KTC | Prologue

The condition of the corpse was utterly horrifying. Every ligament had been severed, and the joints throughout the entire body—including all ten fingers and toes—had been crushed, leaving no part intact. The skin had been meticulously stripped into two clean sheets and was hung on a clothesline in an abandoned house where the body had been dumped, as if to mock anyone who found it.

It was, without a doubt, a murder fueled by deep resentment. Judging by the condition of the mutilated body, the grudge was no ordinary one.

The victim’s identity was quickly confirmed: Kwak Jaepil. For nearly ten years, he had eluded capture despite being on Interpol’s red notice list.

“Cult Leader of the Unknown Cult, Kwak Jaepil, Found as Brutally Mutilated Corpse in the Philippines”

The grotesque end of Kwak Jaepil made headlines not only in South Korea but internationally as well. Unsurprisingly, the heinous crimes of the Unknown Cult, long relegated to the shadows of history, were thrust back into the public eye.

The Unknown Cult first came to light ten years ago when Interpol sent an urgent cooperation request to the Korean National Police Agency. The request demanded the swift apprehension of a dark web site called “Unknown,” whose IP address had been traced to Jeonan County, South Korea. After years of relentless tracking by investigative agencies worldwide.

The materials Interpol provided on the site “Unknown” were enough to throw the National Police Agency into chaos. The site was a hub for the distribution of horrific crime videos to the world, including sexual exploitation, torture, and even snuff films marketed under the guise of “rituals.”

A SWAT team was immediately deployed. However, to cut straight to the conclusion, by the time the team raided a village in Jeonan County, everything was already over.

The makeshift church where the crimes had taken place, as well as the nearby village, was littered with the mutilated remains of countless bodies. Survivors—both Unknown Cult members and villagers—were drenched in blood, muttering incoherently, pleading to be saved. Even the most battle-hardened elite soldiers found themselves frozen on that land of death.

The death toll reached over 100. Not a single corpse remained intact. Strikingly, the torn remnants of the bodies bore no traces of weapons.

The shocking incident spread like wildfire, uncontrollable. Correspondents from around the globe were dispatched to cover the investigation of the Jeonan Massacre.

A summary of the findings from the Major Crimes Investigation Division, which spearheaded the case, was as follows:

Yunseul Village, located near the sea in Jeonan County, was an insular community with strong ties among its residents. Many elderly villagers had such a distorted perception of crime that they didn’t recognize the abduction of outsiders—forced into slavery or taken as wives—as criminal acts.

Kwak Jaepil, a native of Yunseul Village, became a shaman at the age of 31, claiming he was possessed by a god he identified as King Yeomra, the ruler of the underworld in Korean folklore.

Although Yunseul Village had a strong tradition of folk shamanism, the residents were initially skeptical of Kwak’s claims. But over time, Kwak accurately predicted numerous misfortunes, big and small, that befell the village. Eventually, they couldn’t help but believe him.

In truth, Kwak’s “predictions” were staged in collaboration with a local organized crime group, Yangcheolpa. However, the residents, unaware of this deceit, began revering Kwak as the village’s guardian deity.

Having secured the trust of the insular Yunseul villagers, Kwak Jaepil founded the Unknown Cult. Initially, he exploited the villagers and their enslaved captives to live like a king. But neither he nor Yangcheolpa was content with their initial scope of power. Their crimes grew bolder and more grotesque.

One day, Kwak gathered the villagers and made a proclamation:
“The Ghost King has decreed his descent. If we offer him pure blood as a sacrifice, he will bestow great blessings upon the believers.”

Thus began the horrific “rituals” involving children as sacrificial offerings. Yangcheolpa abducted children from across the country, supplying them to the cult, while the villagers and cult members participated in the unspeakable crimes.

Of course, these “rituals” were merely a pretext. Yangcheolpa’s boss had stumbled upon the existence of the dark web and decided to exploit it as a lucrative new business venture.

Thankfully, their heinous crimes did not persist for long. The FBI, investigating a child predator, uncovered video evidence connected to Unknown. After months of covert operations, they succeeded in tracing the site’s IP address.

The incident, which plunged the world into a frenzy of outrage, ultimately became a cold case. The forensic teams could not definitively explain the state of the bodies, and Kwak Jaepil managed to evade complete capture by disappearing abroad.

The Jeonan Massacre, also known as the Unknown Incident, remains a mystery even after ten years. The truth of the matter continues to lie dormant in the confidential archives of investigative agencies worldwide.

