The House That Paid Its Karmic Debt [3]

Known as a Taezagwi, a Child Spirit, a Binding Spirit, a Taeju Maiden, or an Infant Guardian — this entity was a ghost born from the soul of a child who died young, or of a fetus aborted or miscarried against its will.

A Taezagwi was not inherently an evil spirit. In fact, it bordered on a guardian deity — shamans sometimes enshrined and worshipped them as gods. A Taezagwi kept by a shaman in this way was called a Taeju or a Myeongdo.

Most likely, Yu Mi-ra had been trying to make Yoon Si-woo into the latter.

“Th-that's ridiculous! What nonsense are you spouting...?”

Yu Mi-ra flatly denied my words. Well, of course she did. What culprit, the moment someone says “You did it,” answers with “Ah, you caught me — yes, it was me”? Obviously they deny it to their last breath. And when that happens, a detective has exactly one job: keep shoving undeniable evidence in the face of the culprit who swears it wasn't them.

“Madam, I saw you in the rooftop garden last night, chanting a strange incantation.”

“......”

“This is the incantation you were reciting last night: Luluhu Luhu Rihyuruhi Deujabyuin Daerimi Dirimi Rimidusul Rugu...”

Yu Mi-ra bowed her head, her face a picture of utter defeat. But the others, unable to understand the dialect I had recited, merely looked on in confusion.

“Is there no one here who understands what this means?”

No one answered. I could forgive Yoon Soo-ah and Giselle Breed for not catching on, but—

“Shin Han-hee. If you're a shaman, shouldn't you at least recognize this much?”

Startled by the sudden callout, Shin Han-hee's eyes went wide. The people around her turned to look at her in surprise as well.

“What do you mean by that?”

“That chant just now. You've heard it somewhere before, haven't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you?”

“......”

Shin Han-hee squirmed for a long moment, turning the incantation over in her mind. And at last, she grasped what it truly was.

“The Kṣitigarbha Ten Wheels Sutra... no, the Chumbu Dharani! She was reciting the Chumbu Dharani backwards!”

A dharani is an object of devotional practice that encapsulates the teachings of the bodhisattvas. Similar to a mantra, though comparatively longer, it serves to distill the essence of a sutra. And the Chumbu Dharani is the dharani spoken by Kṣitigarbha, the Earth Store Bodhisattva. Yu Mi-ra had been reciting it in reverse.

“B-but why would she recite the Chumbu Dharani backwards? What possible meaning could that have...?”

Yoon Soo-ah asked, looking utterly bewildered.

“Have you ever heard a story like this? A man is pinned down by sleep paralysis when he meets a ghost. Being a devout Christian, he tries to drive the spirit away by reciting the Lord's Prayer. But far from vanishing, the ghost mocks him by reciting the prayer backwards.”

Reciting a sutra or mantra in reverse carries the metaphor of twisting or inverting its original meaning. Of course, it isn't a proper rite of any kind — it's closer to garbled folk superstition. But Yu Mi-ra had believed in it. Believed in it, and prayed through the night, chanting the Chumbu Dharani backwards. Which meant the most important question was what the Chumbu Dharani actually stood for.

“The Chumbu Dharani is the dharani spoken by Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva. So then — what kind of bodhisattva is Kṣitigarbha?”

Kṣitigarbha and the faith surrounding him are devoted above all to the salvation of all sentient beings — especially parents who have lost a child, and children who have lost a parent, praying for their enlightenment and peaceful repose. The Kṣitigarbha faith isn't especially well known in Korea, but in Japan and China it is prominent enough to be categorized on its own. In Japan in particular, indigenous Tōzō worship merged with the Kṣitigarbha faith, and the tradition of praying for children's safety runs deep there.

And reciting that bodhisattva's dharani backwards meant, in other words—

“...An act of blocking a dead child's enlightenment and repose...?”

Yoon Soo-ah turned to Yu Mi-ra with a look of dawning horror.

“A-Auntie... why on earth?”

“Pin the spirit down with the Yeongjinbu talisman, and bind it with the Chumbu Dharani recited in reverse. Everything was done to fasten the soul of the late Yoon Si-woo to this mansion. Isn't that right, Mr. Yoon Chang-sik?”

“Wh-what?”

“Looking at the photos you sent me — while Yoon Si-woo was alive, there were no potted plants in his room, were there?”

“That's correct... My wife loves growing plants, but Si-woo was such an active child that the pots were always getting knocked over, so we stopped keeping any in his room.”

“And the person who put flowers in his room after his death was you, Ms. Yu Mi-ra, yes?”

“Yes... that's right. But what does that have to do with...”

“They say a Taezagwi typically rests upon flowers.”

Pin the spirit with the Yeongjinbu and the reversed dharani — then furnish the room with flowers to give it a place to dwell.

“Ah... aaah...!”

