Honbul: Flame of the Soul

The spacious office of the head of the Exorcism Unit was quiet except for the occasional rustle of papers and the scratch of a fountain pen signing documents. Fine lines gathered faintly at the corners of Seok Juryeon’s eyes beneath her reading glasses.

She was reviewing documents with sharp concentration when a polite knock sounded from outside the door.

Without looking up, she waited.

If it had been Han Juyoung, she would’ve announced herself together with the knock. But after several seconds passed, the visitor remained silent.

Only then did Seok Juryeon finally raise her eyes toward the door.

She still hadn’t granted permission to enter, but the door slowly creaked open halfway anyway.

“Knock knock.”

Yoon Taehee raised one eyebrow playfully and mimicked the knocking sound out loud.

Seok Juryeon narrowed her eyes.

“What do you want?”

Yoon Taehee lifted a paper shopping bag.

“Food delivery.”

At the shameless answer, the sharpness in her gaze softened ever so slightly.

The logo of a lunchbox shop near headquarters was printed on the bag. Glancing at the wall clock, Seok Juryeon finally realized lunchtime had long since passed while she’d been buried in work.

“You still haven’t eaten, right? I brought lunch.”

Without answering, she lowered her gaze back to the documents.

This wasn’t unusual.

Yoon Taehee often showed up around mealtimes carrying food.

He rarely ate privately with anyone at headquarters outside mandatory work dinners. Even then, he treated those gatherings as an extension of work and usually disappeared before the second round began.

That clear line he maintained between himself and others made one thing especially notable:

Only two people at headquarters had the kind of relationship with him where he’d casually drag them out to eat without warning.

Lee Youngshin.

And Seok Juryeon.

The reverse was true as well.

Out of everyone in the Office of Narye, Yoon Taehee was the only person who could walk into Seok Juryeon’s office unannounced and invite her to a meal as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ignoring the lack of response, Yoon Taehee confidently crossed the office and sat down at the reception table in the corner.

“Hurry up. It’ll get cold.”

As he unpacked the shopping bag, he placed the lunchbox neatly in the seat Seok Juryeon usually occupied. He even arranged the disposable spoon and bottled water properly beside it.

Only after signing several more documents did Seok Juryeon finally stand.

Settling onto the sofa, she asked casually:

“Where’s yours?”

There was only one lunchbox on the table.

“Mine’s here.”

Yoon Taehee pulled out a paper-wrapped burger set for himself.

After living with Seok Juryeon for three years, he knew her eating habits well. She disliked fast food and instant meals.

“Eat before it gets cold.”

He gestured toward the lunchbox with his chin.

As Seok Juryeon opened it, she narrowed her eyes slightly.

The lunchbox was packed full of meat.

She rarely ate meat.

Noticing immediately, Yoon Taehee spoke while wiping his hands with a wet tissue.

“I know you don’t usually eat much meat, but I asked them to add extra today. Sometimes you need to eat it on purpose. If you keep neglecting protein, you’ll end up with osteoporosis later.”

Seok Juryeon looked mildly displeased for a moment.

But without another word, she quietly began eating.

There was no gratitude. No acknowledgment.

Still, between them existed the kind of ease that only came from very old familiarity.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was natural.

After eating quietly for a while, Seok Juryeon muttered:

“It’s good.”

“There’s no bonus pay for starving yourself while working.”

Unwrapping his burger, Yoon Taehee spoke lazily.

“You should slack off once in a while. Go to a sauna. Dump some work onto your subordinates. When the boss works too hard, it’s the people underneath who suffer.”

Seok Juryeon paused mid-bite and glared sharply at him.

“What did you just say, you little brat?”

Even under his superior’s glare, Yoon Taehee didn’t flinch in the slightest.

He simply bit into his burger and stared back at her with his usual amused expression.

For just an instant, the corners of Seok Juryeon’s lips almost seemed ready to curl upward.

“You’re still busy lately?”

As he stabbed a straw into his drink, Yoon Taehee asked casually.

“Because of Byeoksadan, most of the Covert Division’s personnel are tied up. Work they’d normally handle is falling onto the Exorcism Unit instead. It can’t be helped.”

Ever since Byeoksadan appeared, the Covert Division had been dispatching personnel all over the country gathering information on them.

The division responsible for infiltration, intelligence gathering, investigations, and field support was severely overstretched.

Naturally, the Exorcism Unit—which relied heavily on them—was suffering as well.

The recent cave incident had been one example.

“True. These days the Exorcism Unit even has to handle field investigations.”

Yoon Taehee nodded casually.

“So? Any progress on Byeoksadan?”

“There are plenty of rumors. But no matter how deeply we investigate, we can’t trace where they originated. At this point, it’s possible Byeoksadan themselves are deliberately spreading them.”

While chewing, Yoon Taehee paused for the briefest moment.

Then the crisp crunch of lettuce resumed.

“We still haven’t found any solid leads. The only thing we know for certain so far is that their leader can apparently alter their appearance freely and changes bases often.”

So they’d already uncovered that much.

