Honbul: Flame of the Soul

The people gathered there were clearly all there to take the exam, just like Jaegyeom. Unlike the Naja he had seen in the lobby, every one of them was dressed in casual clothes, the same as he was. The numbers ran from 1 into the 70s. Since Jaegyeom had the very last number, it looked like the tags had been handed out in order of arrival.

Conference Room 3 was large enough to hold more than seventy people. It looked almost like a university lecture hall. At the front, where a projector screen might have been, a huge blackout curtain had been drawn across the wall. The atmosphere was quiet and heavy.

Every examinee already seated inside looked visibly tense, and each had a numbered tag pinned to their chest. Standing awkwardly by the door, Jaegyeom felt their eyes on him as he went to the seat the Naja had indicated and sat down. On the long table, there was a paper cup with something to drink in it at every seat.

From the very last row, all he could see was a dense sea of the backs of people’s heads. Jaegyeom sat there blankly with his mouth slightly open, then belatedly remembered that he was still holding the number tag in his hand. How am I supposed to put this on? He studied it intently, turning the tag over and fiddling with the pin attached to the back. When he pressed on it, a sharp needle sprang out. He was tugging at the front of his sweatshirt, trying to pin the tag on, when—

“Want help?”

Someone sitting next to him held out a hand. Jaegyeom flinched and turned his head. The man beside him looked about the same age, with bleached yellow hair and ears crowded with piercings. Before Jaegyeom could say anything, the bleached-haired guy reached over with brisk, capable hands and pinned the tag neatly onto his sweatshirt. Jaegyeom was staring blankly down at his chest when the other man whispered,

“I’m number 76. You’re 77. Guess you’re kind of a sloppy seventy-seven, huh?”

He pointed at his own number tag as he said it.

“......”

Jaegyeom turned a harsh stare on him. The bleached-haired guy touched the rim of one ear awkwardly. Jesus, that was serious fast... Then he hurriedly changed the subject.

“Can I ask how old you are?”

Jaegyeom kept looking straight ahead as he answered.

“No.”

At the indifferent reply, the bleached-haired guy looked taken aback—then suddenly started snickering. Jaegyeom had meant it sincerely, but apparently the other man thought he was joking back. Jaegyeom was just starting to frown when—

The front door of the conference room banged open and someone walked in.

The once-quiet examinees immediately began to stir. The Naja who entered was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, but with it, incongruously, bare feet in slippers. Dragging them along with a scrape, scrape, she walked to the front of the room and planted both hands on her hips.

“Hiiiii, babies.”

The Naja standing before them looked to be a woman in her mid-thirties. There were several examinees in the room older than she was, yet she spoke to all of them casually without hesitation, lumping them all together as “babies.” It was exactly the kind of attitude some people would have found insulting, but no one in the room looked remotely willing to challenge her on it.

“I’m Shim Gijeong from the Covert Division, your proctor for the first-stage exam.”

Shim Gijeong had a husky voice. Her hair was cut almost to the point of a buzz cut, and she wore a dark purple lipstick that gave her an exceptionally forceful impression. She radiated a strange, difficult-to-define charisma, and every examinee in the room was instantly overpowered by it.

“We’re about to start the test, but first I’ll go over the rules. Babies, if you zone out and miss something, then try asking me about it later, I’ll rip you apart. What I hate most is repeating myself.”

Shim Gijeong scratched at her short hair as she spoke.

“First of all, the first exam is blind by principle. I’ll be calling you by number, not by name, so make damn sure you know your own number. And there are both apprentices who’ve been grinding away for two years and recommendation candidates in here, right? Recommendation candidates especially—don’t start flapping your gums with, Do you know who backed me? The second you reveal personal information, you fail on the spot. It compromises the fairness of the test.”

At the ferocious warning, the examinees all looked intimidated. Jaegyeom, who had Yoon Taehee as his backing, felt absolutely nothing. He lowered his gaze and checked his number tag again.

Seventy-seven. Sloppy seventy-seven. Gotta remember that.

“The test has three stages. Stage one checks whether your eyes are properly opened. Stage two checks whether your ghost-sight is fully open. Stage three checks how skillfully you can handle ghostly force. At each stage, if you babies don’t meet the standard, see that back door over there? Open it, walk out, and go straight home. That’s it. Any questions?”

“......”

“......”

“......”

The babies merely swallowed hard and glanced around at one another.

“No? Then listen up, babies. You’ve each got a paper cup in front of you, right? Bottoms up.”

The examinees, still reading the room, hesitantly began picking up their cups one by one. What is this...? Jaegyeom looked down at his cup for a moment, then decided to do as he was told. Without hesitation, he tipped back the green liquid. It smelled grassy and tasted bitter. When he glanced sideways, the bleached-haired guy next to him was pinching his nose and struggling. Judging by the way he was forcing himself to drink it, he seemed terrified because he had no idea what it was.

“Finished? Good. Then we’ll begin stage one.”

