Peaches for the Spirit
“What?”
Seo Da-eun’s eyes flew wide in shock. She had never expected a stranger dressed in traditional hanbok to strike up a conversation with her.
“Could we talk for just a moment?”
Park Su-hwan hastily added,
“I’m not some cultist. I’m a shaman. Only recently received the spirit descent, though.”
The memory of being mistaken for a fraudster not long ago still lingered.
“Ah…”
Seo Da-eun nodded slowly, looking him up and down. It certainly was not the kind of outfit a sane young man would wear out in public.
Who in this day and age walked around in hanbok? And the colorful striped pouch hanging from his waist stood out even more against the blue fabric.
“…You’re a shaman?”
Park Su-hwan seized the opening and studied her expression. Fortunately, curiosity outweighed suspicion.
In that case…
“Yes. You’re a nurse, aren’t you?”
“Hup!”
“Born in the Year of the Rabbit. Twenty-seven years old.”
He lifted one corner of his mouth in a lazy, knowing smile—the look of a man who could see straight through her. The air of quiet confidence only lent weight to his claim of being a shaman.
“Y-you’re really a shaman?”
“I hate to take up your precious time, but my spirit has been pestering me relentlessly. You must have done a great many good deeds.”
Whether Seo Da-eun truly lived a virtuous life was none of his business. She worked as a nurse; that was close enough.
“…You don’t know me personally, do you?”
“Have you ever seen someone walking around like this?”
“N-no. First time.”
“….”
Her answer left him oddly irritated, but that was not important right now. He forced a smile and steered the conversation elsewhere.
“I’m not asking for donations. I’m not going to make you stick stickers on anything either.”
“No, no—I believe you. I’ve heard there are people who can read you just by looking at your face…”
Seo Da-eun’s eyes sparkled as she answered. Her reaction was so unexpectedly warm that Park Su-hwan was the one thrown off balance.
“You visit fortune-tellers often, I take it.”
“Yes. I get curious, you know.”
She laughed sheepishly and scratched the back of her head. Admitting a fondness for superstition was not exactly something to boast about.
“But you’re the first person who’s just blurted out the answers without even asking. Even the really famous shaman in Itaewon starts by making you recite your birth date.”
“Is that so?”
This woman visited shamans far more often than he had guessed. That would make things easier.
“Yes. They say spirit divination isn’t about reading the four pillars of destiny, so a birth date isn’t necessary.”
“Don’t go too often. Those places aren’t exactly filled with good energy.”
“Really? I’ve heard that, but… is it okay for you to say that? You’re a shaman yourself.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true. There are more stray ghosts than you’d think. There’s a reason people say frequent visits to fortune-tellers will chase away whatever luck you still have.”
Park Su-hwan delivered the obvious truth while letting his gaze drift. It landed on a display piled high with luscious peaches.
“One moment.”
“Huh?”
Seo Da-eun stared blankly as the man who had just been chatting with her suddenly tore open a plastic bag and began loading peaches without the slightest hesitation.
“Bokchae.”
He tossed the peaches into her cart as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“My spirit wants to eat these.”
If he did not receive bokchae, the hideous nightmares would come. Maybe Baekya would bark kang-kang again and drag him out of the dreams. But he had no desire to stake his life on something so uncertain. He did not actually die, yet the sensation was identical—and enduring it was pure, soul-crushing agony. Trauma-level agony.
“….”
Seo Da-eun looked down at the peaches now sitting in her cart and finally managed to speak.
“People sometimes pay bokchae with fruit?”
“Yes. Depends on the spirit.”
Park Su-hwan answered shamelessly.
Anything would have worked, really. The only reason he had chosen peaches was simple: he did not care for the fruit himself and had no intention of spending a decent amount of money on it.
“All right. I understand.”
Seo Da-eun nodded as if she had accepted it. The two of them pushed their carts side by side through the aisles.
“About the bokchae… I wasn’t trying to get out of paying. I was just… thinking for a second.”
Park Su-hwan heaved a deep sigh and looked at her.
“Cash would be far more convenient for me. But the spirit wants this, so I had no choice but to ask.”
He lied without so much as blinking.
Demanding goods instead of money as bokchae had been a carefully calculated move as well. It simply looked less worldly.
“Okay. So what’s going to happen to me this year? Or will I meet someone? I’d like to settle down with a good person soon.”
“That’s what you’re curious about?”
No, it isn’t. You’re being bullied at the hospital. They call it tae-um in that industry, don’t they?
“What do you mean by that…?”
Her face hardened in an instant, the look of someone whose carefully hidden secret had been laid bare.
“Why do they hate you? Did you do something wrong?”
Without realizing it, Park Su-hwan dropped into informal speech, staring straight at her. The gaze that seemed to pierce every secret was every bit as uncanny as a genuine shaman’s.
“….”
Seo Da-eun’s eyes darted about, unable to settle.
Anyone looking at the bright, cheerful woman would never imagine she was being ostracized. She wore a perfect mask over her pain. But that mask would not last much longer.
