Hwang Hyunjin — LixJin 4

The year was 1740. In a village hidden among mist-shrouded mountains, lived a young priest named Hyunjin. He was beloved by the people of the region for his kindness and warm presence. He looked after the children at the church when their parents had to work, offered food to the hungry, and provided help and comfort to anyone in need. The locals spoke of him with almost devout admiration. They said he was a soul sent by God to watch over them. But no being is made entirely of light. And sometimes, even light can be a lie. Soft knocks sounded against the rectory door as the sun began to set. Hyunjin opened it with his usual serene smile. On the other side stood a couple holding a small basket filled with freshly baked bread, scented candles, and a bouquet of white roses. Hyunjin thanked them and invited them in. They chatted for a while about the families of the village and the preparations for the upcoming Sunday Mass. When it was finally time to say goodbye, the priest escorted them to the door. “See you Sunday!” he exclaimed with a smile. “I’ll pray for you and your prosperity.” The couple left, satisfied. However, as soon as the door closed, Hyunjin’s smile vanished. It was as if it had never existed. The warmth left his features, replaced by an indifferent expression. Silence enveloped the room. On the table, the white roses began to slowly wilt as dark shadows seemed to creep down the walls. “Well?” Hyunjin asked coldly as he poured himself a glass of wine. “Why didn’t you kill them? Was it a boring day?” His tone no longer held any trace of gentleness. That voice was deeper, harsher. More real. From the ceiling, a figure dropped to the floor, as if gravity could barely affect it. A pair of blackened wings briefly unfurled.