The Heavenly Lord Fan
“Why?”
Park Su-hwan looked at her with a puzzled expression.
“That’s a gyoeui—a ritual chair.”
“A ritual chair?”
“Ah… you really don’t know. It’s the kind of seat we set out during a gut ritual or ancestral rite. When a spirit or someone of high station arrives, we offer it for them to sit.”
Su-hwan rolled his eyes thoughtfully for a moment at her explanation.
I’d have to have actually performed a gut or a memorial rite to know that.
“That’s why the chair looks so ornate.”
No wonder it had looked anything but ordinary at a glance. Intricate carvings of clouds and lotus blossoms were inlaid over the black lacquer, and the gently curved back and armrests seemed designed with the sitter’s comfort in mind.
Comparing it to the so-called Seoraksan wine cup Choi Young-gam had been waving around earlier would have been an insult. This was the real thing—a genuine shamanic tool steeped in someone’s sincere devotion.
“And here I thought the old man had just bought himself a fancy chair. Well? Don’t you think it suits me?”
Even after being told it was a seat for the dead, Su-hwan didn’t so much as blink. Instead he propped his chin on his hand and put on a deliberately solemn face, as if he actually had every right to sit there—smooth as you please.
Watching him, Choi Hana’s face went pale. She clearly had no idea just how blasphemous this was.
Looking for all the world as though disaster were about to strike, she grabbed Su-hwan’s arm and started hauling him up.
“Get up. Hurry.”
“Hey, then why’d you leave it out?”
“Obviously we pulled it out for a second so we could tidy up!”
“And it’s not like I’m about to ride a straw-cutter blade right now.”
“Yes, yes. You can’t even ride a blade. There’s a perfectly good chair over there—why did you have to sit on this one…!”
“It looks cool.”
“I don’t care. Get up already!”
In the end Su-hwan was half-shoved out of the seat. He dropped into the old, shabby plastic chair sitting in the corner of Mansindang.
“Wow. This is genuinely awful.”
There was none of the comfort he had felt on the ritual chair a moment ago. He felt as if he had been demoted to commoner status in an instant.
“Yes, yes. If you like the other one so much, why don’t you buy it?”
“How much is it?”
Just as Choi Hana spread her fingers and opened her mouth to answer—
“If you’ve got a customer, can’t you keep it down? You’re practically advertising to the whole neighborhood that you’re fighting. Advertising!”
Choi Young-gam, who had been showing off his dazzling sales pitch outside, strode in. He immediately fixed Su-hwan with a glare.
“Did you sell well?”
Su-hwan, undaunted, fired right back.
“Hmph.”
Instead of answering, Choi Young-gam waved a crumpled wad of ten-thousand-won bills clutched in his left hand. Su-hwan eyed the thickness and made a rough estimate.
“About… a hundred thousand won, I’d say.”
“You little ghost.”
“Right? I may not be good at much else, but when it comes to counting money headed for my pocket, I’m second to none.”
That was true. He might fail at math, but calculating cash about to land in his hand was something he could do better than anyone.
“You really fleeced them good.”
“These cups were carved from trees that grew on the noble energy of Seoraksan. You want me to pour precious liquor meant for the spirits into some cheap cup rolling around by the roadside?”
Su-hwan snorted and glanced at Choi Hana.
“See that? The way the old man lies without even blinking? You must never take after him. Keep it up and you’ll both end up in the Hell of Tongue-Pulling together.”
“Hmm…”
Choi Hana stroked her chin, sinking into serious thought. Apparently she had been thinking something very similar about Su-hwan just moments earlier.
“Shut it! Then what about you!”
“I already gave up a long time ago.”
Because I go around leaking the secrets of heaven.
But since he couldn’t say that out loud, Su-hwan put it differently.
“I’ll probably be right there next to you getting my tongue pulled out, old man.”
“All mouth, that’s what you are. All mouth. Enough. Get to work already—there’s a mountain of it.”
Choi Young-gam threatened that if they dawdled they wouldn’t make it home on time. Su-hwan didn’t even bother snorting at the transparent warning.
“Fine. Shall we get started, then?”
Choi Hana clapped her hands cheerfully and held out a feather duster as if she had been waiting for this moment.
“Oppa, you’re tall, so please take the upper shelves. And don’t forget to dust every single corner.”