Before long she was fated to walk into Samdocheon of her own free will.
“You might fool other people, but you can’t fool my eyes.”
Why? Because I’ve already seen everything.
“You’re right.”
Unable to withstand the quiet pressure, Seo Da-eun finally spilled the truth.
“Everyone hates me. Whatever I do, they say, ‘You don’t even know this?’ and ‘Are you sure you really graduated from a good school?’”
Good. Nothing makes people hate someone faster than inferiority.
But that head nurse is disgusting. Why is she joining in?
A head nurse was supposed to be a leader, wasn’t she? Why would someone like that actively take part in the bullying?
“I found out by accident. She’s been stealing supplies. I promised I would never say a word, but it didn’t matter.”
“….”
“This is my first job and I really need it, you know? But I guess she just can’t trust me. Wouldn’t it have been easier if she just hadn’t stolen anything in the first place?”
Aha. So that’s how it is.
The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Now he understood why the head nurse was so determined to pin someone else’s mistake on her.
She wanted to drive Seo Da-eun out for good and bury her own theft forever.
Yes. The girl must have been a constant thorn in her side.
Working and breathing in the same space as the person who had witnessed her crimes—that must have been pure living hell for the head nurse.
“Something big is going to happen. Tomorrow.”
“What…?”
“They’re going to frame you. Claim you gave the wrong dose of epinephrine or whatever it is and tried to kill a patient.”
“Does that even make sense? That drug is so dangerous—”
Startled by the sudden gravity in the man’s voice, Seo Da-eun managed only a trembling rebuttal.
“Even a tiny mistake can decide whether someone lives or dies.”
Of course. It must have started as a genuine accident. No nurse sets out to kill a patient on purpose.
The problem came afterward.
A fatal nursing error—epinephrine administered wrong. Instead of covering it up properly, the head nurse decided to use the disaster as a chance to erase Seo Da-eun completely.
That was why she had ordered the drug injected into the already compromised patient a second time: to make the blame stick cleanly to Seo Da-eun.
Everything she did was for her own safety. The patient’s life never entered the equation.
“When someone hates you that much, is there anything they won’t do? Right?”
“To hate me that much…”
Park Su-hwan glanced at the watermelon sitting in her cart and gave a short, scornful laugh.
“You can bring stuff like this a hundred times. Think they’ll be grateful? They just think you’re a sucker. Tch.”
I saw it in the world of the Register. Watermelon slices left untouched on a desk.
“…!”
Seo Da-eun’s shoulders flinched. He did not need to hear an answer. Her reaction said everything.
“Why would I be wrong?”
“How did you…?”
“I told you. I know everything.”
In truth it had been nothing more than sharp observation.
The container holding the watermelon was far too cute and carefully chosen to be a casual gift from a patient. That single detail had been enough for him to put the pieces together.
“You were going to beg them not to hate you, weren’t you? Promise to work even harder? Forget it.”
Heat rose behind Seo Da-eun’s eyes. It was not Park Su-hwan’s harsh words that wounded her.
It was the merciless reality that no matter how desperately she struggled, she would never change their hearts.
“There’s a reason people say the living are scarier than dead ghosts. You think that saying came out of nowhere?”
“….”
“A ghost with a grudge can at least be soothed and released.”
A person full of malice? There’s no answer for that.
“Ugh, this is killing my arms.”
Park Su-hwan was on his way home, staggering under a plastic bag that looked ready to burst at any second.
“I explained it clearly enough. She should have gotten the message.”
He muttered to himself, recalling the encounter with Seo Da-eun at the department store.
He had walked her through exactly how to ride out the coming wave. What remained was entirely up to her.
Judging by the teary expression she had worn when they parted, she would probably follow his instructions.
“If she doesn’t… well, that’s fate too.”
He had taken the bokchae and told her the future. His part was finished.
“Why do they all refuse to just come along quietly? They’re already dead.”
Th-that voice…!
Park Su-hwan’s body locked up. It was a voice he could never forget no matter how hard he tried.
“Follow me!”
—Ugh, uuurgh.
A Sun Grim Reaper swung a massive curved blade. She and the reapers accompanying her were emerging from a house, dragging a shapeless black mass tightly bound in ropes.
“Huh?”
Park Su-hwan had never expected to run into the Samchasa right under his nose. He tried to duck out of sight or play dumb, but it was already too late.
“…You can see us?”
Their eyes had met dead-on.
I’m screwed. Completely screwed.
At that exact moment the plastic bag in his hands gave way under the weight. Apples spilled out with a clattering racket.
It was just one of those days when luck had thoroughly abandoned him.
“Ah—oh no, my apples!”
Wearing an awkward smile, Park Su-hwan hurriedly bent down to gather the fallen fruit, desperately pretending he had seen nothing.
“…It’s already too late.”
His wish was crushed without mercy by a single quiet sentence from Monthly Messenger Hae-dong.