Cost Of A Soul

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I don’t know if I can fix Walker’s legs. I don’t know if I can break a curse. But I can at least repair whatever is wrong with him right now. He was fine when I left. What changed?

Determined, I focus on healing him. His body is riddled with deficiencies—evidence of prolonged neglect—but nothing that explains why he isn’t waking up. If I can reverse the curse Layza placed on Walker, maybe I can undo the curse on Layza too. Too many curses in this world. Don’t people have hobbies? Or jobs?

Bracing myself, I prepare for the same dizzying faintness I experienced when delving into Layza’s curse. Instead, something far more unsettling happens. I feel it—a slow, steady siphoning of my energy, draining into Walker’s life force. My strength ebbs, replaced by a gnawing hollowness.

There’s no guidebook for breaking curses inflicted by spirits, but if I had to make an educated guess, it seems to require a piece of the healer’s own soul to mend whatever damage the curse has done. A delightful loophole, truly.

Grimacing, I roll up Walker’s pants and freeze, stunned by what I see. His emaciated legs—thin and lifeless like brittle twigs—begin to change. Muscles bloom with astonishing speed, filling out his limbs right before my eyes. The sinews ripple beneath the skin, building strength where there was only frailty moments before.

The sight is mesmerizing, almost surreal, as if I’m watching life itself being painted back onto a blank canvas. His legs… they’re beautiful, sculpted and strong, no longer the remnants of someone on the brink of wasting away.

I exhale shakily, both in awe and exhaustion. Whatever I just did—it worked. At least partially.

At the cost of my soul.

Not that I care for it much.

Exhaustion claws at me, dragging my limbs down like weights as I stumble toward the window. Freedom is so close, just one leap away—until a hand like steel clamps around my waist and yanks me back with the force of a tidal wave.

I’m yanked back sharply, colliding into a solid, unyielding chest that radiates warmth. My pulse spikes as I feel the controlled strength behind the hold, the kind of power that doesn’t bother hiding its dominance.

When did my life become a cliché K-drama?

With a resigned sigh, I lift my hands above my head in mock surrender. “Excuse me, I’m lost. Could you point me toward the nearest exit?” The excuse is so pathetic I nearly wince. Seriously, who talks like that? But it’s not like I can just admit, ‘Oh hey, I was sneaking out through your window. Hope that’s cool.’

“Lost?” The voice behind me is rough, hoarse, like it’s clawing its way out of a dry throat.

I’m spun around with zero regard for my dignity, like some ragdoll flung into a hurricane.

When my eyes finally land on my captor, I’m met with Walker’s face—handsome as ever, though now twisted with barely contained fury. At least my missions come with eye candy. I flash him my most innocent, wide-eyed smile.

“Lost?” he repeats, the word dripping with disbelief as his sharp eyes scan me like I’m some circus act that wandered in off the street. Why are all pretty men so infuriatingly condescending?

I nod eagerly, pressing my palms against his chest to push him away, but his grip is like iron. Or maybe I’m just too drained to resist properly. That’s got to be it.

“Yes,” I say, forcing a nervous laugh, “so, if you could just let me go—”

“You!” His voice cuts through the air, rough and sharp. His eyes burn with barely restrained anger as he looks down at me, his jaw clenched. “I gave you food. Shelter. And you repay me by running away?”

I blink up at him, utterly baffled. What. The. Actual. Hell.

Isn’t this man supposed to be human? How does he know who I am?

Before I can stammer out an answer, he presses a button on the wall. A heartbeat later, a swarm of people dressed in black floods the room in perfect synchronization. They all halt at the sight of us, their gazes snapping to Walker—and then falling to his legs.

Their stunned silence speaks volumes.

I knew I shouldn’t have helped this guy.
.....

I’m locked in a room.

Yes, you heard that right. The great spirit Ferrari, future chieftain, a being of immense power and grace (if I may say so myself), is locked. In. A. Room.

By a human.

Could this get any more humiliating?

I’ve scoured every nook and cranny, testing every corner for even the faintest sign of weakness. The walls are unyielding, the door might as well be made of pure arrogance, and don’t even get me started on the windows—oh wait, there are no windows.

I tried using my spirit strength, thinking I could break my way out. Big mistake. Either this room was built by someone with a serious paranoia problem, or transferring a piece of my soul to Walker has left me weaker than I care to admit.

My pride leans heavily toward the latter. Let’s go with that.

So much for repaying debts. Note to self: next time someone feeds me, I’ll just say thanks and leave it at that. No life-risking heroics necessary.

The only thing left to do now is… well, sleep.

I flop onto the impossibly firm bed in the corner, staring at the ceiling. It’s blank, like a giant void, much like my plans at this point. Not a single crack to hold my attention or inspire some grand escape plan. Nope. Just cold, seamless stone mocking my predicament.

I sigh, letting my exhaustion win. There’s no point torturing myself over things I can’t control. Whatever happens next… well, I’ll deal with it when I wake up. Probably.

A/N: interesting stuffs in the next chapters you horny perverts

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