Chapter Nine: Chapter: The King’s Rage, The Mortal’s Pain
Chapter Nine: Chapter: The King's Rage, The Mortal's Pain
The moment she stepped out of the classroom—
Everything changed.
No sound. No color. No warmth.
The world around her twisted, melting like smoke.
The familiar hallway vanished in an instant, replaced by bone-chilling air and endless black marble. She blinked once—and found herself back in that place.
The Ghost Realm.
The King's chamber.
The floor stretched endlessly beneath her feet, carved from obsidian and soaked in silence. Beautiful, high pillars stood like silent judges around her. The air was too still—too heavy. As if even it feared the man who sat on the throne.
Her heart thudded violently.
She was still in Ji Yona's body, still wearing the school uniform, but it didn't matter. None of it did.
Not when he was here.
The Ghost King.
Her father.
He sat on the high throne like death incarnate—draped in black and silver robes. His eyes were dark, one could see a wide dead sea if looked closely —piercing, ancient, merciless.
And they were staring straight at her.
She couldn't move. Not even to breathe.
No... not again...
Her legs trembled.
Her throat burned.
Every memory came flooding back like poison—the way he used to tower over her, voice like ice, hands like punishment. The beatings. The commands. The way he stripped away any shred of warmth she clung to as a child.
The coldness in his eyes now?.
It was nothing new.
But it still broke her.
At the edge of the room stood Prince Jang Zhaoren. No longer the smug, calm brother who had just turned every girl's head. No. His shoulders were straight, but his face was pale. Eyes locked on the floor. He didn't dare interrupt. Not here.
He was afraid too.
Everyone feared the Ghost King.
Yunli swallowed, barely managing to stay on her feet. Her knees buckled once, but she didn't fall. Not yet.
"Come forward," the King said, voice low, echoing like thunder chained in steel.
She flinched.
It wasn't a request.
It never was.
---
She hesitated before stepping forward.
Her legs wouldn't move.
Her breath caught.
The closer she got, the colder it became. As if the very air around her rejected her existence.
"You fool—walk faster!"
His voice cracked like thunder—sharp, furious.
The command hit her like a physical blow, and before she could take another step, her knees buckled.
She collapsed to the cold, black floor—trembling, terrified, humiliated.
A bitter wave of disappointment washed over the Ghost King's face. He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with cruel disgust.
He didn't know.
Didn't know that Yunli had never changed her form.
Didn't know she didn't just disguise herself—
That she had possessed a human girl.
That she was trapped.
That her ghost body was almost gone.
And slowly… she was becoming mortal.
But to him, this was just insolence.
Unacceptable weakness.
His rage spiked without warning.
With a flick of his wrist, the whip appeared—black as void, tipped with jagged spirit steel.
"You dare mock me with this pitiful act?"
He lashed it down.
CRACK!
The sound echoed through the chamber like a scream from the underworld.
She screamed—a piercing, raw, soul-wrenching sound that no one had heard from her in years.
And then—
She went still.
Silent.
Unmoving.
Yunli lay motionless, her fragile form curled like a fallen leaf on the icy black tiles of the Ghost King's chamber. Blood seeped through the silken fabric of her uniform—red against dark, eerily vibrant. Her breathing was shallow. Her pulse weak.
Zhaoren stood frozen at the edge of the chamber, fists clenched, jaw tight. For all his strength, he couldn't hide the terror in his eyes. The Ghost King—his father—had gone too far.
The King stepped beside his daughter, staring down at the limp body. Her back was mangled, raw flesh exposed where the whip had torn through. He had seen her wounded before. She had always gotten back up. She had always glared back with defiance, no matter how much it hurt.
But now… she was still.
"Yunli," he called, his voice low, not with affection, but with unease.
No response. Her skin was turning pale.
He scooped her up into his arms, eyes narrowing. "Call the royal physician. Now."
Zhaoren was already gone, vanishing in a blur of wind and smoke.
Moments later, the heavy doors groaned open, and the Royal Physician stumbled inside with his medical case hovering beside him. He bowed quickly but paled the instant he saw the girl. "What—what happened?"
"Fix her." The King's voice was like stone cracking.
The physician dropped to his knees beside Yunli and immediately conjured a radiant sigil in the air. His palms hovered over her body, glowing with celestial light.
"Sacred healing," he muttered. "Blessed by the Ancients. Heal the princess…"
Light poured into Yunli's wounds. Her body glowed faintly. The bleeding slowed. Her heartbeat fluttered stronger. The King's shoulders began to relax.
And then—suddenly—the light sputtered and vanished.
The wounds reopened. Blood spurted anew.
"What?" the physician whispered.
Yunli gasped sharply in pain, then passed out again. The King's hand tightened into a fist.
"Again!" he growled.
The physician nodded in panic and repeated the technique, adding incantations this time. Symbols danced above her chest. For a brief moment, her face relaxed—and then her body convulsed violently. The wounds grew wider.