“You’re telling me to do this? My leg still hurts…”
“Stop faking. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Tch. Tried once… didn’t work.
In the old days she would have told him to sit and sort five-colored cloth. Now she was putting him to proper work.
“Yes, yes.”
Su-hwan heaved a deep sigh and took the duster.
“Then good luck!”
Choi Hana headed upstairs saying she would tidy the shrine room, while the old man suddenly clutched his stomach and vanished into the bathroom.
“…Everyone’s bailing on me?”
Su-hwan swept his gaze around the tool shop. Every direction was packed with strange, time-worn shamanic implements.
In that case, while I’m cleaning I should pick out a few nice pieces for myself.
He fully intended to throw a proper tantrum at Choi Young-gam later.
You left me alone, so you have to pay the price.
He began swinging the duster in earnest, sorting the items that caught his fancy one by one.
— Swish, swish!
When he reached the fan display, he stopped dusting, opened a fan, and sat down with it.
“Tsk. This one’s a little weak on the sound.”
If a fan was meant for performance, the snap had to hit the ears hard.
That was how you made the clients jump.
Next Su-hwan picked up the feather fan he currently used—the one with half its feathers missing. In other words, the fan painted with an ancestral spirit.
When reading fortunes, it was usually the ancestral spirits who revealed the future. So using that fan was the proper thing to do.
Ordinarily he would have asked for one of those… but somehow it didn’t satisfy him.
Maybe it was the sight of every kind of fan piled up that made greed raise its head.
Besides, he was a fraudulent shaman. It didn’t matter what kind of fan he used.
So he snapped open every fan in turn until, in the corner, he discovered an especially magnificent one.
“Whoa…”
Su-hwan picked it up as if entranced. He paid no attention to the musty smell that spoke of how long it had sat there.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the fan’s sheer presence.
It was clearly larger than an ordinary fan, its surface a blend of soft gold and noble purple. A long tassel hung from the end of the handle, and the jewels set into every knot caught the light and sparkled brilliantly.
“This is insane…”
When he opened it, an old man wearing a mian crown and a splendid dragon robe sat on a throne in the center. To either side of his head were painted a red sun and a white moon.
Su-hwan instinctively recognized the spirit on the fan.
Our General… no—it’s Okhwang Sangje himself?
He folded it once and snapped it open again. The weight was considerable, so his usual flair didn’t quite come through.
But Su-hwan was completely smitten. What would it be like to open this fan with a flourish in front of a client and start spouting nonsense…
They definitely wouldn’t be able to look away.
Perfect. I’m taking this one.
And so, starting with ritual vessels, then a pair of brass crane-and-turtle candlesticks, an incense burner, a spirit painting, and more…
He carried every shamanic tool he wanted over to the counter and piled them high.
“What the hell is this…!!!”
Choi Young-gam, looking distinctly thinner after whatever battle he had fought in the bathroom, stared at the counter and roared.
“Oh, you’re back? These are the things I want as payment for today.”
“A-all of this? Are you out of your mind?”
Choi Young-gam’s eyelids quivered with rage. He had planned to toss the kid a few things as thanks for the help, but this was going too far.
“Of course. I have business ethics and a conscience, you know.”
Su-hwan pointed at the fan of Okhwang Sangje and the spirit painting.
“Just give me these two for free. For the rest I’ll listen to whatever price you name and decide. How’s that? Pretty cool of me, right?”
“This… this kid’s completely insane.”
With ghostly accuracy he was demanding only the most expensive pieces for free. Choi Young-gam clutched the back of his neck and let out a hollow laugh.
Even thieves had standards—and this one was off the charts.
“Look—I dusted everything thoroughly. Swept the floor too. And later you’re going to make me haul goods and fold amulets anyway.”
He was right. Choi Young-gam had no intention of sending the hard-recruited Su-hwan home early.
And Su-hwan had no intention of doing free labor easily. No matter how much gratitude he owed the old man…
He had plenty of arguments of his own.
I saved your life in exchange!
“Absolutely not. The two candlesticks and the ritual vessels.”
“No. I want these two.”
Su-hwan dug in his heels. He sealed his lips tight, as if he would not yield an inch.
“Do you even know what kind of candlesticks these are? Deep in Bukhansan—”
“Spare me the nonsense. Give me the fan and the spirit painting.”
