Addicted to you

Chapter 54 - Void

"It's to ward off malevolent spirits,"Old Ram explained noticing his gaze, he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. His voice was low, steady. "You don't believe in such things, do you?"

"I don't," Shin met his gaze without flinching.

Old Ram gave a slow, knowing nod. "You're not the first. Most people who had seek me are confused, frightened, curious—or out of options."

His gaze deepened, sharp as a blade honed by time. "I believe you're the last one."

There was no aggression in his stare—just an old, quiet weight. The weight of someone who'd faced darkness before and didn't mind staring it down again.

But Shin didn't waver.

He met that heavy gaze with one of his own, calm and composed.

"I don't know what exactly I'm dealing with," Shin admitted. "I'm not even sure I need your help. Maybe I just needed to speak with someone who won't think I'm losing my mind."

Old Ram raised a brow, but said nothing. Normally, he refused vague requests. When Secretary Yun contacted him, he declined outright.

But once he heard the name—Keir—curiosity stirred.

He had little knowledge of high society or celebrity, but the name Keir carried power, even in places where names didn't matter.

What business does a 'Keir' have with an exorcist?

"It's nothing serious, just a recurring dream," Shin began. "Strange. Vivid. Unnatural."

He described the crimson forest, the woman who didn't seem human, the language that had no name yet made perfect sense, and the surreal events that followed like echoes from a place outside time.

Old Ram listened in silence.

The old clock ticked once. Then again.

He exhaled, the sound whispering like smoke.

"This woman... she unsettles you?"

"No." Shin paused, reconsidering. "Well, she does look a bit like my girlfriend."

The bell on Old Ram's shoe chimed again as he shifted his posture, leaning back.

"I see. You care deeply for her. But you're afraid this might be connected to her, aren't you?"

Shin's eyes narrowed slightly—a silent warning. But Old Ram didn't flinch.

"When did the dreams start?" the old man asked.

"A few weeks ago."

"Before or after you started dating your girlfriend?"

"After," Shin answered reluctantly.

Old Ram nodded, his voice soft but solemn.

"I've seen spirits that cling like shadows. Curses that sleep until something—or someone—awakens them. What you describe is indeed unusual."

"So I'm not crazy?"

"No," Old Ram said with a small shake of his head. "I'm not a physician, but I understand how dreams can twist the mind. Yours, however... speaks of something beyond reason."

Shin remained silent, observing him closely.

It wasn't just Shin's account that made Old Ram reconsider, but he had felt it the moment Shin stepped through the door.

The atmosphere had turned oppressively heavy, shadows lengthened without a source and even more so at the sight of Shin Keir himself.

Outwardly, Old Ram remained composed, but inwardly, he was shaken by the thick, dark mist of malice and madness that clung to Shin Keir.

Clearly, it wasn't normal.

It wasn't aggressive.

It simply existed—deep, formless, ancient. Like it had always been there.

Most people would have either died or lost their sanity under the mere presence of such overwhelming dark energy. Even a faint trace of a curse or malevolent spirit could break a person.

Yet, as Old Ram observed closely, the dense, shadowy mist seemed to harbor no ill will toward Shin Keir. That made it more strange and dangerous.

It clung to him—but did not threaten him.

Old Ram studied the man in silence for a long while, but he couldn't discern the origin of the dark mist.

Cursed individuals always displayed symptoms, and malice—whatever its cause—always took on some kind of form.

The evil always had a shape. But this—this had no form. No intent. Just presence.

"Very well," he finally said. "If you permit me, I'd like to perform a reading."

"Reading?" Shin frowned.

"Every soul carries a core—a spiritual essence that ties us to the unseen world," Old Ram explained. He gestured gently to Shin's shoulder. "It's nothing elaborate. I just need to place my hand here."

Shin gave a small nod. "Go ahead."

As Old Ram rose from his seat, the bell on his shoe rang one last time.

But this time... it sounded less like a chime and more like a warning.

He reached out—

And suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

A suffocating pressure descended like an invisible hand pressing down on him. His fingers trembled.

Then, silence.

Not even the clock dared tick.

He saw Shin's mouth move—words forming—but no sound reached him.

With a steady breath, Old Ram forced his hand forward again.

And the room turned to darkness.

Not a shadow. Not night.

Void.

He had never experienced anything like this.

Though he had never truly seen a soul's core, he often felt its energy.

Curses would react violently—felt their sickness, resisting, attacking, exposing themselves.

