Cordyceps.

Literally, it means: In winter, an insect; in summer, a plant.

Cordyceps is known as a bizarre life form that lives as an insect during winter and appears as a plant in summer—but in truth, it’s not a plant at all.

It’s a type of ascomycete fungus, biologically closer to mushrooms than any grass.

Cordyceps was first discovered in the East and used in traditional medicine for centuries. In my previous life, it was renowned for its anti-aging properties and sometimes even dubbed the elixir of immortality.

“It was more expensive than gold by weight.”

And the reason I knew so much about it?

Because it's a parasitic bastard that feeds on my beloved insects.

So, why the poetic name?

Cordyceps was first discovered in the East, specifically right here—the Himalayas. That’s where the original species that inspired the name was found: a species so unique it only grows in the high-altitude regions of this mountain range.

In the West, it’s known as Cordyceps, and around 750 species have been identified globally. Of those, about 200 species exhibit a particularly sinister trait:

They parasitize insects—just like what I was seeing now, where sprouts were growing out of grasshoppers.

The species found here in the Himalayas typically uses the larva of ghost moths as its host.

These larvae don’t look particularly special—similar to silkworms, really.

They burrow underground to survive the winter, and when infected by spores, the fungus grows inside them until they die.

Then, come spring, a fruiting body sprouts from the head—poking up through the soil like a blade of grass.

And so, “Winter-Insect, Summer-Grass.”

Tsssst.

『Dad?』

Cho’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I’d been so stunned by the realization that all these sprouting Cordyceps were feeding on buried grasshoppers, I’d zoned out for a moment.

“Right, Cho. You see how there’s a little stalk growing from this locust’s head? It looks like grass, but it’s actually a fungus. In winter, it’s an insect—by spring, it sprouts like a plant. That’s why it’s called Cordyceps.”

Tssrr.

『Oh, I see.』

Shaaa.

『What a fascinating fungus.』

The kids nodded, visibly impressed.

Then I turned to Cho.

“Can you go get your mom? I think it’d be good to bring everyone here.”

Since it was now clear that at least some of the locust swarm we were tracking had died and transformed into Cordyceps, I needed to alert the main group.

Tssrr.

『Okay, Dad.』

With a beat of her wings, Cho vanished over the ridgeline.

As I waited for them to return, I crouched back over the Cordyceps field.

I needed to check a few more specimens to confirm whether all of them were truly grasshoppers—and if possible, identify the species. Knowing that would help me determine /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ their origin, migration pattern, and the scale of the swarm.

Snap. Crack.

I unsheathed my throwing blade and carefully dug up a few more stalks.

Brushing off the dirt, I was met again with unmistakable grasshopper heads—each one with a fungal stalk emerging like a strange little antenna.

Clearly, a massive number of grasshoppers were buried beneath this field.

Wait a minute... isn’t this the wrong altitude and season for Cordyceps?

Cordyceps usually only grows between 3,000 and 5,000 meters above sea level, and it typically sprouts around May. But this area wasn’t quite that high—and it was late autumn.

Meaning, under normal circumstances, this kind of fungus shouldn’t even exist here.

I’d gotten so excited by the discovery that I hadn’t considered the impossibility of it.

“Wait... is this some kind of new species of Cordyceps?”

If the location and season didn’t match, it might be a mutated or undiscovered strain. But first, I had to confirm exactly what species of insect was hosting it.

Tap tap.

I cleaned off one specimen thoroughly—revealing a yellow body with black speckles.

The legs had fallen off during the digging, but the markings told me all I needed to know.

“...A desert locust?”

Specifically, the Desert Locust, Schistocerca gregaria.

These guys originate from North-East Africa, Arabia, and Southwest Asia. They swarm in massive numbers and are known to cause the worst locust plagues on Earth.

There are species of locusts that can travel up to 150 kilometers in a single day—and these are them.

“Great. The worst damn kind.”

Of all the species to show up, it had to be the most destructive.

For some unknown reason, this group had died here, and while I waited for Cho to return with the others, I decided to search the area a bit more.

Makgok had mentioned that several swarms had been seen here in waves. Judging by the sprouted Cordyceps, these corpses had been buried for months.

That meant more recent swarms could still be nearby.

“Yeondu, let’s scan the area some more.”

Shaaa. 『Yes, So-ryong.』

Riding Yeondu’s body, I circled the surrounding skies. Before long, I spotted another Cordyceps patch just up ahead.

“Over there, Yeondu!”

Shaaa! 『Got it!』

“...Huh. These ones haven’t fully sprouted yet.”

The stalks here were shorter—only the length of a finger—and most were still pushing through the soil.

This meant these locusts had died after the ones in the first patch.

Same species. Same location. Shorter growth.

“...Still desert locusts.”

Why had they all died in groups? It didn’t make any sense.

As I stood staring down, Yeondu tilted her head and asked curiously:

Shaaa. 『So-ryong... do grasshoppers dig into the ground before they die?』

She was asking if they bury themselves when they die—a question so innocent, I couldn’t help but pat her head.

“Hm? No, of course not. When they die, they just die. What kind of grasshopper digs its own grave?”

Shaaa? 『Then... isn’t this really weird?』

She gestured toward the Cordyceps patch with her tail.

And in that moment, my eyes widened.

I’d been so caught up in the thrill of finding valuable Cordyceps that I hadn’t questioned the most obvious abnormality—the fact that all these locusts were buried.

Grasshoppers don’t crawl into the ground to die. And unlike ghost moth larvae that overwinter underground, locusts are migratory. They fly—they don’t burrow.

Something was deeply wrong.

“This is strange. Really strange.”

Shaaa. 『So I was right? It’s not normal?』

“You little genius. You’re amazing, Yeondu.”

