“Fairy-related magic oddly tends to impact the mind. And the mind is precisely what shamans take the most pride in.”
Magic connected to fairies often tends to impose costs on the mental realm.
It’s hard to say that this is the case for the majority, but compared to other forms of magic, there’s a clear leaning towards the psychological.
And what shamans are confident about is none other than mental strength.
They possess a solid and unwavering ego that can hardly be compared to that of an average person.
Unless it reaches truly colossal levels, they can withstand it, and overcome it.
Even if they can’t withstand the cost, they can get back up and rebuild.
The power of the mind is indeed magnificent.
That embodies the spirit of those who tread the path of magic.
But.
What if the ego isn’t solid?
What if someone is so absorbed in external factors, draping themselves with it and declaring it their true self?
What if they leave the appraisal of their value to the outside world, drifting along with that?
Then that person…
Can they truly overcome it?
“If they had at least adhered to the precautions, it might have been better. Ignoring the warnings, they played a gamble, drawing low and high numbers with their eyes closed. I know that my spirit isn’t intact. Just like someone enchanted by a fairy, my mind sways and wobbles, filled with the presence of a fairy. It seems as if my personality has split, as a mind imitating the fairy takes its place.”
“…Shut up.”
“That’s the price of abuse.”
“Shut up—!”
Lee Jae-soon shouted, glaring at Jinseong with bloodshot eyes.
“Shut up, shut up! I respected you enough to speak politely since you’re older, and you spout nonsense, nonsense. Nonsense! Where are you getting your bugs from, ranting like that, you damn old man! Are you saying I’m some kind of psychopath?!”
“Hmph.”
“A psychopath, a psychopath! Me, Lee Jae-soon, a psychopath?! I’m an elite! I’m not some social outcast like you, wandering in strange clothes, living on the fringes of society! I’m not a filthy vagrant who’s been sleeping on the streets for decades, I’m part of this society!”
“Is that so?”
Psychopath.
Lee Jae-soon reacted violently to that word as if it were a deadly poison.
He began to scream as if he would foam at the mouth at any moment.
The intensity made him look truly insane, but…
Neither Jinseong nor Jae-soon cared.
“Listen carefully. I’m not a psychopath. I’m a flawless individual without even the common modern depression everyone else has. Thanks to the power of my shoes, I’ve gained countless pieces of information, and all that’s left is for me to rise to the top. I’m respected, expected, and envied by many journalists, and I’m someone who will engrave this name across the world. Do you understand? Do you get it?!”
“Hmph, is that so?”
“Hah. I am destined to be an idol among Korean, no, global journalists! I’m destined to become a model of journalism, to be recorded in history—that’s me! You can’t be serious in calling me a psychopath. Nonsense, don’t spout such vile words. Hah, the historical journalist Lee Jae-soon was actually suffering from mental illness?! I absolutely don’t want that. That would be a stain. A damn stain!”
Lee Jae-soon glowered at Jinseong, his face twisted into an ugly grimace.
“How dare you say such trash to me! To tarnish my honor, my achievements! I won’t accept this, I won’t. Just hearing it makes my ears feel dirty. Damn it, damn it, damn it! How dare you speak such nonsense to me, Lee Jae-soon! I hate those words. I hate hearing them, you old man—!”
He looked as if he was about to swing his long arm at Jinseong like a whip.
“I hate those words… Yes, that’s certainly a heartfelt emotion. It must be genuine to scream with such a voice, yes. It must be. But tell me, do you remember your past? No, I’m not talking about long ago. Just simply before you met me—there’s no need to go all the way back to childhood. High school, university, when you were just starting out as a journalist…. Recall those times. Reflect on them closely.”
At that moment, could you have been so sensitive to the word ‘psychopath’ back then?
A quiet question from Jinseong.
At that question, Lee Jae-soon’s body jolted to a halt.
“As you say, mental illness has indeed become a familiar term to modern people… Depression is something you see often around you, and anxiety disorders like panic attacks have also become common. Antisocial personality disorders like psychopathy and sociopathy have become so familiar that they’ve turned into materials for countless creative works. And that’s not all! Research on the brain is flourishing, and studies on mental illnesses are also thriving.”