The speed of the investigation was faster than he’d expected.

“Really?”

Yoon Taehee nodded mildly.

Then he asked in an offhand tone:

“What do you think the odds are that the leader’s Bangsangsi?”

The question sounded casual.

But his gaze carefully observed Seok Juryeon’s reaction.

“Without evidence, it’s just a rumor.”

“If Byeoksadan intentionally spread that rumor, then they must’ve had a reason.”

“The reason’s obvious. They’re invoking Bangsangsi—the ruler of the previous era—to shake the legitimacy of the Office of Narye itself. It’s an attempt to create anxiety around the Office.”

A slow smile spread across Yoon Taehee’s face.

As expected, Seok Juryeon wasn’t easily swayed.

Her conclusion had landed exactly on target.

Massaging her temples, Seok Juryeon muttered irritably:

“Whatever their objective is, Byeoksadan’s becoming a massive headache. We’re already short on personnel, and we’ve been trying to establish branch offices for two years now. Things are complicated enough already.”

Two branch offices had been under construction since two years earlier:

one in Gongju, South Chungcheong Province,

and one in Gyeongju, North Gyeongsang Province.

The goal was to expand the Office’s reach across the country by the end of the year.

“Ah. Right.”

Yoon Taehee nodded.

“The branch offices are still under construction.”

“Since all construction work happens at night, they probably won’t finish until sometime next year.”

The Gongju branch office was being built at Magoksa Temple.

The Gyeongju branch office was at Daereungwon.

To avoid attracting public attention, construction only happened after dark, which slowed the projects considerably.

Silence settled briefly between them.

Then Seok Juryeon spoke.

“Once construction finishes next year, prepare to pack your bags.”

Yoon Taehee blinked twice.

“Hm? Am I getting demoted?”

“How is becoming a branch manager a demotion?”

“...Branch manager?”

Yoon Taehee stared at her blankly.

After a moment of thought, he slowly rubbed his chin.

“That’s a bit much. If someone my age becomes a branch manager, people are definitely going to gossip behind my back.”

“Since when did you care about that? Stay there five years, then come back at thirty-three.”

Seok Juryeon continued in her usual flat tone.

“I’ll recommend you as the next head of the Exorcism Unit.”

“In an era where people live past a hundred? What are you talking about?”

Yoon Taehee widened his eyes before laughing softly.

“Retirement age is sixty-five. Don’t tell me you’re already planning to retire?”

“I’ve done enough.”

“You should aim for director instead. Then I can comfortably inherit your position.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Why not?”

After finishing her meal, Seok Juryeon stood.

“I’m sick of ghosts and all this nonsense.”

The words slipped out almost like she was speaking to herself.

Yoon Taehee smiled faintly.

Noticing, Seok Juryeon looked at him suspiciously.

Yoon Taehee shook his head lightly.

“I just realized you’re getting old too, Chief.”

“And you think you’re not aging? You’re old enough to start thinking about marriage.”

“Who says that?”

Yoon Taehee grinned teasingly.

“You’re not married either.”

Lowering his voice conspiratorially, he continued:

“Chief, honestly, it’s not too late for you either. Find somebody reasonably handsome, debt-free, ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) and a little stupid. Live together comfortably. Don’t bother registering the marriage—it only makes property division annoying later.”

He lazily leaned back in his chair.

“You were born to be taken care of anyway. Let someone pamper you properly. Then once you get tired of him, hand him some money and kick him out. After that, replace him with somebody new.”

“......”

Momentarily speechless from sheer absurdity, Seok Juryeon clicked her tongue.

“Have you completely lost your mind?”

Yoon Taehee wrinkled his nose mischievously.

“What’s wrong with that?”

Shaking her head, Seok Juryeon returned to her desk.

Opening a drawer, she took out a bottle of pills.

Without even bothering with water, she shook several tablets into her palm and swallowed them dry with practiced familiarity.

“Still getting headaches?”

“It’s stress.”

Her tone remained indifferent.

Only Han Juyoung and Yoon Taehee knew that Seok Juryeon practically lived on painkillers.

She’d suffered from headaches her entire life.

Part of it came from her naturally sharp temperament and crushing workload. But the true cause had never been properly diagnosed.

Nightmares.

Blinding headaches severe enough to make daily life impossible without medication.

There had been periods where she desperately searched for treatment, moving from hospital to hospital.

At some point, though, she seemed to have given up entirely.

Now she endured solely through painkillers.

The Purification Unit could’ve prepared remedies for her if she’d asked.

But she never did.

Most likely because she didn’t want her subordinates seeing weakness in her.

Yoon Taehee had occasionally wondered where those headaches truly came from.

Looking at Seok Juryeon now, he thought quietly:

Maybe you’re being punished by guilt too.

Maybe you regret something you did in the past.

I hope not.

At least when it came to Seok Juryeon, Yoon Taehee sincerely hoped she was someone incapable of guilt, shame, or suffering.

“......”

After a long silence, he murmured quietly:

“Please don’t get sick, Chief.”

He meant it sincerely.