Everyone Shall Be Satisfied
A baby born into an ordinary household grew up hearty and strong.
"Don't go playing off somewhere far! Stay in the village!"
"Yes!!!"
The child took off at a patter of small feet.
"Hehe! Where should I go today?"
As if every word she had just heard had already slipped clean out of her mind, she went straight into the forest. Feet no bigger than fists ought to have made the going hard, yet the woods shifted as if to attend her, so that she would not be hurt.
"Whoa! What are you?"
She chased a light that sparkled and danced. It ran along the trees, then slipped neatly away into a hole in the trunk.
"Let's play together!"
She looked up at the hole. It sat too high for her to reach.
"Mmm... I wanna go up!"
She patted the ground with both hands. The earth wriggled, then surged upward, and suddenly she could peer into the hole.
"Are you in there?"
A squirrel burst out as she looked in.
"Whoa! You're cute!"
She puffed her own cheeks out to match the squirrel's stuffed ones. The squirrel stared at her without a shred of shame, then scampered down the tree.
"Ah! Where are you going!"
She gave chase. The squirrel darted this way and that, and at the end of the pursuit the trees fell away and a clear stream appeared, holding the sunlight and shining more beautifully than any jewel.
"Pretty..."
A quiet wonder slipped from her. The squirrel left her behind, crossed the water, and vanished.
"Ah! Wait, over there!"
She set a short leg into the stream. The moment her foot reached out, the water rose and made itself a stepping-stone.
"Wow! Thank you!"
She bowed to the stream and hurried after the squirrel.
"Hah. Hah."
How long had she been running? She braced her hands on her knees and gasped for breath.
"Huh?"
She realized the world around her had gone dark.
"...Mom?"
A blackened sky. Grass that rustled. The small sounds of beasts. The forest that had drawn near so kindly had turned into a place of terror.
"Uuuu..."
She whimpered. The world seemed to spin.
"Waaah..."
Her crying spread through the woods. The forest drank the sound and grew more sinister still, and before it could reach a hand out toward her—
"Keoheoheung!"
"Waaaaah!!!"
Heaven and earth rang. She sat down hard.
"Hik! Hik!"
Clutching her startled chest, she dragged in breath after breath. Between the bushes a yellow light burned fierce and bright. It came toward her slowly, then pushed through the brush and showed itself: golden fur that did not lose its color even in the dark, and yellow eyes. A majestic frame, and a presence that looked down on the world as if the world were its own. It was a tiger, lord of the mountain.
The child remembered what the village grown-ups had said.
"They say a tiger took someone in the next village."
"Again?! Aigoo, and it already carried one off last time..."
"We won't be next, will we?"
"Enough of that! Don't say unlucky things. Have you ever seen our Lord San-gun do such a thing?!"
"It might come over from the next village..."
"Stop talking nonsense and go plow that field."
She looked at the tiger with eyes that shook. Was this the man-eating kind?
"L-Lord San-gun?"
She knelt, pressed her forehead to the ground, and asked with great care.
"Krrrrng."
"Hik!"
At the growl that seemed to rise from somewhere deep, she ducked her head lower still.
"D-don't eat me. I—I taste bad..."
She rubbed her palms together in frantic plea. Please, let me live. With the heart of one praying to Heaven, she cautiously lifted her head. San-gun was still standing where he had been.
"Ah... ah..."
She felt the end coming. But San-gun was not looking at her. He was looking behind her, and without thinking she turned her gaze the way his had turned.
A wet trickle.
Another tiger stood there, its mouth plastered thick with blood.
"Hyaaaak!!!"
As she startled and nearly fainted, the provoked tiger bared its teeth. Eyes steeped in slaughter tipped upward.
"Kruk!"
It sneered, delighted.
"Krrrng."
Displeased by the sight, San-gun bared his own teeth.
"Krung!"
He flicked his eyes at the child.
"Y-yes!"
Grasping his meaning by instinct, she scrambled behind a tree. The moment she crouched with both hands over her head—
"Keoheoeung!"
"Kaaaak!"
Two kings began to fight.
"Hweeeeng..."
She covered her ears and waited only for the fight to pass. Something crumpled. Something broke. A scream, and then a whole basinful came splashing down.
"Keoheung!"
Around the time a roar of victory rang out, she peeked from beside the tree.
"Wh-what?"
Beneath San-gun, a tiger lay fallen with a hole torn through its throat.
"L-Lord San-gun won?"
She went to him and bowed low.
"Th-thank you, Lord San-gun!"
San-gun did not answer. Panting, he turned his back. She startled to see him limping.
"L-Lord San-gun, does something hurt?"
She drew close. When she pressed in at his side he growled, but she was not afraid. Bright-eyed, she looked at his flank. A wound split three ways gaped there, and blood ran from it in a steady stream.
"Lord San-gun! You're hurt—where are you going! Stay still!"
At her firm words his steps stopped. He was displeased, but there was nothing for it. For some reason he could not refuse what the child said. He blew out a snort and dropped heavily to the ground.
