The Unforeseen Harbinger of Mappo
Shamans of the Mappo era and monks walk paths that seem close yet remain distant, appearing to tread the same road while following entirely different ones. Monks refrain from evil deeds, purifying their flesh and spirit to walk the righteous path toward rebirth in the Western Paradise. Like the Buddha himself, they do not cling to any particular faith but cultivate the Dao in their temples for the sake of personal enlightenment. Shamans, on the other hand, are born with a divine thread, chosen by the gods at the appointed time, borrowing heavenly power through those spirits to resolve the myriad troubles plaguing the world. They soothe the grudges of the pitiful, calm restless souls, and accomplish what ordinary people cannot, all to prevent the world from descending into chaos. Sometimes monks perform the shamans' duties, and vice versa, shamans undertake the monks' ascetic practices. Thus, monks and shamans share many points of intersection while walking strangely divergent paths.
"We've been waiting for you, Bodhisattva."
"I hope you've been well, Monk Gwangho."
In Taebaek City, Gangwon Province—home to a mountain range so vast it brooked no rivals in Korea—Yonghwa Seonnyeo set foot on sacred ground. Spotting the monk who had come to meet her at the bus stop, she immediately pressed her palms together in ritual greeting.
"Winter in Gangwon is harsh for a woman traveling alone. The abbot knew you were coming and sent me to escort you."
"I know the way well enough; there was no need to come out. I feel guilty for making extra work."
"Please don't say that, Bodhisattva. Ten years ago, didn't you and Shin-eomeoni tour the Taebaek Mountains, helping so many along the way? Even the Buddha must smile at the merits you've accumulated."
Yonghwa Seonnyeo offered a faint smile, deciding to drop the formal pleasantries. After all, no one could outshout Protestants with sheer volume, nor outdo Buddhists in refined decorum. Even with a fluffy fur hat perched atop the monk's gleaming, moon-like bald head, the chill near Taebaek Mountain in December was biting. It was so cold that, despite the bright daylight, the nearby villagers had all hunkered down indoors to escape the frost.
"Shall we walk? Consider it light exercise."
"Yes, I've been cooped up on the bus from Seoul to Taebaek; I could use the stretch."
Monk Gwangho flashed a bright smile and set off, rubbing his mittened hands against his thick gray parka.
"Time flies, doesn't it? It feels like just yesterday you first visited as Shin-eomeoni's young disciple. I hope she's doing well?"
"Yes, she's as tough as ever—still hale and hearty. She took me in at a young age, after all."
"Shin-eomeoni was truly remarkable. Her name was known throughout the eight provinces. I can still vividly recall her bold ascent of these mountains, heh heh."
As they exchanged light small talk before diving into deeper matters, Yonghwa Seonnyeo nodded quietly. People around her often marveled at how she had been chosen by the gods in her teens and become a full-fledged shaman in her early twenties, calling it a born divine calling or the gods' favoritism. But she knew the true pinnacle was Shin-eomeoni, the woman who had taken her in ten years ago—the unrivaled great shaman of Korea, invariably named among the nation's top mudang: the Museong (Dancing Star) Bodhisattva. A shaman who served the gods yet divined the fate of all things not through their power, but by reading the flow of the stars, like an astronomer of the heavens. Folks said the sky she beheld differed vastly from that of ordinary eyes, that the stars opened their mouths only to her, whispering answers.
"Lately, though, troubling news keeps filtering in from the outside world. The abbot has been quite worried."
"It's a chaotic age."
"You don't call it Mappo, then."
The world was in turmoil, but the end times had not yet arrived. Monk Gwangho, however, murmured bitterly with a troubled expression, as if he already sensed the world had long entered its final phase.
"Monk, yes, the world is chaotic and evil things are rearing their heads one by one, but their era hasn't come. There are those who walk arduous paths to stop them, and many good souls who stand with us."
"It's not my place to say, having long forsaken worldly attachments, but these days truly see more upheavals than in the past. The Buddha's true teachings fade from this world, leaving it a realm of utter filth and depravity."