Stretching her neck forward to scan the room and check that the cups were empty, Shim Gijeong turned around. Then, in one motion, she yanked down the huge blackout curtain hanging across the front of the conference room. Once the curtain was gone, a bright white screen was revealed. It was blank, pristine, like untouched paper.

“You there. Baby number 13. What do you see here?”

Shim Gijeong pointed at one of the examinees seated near the front.

“M-me? Ah... I don’t see anything.”

“You in the back, baby number 56. What do you see?”

“I-I don’t see anything either...”

Shim Gijeong nodded and slid her hands into her trouser pockets.

“Good. Then the first row—babies 1 through 10, come up here.”

At her command, the examinees got up from their seats and came to the front. Once they had lined up in numerical order, Shim Gijeong crooked her finger.

“Closer.”

Watching her carefully, they each took a step toward the screen.

“See the masking tape stuck to the floor? Stand on that.”

Just as she said, strips of masking tape had been placed on the floor like drawn lines. The moment the examinees lined themselves up and stepped onto the tape, several of them let out startled sounds. The instant they stood on it, a photograph appeared on the previously blank screen with impossible clarity.

“Well? You can see it now, right?”

Shim Gijeong hopped up onto the edge of a table and sat there.

“Now tell me, one by one, how many flowers you can see. That’s stage one. Depending on how open your eyes are, some of you may see fewer flowers, and some of you may see more.”

The examinees still seated in the back began murmuring among themselves. They could not see anything at all. Only the ten standing on the masking tape could see the image on the screen. In it, a lush green meadow spread out before them.

“If you lie, I’ll rip you apart. Just say exactly what you see.”

Shim Gijeong moved her purple lips and jerked her chin.

“All right then. Starting with baby number 1. How many?”

“I see six flowers.”

Examinee number 1 answered at rigid attention. Shim Gijeong snapped her thumb and middle finger together. At once, the number tag pinned to his chest changed to blue. He sucked in a breath and stared at the tag in disbelief.

“Good. Next. Baby number 2?”

“O-one....”

Number 2 answered in a voice that barely came out. Shim Gijeong made the same motion again. This time, his number tag turned red. One by one, she went down the line collecting answers. The numbers varied widely, from as few as one flower to as many as eight. The tags changed into only two colors: red and blue.

The first row was over in no time. Shim Gijeong called up the second row. From his seat in the back, Jaegyeom had no idea what the hell was going on. No matter how hard he strained his eyes, the screen remained nothing but white.

Looks like you # Nоvеlight # only see something once you’re standing up there...

At that moment, the bleached-haired guy next to him leaned over and whispered,

“If they’re sorting by color, seems like it means something, right?”

At some point he had already pulled out a notepad and started taking notes. He was carefully recording how many flowers each examinee reported, and what color they were given in response.

“From the look of it, I think the split happens at four flowers. Anyone who saw four or fewer got red. Anyone who saw more than four got blue.”

With a serious face, he pointed at the notes he had organized. He looks like that, but he’s surprisingly meticulous... Jaegyeom glanced between the memo pad and the bleached-haired guy, then quietly asked,

“Then does red mean you failed?”

The other man nodded.

“Probably? Red’s a bad omen kind of color.”

“Why is red a bad omen? Strawberries are red.”

“......”

Then I guess strawberries are bad omens too. As Jaegyeom voiced the question in all seriousness, the bleached-haired guy only blinked at him in silence. No. Why are strawberries suddenly part of this? After absentmindedly touching one of his piercings for a moment, he looked at Jaegyeom more closely.

“By the way... why are you talking down to me?”

“You started talking down to me first.”

The bleached-haired guy was momentarily speechless. Well, yeah, because at a glance you look younger than me... Jaegyeom had no intention of going easy on him. Unlike Kang Ibin, he was not someone who was going to end up on the same team, and he was the same sex, so there was no reason to find him difficult. More importantly, Jaegyeom could not afford to forget why he had come to the Office of Narye in the first place. He had to keep reminding himself. Unless it became absolutely necessary, he had no intention of forming ties with anyone here.

“You’re a high school student, aren’t you?”

Jaegyeom exercised his right to remain silent. A few days ago he had been a high school student, but not anymore. If he answered truthfully, it was obvious more annoying questions would follow. Perhaps taking his silence as confirmation, the bleached-haired guy added,

“I’m in college.”

“Yeah? Study hard.”

At the halfhearted encouragement, the other man just stared at him blankly. What kind of kid is this... He had always assumed people who said, Young gifted kids have no social skills, were just old men being pompous. Seeing one in person, though, he was finally starting to get it. Was I like that when I was a teenager too? Still... I don’t think I was this bad...

“Okaaay, fine. One or two years is basically the same age. We’re friends.”

The bleached-haired guy decided to accept Jaegyeom without prejudice. If they both passed, they would end up being peers, so it seemed wiser to stay on good terms. After deliberately settling into a more generous frame of mind, he lowered his head and went back to scribbling in his notepad.