Yoon Chang-sik, too, seemed to grasp what I was getting at, and went pale.

“The sequence of events probably went something like this.”

After Yoon Si-woo died in the accident, Yu Mi-ra immediately recited the Chumbu Dharani backwards to fasten her son's soul to the mansion. But she was no psychic, and she couldn't have been certain her method had worked. All she could do was guess that something was stirring, judging from the psychic phenomena occurring around the house.

“Which is why you needed an expert's help. Mr. Yoon Chang-sik — it was Yu Mi-ra who first proposed holding the Cheondo rite, wasn't it?”

“Y-yes! That's right! My wife, who never showed the slightest interest in that kind of thing, suddenly...!”

The shaman who had come to perform the Cheondo rite must ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have been in league with Yu Mi-ra from the start. That same shaman would have provided the Yeongjinbu talisman. And the rite they supposedly performed was, in truth, a ceremony designed to make it easier to bind Yoon Si-woo's soul to the mansion. She may even have learned how to create a Taezagwi from that shaman. Afterward, Yu Mi-ra had continued the ritual of turning Yoon Si-woo into a Taezagwi, over and over.

What Yu Mi-ra hadn't anticipated, however, was that the rites meant to suppress and bind the soul had turned the mansion itself into a kind of spiritual logjam. Evil spirits began flocking to the house — and once gathered there, they found themselves trapped.

Suddenly imprisoned in a strange mansion, those evil spirits would naturally have been furious. And taking out that fury, they began attacking Yoon Chang-sik and Yu Mi-ra. That the two of them were still alive was an enormous stroke of luck. ...No — perhaps Yoon Si-woo had been holding the evil spirits in check all along.

And through the whole of my deduction, Yu Mi-ra never raised a single rebuttal. She hadn't confessed to being the culprit, but in some cases silence is affirmation enough.

“H-honey... why? Why would you do that!?”

Hearing the truth, Yoon Chang-sik seized his wife by the shoulders and shook her. But Yu Mi-ra kept her head bowed low, maintaining her silence.

Then—

Click.

The door to the rooftop garden, which had been locked, swung open.

“Wh-what!? How is it...?”

Choi Eun-ha, who had locked the door from outside, panicked at the sight of it standing open. But the psychics gathered here did not flinch. Because the one responsible for opening it was plainly visible to our eyes.

Yoon Si-woo. The son of Yoon Chang-sik and Yu Mi-ra, dead in a tragic accident.

Screech!

“It's alright now. Come here.”

I had torn the Yeongjinbu to shreds and burned it away with the Vairocana Mantra Barrier. Yoon Si-woo hesitated for a moment, then climbed up into the rooftop garden.

“Ngh!”

Giselle Breed instinctively reached out with his psychokinesis at the boy passing in front of him.

“Hey.”

“Ugh... fine, fine.”

At my warning, Giselle Breed withdrew his power. And so Yoon Si-woo walked to the center of the rooftop garden. All the while, neither Yoon Chang-sik nor Yu Mi-ra looked at him even once. No — they couldn't look. Those without the sight cannot perceive a soul unless some special circumstance or condition is met.

“......”

Yoon Si-woo gazed for a moment at his mother's bowed head with eyes full of sorrow, then continued on his way. And so he came to a stop before me.

Even with the Yeongjinbu burned, however, Yoon Si-woo could not pass on immediately. The shaman's rite that had bound his soul, and the lingering effect of the Chumbu Dharani that Yu Mi-ra had chanted backwards over so long a time, still held fast. To send him on, one more push at his back was needed.

“Lee Ha-ram.”

“Yes, Teacher!”

At my call, Lee Ha-ram, who had been standing by, hoisted up a sack larger than a grown man. She opened its mouth and emptied it with all her strength — and something like fine white paper scattered across the rooftop garden.

“Is that... flower petals?”

What drifted down were flower petals. But no ordinary ones. Just as I had prepared sand treated with the Gaji rite to draw out the full power of the Vairocana Mantra Barrier, these petals too had undergone the Gaji rite in preparation for the ritual I was about to perform.

'Thanks to which I lost a night's sleep.'

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠interlaced the fingers of both hands and raised my two middle fingers — the Kṣitigarbha mudra of Esoteric Buddhism. A prison forged from Kṣitigarbha's own dharani deserves to be unmade by Kṣitigarbha's dharma.

As the mantra began, the petals Lee Ha-ram had scattered came alive as if animated, swirling around Kim Yi-yeon's body.

“What on earth is this...?”

At that wondrous sight, Shin Han-hee found herself at a loss for words. It wasn't merely the surreal spectacle before her eyes that stunned her — it was the thing that could not be seen. The spiritual phenomenon itself.

Shin Han-hee too had felt a strange spiritual pull the moment she visited the mansion. When you work as a shaman, you occasionally encounter places like this: sites where the flow of spiritual energy is eerily twisted, whether by design or by nature. Such places are called Hunwi, and among psychics they are treated as every bit as troublesome as an anomaly domain.

