Chapter 14: Possession is in My Nature (1)

This one’s on me—my lapse in vigilance.

The moment she spoke, I yanked the kitchen knife out of her hand barehanded.

Without a weapon, she couldn’t do something as insane as hurting herself.

…Though, wait. She wouldn’t bash her head against the wall, would she?

These cheap plywood and gypsum walls really might crack if she did.

Taking the knife was ridiculously easy. Didn’t even cut my hand.

The wraith possessing 202 just stared, looking lost, as if it hadn’t expected me to disarm her so quickly.

“…..”

“G-give it back!”

“Yeah, not happening.”

I couldn’t tell if she’d stab herself with it, or stab me, so I tossed it out onto the veranda.

Made sure it didn’t smash the flowerpot.

“So what’s your deal? Why’re you possessing her?”

The wraith, wearing 202’s form, noticed the fire flickering in my hand.

It froze, didn’t step closer, just lingered at the threshold and said:

“…I only long for human warmth. Besides, in a giant’s body like yours, I can’t stay possessed for long anyway.”

“And why’s warmth so important?”

“…I died after losing my child. I wanted another, but by then, the world had already fallen apart. I became a sacrifice instead. So the desire to have a child rooted deep inside me. If that desire is fulfilled, I can be reborn in the next life.”

“I see. That’s a sad story. But so what?”

If she’d died as a woman, grieving for her lost child, I could see why she’d carry such a grudge.

“…Wait. Don’t you pity me?”

“So what—you’re saying this girl you’ve possessed should bear a child she doesn’t even want? Who’s supposed to pity who here? Just because you suffered doesn’t give you the right to inflict suffering on others.”

If she’d wanted sympathy, she should’ve explained herself when I first caught on to her possession.
If she’d asked for help back then, I might’ve even gone along with it.

But instead—

The wraith grew flustered and pointed at 202’s thigh.

“But look at this woman. Look at how she dresses.”

“What about it?”

“How can she bare her shoulders like this, wear clothes above the knee? Unless she sells her body—or is a succubus—it makes no sense!”

…Ah. So that’s it.

Guess she came from a very conservative world.

What’s so scandalous about a tank top and shorts?

Especially when 202 was just lounging around in her own place?

Honestly, if someone was bundled up tight indoors, that’d look more insane.

Clothes are just conventions. People got so used to covering themselves that it turned into a compulsion.

But in a truly safe space? The freer you dress, the better.

Clearly, this wraith’s never suffered through Korean summer.

“…So what?”

“So what? A woman dressed like this must’ve been loose with her body anyway. So… why don’t you just close your eyes and embrace her once?”

“…Wow. You’ve got some nerve.”

That leap of logic was insane.

Though, come to think of it, 202 once mistook my boy band poster as proof I was into “manly” stuff too… maybe they really were the same kind of thinker.

The wraith pressed a hand to 202’s chest as if to plead.

And then—her red bracelet, the rosary on her wrist, jingled.

At that moment, the wraith tried to tear it off.

But even though it was so loose it could’ve slipped right off—before it even left her skin, the wraith shrieked.

And then—her expression changed.

202 was staring straight at me.

“Wh-what’s going on… Aagh!”

Then she clutched her head, bowed low, and snarled:

“D-damn level one brat—ghh!?”

Her head jerked up again.

“W-what? Why am I here? What’s happening to me? Ahhh!”

…What the hell?

“P-please, hurry. Don’t you feel lonely? Isn’t this girl attractive? Doesn’t she have… allure?”

The voice shifted back to the wraith’s tone.

It yanked down her tank top strap—

“Eek! Why are you stripping me!? That’s not me doing that!”

—and then pulled it back up again.

“Don’t her legs look nice? Her thighs—”

Chaos.

The possession was unstable.

202’s consciousness and the wraith’s will were clashing, flipping back and forth in control.

Strap down. Strap up. Bra strap down. Bra strap up.

It was like watching a deranged tug-of-war.

What could I do?

Well, first—record video evidence, so no one could misunderstand.

And second—

“202, you got this. Fight on.”

All I could do was cheer her on.

Burning her alive or beating her half to death weren’t real options.

Sure, barging in with a knife and causing this much trouble would probably earn me legal leniency if I had to rough her up. But still.

“Arghhh! Aaaaaghhhhhh!”

Even though the rosary looked loose, she couldn’t remove it.

A red rosary.

I remembered overhearing her argue with her mom on the phone.

“Wear it at all times. It’s made from rosewood blessed in the Vatican. It even smells of roses. It’s been sanctified. You go to church faithfully, don’t you?”

“Ugh, Mom, I get it. I’ll wear it. You don’t even pay my church dues—why nag me?”

Her mom had gotten it through a friend who visited Rome, a rosary blessed by John Paul II himself.

And now, that nagging was saving her life.

The wraith couldn’t overcome the sanctity of the rosewood rosary.

“Kyyaaaahhh! Get out!!”

202 clutched her temples, screaming.

