SHAMAN PROTOCOL
Chapter 56: Not Yet

Chapter 56: Not Yet

Another night, another ten hours of labor.

As darkness fell, ghosts began gathering once again at Mikel’s home renovation site. It wasn’t like they had to leave the place and go home—they didn’t have to. But because the ghost union carried their dignity on their spectral shoulders, they treated this like any other job.

A job they either loved or hated. A place where they gathered at a fixed time, and every morning, they bid each other farewell so they could greet each other once the working hours hit the clock.

It was nothing but routine.

And just like every other night, Arthur and his daughter arrived. But the moment they reached the entrance, they noticed a crowd of ghosts blocking the way.

"Hm?" Arthur glanced down at his daughter before looking up. "What’s going on here?"

The ghost standing in front of them turned around. The worry in his eyes was clear and concerning.

"Arthur, something’s off with the boss."

"Mikel?" Arthur furrowed his brows, noticing how none of the ghosts had entered the site. Normally, they’d have gone in and bothered him already. Mikel had left the night before on an errand, and despite what he said, he hadn’t made it back until now.

Curious, Arthur began squeezing his way through the crowd. "Excuse me."

The ghosts instinctively moved aside. They knew Mikel sometimes listened to Arthur and the old engineer. Those two were the only ones Mikel really acknowledged, so they made way.

Once Arthur and his daughter reached the front, deep lines appeared between his brows.

Now he understood why the ghosts hadn’t entered.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to bother Mikel. It was the air around him that was suffocating. Heavy. Even for ghosts like them—or rather, especially for ghosts like them—such an aura was enough to root them in place.

But that’s Mikel, Arthur thought. There had always been days when he carried an aura like this.

If Arthur was honest... his entire ghost form was trembling. He could sense danger—a deep, terrible one. But it wasn’t unfamiliar. He’d felt something like this before, albeit faintly. And it all just resulted back then was confronting Mikel and ended up embarrassing himself.

So, even as his entire form screamed at him to turn away, Arthur convinced himself to approach.

Before he could move, though, his daughter already had.

"Oi, oi—kid!" one ghost gasped as a few others shouted. "Don’t—"

But the little girl had already skipped ahead toward Mikel.

Was she not a ghost? Even child ghosts should’ve known—whatever Mikel was carrying right now was not something they should approach.

But the girl seemed unaware of the growing panic around her as she stopped just a few steps in front of Mikel. She hugged her bunny and flashed him the brightest, sweetest smile.

"Big brother!" she beamed. "Welcome back~!"

Mikel didn’t move.

But when he finally did, all the ghosts froze.

He slowly lifted his head, gazing at the little girl with exhausted eyes. She smiled at him, but he couldn’t even smile back. He was simply too tired.

"Mikel," Arthur’s voice followed as he stepped forward. "You’re early today. What were you—"

The rest of his words died in his throat the moment he saw Mikel’s face.

Arthur’s brows knitted as he studied the young man.

The bags under Mikel’s eyes were enormous and dark. His cheeks were more sunken than the night before, and his eyes—those already mismatched—were completely bloodshot.

Just from his appearance alone, one would wonder if he’d been in a fistfight... or had been cursed.

Arthur’s mouth parted to speak, but then his gaze dropped to Mikel’s hand. He was wearing a hoodie, but it wasn’t enough to hide the dead fingers peeking from the sleeve. His nails were long, dirty, and purple. His fingers looked as if there was no muscle or blood left in them.

It looked like his bones could snap at any second.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say Arthur briefly wondered if Mikel had stuffed someone else’s severed hand into his sleeve—but it was clearly his. The beaded bracelet Mikel always wore was looped around that lifeless hand.

"Mikel, what happened to your hand? Are you alright?" Arthur asked, his concern tightening.

Mikel only grunted. "Mhm."

"Mhm?"

"Mhm." He rose to his feet, almost staggering back, but managing to stay upright.

The father and daughter instinctively reached out to catch him, but he raised a hand to stop them.

"I’m... I’m alright."

"Mikel..." Arthur frowned. His daughter pursed her lips, hugging her bunny tighter.

But Mikel remained standing, even when his body was clearly breaking from within. He lifted his heavy eyes, eyes still filled with resolve.

"Arthur," he murmured. "Stop the recruitment for now. If any ghost comes to work, tell them we’re not taking more."

Arthur, still confused, hesitated. "But if you do that, your house won’t get finished. A ghost’s physical ability only lasts for days—it takes time for them to recover."

"Was."

"...What?"

"I’ll explain everything tomorrow night," Mikel said, dragging his feet forward, his consciousness slipping but not yet broken. "Or maybe... two days later. Just no more. If I don’t show up and you need extra hands, hire only a few. Very few. Maximum five."

He paused, still walking slowly. "That’s all the weight I can carry. Five."

The ghosts watched him silently. His body swayed. His hands trembled. But his eyes never wavered. They stepped aside for him without a word, concern painted all over their faces.

Mikel had always been a little different. He never tried to act like a good guy or a bad one, but they’d always known—he was kind. In his own quiet way.

But this... this was the first time they saw him like this. And they couldn’t even describe what was worse: his physical condition, or his state of mind.

"Boss..." one ghost cake fanatic whispered. "...is he... is he alright?"

Even if Mikel heard him, he probably wouldn’t have answered.

Because the answer was obvious.

And it didn’t matter.

Mikel kept dragging his feet. His entire body screamed for rest, but his mind remained sharp.

After all, Mikel hadn’t gone home to rest after the junkyard. No. The moment he could stand this morning, he returned to the site. Maybe to remind himself of what was left, or what else he could lose, but he spent grueling hours trying to understand the true nature of the Shaman Protocol...

...And what it meant to bear it.

[System Alert: Host activity exceeds current recovery protocol threshold.]

[Suggestion: Suspension.]

"Not yet," Mikel whispered, dragging his feet. "Not... in front of them."

And he pushed through, slow and steady. His mind kept repeating one thought:

Not yet.

Mikel repeated it like a mantra until he crossed the border of the South Block of District 5.

And then, he inevitably collapsed, face-first, into the mud with a thud.