She stepped into the circle of him. A slender hand touched his flank.
"Kheung!"
"I'm sorry. Please bear it, just a little."
She closed her eyes.
"Get better... Get better..."
Please heal Lord San-gun.
"Help me. All of you."
Nature answered the child's wish.
San-gun saw it: a warm energy gathering at his flank, and the knowledge that the power had its source in the child.
"Krrrng..."
Filled by the swelling energy, he rumbled in pleasure.
"Wow! It's all better."
She smiled at him, wide and bright.
"Mmm... sleepy..."
Still smiling, she rubbed her eyes and buried her face against his side.
"Krung."
San-gun licked his nose. Careful not to wake her, he rose and took the hem of her clothes gently in his mouth. He had to send her back the way she had come.
"Come out and look! Lord San-gun just brought a child in his mouth!!!"
"That—that's the child who went missing this morning!"
Mmm?
She opened her eyes at the noise. Right in front of her, the village adults were huddled together.
"I'm back!"
Glad to see their faces, she waved.
"Uh-buh—wh-wh-what is happening right now...!"
"Mom!"
She smiled wide.
"Heok!"
"Good heavens! Pull yourself together!"
"Hurry, take her away!"
The woman rolled her eyes back and fainted.
"Huh?"
Why is she like that?
Hwoo.
"Hm?"
Feeling breath against the back of her head, the child turned. San-gun was there.
"Eek!"
She startled. Looking again—she was still held in his mouth!
"Hnng!"
When she flailed in surprise, San-gun glared as if to tell her to be still.
"Hng."
She folded her hands neatly together.
"What in the world am I looking at."
"I-I don't know."
"Lord San-gun has saved the child!"
San-gun set her down.
"Krung."
He nudged her with his face.
"I can go?"
He nudged her again. She bolted for the village in a flurry of steps.
"I'm home!"
The adults stood struck dumb before the child who came running with a bright smile.
Seeing her safely returned, San-gun turned away.
"Goodbye, Lord San-gun!"
He left her lively laughter behind him and went. From that day on, San-gun was worshipped as the guardian deity of the village.
"You little brat! As if stirring up trouble weren't enough, now you're trying to get yourself killed!"
"Waaah! I'm sorry."
Of course she was scolded.
Years passed.
The child walked the village holding her mother's hand, and shrank in on herself at the ominous air.
"There's nothing left..."
"There's nothing left to eat..."
"Even Heaven is heartless..."
She was afraid of the gloomy flames lurking on every side.
"Don't look."
Her mother turned the child's head. Sunken cheeks and a gaunt face were no different from the gloomy flames the child saw.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm all right, so don't worry."
The child looked at the cracked earth. Rain had not fallen for months. The gold of the fields had blackened and died long ago. There was even someone who had collapsed while walking the street, and flies circled over the body.
"Don't look."
"Yes..."
She trembled at the sensation prickling her skin. The whole village was dying.
Just then an old man was bowing and scraping as he received a visitor.
"Aigoo, you've come."
"Hm."
The man wore a hat worked with ornate decoration, and clothes hung with bits of gold. Every time he moved, a dangling clatter rang out.
"The affair that brought me is a pitiful one, so of course I came... and yet what a wretched reception this is."
"F-forgive us. There are no people left in the village..."
The man looked at the old man as if he were trash.
"Hmph... And yet the gods of heaven and earth themselves commanded that one who is not generous in hospitality be treated in kind."
"N-no, please—look at this token of our sincerity!"
The old man flung himself flat and offered something up. It was a stone that glittered. The man's eyes dyed black.
"Our child found it by chance while climbing the mountain. Might this somehow do?"
"Hmm."
Flick.
The man opened a fan. At its center was painted the taegeuk, the great swirl of yin and yang.
"Well. This much will serve to save face."
"Thank you! Thank you!"
The old man bowed again and again. But the child saw it—the man's smile, hidden behind the fan. The flesh of his cheeks shoved aside, his eyes rolling upward. He looked like a demon come up out of hell.
"Hm?"
When the man looked their way, she snapped her gaze aside.
"Mom..."
"Yes..."
Sensing something ill-omened, mother and daughter tried to leave at once.
"Halt there."
"D-do you mean us?"
"Must I say it twice?"
At the sharpening of the man's eyes, the mother approached, trembling all over.
"Hm..."
The man looked at the child.
"Come to think of it, was there not a child the tiger carried here in its mouth?"
"Yes? Yes. Th-this is the child you see now."
"Is that so?"
The corners of his mouth tore wide.
"The gods of heaven and earth have just given their command."
"Yes?"
"They say there is a way to bring fortune upon this village."
"T-truly?"
"Indeed there is."
The child saw the man's form change. His neck stretched, and his tongue lengthened until it touched the ground. He did not stop at winding himself about the old man and her mother. The neck, drawn out and grown long, wrapped the entire village. And at her ear, he whispered.
The child trembled with fear. He was not merely like a demon. The man was a hungry ghost—a hungry ghost that would swallow this village whole.