The House That Settled Its Karmic Debts [4]

Yu Mi-ra stared up at me, her rabbit-wide eyes brimming with shock.

And no, it wasn't just her. Every single person on the rooftop garden was asking me the same thing with their eyes: How does anyone dare comfort a mother whose child died before her?

So I told them.

And I told myself.

"In Daoism, when a child dies before their parents, the heavens take pity on them — and fairies descend to escort the little one to paradise."

And the fairies who come down like that are counted among the kindest, loveliest, sweetest-tempered beings in all the immortal realms.

If the Peach Blossom Land ever held a Miss Fairy pageant, they'd be the kind of knockout beauties who'd win a unanimous perfect score from the Jade Emperor, the Supreme Elder Lord, and the Primeval Lord of Heaven all at once.

"Those fairies gather the child up in their generous — and I want to stress, very generous — bosoms, and hold them close."

And on behalf of a child who can't yet grasp what death even means, they weep pearls of jade-white tears and soothe that heartbreaking little tragedy away.

"And it's never just one fairy, you understand. I'd go so far as to declare them all my wives — ninety-nine of them descending at once, weeping for the child, taking the little one's hand so tenderly and leading the way to the warmest place in all the celestial realms."

And once the child ascends, the Three Pure Ones and Four Sovereigns, every venerable divinity, gathers to offer blessings.

The Queen Mother of the West feeds the child the sweetest of immortal peaches.

The Great Emperor of the South Pole laments neglecting the little one in life, and promises freedom from illness and long life in the next.

"And so, blessed by everyone in the celestial realm, the child lives on in plush, cozy comfort, soaking up happiness forever and ever. But you know how it is — when a person lives too comfortably, doesn't the day always come when they grow a little bored of it?"

Eventually, the child who has reveled in happiness until they're sick of it chooses their own hour to leave the Peach Blossom Land and return to the mortal world of their own accord.

"And if their parents are still alive by then, surely they'll retrace the threads of fate and appear at their mother and father's side once more."

As a grandchild, maybe. A niece or nephew, or the child of a friend.

Heck, they might even come back as a dog or a cat.

And if they grew bored of the heavens a little early? They might be reborn under the very same parents again.

"But... but what if our Si-woo loves life in the celestial realm so much that he stays a long, long time — and only comes down after I've died? Then... then would I never get to see him again?"

Yu Mi-ra straightened, clinging to every word.

"The bonds of family aren't so cheap a thing that they snap that easily. Even then, somehow, they find a way to hold."

"How...?"

"If you pass before he comes down, then following the flow of fate, your Si-woo may well return as your mother — or your father."

"Then... then I hope Si-woo stays up there for a very long time. S-so he won't be reborn to worthless parents like us... this time, under far, far better parents... living happily, for a long, long while..."

"In that case, ma'am, you can simply be reborn as Si-woo's child and repay the debt of love."

"Yes... yes, I hope, I truly hope it can be like that... Then... then what should I do? What can I do?"

"There's no what and there's no how. Whether you pray or don't pray, whether you curse the heavens until your dying breath, Si-woo will live happily in the celestial realm regardless. But if you really want to do something — then live a good life. Be kind, stack up your merits, and toss a few coins to a poor Daoist priest while you're at it."

I said it with a grin.

And of course — naturally, obviously — every last word of that Daoist afterlife lecture was complete bullshit.

Sure enough, Yoon Soo-ah and Shin Han-hee had apparently seen through the whole performance, and were watching me with eyes full of horrified disbelief.

The truth is, Daoism's picture of the afterlife isn't so different from Buddhism's.

No — to be precise, Daoism never rigorously established an afterlife cosmology in the first place, so what exists now is closer to a Buddhist framework that seeped in over the centuries.

Because to a Daoist, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the afterlife is a subject not worth pondering.

And, if at all possible, one you'd rather not ponder at all.

Daoists are, by definition, people chasing immortality in this life, not the next.

Why would such people waste a thought on what comes after death?

By the time you're dead, the game's already over, isn't it?

So — if it's a realm nobody cares about anyway, what's the harm in a little creative embellishment?

Besides, I'm a self-taught fake priest who learned everything off the internet.

What's anyone going to say about a fake priest spreading a fake afterlife?

I looked at Yu Mi-ra, sobbing in Yoon Chang-sik's arms.

Her wails carried just a shade less agony in them now — and seeing that, I found myself thinking.

Come to think of it, the whole concept of the afterlife is a crock of shit.

The Eastern afterlife in particular has corners that go genuinely too far.

Fine — murderers, robbers, rapists, send the heavy criminals to hell. Fair enough.

But does it have to nitpick everything? There's a hell for having oral sex, a hell for never marrying — enough is enough already.

