped nametag, surely, it was only a matter of time before he returned it.

“Kim Mu-ryeong fell asleep again?”

“Hey, Seung-joo, your back’s gonna break.”

“Damn it, sleep at night, idiot.”

One day passed. Then two. Then a week.

Then a month.

But the boy never came to return his nametag.

He never spoke to him—not even once.

He didn’t even ask someone else to return it on his behalf.

And it wasn’t as if he was some shy, quiet kid.

Within just a month, the entire school knew Kim Mu-ryeong’s name.

But Hwan-young remained nothing more than a stranger to him.

“...A job request?”

Then, Mu-ryeong did something unexpected.

He started taking requests.

"If you need something fixed, ask Mu-ryeong. He’ll take care of it."

The rumor spread like wildfire.

At first, students had mocked it, wondering what kind of strange gimmick he was pulling.

But then, one by one, they found themselves drawn in—and by the time they realized it, they had already fallen under his spell.

And the strangest part?

It actually worked.

"Mu-ryeong found my lost necklace."

"That kid who used to be a total menace? One word from Mu-ryeong, and he never caused trouble again."

"Yeah, Mu-ryeong walked me home after school the other day."

"He unlocked the music room when the door got jammed."

"He found all the missing basketballs from the storage room."

Kim Mu-ryeong.

Kim Mu-ryeong.

And again—Kim Mu-ryeong.

His name became impossible to ignore.

People whispered about him constantly, like a school-wide legend.

Some of the things he solved made no sense—so much so that a student once jokingly suggested he might be using magic.

But the most fascinating thing was what people said about him.

"Mu-ryeong is so kind."

That was always the first thing.

Then, the next most common thing—"He’s adorable."

And finally—"I just really like him."

Strangely enough, no one ever said they ‘wanted to befriend him’.

Perhaps because he was already friends with everyone.

"He can’t actually see ghosts... right?"

But the real mystery wasn’t just how he did what he did.

It was that, despite the endless ghost stories surrounding him, there wasn’t a single bad rumor about him.

Even the troublemakers—those who had no problem slandering anyone—somehow, never spoke ill of Mu-ryeong.

If anything...

They treated him with unusual generosity.

"Hey, go buy some drinks."

There was a time when something like this happened. At the beginning of the semester, a male student who was seen as an easy target was being bullied by a group of delinquents, the kind who spent their time smoking in the back alleys. At first, it was just small errands, but it was clear that things would escalate soon.

"...Did you guys just make him run an errand for you?"

That was when Mu-ryeong, who wasn’t even in the same class as them, stepped in. Hwan-young, without realizing it, found himself listening intently. The group huddled together, and even at a glance, they looked like bad news.

What kind of nerve does he have to say something like that? Just as Hwan-young was wondering, Mu-ryeong flashed a bright smile and held out his hand.

"Give me the money for the drink. I'm heading to the snack bar anyway, so I’ll grab it for you."

It was just a simple sentence, but the atmosphere shifted in an odd way. The ones who had been sneaking glances at each other hesitated, then suddenly threw an arm around Mu-ryeong’s shoulders and walked off with him.

"Damn, he really called us out on something like this."

They grumbled, but after coming back from the snack bar, they never bothered that student again.

He was an incomprehensible person. Hwan-young was certain he himself would never, not even in another life, act the way Kim Mu-ryeong did. He was the kind of person you might never meet in your entire life. And yet, for some reason, every time Hwan-young saw him, he couldn’t shake off a strange sense of déjà vu.

"Ah, Kim Mu-ryeong, walk on your own."

"I'm tired... Carry me."

Even after summer break ended and the second semester began, Hwan-young’s impression of Mu-ryeong didn’t change much. An unpredictable, erratic guy. One moment, he was running around with bright, clear eyes, and the next, he was being dragged along lifelessly by his friend.

At first, he had only been watching Mu-ryeong to figure out when to return his name tag. But before he realized it, the name tag had become a secondary concern. His name was unusual, so it kept catching his ear. His pale, almost ghostly complexion was strangely distracting.

"What the hell?"

"...Is it dead?"

"Damn, that’s disgusting."

Then, another incident happened. One day, a bird crashed into the metal structure above the sports field and fell to the ground, unconscious. It must have hit a sharp steel edge because it was bleeding heavily. It wouldn’t be long before it died.

"Oh no..."

No one stepped forward to help. Instead, they huddled together, murmuring about getting a teacher, treating it as nothing more than another spectacle to watch from a distance.

The bird wasn’t at fault. Just as Hwan-young frowned at the situation, Mu-ryeong suddenly emerged from the crowd and strode forward.

"Hey... Are you seriously going to touch that with your bare hands?"

His friend, the one who always carried him around, asked in disbelief. But Mu-ryeong crouched down without hesitation. Gently, he cupped the lifeless bird in both hands. The small creature, no bigger than Mu-ryeong’s palm, had already turned cold and stiff.

"We should bury it."

His expression didn’t hold any sorrow. If anything, there was just a fleeting moment of emptiness, a quiet sigh of resignation.

"Seung-joo, let’s go."

"Your hands... Ugh, seriously..."

"I can wash them later."

Hwan-young didn’t know what Mu-ryeong did with the bird afterward. He had headed toward the back garden, so he likely buried it somewhere there. The only thing Hwan-young saw for sure was the bird’s spirit fluttering after Mu-ryeong as he walked away.

It was unexpected. Mu-ryeong looked so frail, like the kind of person who would faint at the sight of blood. His face was soft, almost delicate, as if he’d be easily scared.

But there were so many things about him that were surprising.

During the fall sports festival, Mu-ryeong participated in almost every event—and won first place in all of them. How could someone with such a small frame be that athletic? He didn’t even look tired.

"Kim Mu-ryeong is close with the third-years too."

The more Hwan-young learned about him, the more often he spotted him in the hallways. And the more their eyes met—only for Mu-ryeong to quickly °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° look away—the more questions Hwan-young had.

"..."

"..."

Why hadn’t Kim Mu-ryeong returned his name tag yet? Why did he keep such an awkward distance? When they ran into each other outside the teachers’ office, why did he stiffen so visibly, as if his entire neck had gone rigid with tension?

The truth was, Hwan-young already had a vague idea.

Just like most people, Mu-ryeong probably felt uncomfortable around him. No matter how sociable he was, there had to be some people he didn’t want to get close to.

He understood that. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared.

But for some reason, Mu-ryeong’s attitude toward him didn’t just bother him—it annoyed him.