A Delusion That Rewrites Reality
What the hell? Lost again? …………… The lingering taste of makgeolli still coated my mouth as I returned to the small room behind Kim Bom's fortune-telling shop. The conversation with the village chief and the elders kept replaying in my head.
Brain disease. Not heart disease—brain disease. Probably cerebral infarction, stroke, cerebral hemorrhage… or maybe a brain tumor.
Undeniable, clear evidence. I believed—no, I wanted to believe—this could shatter Kim Bom's exhausting delusion once and for all.
“Yeoreum? Were you out enjoying the town?”
Kim Bom opened the door. It seemed like a gap in her client schedule or the end of her day. She didn't wear the typical shaman's robes for readings. It was more like fairy garb, ethereal and flowing. With her makeup done up and dressed differently, she radiated a beauty unlike her usual self.
“Ah, yeah. I just wandered around the town a bit.”
A thick wave of incense hit me as I stepped inside.
“I see! I just finished all my appointments today too. So, what now? Head home like this?”
“Yeah. But before we go, there's something I want to talk about.”
She sat on the sofa, hands neatly folded in her lap. I took the seat across from her.
This is the crucial part.
I took a deep breath, organizing the words I'd prepared in my mind. No emotions, stay calm, be rational.
“I ran into the village chief while strolling through town earlier.”
“Oh, really? What did he say?”
“He talked about your father.”
Kim Bom froze for a split second, her fingers twitching faintly. She interlaced her hands on her lap.
“I heard your father suffered from a brain disease. It was so severe the hospital couldn't do anything.”
Silence stretched out. Kim Bom said nothing.
“Bom, do you know why I'm telling you this?”
Still no response.
“You told me before that your father and I had the same illness. That it's proof I'm his reincarnation—that we're essentially the same person.”
“……”
“But you know that's not true. I have a congenital heart condition. Completely unrelated to the brain, medically and symptom-wise, in every way.”
Kim Bom's face began to change, bit by bit. Her ever-smiling lips straightened into a hard line, her pupils shaking as if losing focus.
Got her. Finally.
Yes, that shake. A crack. The facts I'd hurled were chipping away at her certainty, her ironclad delusion. My heart pounded. Rational persuasion was working. Logic was piercing through. No delusion can stand against objective reality, no matter how painstakingly built over twenty years.
“Bom, you have to accept it now. I'm not your father. Not his reincarnation, not him reincarnated back into the world. Kim Bom and Yeoreum are just two people who met by chance.”
The moment those words left my mouth, Kim Bom's body went rigid. Like time itself had stopped. She didn't even seem to be breathing. It was a little scary, but this silence felt like a good sign. She was finally starting to face reality.
“I know. It's hard to accept. Changing something you've believed for nearly twenty years overnight isn't easy.”
Suddenly, Kim Bom bowed her head. Her long hair curtained her face.
Has she realized it? The truth?
“Bom.”
I called her as gently as possible.
“Let's move on from the past. Clinging to the dead isn't healthy. I think you know that.”
She kept her head down. But it would be okay now. The crack in her delusion couldn't be mended. It would shatter soon, and I could help her slowly accept the truth and build a new life.
“I really care about you. So… ahem, I want us to build a normal, happy relationship—as man and woman.”
Kim Bom slowly lifted her head. And I—froze when I saw her face.
She was smiling. Brightly, radiantly.
……………
My body went stiff. I never imagined she'd make that face.
“Yeoreum.”
Her voice calling me held no tremor. No—if anything, it sounded like I was the one mistaken.
“Did the chief really say that? Brain disease?”
“Ah, yes. That's definitely what I heard.”
Suddenly, Kim Bom stood from the sofa. She approached and sat beside me. Up close, the incense mingled with her body scent, tickling my nose.
“Whatever the chief said, he's misremembering.”
“……What?”
“Dad had heart disease. Not his brain—his heart. I'm sure of it.”
