The Red Thread of Fate
“Haaaaaah…”
Park Su-hwan forced his eyes open and yawned so wide his jaw nearly split.
“…Scoot over a little.”
He carefully nudged Baekya. The puppy whined in protest, refusing to budge, then simply shut his eyes again.
What a terrible bedmate. The actual owner of the blanket was left clinging to the very edge of it. Every morning his back ached like death from the same routine.
He’d lost the sleeping space so consistently that the conclusion was inevitable.
That’s it. I’m buying him a doghouse.
Until now he’d never seen the point of getting one for an indoor dog. And when he’d looked them up, they weren’t cheap either.
But today he finally understood that the two of them needed some measure of independent space — especially after yesterday’s full-on clash with the Reapers.
Midnight, the appointed hour, had come and gone without the Samchasa showing up to reclaim the ledger. Or rather, more accurately: they couldn’t come looking.
Because the information he’d fed them had been fake.
That alone proved once more that this place was a perfect hideout, beyond their pursuit.
And while he’d waited for them just in case, he’d picked up one crucial piece of information.
Ganglim Doryeong hadn’t immediately sensed the ledger’s aura radiating from him. Which meant the Reapers still wouldn’t find Park Su-hwan so easily.
Really… The phrase “a blessing in disguise” rose to his lips all on its own.
“Hoo…”
The memory of those Reapers swinging a massive curved blade and wielding uncanny power nearly brought cold sweat to his brow again.
He never wanted to face them a second time. Yesterday had ranked among the absolute worst days of his entire life.
So somehow — somehow — I have to find a way.
Before the Samchasa closed in to the point of his throat.
If he wanted to stretch out this fly’s life of his even a little longer, he absolutely had to learn how to conceal the aura coming off his body.
Otherwise he’d spend the rest of his days locked in this cramped room. And as a human being, that simply couldn’t last forever.
Park Su-hwan let out a long, heavy sigh.
Barely two months ago he’d hated this gloomy basement room without a single window. Now the fact that it had become his safest space — and that his heart even felt at ease here — left him with a strange feeling.
Right. I should go see Old Man Choi soon, too.
They’d kept in touch, but with everything that had happened on both sides, they’d never managed a face-to-face meeting.
In the clash with the Samchasa, his Byeokjomok had burned to charcoal. With none left, he needed to get a fresh supply from the old man.
Su-hwan was certain the shamanic remedy had worked. Without it, he might have taken an even worse beating from Ganglim Doryeong.
It was only a guess, of course. But the way the remedy had reacted made one thing clear: it at least had a negative effect on those bastards.
Whine…
Baekya stretched once, then sprawled out star-shaped and fell dead asleep again, dead to the world.
Living the dream, aren’t you.
Su-hwan glanced at the clock on the wall.
He wanted nothing more than to sleep as luxuriously as Baekya, but it was time to get up. The electric rice cooker and microwave he’d bought at the department store were scheduled for delivery around lunch.
He threw off the blanket, rose, stretched long and hard, then checked on the General Spirit and Grandmother Deity on the spirit altar.
“Your hair loss is getting worse.”
The General Spirit’s balding was progressing. Su-hwan had done a thorough touch-up just yesterday, and yet today a big circular patch of hair loss had opened up again on the forehead.
“What on earth is causing this?”
Even the black around the Grandmother Deity’s eyes had spread further. She looked as if she’d cried mascara into dark tracks.
“…”
Guess I need to buy some flesh-tone paint, too.
Su-hwan shook his head and headed for the bathroom. Another ordinary day beginning, same as always. Or rather, a similar ordinary day — and by afternoon, the things he’d been waiting for finally arrived.
Ding.
The delivery-complete text hit his phone, and Su-hwan opened the front door at once. Beyond the courier’s retreating back, two boxes sat waiting.
“Oh!”
Fast.
He hurried the boxes into the shrine. They were heavier than expected, and he couldn’t help grunting under the weight.
His landlady, hanging laundry out front, happened to witness the whole thing. She leaned over the railing and looked down at him.
“What’s that?”
“A rice cooker and a microwave.”
“Ah, right. You said you were going to buy those. So they came today? That’s really fast.”
“Totally amazing, right?”
He felt the truth of the saying that Korea had the world’s fastest delivery. Su-hwan remembered that the trashy drama The Stepmother’s Temptation was airing tonight.
“I’ll cook something delicious for you today.”
“Oh my. Really?”
A kind smile spread across the landlady’s face. Watching Su-hwan joke about making something good with his brand-new rice cooker, she found him nothing short of adorable.
