The Red Thread of Fate
Impossible.
The legend of Yue Lao was true after all.
He never imagined the old tale—that a man and woman bound by a red thread would eventually become husband and wife—actually existed in the world.
Well, Ganglim was real, and so was Bari Gongju… Why wouldn’t there be a Yue Lao? The only problem was why the thread had chosen to appear right now.
Huh…?
The moment he blinked, the red threads wound around their little fingers vanished without a trace, as if they had never been there at all.
“Is something wrong?”
The woman had caught the flash of shock on Park Su-hwan’s face and asked.
“No.”
He shook his head with deliberate calm, yet his eyes still flicked toward their little fingers.
It had been a red thread. He hadn’t imagined it.
It wasn’t as if his true spiritual power was suddenly awakening. The sheer absurdity of the situation left him speechless.
“So things are going to work out?”
“Yeah. He said it’ll be fine. He gets everything right. He’s amazing.”
“Really?”
“You should ask him something too. Right, Master?”
The woman turned and locked eyes with Park Su-hwan. Her gaze carried a clear plea to keep their private conversation secret.
“It all depends on how hard you work, but you’ll still be able to get results with less effort than most people.”
Reading her intention without difficulty, Park Su-hwan played along—though he steered the conversation in a completely different direction.
“Your body is going to be in some pain.”
She’s thinking of calling off the marriage because she’s sick?
Park Su-hwan looked at the way the man gazed at his lover. Affection dripped from those eyes so thickly it was almost nauseating.
Ugh… What nonsense.
He’s going to break up with her because he thinks she’ll reject him? That wasn’t even nonsense—it was pure flight. He was just running away because he was terrified of her reaction.
In the end the two of them were fated to become husband and wife. The red thread linking their little fingers was living proof.
So even if they took a small detour it wouldn’t matter… but time was precious to everyone.
Park Su-hwan decided to give the pair a little shove from behind. That, too, was part of a shaman’s work.
“Pain?”
“W-well…”
The woman’s hands suddenly had nowhere to go. Betrayal flickered in the eyes she turned on Park Su-hwan.
Hmph. You’d better pay the bokchae properly. I’m the one sticking my neck out here.
“Yeah. Go get checked at a hospital. Fortunately it doesn’t look like a fatal disease, but the problem is…”
“R-really?”
“Honey…”
Park Su-hwan deliberately let the sentence trail off and looked straight at the man.
“You think I’d say something pointless? For no reason?”
She had clearly said it was cancer but not a terminal illness. Then that was exactly what it was.
No one on earth would stake their own life on a lie—especially not in front of a shaman. People always spilled their true feelings then. Otherwise, why would they bother dragging themselves here in the first place?
“If you don’t believe me we can make a bet. The real question is what you are going to do.”
“...?”
“Don’t be dense. Stay by her side and take good care of her. She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she?”
“Ah…”
“What, are you going to dump her just because she’s sick?”
“N-no! Of course not. Absolutely not.”
The flustered man waved both hands and shook his head hard.
“I’ll stick right by her side.”
“That’s the spirit. The outcome can change depending on what you do, so do it properly. Got it?”
The man clenched his fist and turned to the woman.
“Honey, don’t worry too much. I’ll protect you.”
“Well, look at that. Aren’t you something.”
Park Su-hwan spoke to the woman.
“You heard him, right? That’s what he said.”
“Yes! Thank you so much. I’ll get the tests done just like you said, Master.”
“Good. As long as you get proper treatment you’ll be fine. It’ll just take a little time.”
“Wow…”
“Ah. The spirits are saying not to worry yourself sick over it.”
Only moments earlier she had been silently cursing Park Su-hwan for his lack of tact. Now she was looking at him with genuine gratitude.
“Hmph.”
Park Su-hwan snorted at her change of heart.
“All right. Anything else you’re curious about?”
After a few more exchanges, today’s first and only clients finally rose from their seats.
“Thank you.”
The instant they disappeared from sight, Park Su-hwan spread out his blanket and flopped down.
—Klang-klang.
“Yeah, yeah. You lie down too.”
The moment his body sank into the soft bedding, every last bit of strength drained out of him. His whole frame ached so badly he felt half-dead, yet he still felt a quiet sense of accomplishment.
“Ugh. I thought I was going to die of exhaustion.”
He had taken double the usual bokchae—200,000 won. For a little extra talking, the haul was pretty sweet.
All that effort praising them as a perfect match had paid off. He had figured the man’s wallet would be fairly thick.
That watch of his was flashing pretty hard.