"Impossible!" the physician shouted. "This healing has never failed!"
The King's face darkened. "You call this healing?"
Zhaoren stepped forward, voice low and urgent. "Father, stop. You're scaring him—"
"Silence!" the King snapped.
The physician, drenched in sweat, tried a third method—a cooling wave of ghost frost to seal the wounds. It wrapped Yunli like mist. At first, the blood ceased. Her skin grew cold. The room held its breath.
But then, her body twitched violently, and her breathing stopped.
"She's not breathing!" Zhaoren shouted, rushing forward.
The Ghost King was already by her side, pressing his palm to her chest, pouring in his own aura to restart her heart. "Breathe," he muttered. "Breathe, dear."
Her chest heaved suddenly. She gasped again, coughing weakly. The King exhaled slowly, but the relief was short-lived.
"She's getting worse," the physician murmured, stepping back, trembling. "Every healing spell… it's only worsening her injuries. Her soul is rejecting ghost energy."
The King's eyes gleamed with dangerous calm. "Explain."
The physician bowed low. "She's… she's not in her ghost form, Your Majesty. She's in a mortal vessel. A full possession, without transformation. Her soul is bound to human flesh."
The chamber froze in silence. Even the spirits lingering in the shadows recoiled.
"What did you say?" the King asked, voice deadly.
"She's mortal now," the physician whispered. "Her spirit used a forbidden artifact. The Void Star Crystal Orb—it lets ghosts lift the veil and pass to the human realm. But without a proper vessel shift… she's trapped in a mortal's body. The treatments I used… they were ghost-based. They're killing her."
Zhaoren stared at Yunli, stunned. "Then what do we do?"
The physician gulped. "Only mortal medicine can help her now. She needs to be taken to the human world. To a hospital. Immediately."
The silence was thick. The Ghost King's face was unreadable.
The physician flinched, expecting to be struck down. Instead, the King turned without a word. He lifted Yunli carefully into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder.
Zhaoren blinked. "You're going?"
Without looking back, the King said coldly, "I will not let her die."
---
Moments Later – Seoul, South Korea
The sun was still bright, unlike the Ghost realm which was already night time.
Wind tore through the hospital lobby as the automatic doors burst open. A tall man in dark clothes stepped in, carrying a bleeding teenage girl. His features were striking—sharp, unnervingly perfect. Behind him, a young man in a black coat swept in like a storm cloud.
Nurses gasped. One of them dropped her clipboard.
"She's dying," the King said, voice clear but cold. "Where is your emergency ward?"
The receptionist blinked at him. "Who—who are you?"
Zhaoren stepped forward and presented an ID card. "Zhaoren Jang. CEO of Jang Group. She's my sister."
That name worked magic. Within seconds, the nurses rushed forward. A stretcher appeared. A team of doctors whisked Yunli down the hallway.
As they vanished behind the emergency doors, the King remained standing in the middle of the lobby. He stared at his blood-covered hands, unmoving.
Zhaoren watched him carefully. "You did the right thing."
"She was scared,: the King murmured, voice low. "She fell when I yelled. She used to stare me down. Now she trembles, is she truly turning mortal, those filthy? I won't accept this" His voice was strength but laced with fear.
Zhaoren nodded slowly. "There has to be a way to fix this."
The King stared at his son for a while, before speaking. "I will surely find a way."
---
Meanwhile – Across the Hospital
In another wing, Dr. Ji Ha adjusted her glasses and scribbled down notes from her session with a difficult patient. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She picked it up, glancing at the caller ID.
Hyun.
Her heart skipped.
"Hello?" she answered, stepping into the hallway.
"Something's happened," Hyun said quickly. "Yona is missing."
"What?" she asked, already walking.
Hyun line suddenly went off.
Miss Ji Ha was rushing out of her wing, when she remembered that she had a special session with one of the senior doctors.
She hurriedly dialed the doctor's number to inform her that she has postpone the session because of an emergency— but the doctor wasn't picking up, so she ran to the Main center, where the doctor worked, but she wasn't there.
As she was about to give up and go after her missing daughter, she recieved a phone call from Hyun again.
"Yona is at the hospital you work, she is in the ER" He said briefly before cutting the call.
---
Just as Ji Ha reached the emergency wing, the hallway lights flickered—once, twice—then stabilized. She pushed through the doors, her white coat flaring behind her.
Chaos.
Nurses ran with trays. Doctors shouted instructions. The girl they had brought in… she was barely holding on.
Miss Ji Ha's steps slowed as she spotted the figure standing at the center of it all—tall, composed, with blood on his sleeves and a face carved by the gods. His aura was suffocating, regal, and unnervingly cold. People gave him space without knowing why.
Her breath caught.
Their eyes met.
Jang Li Shen.
Blackout.
End of Chapter.