Flames and Lightning: Back as Investigator
If they didn't leave, flames and lightning wouldn't forgive them. To investigate whether Kim O-dong was really dead, I had to check out the crime scene—his house—first. And to do that, I'd have to skip seodang classes. Which meant I needed to get reappointed as a temporary investigator.
"Deputy Magistrate, sir. Can't you make me an investigator again?"
"Hahaha. Go ahead."
"Yes, sir."
……No, really. For real. I actually got appointed as an investigator again, just like that.
"You want me to really do this?"
"I told you last time. If you want to come back, you're welcome anytime."
"But sir, you chased me out yourself. Worried it'd splash back on you."
"If you don't want it, hand over the investigator's badge."
"Here you go."
"Ah, no, don't give it back so quick. No fun in that. Come on, now. Go catch that ghost."
"Wait, did I ever say anything about catching ghosts, Deputy Magistrate?"
We bickered a bit over slightly different reasons, but in the end, I got the temporary investigator position back as planned. After entering as a civilian and leaving as an investigator, I headed to the seodang. I went to the teacher in charge, the head instructor, and applied for an excused absence. Reason: re-investigating the assault on Kim O-dong's mother.
The head instructor naturally eyed me with suspicion. Here I was, fresh off suspension, stirring up a case already concluded as a wild animal attack. No way he'd be thrilled.
"Fine. Do as you must."
But I was a man trusted by King Munjong. The guy who'd bitten the third son of the Minister of Justice and gotten away with just seven days' suspension. Despite the displeased glare, I got the absence permit without much hassle.
That said, it wasn't entirely problem-free.
"Please, don't tangle with any more highborn brats."
I got the deputy magistrate's earnest plea.
"Fail the end-of-term exam, and it's expulsion without mercy."
The head instructor's grim threat.
"You bastard! If there's fun like that, you gotta take me along!"
"Ahem! Ahem! Uh, Investigator Brother. I, uh, want some experience too."
And desperate requests from Jeong Hyeon-beom and So Ji-hu.
But I ignored them all and headed straight for the house where Kim O-dong lived with his mother.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Chae-jang!
On the way to Kim O-dong's isolated house outside the city walls, I heard music. Not the lively tunes from banquets or gisaeng houses. It was noisy rather than festive, repelling more than enjoyable.
"What's that sound?"
I asked the government runner leading the way to Kim O-dong's house. He shook his head, clueless. Sensing something off, I quickened my pace.
Even before arriving, I could tell chaos was unfolding.
"Hey! It's coming in! It's coming! Hey now!"
"What grudge keeps you lingering here!"
"I know! Your heart! I know it all! I get it!"
In Kim O-dong's courtyard, three tables were set up. A dozen or so people beating drums and clanging gongs, with over twenty spectators. But what really caught my eye were the shamans in front of the feast tables, throwing fits.
"My baby! O-dong! Oh, you rascal! What's got you bewitched by a gisaeng!"
An auntie pounding the ground, pretending to be Kim O-dong's mother.
"Spill it all! I'm listening! O-dong! Tell me everything!"
An old man talking to thin air like Kim O-dong was there.
"Your one and only son hooked by a gisaeng of all things! Alas, your poor life!"
Even a girl my age chatting with "Kim O-dong's mother."
This was some next-level bullshit. If you're gonna scam, at least get your ghosts straight.
I shuffled over to the crowd of onlookers. Asked an old man gaping at the ritual.
"What's all this about?"
"Hm? Hey! You from the mountains or what?"
"Yeah, just got to Jeonju."
Not a total lie. The old man spun tales from the Jeonju gisaeng house ghost possession to famous shamans here for an exorcism.
"Hmph, is that so?"
"Yeah—hey. You okay?"
"Hwooo! Hwooo!"
Ignoring the old man's call, I hopped in place like a shaman, raising both hands high. Bursting into Kim O-dong's inner courtyard, I drew all eyes. The scamming shamans and their clapping cronies froze, staring at me.
I shouted like one of them.
"Step back! Step back! Or flames and lightning will strike! Hwooo! Back away now!"
"Hey!"
The old man who'd been "talking to Kim O-dong's ghost," the head shaman, stormed over furious.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? How dare you mock a sacred ritual!"
"Hwooo! Back off! Hwooo! Flames and lightning won't spare you! Hwooo!"
"You little shit!"
"Hwooo!"
I stopped hopping, lowered my hands to my pockets. Pulled out a flintlock pistol.
"Get lost."
"Eek."
The head shaman paled at the gun.
"If you don't leave, flames and lightning won't forgive. Scram."
Shaman-style talk, while pulling the second flintlock pistol with my other hand. I hadn't even cocked the hammers to prevent misfires, but everyone was already terrified, staring.
"Hey! This is the crime scene! Quit screwing around and go home to sleep! Hurry! Go on! Now! Go!"
Seeing my twin pistols, people scattered or prepared to. They just eyed me warily, speechless. As expected from the king's gifted pistols. Though any official gun would've done the trick.
Anyway…
"Ha, fuck. We're screwed."
Investigation was fucked. I'd been thrilled hearing no one touched the wild animal attack house. Thought the scene was preserved intact. But Kim O-dong's place was a mess from shamans and gawkers. The courtyard was stamped with anonymous footprints.
Creak.
"Huh?! Why are you still here?!"
An auntie flung open a door. Guess indoors was no different.
"Uh, I, pr-praying…!"
"You a shaman?"
"N-not a shaman, a Taoist…."
"Shaman or Taoist."
All the same cult crap.
"Get out! Now! No, you stay, mister!"
The runner was sneaking off too, so I stopped him quick. Clearing spectators and packing up the shamans' gear took under thirty minutes. Only after hounding them nonstop could I finally inspect Kim O-dong's house properly.
The place he shared with his old mother was a rare yellow-earth thatched house. Walls patched with clay, cracked everywhere—touch them and dirt crumbled. Papered doors layered multiple times, frayed like they'd fall any second. Just two rooms: a stinking kitchen and the one that auntie came from. Courtyard… total wreck, as seen.
"Haa, driving me nuts. For real. Huh?"
Heading into a room first, I spotted something odd on the tattered door. The latch for locking. Not weird for an isolated spot. But one on the outside? Different.
"Hey, mister."
I called the runner, who kept glancing longingly at the road home.
"What's this? Isn't it weird?"
"Oh, that? Nothing weird."
He explained no big deal.
"O-dong's mom was senile. He put it on so she wouldn't wander when he was out working."
Made sense then. Leaving a demented old lady alone out here? Rough. Locking a flimsy door wouldn't stop beasts anyway…
Why the door though? A man-killing beast would've smashed right through. Yet the worn, ragged door opened and closed fine.
"This always like this?"
I asked the runner again.
"No one replaced it?"
"Who'd fix doors on a dump like this?"
So the door was intact when the beast attacked. I tossed the question I'd forgotten amid the ritual to the runner. He shuddered uneasily but recounted that day.
"W-well, when we got here, an arm was sprawled in the yard. Blood everywhere—veranda, courtyard, all over. