Hope and Despair
Pung-jeong stood guard over its master's body in full battle readiness, as if daring anyone to try their luck.
"Whoever. Comes. I won't. Let them. Off!"
It had steeled its resolve time and again to protect its master's body no matter what until his soul spirit returned safely. Thanks to Pung-jeong's power, the air in the hospital room churned violently, whipping up a vortex of wind.
"Whoever. Comes! I'll grind. Them. To dust!"
That was when it happened.
Pung-jeong's fierce gaze snapped toward the door. Someone was approaching this place. From the slow, stealthy footsteps—muffled as if desperate not to be heard—it was clear this wasn't one of the people who came to care for its master.
The woman named Lee Pil-nyeo always strode in with confident steps, after all.
Pung-jeong reined in its vortex and waited.
Soon enough—
Creak.
The door slid open, and a skinny man in a white coat cautiously slipped into the room.
"White. Clothes. Come to see. Master? Doctor?"
Pung-jeong called those in white coats "doctors" and knew they were people who healed others. But this man's behavior was suspicious. He kept glancing behind him, then to the side, then back again—clear signs of someone up to no good. Pung-jeong fixed its stare on him.
"Can't. Be too. Careful. I'll watch. Him."
From what it had observed so far, humans were ridiculously fragile creatures. Block their nostrils and mouth, and they'd flail around before dropping dead. So if this one tried anything against its master, Pung-jeong vowed to seal those gaping holes immediately as it watched the man intently.
Sure enough, the man crept closer, minimizing his footsteps as much as possible, then bent down to peer at its master's body. He scrutinized the master's face, which looked peacefully asleep, frowned, and chewed his lip. Then he backed away, slipped out of the room, shut the door, and started tearing at his hair.
"What. Is he. Doing?"
Pung-jeong followed and hovered beside him, observing closely.
"Argh, damn it!"
The man muttered under his breath and let out heavy sighs.
"Seriously. No. Even so, this is too much. Way too much. And no matter how I look at it, I'm the one taking all the losses here... That side has nothing to lose."
His face twisted with a storm of emotions as he groaned in agony.
"But why stay quiet all this time and only now, after he wakes up, decide to deal with it...? If you're gonna do it, why not back when he was a vegetable? Wait. He... snapped out of it, briefly?"
His eyes darted around, then lit up with realization as he muttered to himself.
"Before Kang San woke up, they were keeping him alive for some noblesse oblige PR stunt or corporate ad fodder later. But now that he's awake, they want him dead...? Did Kang San see the real driver in that accident? Ah. Aha! I get it now! That's why they want to wipe him out! He's a liability now! Yeah, owner risk or whatever..."
His eyes blinked rapidly as enlightenment dawned, but then he shook his head violently and resumed yanking at his hair.
"Argh, damn it! Why'd I have to run my mouth and get dragged into this mess, you idiot?!"
He ranted to himself, got worked up by himself, tore at his hair by himself, then dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled it out empty. Pung-jeong peeked inside—nothing there, for now.
"Ha. Fuck. No matter how I slice it, I'm the one who loses... Instead of killing him, can't we just... alter his condition somehow? If the real goal is making sure he doesn't ID the driver, we don't have to kill him..."
The man kept muttering as he walked away from the room.
Pung-jeong watched his retreating figure until he was completely out of sight.
"You. Human. I'll remember. you. Report. To master."
Pung-jeong committed the man's words and appearance to memory. To report it all accurately when its master returned.
* * *
The moment I stepped into the chest, I sensed something.
The entire space created by the chest was vibrating with it—I couldn't miss it.
Outside, the lid had rattled violently in fear of me, but now that I was inside... loneliness and hunger, followed by... anticipation?
I'd know for sure once I got closer. I headed toward the presence. A thick, heavy darkness surged in from all sides, sharp as honed blades.
Anyone else would have frozen in terror and been shredded to bits—becoming a meal for whatever lurked in this chest.
But this level of darkness? To me, it was less than soot on my fingertip. I waved it away like swatting an annoying fly and kept walking. Then it hit me.
Time to summon Am-jeong. Gwang-jeong had grown quite a bit, so its complementary counterpart would be useful. Where there's light, there's shadow, after all.
Sure, they might bicker at first due to their opposing natures, but looking at my other refined spirits who started as rivals and ended up buddies, they'd probably be chuckling together in no time.
As I pondered what to do once I returned to my body, I kept moving—
Whoosh!
Light flooded my vision.
The darkness vanished in an instant, revealing—
Huh. So this is how it works.
Not ripping out souls, but binding them to this space. I let out a hollow chuckle and surveyed the scene before me.
"Ahahaha!"
"San, be careful! You'll fall!"
"Feels good to be out, right?"
Young me chased dragonflies across a vast field, while my young mom and dad sat on a shiny picnic mat, munching fried chicken and drinks, all beaming with joy.
The emotions from back then flooded back as vividly as if it were yesterday. Happiness. Joy. Contentment. Fun. Thrill...
I turned my gaze, and like fast-forwarding film, scenes blurred together into another memory.
"Dad! You're really holding on, right?"