…

“Nothing at all, you say?”

Go Changhyun, the Director of the National Intelligence Service, exhaled harshly through the smoke of his chain-smoked cigarettes. Photos of Kwak Jaepil’s mangled corpse, sent by the Philippine police, were scattered across his desk.

“We’ve tried every member of the SU Team, but yes, that’s correct.”

The SU Team—Survivors from the Unknown—was composed entirely of individuals who survived the Jeonan Massacre.

The team’s creation stemmed from a simple rationale. The children rescued from the site had all been hospitalized for physical and psychological treatment. During this time, an undeniable anomaly was discovered: They could see, hear, and feel things others couldn’t. While the degree of sensitivity varied, all eight survivors possessed extraordinary spiritual perception.

One year after the incident, the NIS initiated the SU Team project. The goal was to harness these unique abilities for national security, particularly in the global espionage arena. The project was greenlit without hesitation.

“That doesn’t make sense. Even if there are limitations with photos, you guys are the ones who can use the eyes of the dead to glimpse their final moments, right? Even if it’s just a fleeting silhouette.”

“That’s correct. The stronger the victim’s awareness of the perpetrator, the clearer the vision becomes.”

“And yet, there’s nothing from Kwak Jaepil? Even after enduring prolonged torture and dying in such a state?”

“It’s hard for us to understand as well. It’s as if his soul was entirely gone before his death.”

The SU Team leader, Lee Juhee, responded calmly, though her mind was racing. It was undoubtedly strange that nothing was visible from photos of a corpse dead for less than 12 hours.

“If you were to hypothesize a cause?”

“Perhaps someone with spiritual abilities far greater than ours killed him.”

Go Changhyun, extinguishing his cigarette in an ashtray, immediately lit another, his eyebrows furrowing. Without prompting, Lee Juhee elaborated further.

“If the killer’s spiritual powers vastly exceeded ours, it’s possible they left no traces. Extending that hypothesis, it’s also conceivable that the Ghost King from the past may be involved.”

“…Are we really going there?”

Go Changhyun’s expression hardened.

“It’s all speculation, of course. But if there’s someone out there capable of rendering our team completely blind, they’re no ordinary entity.”

The Unknown Incident had many layers of concealment, orchestrated by the NIS. Among them, the most daunting and threatening was the claim about the Ghost King made by Kwak Jaepil.

Even now, Go Changhyun struggled to believe it. How could there exist a being capable of driving people insane, possessing children with such malevolent spirits that they would dismember adults? It was beyond belief.

But the autopsy results, classified to this day, were clear. While the villagers killed one another, the cult members within the church were massacred by something else. The survivors’ handprints were burned into the flesh of the victims like demonic brands, yet no weapon marks were found.

“At least the Ghost King, or whatever it is, doesn’t seem to kill indiscriminately. Small comfort, I guess.”

Knowing further discussion wouldn’t yield answers, Go Changhyun swept the photos into a corner of his desk.

“I’ve requested investigative cooperation with the Philippines. Once approved, send Gu Seungjun. His sight is the sharpest; maybe he can uncover something in person.”

“Understood.”

“Dismissed.”

Lee Juhee bowed and left the office.

As Go Changhyun leaned back into his chair, rubbing his fatigue-heavy eyelids, he revisited the testimonies from the Jeonan investigation’s survivors.

The testimonies weren’t particularly detailed. Whether due to trauma or some inexplicable interference, the children remembered little of the events. What little information was obtained came through hypnosis therapy.

[Lee Juhee: There was a very small child. I couldn’t see their face… But whenever they grabbed the men, blood gushed out. My body moved on its own. I felt like I had to follow that child and kill those bad men, too. But the child was so strong and fast that there wasn’t much I could do to help].

These statements, extracted under hypnosis, remain absent from the survivors’ conscious memory to this day.

[Lee Juhee: Everyone screamed. The Ghost King disappeared].

This, too, was a shared account among the children. The rampaging evil spirits faltered upon noticing the Ghost King’s absence, losing their way and floundering.

Go Changhyun studied the photos appended to the report, focusing on the belt buckle of a bishop among the cult and the fingerprints that appeared in multiple places. The owner of these mysterious prints remains unidentified to this day; believed to belong to the Ghost King.

“They’re either still a minor or have never set foot in South Korea again.”

It had to be one or the other.