"In Buddhism, Mappo follows the eras of true and semblance dharma—a hellish age descending upon the present world, the true end times. I won't deny we're drawing ever closer, but we still have time. At least, I want to believe that."
"Namo Amitabha, Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva..."
With that, the two ascended Taebaek Mountain Road toward Taesan Temple. Though modest compared to more famous monasteries, Taesan Temple—nestled on the flank of Taebaek—was known to those in the know. Just a few kilometers away lay the renowned Dangun Shrine and Buljeongam Hermitage, where crowds gathered to pray. Yonghwa Seonnyeo had visited with Shin-eomeoni during a previous climb through the range. Aside from minor repairs to stave off decay, the temple matched her memory perfectly. Just as it had stood ten years ago, it endured here now, ten years later.
"It's been a while, Bodhisattva."
"I hope you've been well, Abbot."
Entering Taesan Temple and stepping into the main hall, Yonghwa Seonnyeo was greeted by the assembled monks who had been waiting. The abbot, addressed as such, met her gaze with unwavering eyes, as if he had foreseen this moment from the start. He had waited here with the temple for the past decade since her last visit.
"I know why you've come."
"......"
"To enter the Dangun Shrine. You couldn't ten years ago."
"Yes, Abbot, you're right."
The Taebaek Mountains formed the spine of the Korean Peninsula, a feng shui cornerstone upholding and cradling the land itself. How much vaster the power slumbering in the Dangun Shrine, how intensely the energies from heaven and earth converged there? Its aura rivaled Baekdu Mountain, serving as the capital of the peninsula's gods. Few shamans dared enter of their own volition.
"May I ask why?"
"The end times approach."
Monk Gwangho, who had escorted her, flinched at the word "end times" from lips that had just called it a chaotic age.
"...I know of the bizarre, grotesque, wicked, and vicious forces stirring in the world lately. Do you fear the chaos they will unleash?"
"No, Abbot. What truly concerns me is no mere rabble like that."
Yonghwa Seonnyeo was the spiritual daughter of Museong Bodhisattva, Korea's singular "prophetess"—disciple to the one who read the stars' currents amid countless lights to divine fates and solutions. Young—nay, youthful as she was—she served Yongsin, master of the Han River piercing Seoul's heart, her innate aura letting her sense ill omens at times. Often called a sixth sense transcending the five, it was something else: shingam, divine intuition—not hers as a human, but that of the dragon god she served.
"Even my Shin-eomeoni couldn't foresee it—a presence that never appeared in her rare prophecies, the one whose movements worry me most."
As she lowered her voice, the abbot stroked his beard thoughtfully. The surrounding monks clicked their tongues in pity or chanted sutras to steady their hearts. All here knew the nature of Museong Bodhisattva's prophecies. To compare them even to the famed Nostradamus was blasphemy; better never to know, lest one lament a lifetime free of such dread. For hers were not prophecies of the human world, but of the spiritual realm: which being, god, phenomenon, or age would stir, emerge, erupt, or arrive. Even the faint-hearted among believers might suicide or go mad upon hearing them.
For a shaman of Yonghwa Seonnyeo's caliber to voice such dread meant this unprophesied entity spelled catastrophe. Museong Bodhisattva's visions had never once erred. Even followers of other faiths dared not dismiss them.
"In 1995, 2005, 2015—three prophecies fulfilled so far."
Museong had begun her divine path precisely in 1995, becoming a mudang at Yonghwa's current age and touring the land to atone karma and accrue merit. Thirty years after her first prophecy left her lips and manifested, in 2025, the fourth remained unknown, unrealized—or so it seemed. For Yonghwa Seonnyeo to arrive and drop this bombshell left the monks tense.
"Then, what is this being that alarms you so? Powerful and perilous enough to reopen the Dangun Shrine's doors, denied you ten years ago?"
"A being that could upheave the earth, shatter the heavens, dye the seas in blood—that being is Mappo incarnate."
Yonghwa Seonnyeo carefully unwrapped a cloth bundle, revealing a single photograph to them. Those who peered into it squeezed their eyes shut, clutching prayer beads and chanting sutras, or gnashed their teeth so hard blood seeped from their gums in pained groans. The image showed a man in a worn brown long coat.