Worst of all, just as Yu Mi-ra feared, in the Japanese afterlife a child who dies before their parents ends up condemned to pile stones on the banks of the Sanzu River for all eternity.

No matter how I look at it, that's just sadistic.

"······."

Yoon Si-woo was watching his mother through sad eyes as her sobs finally began to ease.

And seeing him like that, I thought:

Look, I understand hell exists to warn the living and prop up society's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rules.

But couldn't we spare a little mercy for a child who died without a single sin to his name?

At the tail of the mantra, the drifting flower petals swirled up and wrapped themselves around Yoon Si-woo.

The petals dissolved into light, granting form to a soul no ordinary person could see.

"My God..."

Yoon Chang-sik, who had been silently patting his wife's heaving shoulders, went speechless at the sight.

Tap.

"Go to her, child."

"······!"

Yoon Si-woo's eyes flew wide in surprise — then he nodded, bright and brave, and ran.

And he called out:

"Mom!"

At that voice, his mother lifted a face ruined by tears.

And she looked.

At her son — the one she'd clung to so ugly and desperate, clawing to keep him from leaving.

The son she had never once seen again, no matter how she raged against it.

"Si-woo!"

The boy ran into his mother's arms.

Simply, innocently, beaming.

And his mother crushed him against her chest and spoke.

"I'm sorry! Mommy's sorry! I couldn't protect you...! I'm sorry I made things so hard for you, even after you were gone! Ah — my baby, my precious baby...!"

How wonderful would it be, if this miraculous moment could just freeze here, her son safe in her arms?

But I knew. This moment would end, and soon.

So the arms holding him loosened, just slightly, and she looked at his face.

Looked at the face she would never see again.

She wanted to say more. So much more.

Go and be happy. Come back soon and be Mommy's son again. Live long and happily up above...

But the son's words were faster than the mother's.

Because while she had a thousand things she wanted to give him, her son had only ever had one.

"Mom, I love you. Be happy."

And with those final words, Yoon Si-woo's body dissolved once more into flower petals and scattered.

All that remained in Yu Mi-ra's arms were the drifting petals themselves.

"Ahh...!"

As if to gather up her son's last words, Yu Mi-ra swept her arms through the empty air, collecting every petal she could reach.

"...Yes! Mommy... I'll be happy... I promise, I promise... I'll work hard, so you won't worry about me anymore...!"

Watching the light that had been Yoon Si-woo soar toward the heavens in place of a mother granted far, far too short a goodbye, I spoke.

"Go well, little one."

On a day without clouds and without wind, under a clear and gentle sky, a child received his parents' love one final time and returned to heaven.

The salvation bet ended with my victory, by unanimous decision.

Giselle Breed and Shin Han-hee sent ten million won apiece to my account without a word of protest.

Strangely enough, despite my confidence that they'd fly into a rage over losing their money, the two of them transferred the funds meekly, without a hint of anger or irritation.

I received my fee from Yoon Chang-sik as well, naturally.

And not the original agreed-upon thirty million — he'd tacked another twenty on top for a cool fifty.

Fifty million in fees plus the twenty million from the bet, and my assets had more than doubled in the blink of an eye.

"The tax matters have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all been handled cleanly through my accountant, so there's no need to worry."

"I appreciate you looking after that. And my wife..."

"She cried herself out and fell asleep in the bedroom. We'll be calling on you again soon so she can thank you in person."

"There's no need. I only did what had to be done."

"How humble of you... Although, Mr. Kim Do-sa — my nephew mentioned that the Daoist afterlife you described to my wife was, ah... fabricated."

"Yes, that's right. It's fabricated. But so what?"

"...I — ah, ah — you're right. Of course. You're right."

That's what the world after death truly is.

Punishing sinners with severity.

Blessing the good with grace.

All of it exists not for the dead, but for the living.

So then — what's the harm in granting a grieving mother one kind afterlife, or two, or three?

"Pfft. Ahahahahahaha!"

At that moment, Yoon Chang-sik — who had been repeating you're right to himself with astonished eyes — finally burst out laughing.

I stared back, startled by the utterly out-of-nowhere reaction, and Yoon Chang-sik wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes as he spoke.

"Truly wise words! I've learned a great deal today. And... thank you. For Si-woo, and for my wife — for everything."

"I get paid what I'm worth. That's all."

Say it with me, people: Kim Yi-yeon is a man who delivers value for the money.

"Until next time, then. And I suspect we'll be meeting again sooner than you'd think."

"Hm? Yes — I suppose we will."