“All right. Then I’ll bring some tasty side dishes.”
“No, no. Just come over. I’ve freeloaded off you plenty already.”
“Hoho. Fine. Then this time I’m going to freeload properly.”
“You can look forward to it. See you later.”
Conversation finished, Su-hwan went back inside and tore open the boxes at once. A rice cooker and microwave emerged, gleaming with a sleek black finish.
Sniff, sniff.
That sharp new-product smell stung his nose. Su-hwan liked even that, and kept wrinkling his nose over it.
“Whoa. The finish on these is no joke.”
Kang-kang!
Baekya trotted over, tail wagging, as if to ask what all this was.
“Well? Pretty cool, right?”
They weren’t top-of-the-line, of course. Expecting anything spectacular on a million-won budget had been unrealistic from the start. But Su-hwan was thoroughly satisfied.
As long as it cooked rice well and heated food well, that was enough. He honestly didn’t know what special extra functions a home appliance needed beyond that.
Looking at the shiny new things made a little hum rise in his throat all on its own. And thanks to that, the horrors of last night faded from memory.
Of course they’d come roaring back someday to torment him. But not right now.
Yes — if simplicity of character could be called one of Park Su-hwan’s strengths, this was it. The thought of eating rice from the new cooker had him bouncing to his feet.
“I’ll grill some meat. Let’s eat together.”
Kang-kang!
“Mwahahaha! I feel fantastic!!”
After all… the world ran on money. Money was king.
Kang! Kang-kang!!
By afternoon, Park Su-hwan was in the middle of running a con. Truthfully, today of all days he’d wanted to rest at home. Looking back, the spot on his chest where Monthly Messenger So-hee had stomped him yesterday was throbbing again.
But he couldn’t cancel a booking already made. He could have pinned it on the spirits and wriggled out of it, sure — but he still needed to make money, didn’t he?
In the end, he just had to grit his teeth and endure. Money was what let you buy expensive things and eat as much good meat as you wanted.
“Mm… I really don’t know what I should do.”
Su-hwan propped one knee up and rested an arm across it, then fixed his gaze on the woman seated opposite him.
“What is it that’s scaring you so much?”
His posture was relaxed, but his stare was sharp enough to bore straight through her. For dealing with a client, it was remarkably arrogant.
But the more arrogant a shaman acted, the better it worked — and that was Su-hwan’s strategy. A little rudeness made people think you were the real deal.
It was also one of the reasons he’d chosen this line of work. Back when his leg had been bad, sitting upright for long stretches or standing still made the pain unbearable.
“…Marriage.”
“You don’t like the guy? Then don’t do it.”
As always, Su-hwan was stating the obvious.
“Ah—no! It’s not that. It’s the opposite. I like him too much.”
The woman flinched and waved her hands in a frantic denial.
What is she even talking about.
Su-hwan couldn’t make sense of it. She liked the man, yet she couldn’t bring herself to marry him?
Are her parents against it?
He got clients like this from time to time. And his advice was always the same.
In the end, you’re the one getting married — so stop hanging on other people’s words. It might sound cold, but it was true.
The person you’d spend your life skin to skin with was you, not your parents.
Some of them fretted over parents who threatened to cut them off from the inheritance if they went through with it.
In those cases, Su-hwan told them: if something matters more than your spouse, choose that instead. In the end it always came down to money versus love, or whatever else was on the table.
Park Su-hwan, lifelong virgin who’d never been in love once. Every last one of these solutions had come from books.
He studied the woman’s face carefully.
Doesn’t look like she grew up unloved…
Which left only one reason for her hesitation.
“You’re sick, aren’t you.”
“…That’s right. You’re amazing. I had a health checkup, and they said it’s cancer.”
“Is it serious?”
“Thankfully not that bad, but it looks like I’ll have to stay in the hospital for quite a while. So I was about to break up with him — I figured he’d hate that.”
Sorrow welled up in her face. Su-hwan was just about to open his mouth when—
Ding!
Her phone chimed. She pulled it from her pocket and lit the screen.
“Ah. He says he’s here.”
A moment later, the boyfriend she’d mentioned arrived. He’d said he was curious and would come late.
“Hello.”
And the instant the man walked in, something entered Su-hwan’s vision. It was so faint he would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking carefully.
A red thread…?
He rubbed his eyes, half-convinced he’d imagined it — but there was no mistake. A slender red thread linked the little fingers of the man and the woman.
Well now… Unfortunately for her, she wouldn’t be able to leave him. That was the very thread said to appear when you met your destined partner.