“….”
“Yes, in a world where science takes precedence over superstition, mental illness can’t be deemed a significant obstacle. Think about it. Would any doctor claim that dissociative identity disorder is due to demonic possession? Would any doctor say eating disorders are a punishment from God?”
“….”
“No one would claim that mental illness is due to demonic possession or divine punishment. They don’t engage in torturous acts based on such beliefs; nor do they execute or exile people for being hated by God. They simply say the mind struggles, that the brain has issues, that medication is needed—this is the reality. This is thanks to the understanding that the cause of mental illness doesn’t stem from supernatural fears, and some mental illnesses have been so thoroughly integrated into daily life.”
“….”
“So let me ask you again. When did you become so sensitively reactive to the word mental illness? Even if you didn’t hear the term directly, did you genuinely hate it enough to react so violently just from the nuance? Was your behavior in the past reflective of this? Was your appearance then truly such? Was your past self genuinely so?”
“….”
Lee Jae-soon stared blankly as he tried to remember.
Back in high school, how did he react to the term mental illness?
How about in university?
When he was studying his guts out to become a journalist?
When he had just started out as a journalist?
At that time, how did he respond?
“Back then… I….”
I didn’t just brush it aside?
That it was an unfortunate illness if it occurred?
Sure, it made me uneasy being around, but I didn’t think it was too unusual, did I?
Rather, I might have been proud of it.
I thought insomnia or sleep disorders were the taxes of successful people, even bragging about not being able to sleep properly…
“…Why?”
But why now?
Why do I suddenly get furious at the mere mention of the word mental illness?
This uncontrollable anger, why…?
“Hmph. Why, why is that….”
Jinseong smiled as he answered Jae-soon’s inquiry.
“If the instinct of living beings is to avoid death, isn’t it reasonable that the mind should strive to do the same?”
Living beings strive to live.
To avoid starving, they search for food, and to avoid being eaten, they fight back.
Then it’s only natural for the mind, being part of the living being, to strive not to perish as well.
“…Damn.”
Lee Jae-soon muttered curses as he understood the meaning of Jinseong’s words.
The blurry focus gradually became clear, and clarity began to swirl in his once-dull eyes. Lee Jae-soon fixed his gaze directly on Jinseong’s unsettling mask that resembled a bug.
“Damn…!”
A simple statement from Jinseong.
But it was a shocking truth, hitting deeper than the simple sentence would imply.
Lee Jae-soon felt as if a thunderclap had struck his mind, distorting his face in reaction.
He tried to cover his face with his hands as if to bury it, but noticing his arms stretched out limply on the ground, he tightly shut his eyes. He kept that position, bowing his head low enough that only the crown of his head remained visible to Jinseong for quite a while.
Then, slowly, he began to lift his head, making eye contact with Jinseong just as before.
“Damn.”
The curse he had uttered previously.
But… it was laced with an entirely different emotion this time.
He glared at Jinseong with a twisted expression, straightening his back and starting to rotate his shoulders.
As if he were stretching before an intense workout.
Then he repeatedly shrunk and extended his neck before pushing it forward.
Truly, he resembled not a person but a turtle.
Then he slowly began to move his waist.
From left to right.
From right to left.
Slowly.
Twisting his waist gradually.
And that twisting became more pronounced.
More and more.
Till the cracking sound echoed.
Muscles contorted intensely.
Twisting as if wringing out a rag.
Crack.
Bones began to shift alongside muscles.
Challenging the limits of their range of motion as his upper body continued to move.
From left to right.
From right to left.
It was excessive for mere stretching.
Far exceeding the level of gymnastics, it became bizarre enough to attract attention.
His upper body twisted, and his waist contorted.
And finally…
Crack.
A ghastly sound of bones breaking resonated.
And with that sound, a chilling smile danced across his face.
“You’re like that fool old man Fomhoire, just die.”
Crack crack crack-!
Whoosh!
His contorted arm, which had been lying limply on the ground, shot towards Jinseong like a whip.
