The 120-Decibel Exorcism

The VIP karaoke lounge of the Lotte World Tower was a sanctuary of velvet, gold leaf, and high-end whiskey. But to Seo-jin’s newly "awakened" eyes, it was a pressure cooker of dark energy. CEO Choi sat on the central sofa, his face melting into a mask of gluttonous joy, while the black smoke coiling around him began to take a solid, clawed shape.

"You wanted to sing, Secretary Han?" Choi boomed, his voice echoing with a hollow, metallic reverberation. "I hope your voice is as sweet as your soul looks."

Do-hyun stood in the corner of the room, leaning against the door with arms crossed. He looked entirely out of place in a karaoke room—a primordial god in a neon-lit box. "She has a unique range," he said dryly.

Seo-jin grabbed the wireless microphone. It felt heavy, vibrating with a static charge. "Chairman," she whispered, leaning back toward Do-hyun. "If I die while singing 'Tears' by So Chan-whee, please tell my mother I was framed for embezzlement, not for being a bad singer."

"Focus, Seo-jin," Do-hyun commanded, his eyes tracking the shadow-creature as it detached itself from Choi’s back and began to crawl across the ceiling. "The spirit feeding on him is a Geul-moon-gwi—a gluttonous ghost. It thrives on excess. To drive it out, you have to overwhelm it with a frequency it can’t consume. Human passion is the only thing it can't digest."

The music started. The aggressive, high-energy beat of 90s K-pop filled the small room.

Seo-jin closed her eyes. She thought of every sleepless night she’d spent working for Shinhwa Group, every bowl of instant ramyun she’d eaten to save money, and the smug look on the face of the manager who had ruined her life. The ruby necklace on her chest began to glow, turning the silk of her dress into a shimmering sea of midnight blue.

When she hit the first high note, it wasn't just a sound—it was a shockwave.

The Geul-moon-gwi shrieked, dropping from the ceiling and landing on the glass table with a thud. CEO Choi gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head as the black smoke was literally shaken out of his lungs by the vibration of the song.

"More!" Do-hyun shouted, his own power reacting to hers. The shadows in the room began to swirl in a violent vortex, centering around Seo-jin.

She didn't stop. She poured every ounce of her frustration and hidden hope into the microphone. The ruby flared with such intensity that it blinded the security cameras. The ghost began to dissolve, turning into harmless soot that smelled of burnt sugar.

But as the final note faded, the ghost let out one last, desperate surge of energy. It lunged not at Do-hyun, but at Seo-jin.

Time slowed. She felt the freezing cold of the spirit’s claws reaching for her throat. But before it could touch her, Do-hyun was there. He didn't use magic; he simply stepped between them, catching the spirit's essence in his bare hand and crushing it into nothingness.

The silence that followed was deafening. CEO Choi had passed out on the sofa, snoring loudly, the dark influence finally gone.

Seo-jin was gasping for air, her legs shaking. The microphone slipped from her hand, thumping onto the carpet. "Did... did we win?"

Do-hyun turned to her. His charcoal suit was perfectly pressed, but his eyes were still glowing that fierce, predatory crimson. He walked toward her, and for a moment, Seo-jin thought he was going to scold her for her messy technique.

Instead, he grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him. His heart wasn't beating—he didn't have one in the traditional sense—but his chest was warm with a strange, humming energy.

"You have a talent for chaos," he murmured, his face inches from hers. "The spirit didn't just leave. You shattered it. No human secretary has ever survived a direct encounter with a gluttonous ghost, let alone sung it to death."

"I told you," Seo-jin breathed, her hands resting on his shoulders. "I'm a dirt-spoon. We're hard to kill."

He looked at her lips, his gaze darkening with a hunger that had nothing to do with spirits or contracts. The 'Romantic Comedy' part of the evening was leaning heavily into the 'Dark Romance.'

"Chairman," she whispered, "is this part of the contract?"

"No," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "This is a breach of contract. And I find I don't care."

He leaned in, but just as their lips were about to touch, the door to the VIP room burst open. Director Park stood there, holding a tablet and looking utterly exhausted.

"Chairman, I hate to interrupt the 'breach of contract,' but the Supernatural Tax Service is downstairs. They noticed a massive surge of unregistered energy from this floor, and they're asking if you've opened an illegal portal."

Do-hyun stiffened, his eyes returning to their normal obsidian. He didn't let go of Seo-jin immediately, lingering for a second longer than necessary.

"Tell them it was a karaoke malfunction," Do-hyun snapped, stepping back.

"And the fainted CEO?" Park asked, gesturing to the snoring Choi.

"Tell them he’s drunk on his own ego," Seo-jin added, straightening her dress and regaining her composure. She looked at Do-hyun, a playful, defiant smirk on her face.

"And Director Park? Make sure the Chairman pays for the room. My voice doesn't come cheap."

As they walked out, Do-hyun trailed behind her, watching the sway of her midnight-silk dress. For the first time in five centuries, the Shadow King felt something he couldn't control. It wasn't hunger. It was curiosity.

And in the darkness of the hallway, a small, black bird with three eyes watched them leave—a messenger from the Underworld Council. The news was already spreading: The King had found a leash, and the leash had a voice that could shake the heavens.

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