Chapter 1
Half of historical
success began in crises where death was a possibility.
Half of historical failure began from memories of a once-glorious era.
— Arnold Joseph Toynbee, historian
* * * * *
“Grrrr…”
The beast let out a low growl.
“Ahhh!”
The grave robber could only scream at the monster that suddenly appeared before him.
Perhaps stimulated by the scream, the creature snorted and moved forward. Its body looked as though it had been molded from soil, and dust scattered every time it took a step.
“GRAAAAH!”
The beast opened its mouth wide and roared. It held nothing but hostility toward the intruder.
“Stop.”
At that moment, a low voice echoed through the area.
At the same time, glowing red letters appeared in midair before burning away.
“Kgh!”
At that instant, the beast froze stiff.
The grave robber stared with wide eyes as the monster that had been charging at him suddenly stopped.
“Honestly… entering a ruin this dangerous without any preparation.”
A man soon walked over from the entrance of the ruin.
He was dressed neatly in a suit, but his face was filled with fatigue and irritation. A fountain pen was clipped to the breast pocket of his suit.
Looking at the grave robber, the man spoke indifferently.
“Leave immediately. This ruin is classified as Danger Level A. It’s not a place someone can enter with nothing but their bare body.”
“B-But if I go outside now, the Public Security officers will—”
“At least you’ll keep your life.”
As he said this, the man pulled out his fountain pen.
Then he quickly wrote characters in the air toward the motionless beast. Just like writing on paper, a red character appeared floating in the air.
“Break.”
The man spoke sternly to the character.
The letter flashed and burned away. Immediately cracks appeared across the frozen beast, and in an instant it crumbled into a heap of soil.
“These clay guardians will revive endlessly as long as the ruins exist. Only the entrance has been explored so far. No one knows what lies deeper inside.”
The man glanced over the frightened grave robber.
In a blunt tone he said,
“You can only make money from grave robbing if your body remains intact. Even if you gain a fortune, what good is it if you die?”
“Ugh…”
The grave robber groaned, clearly struck where it hurt.
Soon he spoke with a resigned face.
“Fine. I’ll leave.”
“You didn’t damage the ruins too badly. Your punishment shouldn’t be severe.”
The man offered what might have been meant as reassurance.
The grave robber cautiously asked him,
“B-By the way… w-who are you? How do you know so much about ruins?”
“I’m Hou Wenling (侯雯龄).”
The man answered with a tired expression.
“Just a passing curator.”
* * * * *
“Thanks again for handling things so neatly, Wenling.”
Wenling’s superior and the official in charge of ruins, Yu Mei, smiled slyly as usual.
Wenling replied indifferently.
“How long do I have to keep dealing with chores like this?”
“Chores? Protecting ruins and stopping intruders is a curator’s duty.”
Yu Mei pouted in response.
Wenling found it ridiculous.
Foolish grave robbers frequently broke into dangerous ruins dreaming of striking it rich. This sort of work could easily be handled by other curators or by Public Security officers.
Yet they had called him, even though he was already busy.
There was clearly another reason.
“I actually had something to tell you.”
As expected, Yu Mei brought up the real topic.
She handed Wenling a document.
“The overseas assignment you applied for last time has been approved.”
“Really?”
Wenling asked in surprise.
Yu Mei nodded.
“The newly appointed head of the Jeju branch contacted us. They want you there as soon as possible.”
“That’s good news.”
Wenling let out a sigh of relief.
Yu Mei carefully asked,
“Because of your brother?”
“What other reason would I have for going to Korea?”
Wenling replied sharply.
His eyes were filled with anger.
“That traitorous bastard who has tarnished the name of Cangjie… I’ll end him with my own hands.”
* * * * *
“Our aircraft will soon be arriving at Jeju International Airport…”
Wenling opened his eyes at the announcement.
He must have dozed off from exhaustion.
Through the window he could see the city of Jeju drawing closer. He already knew quite a bit about the island.
A special autonomous province located at the southernmost tip of South Korea.
Until a few years ago, Jeju had no branch of its own.
It had been managed by the Jeolla branch, but due to geographical limitations the work hadn’t been efficient. So recently a separate branch had been established.
Wenling had no idea who the new branch chief was or what the Jeju branch was like.
When they spoke on the phone yesterday, the voice sounded like a woman.
Soon the plane landed.
Wenling stepped off the plane with a slightly tense expression.
He had no idea what kind of person was waiting for him.
But since he had come this far, there was no turning back.