My mind went blank. The chief and the elders had clearly said her father died from a brain disease. It wasn't official records, sure… but this was a rural village. Neighbors knew each other's family histories down to the number of chopsticks in the drawer, living there for generations. And those elders drinking makgeolli with the chief were lifelong residents of Huhaeri Village. If multiple sources agreed, it had to be reliable.
“No way. The chief and the other elders all said the same thing. Your father had a brain— ”
“Yeoreum.”
Kim Bom took my hand. It was warm. Too warm, slick with sweat, cloyingly damp. Goosebumps prickled my skin.
“Dad and Yeoreum have the same condition. Congenital heart disease. Ventricular septal defect. No doubt.”
Her voice was soft, kind—like a mother soothing a tantruming child, or a teacher explaining life's truths.
“No, that can't be…”
“No, it's set in stone.”
Set in stone? By what? Who decided that?
“Bom. That doesn't make sense. The diseases are different—how can they be the same?”
“The villagers are wrong. They're misremembering.”
Her words cut off my protests.
“Yeoreum has heart disease, so of course Dad did too. That's how it is. I know best.”
What the hell is this woman saying?
Blood turned to ice in my veins. Kim Bom's logic was completely inverted. Yeoreum has heart disease, therefore her father definitely did too? This wasn't logic—it was force-fitting. Rewriting the past to match reality.
But her expression was utterly sincere. Convinced her words were absolute truth.
Then it hit me. Kim Bom had rewritten her own memories. Right here, in front of me, she'd casually edited the disease she'd remembered for twenty years.
And decided to believe it. Because I have heart disease. Because I must be her father's reincarnation. Because that's the unshakeable truth.
She's insane.
This went beyond mere misconception or delusion. To fit reality to her belief, she was tampering with her own memories.
“I've been caring for Dad since I was six! I gave him his heart meds, and he often said his chest hurt. I even kept 119 on speed dial for those times.”
Lies. But calling them lies felt off. She seemed to genuinely believe it now—the new memory conjured in this very moment.
“Bom…”
I had no idea what to say. Logic? Evidence? Persuasion? Meaningless before her. Any proof or argument I offered—she'd twist to fit her worldview.
Deny it outright? I'd lost my memories through reincarnation. Villagers' testimony? They're outsiders, just misremembering. Medical records from hospital or government? Misdiagnosis or clerical error.
A perfect, airtight loop.
“Yeoreum, seriously! You still don't believe?”
Kim Bom puffed her cheeks in mock anger. But her eyes still smiled.
“So frustrating. Why keep denying reality?”
“Bom…”
“But denying it changes nothing.”
She gripped my hand tighter.
“Our souls are the same. Our diseases match. Even if you reject the evidence, facts don't bend. It's inevitable.”
“……….”
“So you get it? In the end, Dad is Dad!”
I couldn't say a word.
……………
“I'm screwed.”
I muttered to myself, lying on the bed. Every attempt to shatter Kim Bom's delusion had failed. Spectacularly, miserably.
Blunt denial? Crushed by her brute strength. I ended up in the ER with a heart episode from her choking me.
Rational persuasion? Useless. Our worldviews don't align.
She rewrites memories, then denies evidence based on them.
“…So what now?”
The last resort I'd once abandoned—running away—seemed my only option.
Obviously, fleeing domestically meant getting caught quick. But abroad?
“No… that's not it.”
I crossed my arms without thinking.
Running away. No matter how I turned it over, it wasn't easy. My emotes sold well enough to last a few years, but how? Where to? Even if I escaped, could I live abroad forever?
The thought led naturally to postponement. Yeah. Not the time yet. What crime had I committed to justify fleeing the country?
“Then…”
Shattering Kim Bom's delusion was a total failure. Denial and persuasion were out. Running felt wrong.
What if I flipped the script? If I can't break it, use it. If I can't escape, get closer.
Then, like a lightbulb— an idea flashed.
“Then… how about confessing to Kim Bom outright?”