I added my own words:

“Hail Mary, full of grace… pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”

And sure enough—

[Ghhhhhkkk!!]

The LV44 wraith’s voice cracked, its will turning back into raw resentment.

This was my chance.

I pointed my phone at it—sure enough, floated back into view.

I focused, imagined my fire leaping onto it.

And then, from the purple flame flickering in my hand—

Whoosh.

It spread, clinging to the wraith like a will-o’-the-wisp.

[Aaaarghhhh!!]

The level 44 wraith screamed horribly as the inextinguishable flame devoured it—until both its form and its title disappeared.

“…Oh. Ohhh.”

Worked out nicely.

I’d been holding back from announcing level 69—it just felt wrong.

But now I was cleanly at level 70.

202, meanwhile, let out a soft gasp, tears slipping from one eye.

Then—thud.

She collapsed.

The rosary had done its work. Thanks, Catholic Church.

From now on, call me Kim Bartholomew.

“…Hey, 202, you okay?”

She wasn’t fully unconscious—just slumped, cheek pressed against the bathroom mat.

“…Not okay?”

I should send her back soon. I still had skills to check, and though I’d blocked the gate with a rice cooker, I couldn’t help but worry another monster would pop out yelling, ‘We will purify your world!’

“…I’m not crazy…” she murmured faintly.

Honestly, from where I was standing, she’d looked plenty crazy.

“Then what are you?”

“…”

No answer. Just laying there.

Right in front of my bathroom.

I couldn’t leave her face on the mat like that, so I slid a textbook under her head.

Last thing I needed was her catching athlete’s foot from my old army buddy, Sergeant Park.

But still—this was awkward.

I had to allocate my new stat points. I had to ask the level 39 wraith some questions.

And here she was, curled up on my floor.

“…Miss. You’ll catch a cold if you sleep there. Hey, miss.”

She wasn’t completely out. When I lifted her head to slide the book under, she stirred a little.

It was the exact pose of those exhausted kids who pretended to sleep during breaks in school.

“…Miss, mind if I do some demolition work?”

…Her mouth twitched.

Her facial muscles betrayed her—she was forcing herself to play dead.

When someone clenches their jaw like that, the muscles by their cheeks and ears bulge up.

Sigh.

She was just embarrassed to death. Best to leave her alone.

After about ten minutes, she finally stirred, as if realizing her position.

“…S-sorry. I… I’m just prone to possession. Sorry!”

And with that legendary line, she bolted out of my place.

Not before drooling all over my textbook, though. My poor ramen pot mat. Marked, like territory.

***

The wraith had left behind three skills I could absorb:

Skill absorption is random, so it might not trigger, and even if it does, you can only acquire a few of the available skills.

I don’t exactly know why it works that way. I believe both the absorption and the number of skills absorbed are random.

However, the specter’s skills feel anything but ordinary.

<Space Roaming lv15>

Moves while ignoring space. Cannot bypass spaces with certain restrictions. Wall phasing. Already phased, so… well.

<Possession lv10>

Takes control by possessing the personality of a sentient being instead of their original personality.

The lower the level and intelligence of the target, the easier it is to possess. Literally possession.

Upon achieving a heartfelt desire and perishing, you are reborn as a different personality.

Levels cannot be regained, and recovering memories is limited, but a vague sense of déjà vu and talent will linger and follow.

<Reincarnation lv1>

If you achieve your true desires and die, you will be reborn as a different person.

Levels cannot be restored and memories are limited, but a vague sense of foreboding and talent will remain with you.

Literally reincarnation. Reincarnation?

I couldn’t resist.

“Hey, wraith number 39, explain this to me!”

But the level 39 wraith was gone. Even checked inside the rice cooker where I’d sealed it, but nothing.

I needed an explanation freak—and now I didn’t have one.

Well, if fairies really bloom from twin leaves and awaken past lives, maybe I’d get another chance at answers later.

<I put Reincarnation LV1 in the slot>

For now, I slotted the skill.

If it really worked, it meant I basically had an extra life.

Just the thought alone—freedom from that vague, gnawing fear of death—was worth it.

Still… “fulfilling a true desire” was a strange condition.

The LV44 wraith’s “desire” had been to be with a man.

So what about me?

My true wish?

To live without caring about anyone else’s eyes.

For that, I needed an absolute domain. A space that was wholly mine. And the wealth to sustain it, so I never had to leave.

A space only I, and those who submitted to me, could live in. With fertile fields inside, producing all I needed.

Self-sufficient.

If the gates were the means of production, then my problem was… they weren’t mine.

But when I imagined it further—

A cozy domain, my daughter toddling around. A wife lounging nearby, resting with a smile.

“…Kyyyyaaaa! What the hell!”

202’s screams echoed through the wall.

So much for daydreams.

Oh—and she’d left her knife behind.

Now, if I returned it—

‘Uh, yeah… just returning this…’

Wouldn’t CCTV just show me standing at her door with a kitchen knife?

Yeah, no.