He didn't know why Shin Keir was having those dreams. But he was sure: this wasn't the work of a curse or spirit.

He couldn't see it. He couldn't feel it.

It was simply there—waiting. Watching.

Then a sound broke the stillness.

Chains.

Heavy, dragging, endless.

Rattling like bones. Echoing through nothingness.

"Who goes there?" Old Ram demanded, voice echoing in the black, sharp and brave.

But there was no answer.

Only the dark.

---

Meanwhile, Shin called his name twice.

The old man stood frozen—slightly hunched, hand still in the air as if reaching. But he wasn't moving.

Shin frowned. He didn't believe in spiritual nonsense. "Reading" or not, this felt absurd.

Until the old man twitched.

Then trembled. Violently.

His eyes turned bloodshot. Blood streamed from his nose, ears, even the corners of his eyes. Black veins spread across his face and hand like cracks in glass.

Shin stiffened, stunned by the sudden change—but he didn't panic.

He caught the collapsing man and carefully laid him down.

"Secretary Yun!" Shin called, urgent but composed.

Secretary Yun hurried in from the next room—and froze.

"B-Boss?! What... what happened?"

"Start the car. We're taking him to the hospital," Shin ordered.

This place was too far up the mountain. An ambulance would take too long—and the winding roads weren't safe at night for anyone unfamiliar.

Secretary Yun rushed out, glancing back in fear.

The old man had stopped trembling.

Now, he was rigid. Unmoving.

Unconscious.

A terrible thought crossed Yun's mind. 'Was this a stroke? A hidden illness? Or... something else?'

But one thing was certain. There was no trace of Shin Keir laying a finger on the man.

And that was somehow even more terrifying.

What really happened?

---

Shin's Rolls-Royce cut through the mountain road like a blade through fog, speeding down toward the nearest hospital. Old Ram lay limp in the back seat, pale as parchment.

Secretary Yun sat beside him, pressing tissues to the man's bleeding orifices, his hands slick with red and panic.

When they arrived, doctors rushed Old Ram into the emergency ward. The blood on his face had dried, but his veins were still dark, webbed across his skin like scorched roots. Within the hour, he was stabilized—but unresponsive.

A doctor approached Shin quietly, removing his gloves with a sigh.

"He's alive, but... unresponsive. He's slipped into a coma."

"A coma?" Shin repeated.

"We're running tests. There's bleeding in multiple sites—possibly caused by a cerebral rupture or vascular event. A stroke is likely, but we can't explain the blackened veins. It's... unusual."

Unusual. That word again.

Shin looked through the glass, at the old man lying still on the hospital bed, as though whatever force had struck him had drained him hollow.

In fact, before losing consciousness, Old Ram had mumbled something. Barely audible, but the words clung to Shin's memory like frost.

"The echoes of forgotten lives will shake your present..."

A cryptic phrase. Was it a warning? A message meant for Shin? Or just part of the ritual—some forgotten incantation echoing through the haze of his final moments of awareness?

He didn't know. And that made it worse.

As Secretary Yun returned from the administrative desk, Shin gave his next orders firmly, without hesitation.

"Find reliable people to stay with Old Ram. Hire whoever's necessary to keep watch around the clock. I don't care what it costs—every medical expense will be covered by me."

Secretary Yun nodded sharply. "Understood, Boss."

Shin didn't stay longer. The antiseptic air, the people—it all clawed at him.

He needed space to think. To breathe.

By the time he climbed back into his car, night had fallen. Shadows draped the city like mourning cloth, and his thoughts spun faster than his wheels as the Rolls-Royce sped away from the hospital.

His hands gripped the wheel tightly.

Everything about today had been unreal.

He didn't believe in curses, spirits, or any paranormal nonsense. Not really.

And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something unseen had clawed its way out during that "reading."

Although he felt completely fine, the feeling of being left in the dark was not something he could tolerate.

When he reached the villa, the engine's roar faded into silence, but the unease remained.

The moment the tires kissed the gravel driveway, the front door opened.

Elder Madam Keir stood waiting on the porch in her elegant attire, arms crossed and jaw sharp.

She'd been coming to the villa more frequently, pretending it was for his sake—but Shin knew better. She was a vulture drawn by the scent of power or weakness, whichever came first.

She stepped forward, prepared to unleash a storm of rebukes about his whereabouts, his conduct, his apparent disrespect for her status.

But then she saw his menacing expression, his steps were heavy, each one sending a silent message.