Chapter 33 : The Shoulder Devil

As soon as I and Seo-yeon accepted the mission, our consciousness teleported. Our body fell a bit Ye-Rin and sang-woo caught us in time. For the first time since the system cursed our world, I wasn’t looking at carnage or survival menus or bleeding skin. I was looking at memories. But they weren’t mine. They were hers. Eun-ha’s. The moment Seo-Yeon and I stepped into her mind—through that glowing fracture hovering just inches above her forehead—we lost everything physical. Our bodies dissolved into a light mist, our hands translucent, weightless. There was no sound, no pain, no system UI buzzing in our ears. Just... peace. "Can you feel your legs?" I asked Seo-Yeon, or at least the glowing echo of her next to me. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her presence pulsed a little brighter as if trying to nod. "No," she said. "It’s like we’re ghosts." We floated downward—our forms bending with a silent gravitational pull—and the world took shape around us like water finding a memory. The first thing I saw was the color yellow. A crayon sun drawn with wild loops. Then it zoomed outward, becoming a child’s bedroom. Stuffed bears lined the walls. Pictures of family vacations. A flower-patterned blanket. There, on the floor, sat a much younger Eun-ha, no older than six or seven. Her hair was tied in pigtails, her cheeks flushed with joy, and she was humming to herself as she drew. She couldn’t see us. None of them could. We watched her mother peek through the door, hands dusted with flour. "Dinner in ten, honey!" "Yes, Mom!" Eun-ha chirped. I had to stop myself from speaking. It felt too real. Too warm. Like if I spoke, I might ruin it. "Her memories," Seo-Yeon whispered beside me. "She’s looping herself in her safest days." We watched as she ran out of the room, slipping slightly on the polished floor, skidding toward the kitchen. Her mother was preparing fried fish, her father mixing seaweed soup. The grandfather—tall, thin, with laughing eyes—was setting out the rice bowls. "Three generations in one house," I murmured. "She really was loved." Dinner came like a dream. Warm lights. Wooden chopsticks clacking. Laughter. Her father making lame jokes. Her mother scolding him playfully. Her grandfather reaching across the table to spoon extra rice into Eun-ha’s bowl. I couldn’t help but smile, even though I felt like an intruder. Then I saw it. Sitting silently on her small shoulder, legs crossed like a smug imp—the chief goblin. Its green skin was darker than the others we’d fought. Black tribal marks curled around its eyes like tattoos. Its ears were ragged, chewed at the edges, and its smile revealed small, sharp teeth too clean to be real. And it was just... watching her. Watching us. Even if Eun-ha couldn’t see it, the thing saw us. Seo-Yeon’s pulse flared beside me. "Ye-Jun." "I know," I replied. "Level 20. That’s not just a parasite. That’s a puppeteer." I floated closer to it, instinct screaming at me to rip it off her shoulder. But the moment I moved—the world blinked. The kitchen dissolved. The dinner vanished. Everything shifted—and I was no longer Ye-Jun. I was her. I blinked, and I was staring out of Eun-ha’s eyes, the warmth of her family’s laughter still ringing in her ears. Her small fingers curled tightly around the teddy bear in her lap. No. No no. This wasn’t right. "Seo-Yeon?" I called. But my voice didn’t come out. I tried to look sideways—to see if she was trapped here too—but my body wouldn’t obey. I was riding shotgun in a child’s mind. Helpless. Then I heard her. Seo-Yeon’s voice inside my mind. "We’re inside her vision now. She doesn’t know we’re here. We can’t control anything. We’re just... watching." Watching a trauma in real-time. Dinner was long over. Eun-ha was in bed, listening to her grandfather’s soft lullaby as he closed the door behind him. And then... The system chime. A distant, mechanical voice outside the window. [ Day 1: Welcome to Golden Hell. ] We heard it before she did. Then came the first shriek. Not from her. From outside. A crunch. A slam. Glass breaking. Then silence. "Appa?" her voice was so small. Another crash. Then the walls trembled. Her mother rushed in first, blood on her sleeve, dragging Eun-ha into her arms. Her father followed, holding a kitchen knife in both hands. "Stay behind me." "Wha—what’s happening?!" "No time, Ha-yuna. Stay behind us," her mother said, trembling. The front door exploded open. Goblins. So many. Rushing in like insects with hands. Crawling the walls. Smashing the picture frames. A green tide. Her father fought first—stabbed one, then two—but was overrun. Her mother’s scream split through Eun-ha’s ears. Grandpa pulled her into a cabinet beneath the sink, shoving the teddy bear into her arms. "No matter what happens—don’t make a sound," he whispered, kissing her forehead. The cabinet door closed. Darkness. The only sound—her breath and the chaos outside. "Seo-Yeon..." I whispered inside my head. "I can’t do this." "We have to watch," she said. "We have to see what she saw. What broke her." The sounds outside grew worse. Her mother’s cries—then a dull thud. Something heavy collapsed against the cabinet. Blood seeped in beneath the crack of the wooden door. The smell hit us—raw and metallic, like iron and smoke. Eun-ha didn’t cry. She clutched the teddy bear tighter, biting down on its ear. Then came silence. A long, aching silence. Until—crreeeak. Footsteps. Slow. Precise. Something sniffing the air. And then— Her view twisted—looking upward through the sliver between cabinet doors. The chief goblin. It stood in the wrecked kitchen, its back arched, black eyes glimmering. It didn’t say anything. Just tilted its head. Then another goblin approached. Whispered something in its ear. And the chief’s eyes locked directly toward the cabinet. Toward us. I felt her fear. No, I was her fear. I could feel my heart—her heart—beating so fast it felt like it might rip apart. She covered her mouth. Bit down on her bear. And still, the goblin stepped forward. One... two... The memory froze. Everything stopped. Like a paused movie. The events played here were different than what Eun-ha’s first told us. I suppose it’s the Goblin Chief who is showing us what he wanted to. Then— "She’s locking the memory," Seo-Yeon whispered. "Her mind doesn’t want to relive the rest." "But he found her, didn’t he?" I asked. "That’s how he crawled in." "Yes," Seo-Yeon whispered. "That moment of fear... that was the door." Everything shifted again. We were back in the floating mindspace—outside of her vision. But this time, the world had changed. The dream world was still there—her old house, the warm sunset lighting—but now the walls were bleeding. Cracks formed across the floor. The teddy bear was missing. And there, standing in the middle of the living room— The chief goblin. Full-sized now.Still wearing that smug smile. It turned its head toward us. "I see you now," it said. Seo-Yeon’s breath hitched beside me. "You shouldn’t be here," it said, licking its lips. "She’s mine now." I stepped forward. Even as a ghost, I tried to stand tall. "You’re a parasite." He grinned. "I’m a comfort," he replied. "She lets me sit here. On her shoulder. All I do is whisper." Seo-Yeon raised her hand. "We’re getting her back." The goblin didn’t flinch. "Then come take her," he said.