According to Kim Yi-yeon, the Hunwi in this mansion had been formed by the talisman, the shaman's rite, and the dharani Yu Mi-ra had chanted backwards over countless hours, all interlocking with uncanny precision. Dismantling a Hunwi of this scale was utterly beyond the power of one or two psychics.

'At minimum, six shamans at my own level, fully equipped and fully prepared, would have to tackle it together...'

And yet that Hunwi had begun to crumble after just three recitations of Kim Yi-yeon's mantra.

'I thought the man had real skill, but this is beyond that level entirely!?'

The first name ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that flashed through Shin Han-hee's mind was Baek Gong-ju. The titan of Korea's psychic world. Though her standing had suffered greatly since joining the Paranormal Administration Bureau, she was still revered by many in the field. Could Baek Gong-ju have shattered this Hunwi alone? Probably — it would have been within her power. But could she have done it at that man's young age, the way he just had?

Shin Han-hee shook her head without meaning to. Meanwhile, Kim Yi-yeon's mantra continued.

With the next line of the mantra, the bare autumn-stripped trees and flowers of the rooftop garden burst into leaf and bloom, as though spring had arrived all at once. Then, as if possessed of a will of their own, the trees shook free those fresh blossoms. The scattered petals joined the whirlwind swirling below, drawn as if by gravity itself.

Crrrrrack!

At that instant, the Hunwi rooted into the mansion finally collapsed in full.

With it, the spirits and stray thoughts bound to the house poured out into the open air. Which meant the tether tying Yoon Si-woo to the living world had also been severed.

“No!”

Just then, Yu Mi-ra screamed like a madwoman and lunged at Kim Yi-yeon.

“W-wait a moment!”

Yoon Chang-sik barely managed to hold her back.

“Please, calm down, honey!”

“No, no, no, no!”

“What's not allowed!? Someone is trying to send our son Si-woo to his rest — why is that wrong!? Why!? Why were you trying to keep him bound!? What did you possibly stand to gain by making Si-woo into a Taezagwi!? Why? Don't tell me you were planning to become a shaman!? Were you going to sell our dead son and make a business out of it!?”

Yoon Chang-sik gripped his wife's shoulders and shook her hard. Rage and grief were written in his hands — and a baffled, suffocating incomprehension of the woman he had married.

“Our Si-woo... is.”

“What?”

“Where does our Si-woo go when he dies?”

“......”

“I—I can't see. I can't see the dead, can't feel them... but I'm your wife, so I know. I know. I know souls exist. I know there's a world we cannot see!”

That was why Yu Mi-ra was afraid. Souls exist; an unseen world exists. Then surely an afterlife must exist as well. So where would her beloved son go?

“I—I researched it so much. I was so scared, so worried about our Si-woo, I dug into the afterlife like a madwoman! Wh-what if our Si-woo... what if he falls into hell for the sin of dying before his parents?”

“Mi-ra...”

“Every other religion says the same — if you don't believe, you go to hell, right? You can't get into heaven, right? B-but our Si-woo doesn't have a religion, does he? He never had the chance to believe... never had the chance to do good deeds... never had the chance to live well enough to earn heaven, did he!?”

“...Mi-ra...”

Yoon Chang-sik called his wife's name, fighting back tears.

“Our son — our beloved son — can't reach any heaven at all, can he!? If our Si-woo passes on, where does he go!? If he can't go to heaven... then it's better, isn't it, if he stays here beside us...? Isn't that so much better...!?”

Yu Mi-ra let out a scream as though her very intestines were being torn apart. People often compare the anguish of losing a child to the sorrow of a severed gut. But the true wailing of parents who have lost a child cannot be captured by any such simple phrase.

And so no one in this place could comfort Yu Mi-ra. Four psychics stood here who could see what ordinary people cannot. Yet even they knew nothing of the world beyond death. They could only vaguely suppose that something lay past it. And so, to a mother wailing and begging to be told where her dead child had gone, no one — no one at all — could offer a single word.

Amid that sorrowful silence, Yoon Si-woo looked at his screaming mother with grieving eyes. Though he was already free to leave, her scream held the child's feet in place. Perhaps what had kept Yoon Si-woo tethered to this world all along was never the flimsy talisman, or the rite, or the backwards-chanted dharani — perhaps it was simply his worry for his parents.

And the one who cut through that tragic mother-and-son grief was a charlatan Daoist master who had learned sorcery off the internet.

“Madam, I believe you're misunderstanding something.”

“...What?”

“......”

“Our Daoist tradition doesn't do that.”

The charlatan Daoist master Kim Yi-yeon smiled, still holding the Kṣitigarbha mudra. A smile as compassionate as Kṣitigarbha's own.