"Of course! Eyes front!"
Learning to ride a two-wheeler. Me pedaling furiously, Dad jogging behind holding the seat... until he let go. His face gazed at my back with pride.
No trace of the ugly snarl he'd wear while hurling curses and blows.
"San! Watch ahead! Ahead!"
Mom gripped my hands tightly, her worried face young and unlined by time or sorrow.
Yeah. There were times like that. Before I called my father a son of a bitch.
Before the house turned into a warzone, before Mom soaked her face in tears. Back when I, as a kid, believed those happy days would last forever.
It'd be a lie to say I never recalled our good family times. I did, sometimes, only to brush them away with a bitter smile.
Gazing at those happy moments made my heart ache faintly... but there'd been far too much since then to wallow in nostalgia or forgive.
I knew what came next—I remembered it vividly. No enjoying those "good old days" in peace.
[Begone.]
At my command, the scene receded like an ebbing tide.
And like the incoming tide, another memory crashed in—
"So what? Everything's got its use—"
"Those jewels, the stone rings—they were for San's tuition later! You shouldn't have touched them!"
"Hey, a man's gotta do business! Shit happens! It's not like they're worth much—"
"What? 'Not much'? Millions of won, and with our situation now! You call that 'not much'?!"
Mom's voice cracked with hurt. And the bastard, face twisted like he'd gathered all the world's irritation, pretended to dig in his ear and blew a raspberry.
Still reeking of booze, he chugged more soju—
Crash!
—then hurled the bottle at the wardrobe, shattering it. His bloodshot, gleaming eyes held no love, no warmth.
"Fuck... The more I think, the madder I get! You fucking bitch!"
"W-what?"
"Yeah! You fucking bitch! While you lounge at home, I'm out busting my ass for money, and instead of 'good job, honey,' you scream at your sky-sent husband?! You dare?!"
The bastard clenched his fist. Then the violence began. Furniture splintering. Cries. Tears. Screams. Blood. Shards of broken glass.
Through the door crack, child me trembled and sobbed helplessly.
Back then, I couldn't understand it. Why the kind, gentle dad turned into that. I thought maybe something possessed him like in fairy tales or TV, or a monster pretending to be Dad invaded our home.
Growing up, I realized I wasn't far off. Failure bred anger, frustration, greed, resentment, inferiority... Mix in booze, and out came the monster.
"Die! Just die!"
Kid me bawled helplessly until the bastard reared back to kick fallen Mom—then I screamed and burst from the room. Terrified, but clinging to the monster to protect her.
He flung me off; I tumbled with a shriek. Mom latched onto him then... Booze stench and blood. His unwashed, sweat-soaked body odor.
Like the good memories earlier, these were vivid too. Gasping for air, clutching my chest. Mom wailing over me, hair a mess...
The utter opposite of those happy times—the hated times.
I shifted my gaze again. A dingy, moldy one-room shack with scant furnishings. Mom sat dazed. Her cheek bruised purple. Beside her, terrified me and Bin-i clung tight, faces streaked with tears and snot.
Rattle rattle.
"Open the door... Open the damn door!!!"
The shadow beyond. Each violent yank of the knob made us flinch. I remember the terror squeezing my chest, barely able to breathe. The dread that someday that bastard would kill us all...
[Ha.]
I laughed.
Yeah. This is how it was.
Ordinary folks couldn't endure these visions. Happy moments followed by misery. Reliving the raw emotions without fade.
Drown in sorrow and despair—or cling to joy and hope.
I'd once brooded over these scars, mistaking my woes for the world's entirety.
But now? I'm fine. No shock at all. I know people survive somehow. And after seeing every horror in the Dark Heavenly Realm...
Of course, I'm furious. Immensely. For many reasons. At that bastard. At whatever's showing me this.
I sighed and spoke again.
[Begone.]
The scene ebbed away once more. I pressed on.
Those who'd opened the chest before me must've endured the same. Joy and sorrow. Hope and despair. Trapped by unfiltered past emotions—unable to flee despair, or desperately clutching hope.
Forgetting they needed to return to the present.
What became of those lingering spirits? Some still here? All gone?
Not concern for them, but curiosity if anything useful remained.
No signs, but I followed the intensifying repulsive force. That's where this space's master waited.
As I neared—
Hic... sniff... sob...
A stifled child's cry. Listening closer, a little kid sobbing quietly.
Cold... hungry...
Wondering if this was another trick, I kept going.
Sniff... sob... hic...
The sobs grew louder as I approached. Finally, I arrived at—
A chest identical to the one I'd entered, but bone-white and faded, not brown. Its lid yawned wide open.
Mom... Dad...
Huddled inside, a child wiped tears with knobby fists, sobbing pitifully. Buzz-cut head, sack-like rags for clothes. Exposed limbs skeletal, cheeks hollow with malnutrition rash—starving on death's door.
And around its neck, a thick cord strung with a dark-red bead pulsing ominous energy.
Soul-trapping chest. Starving child crying for mom and dad. Bead on the cord.
I rubbed my temple.
Now I knew exactly what had happened.