“Zhihan.”
The reason he had come to Korea—and to Jeju.
He murmured the name as he entered the café where they had agreed to meet.
Back table. Left corner.
Soon his eyes spotted a small woman with long, messy hair sitting there.
“Are you Hou Wenling, curator from the Shaanxi branch in China?”
She spoke first.
As soon as she saw him, the woman jumped up, hurried over, bowed quickly, and greeted him with a bright smile.
“Hello! I’m Choi Yunseol, curator of the Raziel Museum and head of the Jeju Branch.”
* * * * *
Raziel Museum.
Also known as The Great Museum.
A worldwide research foundation responsible for protecting, managing, restoring, and excavating all historically and artistically valuable cultural relics, organisms, phenomena, places, and records on Earth.
It secretly investigates and contains anomalous artifacts, creatures, phenomena, and technologies.
Those who work for the Museum are collectively called Curators.
Their work is as harsh and unrealistic as the strict selection standards required to join.
China possesses hundreds of curators.
Japan has only dozens.
And Korea has fewer still—around twenty.
Even among them, many are stationed overseas for research, meaning barely more than ten are actually active in the country.
Because of this, Korean curators must cover vast areas with very few personnel.
Their workload is notoriously brutal.
But it also means Korean curators must be capable enough to handle it all.
“Are you really the head of the Jeju branch?”
Wenling asked while looking at Yunseol.
He had expected something impressive from Jeju’s only curator.
Instead, waiting for him was a young woman who looked like a rookie.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m the Jeju branch chief. Your Korean is really good!”
Yunseol just smiled brightly, seemingly unaware of the situation’s seriousness.
“This level is basic.”
Wenling replied bluntly.
Yunseol looked to be in her mid-twenties at most.
Her hair reached the back of her neck, messy and loose. Thick round glasses covered much of her face, giving her a somewhat clumsy impression.
More than anything, she was barely as tall as Wenling’s waist.
“I’m Hou Wenling, curator from Shaanxi Province in China. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Wenling offered a formal greeting and held out the fountain pen from his pocket.
Four clear eyes were engraved on the pen.
The moment Yunseol saw it, she gasped in admiration.
“So this is the fountain pen that only the scribes of the Hou family can use. I’ve heard about it, but this is my first time seeing one in person.”
The special fountain pen given only to the Hou family’s scribes.
Originally it was created for their convenience, but eventually it became proof of belonging to the Hou clan.
“Two days ago, my sister Hyerim suddenly contacted me. I was so surprised. I never imagined something like that would happen in Jeju.”
Yunseol chattered as she handed the pen back.
Since she casually referred to the terrifying Hyerim as “unnie,” they clearly knew each other well.
The moment Wenling took the pen back, he said,
“We should move somewhere else. There are too many ears here.”
After clearing his throat, he added,
“And I would appreciate it if you refrained from loudly saying the Museum’s real name in public places. That alone is enough to get you disciplined.”
“Ah… I didn’t think of that.”
Yunseol lowered her head, embarrassed.
“Sorry. I know this situation is serious. But it’s the first time someone has come to visit the Jeju branch.”
She scratched her head awkwardly.
“So the famous grave robber Hou Zhihan is in Jeju, right?”
* * * * *
“At the moment, Hou Zhihan is stuck here.”
Yunseol drove as they entered an outer road of Jeju.
The road was dark in the night.
Only scattered streetlights illuminated the path.
“I saw the report too. He was originally planning to go to Japan, right?”
Yunseol nodded.
Wenling spoke in a heavy voice.
“Zhihan originally intended to go to Japan. The alchemist who ordered him to steal relics is Japanese. But China and Japan both blocked him, so he had to go somewhere else.”
China chased him.
Japan blocked him.
They had intended to trap him between the two countries and retrieve the relics.
But Zhihan had turned his attention somewhere else.
An island between China and Japan.
Jeju Island.
“Zhihan is definitely here. One of his partners we captured testified that Zhihan went to Jeju.”
Wenling murmured while looking at the scenery outside the car window.
Yunseol felt a little sorry for him and tried to comfort him.
“Don’t worry. We’ll catch him soon—AAAH!”
Yunseol suddenly screamed and slammed the brakes.
Wenling nearly hit his head against the window from the sudden stop.
Frowning, he snapped,
“What is it?”
Instead of answering, Yunseol trembled and pointed toward the road.
On the dark road ahead—
several massive beasts were crawling across it, staring straight at them.