Shaaaa... 『So-ryong... stop...』

I pulled her in for a tight hug and affectionately ruffled her head. She was blushing like mad.

At that moment, I heard Hwa-eun’s voice in my head through the transmission technique:

『So-ryong, where are you? We’ve reached the place Cho said you’d be, but you’re not here.』

“I’m on my way.”

It looked like her group had arrived at the main site while we were scouting.

I gave Yeondu the signal.

“Let’s go back. Cho brought them to the location.”

Shaaa. 『Yes, So-ryong.』

By the time Yeondu brought me back to the original spot—

They were having a party.

The kids must’ve gone looking for me, because only the adults remained: Hwa-eun, Lady Seol, Hu-gae, the guide, Brother Kwon-ryong, Ji-ryong, and a few others.

And the men?

They were excitedly digging up Cordyceps.

It looked like they’d found the patch I unearthed earlier and realized what was buried beneath—pure gold in the form of fungus.

“Ay, what kind of blessing is this? Are we really allowed to take some? This was your discovery, wasn’t it, young master?”

“Yes, but I’m sure So-ryong would’ve shared it.”

“Hah! You see? You really can’t trust Murim rumors. I’d never met the famed Lady Hwa-eun in person until now—heard she was beautiful but dangerous. Bah! Those bastards spreading such slander... I’ll make sure they eat their words. From now on, we of the Beggars’ Union will say she’s as beautiful as she is kind!”

Hu-gae was busy singing Hwa-eun’s praises. It seemed she had already shared some Cordyceps with the group—probably thinking it was no big deal given how much there was.

Which made sense. I mean, we’d lived together for a while now. It would’ve felt strange to hoard something like this.

The two beggars just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Lucky them.

“I’ve never seen it grow from a locust before... Think it’ll have the same medicinal effect?”

“Didn’t Lady Hwa-eun say it wasn’t poisonous?”

“Haha. I’m giving some to my father-in-law.”

The women were hanging back, clearly a bit grossed out by the idea of a fungus growing out of a locust corpse. They watched the men dig from a comfortable distance.

“Why are they so giddy about this, anyway?”

“Oh, Cordyceps is said to boost stamina, Gungbong.”

“Stamina?”

“Yes. Stamina.”

“...Is that really something to get that excited about?”

Gungbong looked genuinely baffled.

Lady Seol just grinned and slung an arm around her shoulder. Then, in a low whisper, she leaned in and said:

“Stamina is strength... Strength is... well, useful at night... you know... when a man...”

Gungbong’s eyes went wide. Then she gulped.

“...Can I take some too?”

“Of course,” said Hwa-eun with a laugh.

Honestly, why though?

She didn’t have a fiancé, or even a lover. Even Hwa-eun and Eunbong—who did—weren’t pushing in for any. Why the sudden rush?

As I floated down to rejoin them, Lady Seol playfully teased her.

“Gungbong, and what exactly are you planning to do with that?”

Gungbong paused, hand frozen mid-dig. She cleared her throat.

“J-Just... you know... for preparation. Just in case.”

Well, when you put it like that...

I nodded, just as Cho’s voice rang out.

Tssrr! 『Daddy’s here!』

Hwa-eun waved the moment she spotted me.

“So-ryong!”

The moment I stepped onto the ground, she jogged over and reported like a child seeking praise.

“So-ryong, I went ahead and shared a bit with everyone. I hope that was okay?”

“Of course.”

I mean, I’d been treating her things as my own for ages now—like the entire Tang Clan, for instance.

So this was nothing.

I answered casually, and Hwa-eun smiled, still curious.

“Where’d you go?”

“Oh, I found another Cordyceps patch in the area.”

“Another one? But Cordyceps are expensive! That’s incredible.”

“What about the kids?”

“Oh, they went looking for you. Thought you got lost.”

Of course. They were probably worried about me.

“Cho, Yeondu—can you gather everyone up?”

Tssrr. 『Yes, Dad!』

Shaaa. 『Understood, So-ryong.』

As the kids took off to find the others, I moved closer to Hwa-eun. She looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

“So... why did the locusts die here, anyway?”

She was wondering the same thing I had earlier. But there was something more pressing to discuss.

“Actually, there’s something weirder, Hwa-eun.”

“Weirder?”

“Yeah. Yeondu helped me realize it. It’s not just that they died here—it’s where they died. They’re all buried in the ground.”

“Oh...”

Hwa-eun tilted her head in confusion.

Lady Seol walked over and shrugged.

“Maybe they burrowed in to survive the winter and just died?”

Reasonable assumption—except it didn’t line up with how locusts behave.

Locusts lay their eggs in the ground during the fall. Those eggs hatch in the spring.

But adults don’t burrow in to hibernate. That’s only possible in warm climates.

Some species can survive as nymphs through winter, but every one of these Cordyceps-infested corpses was fully matured.

These were desert locusts—a tropical species.

There was no way they would burrow due to cold.

Especially since, just a month or two ago, it was still summer.

“No, desert locusts can only overwinter in egg or early juvenile stages. This... isn’t natural.”

“Then someone buried them?” Lady Seol asked.

It was the only logical explanation. I nodded.

“That’s what it looks like.”

“But who would do that? Out here? And how? Locusts are tiny and hard to catch...”

Before she could finish her thought—

A sharp, chittering buzz echoed through the mountain air.

Chrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

It bounced around the surrounding peaks, making it impossible to tell where it came from.

Everyone spun around, trying to pinpoint the source.

Then—bam.

A massive, glittering locust dropped from the sky and landed just a few steps in front of Hu-gae, who was still clutching handfuls of Cordyceps.

Chrrrrrrrrrrr!

Its wings trembled with rage.

There was no doubt—it was angry.