Some days, I can't help thinking about that first day I came to this temple.
Back when I was angry, frustrated, and still looking for reasons to flip the world upside down and punch the sky.
That day — one year ago — the temple didn't exactly roll out a red carpet. No horns. No chanting. Just… ghosts.
Strong ones.
Not the playful, panting spirit-types from the cities. These were ancient monks, long-dead masters, protectors of the sacred grounds. Floating in silent rows along the stone halls like divine librarians guarding cosmic secrets.
Their eyes weren't lustful. They didn't leer. They didn't even breathe. But I could feel their presence, like pressure on my chest — like they were pressing the sin out of me just by existing.
One of them had even tried to block my way.
Tall. Withered. Glowing eyes filled with judgment. An old ghost monk wrapped in ash-gray robes, hovering three inches above the marble floor.
He pointed a spectral finger at me.
I was in no mood that day.
So I did what I always do.
I reached out and touched him.
That's when it happened.
In an instant, the cold floating monk twisted. Not in agony — but in… transformation.
His robes melted into flowing silk the color of moonlight. His beard evaporated. His sunken eyes widened into shimmering violet orbs, and his voice, once like a cracked bell, became a soft whisper of rainfall.
He — no, she — stared at me with wide, confused eyes. Her hands clutched at her robes, now barely containing her curving figure. She flushed bright pink. And before I could even say anything, the system chimed:
> (New Slave Registered: [Unnamed Female Spirit])
(Loyalty: 100%)
(Class: Divine Guardian / Spirit Nun)
I didn't even blink. I looked at her and said, "Go find Saya. Tell her… I'm sorry I'm late."
She bowed — blushing — and vanished into the sky with a flash of golden light.
That was a year ago.
Now, as I sit under the frozen shade of a temple tree, I wonder…
Did she make it?
Did Saya meet her?
Is she safe?
Is she weirded out that I keep turning spirits into women and shipping them off like cursed Amazon Prime deliveries?
Before I can spiral too far into my thoughts, a hand grabs my shoulder.
Firm. Heavy. Cold.
The system pings.
> (Do you want to make him a female?)
Ah.
Of course.
It's one of the monks.
But not a ghost.
A real, breathing one.
And for real, living beings, the system always asks before twisting their… equipment.
I glance back.
It's an old monk. Bald. Wrinkled. Eyes sunken like a man who's seen the rise and fall of a hundred lifetimes. He smells like sandalwood and quiet judgment.
I think for a second.
Do I want to turn him into a female?
No.
> (No.)
The system withdraws the power, and the monk breathes a sigh of unconscious relief.
"Old man," I say flatly, "what do you want now?"
The monk doesn't even flinch at the disrespect. He just bows slightly and says in a cracked voice, "The Head is calling for you."
Ah.
The Head Monk. The only person in the temple who hasn't either avoided me, scolded me, or mysteriously grown boobs in my presence.
I've only seen him once — from a distance.
They say he's half-ghost, half-human. Born from a union between a monk and a spirit dragon. Or something like that.
I sigh, stretch my arms, and crack my neck.
"Fine," I mutter. "Let's go."
---
The monk walks ahead of me in silence. I follow slowly, my sandals scraping against the cold stone path.
Somewhere far below, I imagine Saya sleeping with her hands around her stomach. Maybe the spirit-nun is there, serving her soup or humming lullabies in ghost tongues.
I hope she's okay.
Because something's changing.
The old monk didn't say another word.
As soon as he guided me to the inner sanctum — a quiet, candlelit chamber carved deep into the mountain stone — he bowed and left.
Correction: He ran.
Seriously. He moved faster than I've ever seen an old man move. Probably afraid I'd change my mind about that gender bender option.
I stepped forward, the scent of old parchment and burning incense crawling into my nose like ghosts of forgotten prayers.
And then I saw him.
The Head Monk.
He was sitting cross-legged atop a circular mat. No fancy robes. Just a simple gray cloth draped over his shoulders, his eyes closed, breathing slow like the mountain itself was inhaling through him.
But the moment I entered, he opened his eyes.
No flash. No dramatic music. Just silence — and two eyes that held lifetimes.
"Sit," he said.
His voice was soft, but it didn't ask. It commanded.
I obeyed.
The stone floor was cold, but the weight of the moment made me forget that.
Then, he spoke again.
> "I know you are here to find a way out of your world."
My heart skipped.
How does he know that?
> "I don't know your exact reason," he continued, "but what you want… cannot be learned through chanting and rituals alone. Not at your level."
I didn't speak. I let him finish.
> "Your soul is weak. Even if you stay here for ten more years, you won't unlock what you seek. But…"
He opened his eyes wider.
"If you can get powerful — truly powerful — then I will give you my teachings."
Powerful?
I didn't hesitate.
"I'm ready," I said. "Just tell me what I need to do."
He smiled.
> "That's also something you must figure out."
Of course it is.
I resisted the urge to groan.
> "In this one year," he said, "you've strengthened your body. That's good. But the power you possess — it's not for ghosts alone. It's a power that could change the world."
I blinked.
Change the world? I've mostly been turning ghosts into hot wives and sending them home with spiritual lunchboxes.
"You… know about my powers?" I asked, carefully.
The Head Monk chuckled.
> "No."
"...Then how do you know all this?"
He smiled again, as if he was humored by the question.
> "That, too, you will one day understand."
Mystic old men and their riddles.
Then he leaned forward, his gaze sharpening.
> "Come back to me in two years — stronger, not just in body. In spirit. And then, I will teach you things even your system cannot whisper."
"Two years?" I scoffed. "I'll do it in one."
That got a real laugh out of him.
> "Haha… very well. But before you return to Japan…"
His voice lowered.
"Go through Kashi."
Kashi?
"Why?" I asked.
He closed his eyes again.
> "Because someone you need… is there. You will find him."
I nodded slowly.
No more questions.
No more riddles.
Just a feeling — a strange, deep trust in this old man who had said so little and yet seen so much.
I stood and bowed. For the first time in this world, I bowed with respect.
---
As I walked out of the sanctum, I glanced up at the mountain sky. A streak of sunlight pierced the clouds like a blessing from above.
I should've felt pressure.
But instead, I felt… ready.
"One year," I whispered to myself. "I'll figure it out."
But how?
How does someone like me — a guy who used to hate everything about this world — become powerful enough to earn sacred teachings that even the system can't replicate?
I didn't have that answer yet.
But I did know one thing:
Saya was waiting for me. Our child — our impossible, unborn miracle — was growing inside her.
And now… Kashi was calling.
I don't know why I trusted the Head Monk this much.
But I did.
Maybe this world is rubbing off on me.
Or maybe I'm finally starting to understand what it means to live in it.
Something's coming.
And if the Head wants to speak to me now — after a year of silence — then maybe this temple is finally ready to stop teaching me…
…and start using me.