As always, his nose for money never failed him. Park Su-hwan was in an excellent mood. He began pedaling his feet in the empty air—the famous “sky bicycle,” a stretch you could do while lying down.
While his legs worked diligently, he fiddled with his phone.
Scrolling through the news as usual, one article snagged his eye. Strictly speaking it was less an article than an interview.
The face was familiar. Park Su-hwan’s eyes flew wide open in shock.
This guy…
He was the client who had come for a reading after regretting being pushed into engineering school by other people’s opinions.
The same man who had even started to stutter from workplace stress.
So his name was Yoon Ji-hoon.
In the photo he was smiling brightly—so brightly that the gloomy figure of the past was almost impossible to find.
He actually became a poet.
The feet pedaling in the air stopped cold.
Yes. Park Su-hwan clearly remembered the advice he had given that day.
Time already gone never comes back. If you couldn’t do it then, you can still do it now. You can always adapt to the situation. Isn’t that right?
The man had truly taken those words to heart and acted on them. And this was the result.
From the article it seemed he had recently exploded in popularity on social media. Park Su-hwan had no friends and therefore no social media accounts, so of course news of this sort reached him late.
He never expected to hear about someone he had once read for like this.
Weird…
Park Su-hwan murmured with a strange expression. He hadn’t recited a fixed future from the ledger. His mouth hadn’t suddenly been possessed either.
He had simply said whatever felt right… and the man’s fate had changed.
Q. What made you decide to start writing poetry?
A. It had been my dream since I was a child, but I gave it up as I became an adult. Then someone told me, “Why not just do it now? What’s so hard about that?”
“Oh…! That’s completely my story.”
Park Su-hwan jumped when he saw his own words quoted in the article. He had tossed the line out without thinking…
It was simply astonishing and a little disorienting.
A. …The moment I heard those words, the tears just poured out. They gave me real courage.
“He did cry a lot, yeah.”
Park Su-hwan nodded. He had even handed the man a cold glass of water back then, telling him to calm down.
“Wonder what else he said.”
Park Su-hwan began reading the full interview of the man who had become a poet while still holding down an office job.
“Huh…?”
That evening a welcome face suddenly appeared—someone he had completely forgotten.
“Hello? Do you… happen to remember my name?”
“Ahaha…”
Park Su-hwan gave an awkward laugh and scratched his head.
He knew the face, but the name was gone. Right now he wanted nothing more than to open the ledger and check. Truly, the name simply would not come to him.
“That’s a little disappointing. You really don’t remember…”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy the memory’s fuzzy.”
“I’m Han Seung-ju. You saved my life.”
Ah!
Now it came back.
That day he had been rushing to the supermarket for the lunch special and had run into Han Seung-ju by chance—then found himself dragged into the Register world.
“Ahh. Good to see you, Mr. Han Seung-ju. It’s been a while.”
“I should have come much sooner, but work piled up and I ended up late.”
Han Seung-ju wet his lips with his tongue and carefully held out the fruit juice he had brought.
“You didn’t have to bring anything… haha.”
Even as he said it, Park Su-hwan pulled the juice toward himself.
“How have you been?”
“I quit electrical work and I’m studying for the civil service exam now. Working construction sites while I prepare.”
“Civil service?”
“Yes.”
Han Seung-ju carefully explained everything that had happened. Park Su-hwan listened in silence, nodding along.
“That makes perfect sense, then.”
To think the team leader would die while handling the work himself…
In short, it was pure reaping what he had sown. If he had listened to Han Seung-ju, skipped the embezzlement, and bought proper safety gear, he would still be walking around fine.
He just dug his own grave. Tch.
“I can’t even look at electricity anymore. It’s too terrifying…”
Construction work wasn’t all that different, but at least it felt better than dealing with electricity. At least he wasn’t standing in front of tens of thousands of volts.
—Knock knock.
Right then someone rapped on the shrine door.
“Ah. Looks like he’s here. I’m sorry…”
“It’s fine. No problem at all.”
Han Seung-ju had originally planned to come alone. But the moment he mentioned visiting a shaman, one of his older coworkers had insisted on tagging along.
Even while scolding him not to believe such nonsense, the man had forced his way here for reasons unknown.
He was so stubborn Han Seung-ju hadn’t been able to refuse.
“…Told you not to believe this stuff.”
The older man grumbled as he stepped inside—then froze the instant he saw Park Su-hwan.
Apparently he hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with the shaman so suddenly. But Park Su-hwan was equally stunned.
“Hey! Kim! Hurry up and haul those bricks!”
“Gimme a hand over here!! Nice!”
Because the moment their eyes met, he was yanked into the Register world—and he had never once imagined he would land right in the middle of a construction site.