As I left the mansion with my group, accepting Yoon Chang-sik's strangely weighted farewell, Giselle Breed and Shin Han-hee — who had gone ahead — were waiting in front of Lee Ha-ram's pickup truck.

For a moment, I tensed, wondering if this was their way of venting about losing the bet.

I cycled my Daoist spiritual power through my whole body and readied myself to draw the peach-wood sword from its case at a moment's notice.

Giselle Breed was a psychokinetic, same as Yoon Soo-ah, and Shin Han-hee, true to her shaman trade, wielded the power of a strange spirit snake.

Her unknown abilities were the wildcard, but with a body reinforced by Daoist power, I could close the distance in about a second flat.

From that fight with the giant demon, I know she has to shake her bell to use her abilities. So I just make sure she never gets the chance to shake it. Simple.

Just as I settled on Shin Han-hee as my first-strike target —

"Relax. We're not waiting here to fight."

Giselle Breed raised both hands, having apparently sensed my killing intent.

A gesture of surrender. A signal that he had no intention of fighting me.

Swoosh.

"Hey, Shin Han-hee. You raise your hands too."

"······."

At my glance, Giselle prodded her, and she pulled a briefly sulky face before raising her hands as well.

Granted, Giselle's psychokinesis didn't exactly switch off just because he lifted his arms.

Swoosh.

But when the other side shows that much good faith, matching it is only polite.

"Got a word for you. In private?"

Giselle pointed behind me — at Choi Eun-ha and Lee Ha-ram.

My answer to that, of course, was a hearty hell no.

Who in their right mind engineers a one-against-two situation on purpose?

Sure, these two wouldn't be much help if it actually came to blows —

but in a pinch, they could at least block whatever bell Shin Han-hee decided to shake.

"Then say it right here."

"...Are those two people you can trust?"

"My assistants, number one and number two."

"Since when was I your assistant?"

"Gasp! Assistants to the Teacher, that's us!"

Ignoring the two of them reacting in exact opposite directions, I urged him on with my eyes.

Ahem.

"Well, if you vouch for them. And I know it's a strange thing to ask at this point, but — friend, would you tell me who taught you?"

"Your question has impure intentions."

He was probing my backing.

When I shifted back into a fighting stance, Giselle waved his hands soothingly.

"I'm asking because you're just that good! The way you pieced together everything that happened at that mansion, the ritual you performed to send that kid to his rest — no matter how I look at it, that's not something you learn from some run-of-the-mill psychic or country shaman, you know?"

"I hear what you're saying. But I have no intention of baring my history to someone who dragged me out here unannounced and still hasn't explained what this is about."

"Well... yeah, fair enough. Can't argue with that."

Giselle seemed to give up on digging into my background and moved on to the next topic.

"You really can't stand the Paranormal Administration Bureau, huh?"

In truth I'd only overplayed it to keep Yoon Soo-ah from clocking my identity — but I'd agreed to play along, so I did.

"Are there any psychics who like the Bureau?"

"Amen to that. They stick their noses into every little thing we do, control this, regulate that — it's exhausting as hell."

The Paranormal Administration Bureau, it turned out, was even more despised among psychics than I'd imagined.

"Their conduct's garbage, sure, but you know what — the Bureau was rotten from its very founding, wasn't it?"

"...Founding?"

For an instant, I nearly let a puzzled expression slip onto my face.

No, no. Never show them an opening.

Fine, rage away about the Bureau controlling psychics here and now — that I understood.

But what on earth was so damning about its founding that it got him this worked up?

"An organization built by the colonial Governor-General to purge psychics who resisted the Japanese occupation — and it's been running, untouched, ever since. Makes me sick to my stomach, and I'm not even Korean."

Whoa. Okay, that's way more hardcore than I expected.

So THAT'S why psychics hate the Bureau so much?

Thank god I hadn't just wandered into the Bureau blind on Yoon Soo-ah's recommendation, knowing nothing.

"As you know, anomaly appearance rates are spiking sharply all over the world right now. And Korea? Korea is in a league ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of its own. Some countries have designated it a spiritual high-crime zone and restricted entry for their own senior officials — that tells you everything."

Whoa whoa whoa, that is a LOT of classified information just falling out of his mouth?

No wonder — even with my spirit sight wide open, it was always weird that anomalies were queuing up every few days...

"Which means the Bureau's grip on psychics has only gotten tighter. These days they'll even force people into service for pay that's basically pocket lint."

"Sounds like a garbage situation."

"Right? So here's the thing... there's a group. Psychics banding together to protect our rights against the Bureau and the government."

"A group?"

Okay, the way he said it, this wasn't some "gathering" — this was a labor union, wasn't it?

Since when do psychics have a union?

"That's right. So, Kim Do-sa — how about joining our Deva?"