“Do you have any idea how much those cost?”
“I don’t, but they look expensive, so I’m asking for them.”
“Two candlesticks, the vessels, and I’ll throw in the incense burner. How about it? Or I can add that myeongdu over there.”
“I’m not taking that rusty mirror that looks like it’ll give me tetanus. Then how about the spirit painting, the two candlesticks, and the vessels?”
“Do you know how much that spirit painting costs?! How can you just demand a piece worth over a million won for free! Have some shame!”
Su-hwan folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, looking as though he were seriously considering Choi Young-gam’s words.
“Fine. Then… this fan, the vessels, and the candlesticks. How’s that? Honestly, the fan looked like it was shoved in a corner and never properly maintained.”
“You little bastard. Just the jade beads hanging on it alone—”
“Admit it—it wasn’t well cared for. While you’re throwing out the trash, just give it to me.”
“Do you have any idea how many tools are in this shop? How am I supposed to maintain every— Haaah, fine. Take them.”
Choi Young-gam pressed his fingers hard against his forehead as if his head ached. Then, apparently done with the argument, he waved his hand dismissively.
Yes!
Su-hwan barely managed to swallow the cheer that tried to burst out. From the very beginning his real target had been that splendid Heavenly Lord Fan painted with Okhwang Sangje.
Honestly he had thought getting just that would be enough. He never expected to walk away with the vessels and candlesticks on top of it.
“I’m doing you a favor, you know.”
But he put on a deliberately solemn face as he said it.
Old man, I won today. First rule of haggling: hide your true objective until the very end.
To obtain the Heavenly Lord Fan, Su-hwan had deliberately dangled expensive tools as bait.
“In return, I’m working you hard today. Remember that.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.”
— Creak, creak.
The sound of the old wooden stairs reached them. Choi Hana was carefully coming down from the second floor.
“You’re back?”
Su-hwan, still hugging the fan and grinning ear to ear, looked at her. Her expression was a little strange.
“Something wrong?”
“Yes. Um… Oppa.”
“Yeah?”
“Our young lady says she has something to tell you.”
In that instant Su-hwan’s heart plummeted. He dropped the fan he had been clutching without even realizing it.
“S-suddenly?”
He had always known Bari Gongju would summon him someday. After all, he had changed the futures in which her disciple Choi Hana and Choi Young-gam were supposed to die.
And he felt it instinctively. The reason Bari Gongju had called him today was surely because of that.
This was his first time entering her shrine room.
A thick scent of face powder and sharp incense filled the air. The place was packed with ornate mother-of-pearl boxes and colorful accessories.
Exactly the kind of things Bari Gongju would like. Scattered here and there were also modern robot toys and brightly colored dolls.
It looked for all the world like a little girl’s playroom.
“You can sit over there.”
Choi Hana pointed to the cushion in front of the spirit altar.
“Mmm. All right.”
She had been silent for so long that he had started to hope she might simply overlook everything. That hope was dashed today.
Su-hwan sat quietly in the indicated spot and thought,
This is a real bed of thorns.
“One moment. I’ll light the candles.”
“R-right.”
I never should have come here today…
Was this how a pig felt being dragged to the slaughterhouse? Su-hwan wanted to bolt out of the room that very second.
Park Su-hwan—who possessed the Register of Life and Death, leaked the secrets of heaven, and had defied divine will. Knowing his own guilt, he was truly restless.
Ugh. Whatever!
That was right. The water was already spilled. All he could do was rub his hands together and beg for mercy.
Just then—
— Whiiirrr!
A robot toy cut through the silence with an adorable electronic sound. Without anyone touching it, the toy began moving on its own.
— Beep-beep-beep.
— Vrrr-vrrr-vrrr.
A toy car suddenly rolled forward and smashed into the wall; large and small balls bounced and rolled every which way.
Su-hwan’s heart nearly stopped. He barely swallowed the curse that tried to burst out. An instinctive fear made every hair on his body stand on end.
She’s here. That person.
Every toy in the room belonged to the young child spirits who attended Bari Gongju.
And the fact that they had suddenly begun to move meant…
At that moment Choi Hana’s head snapped toward Su-hwan with a speed that looked ready to break her neck.
Bari Gongju had arrived.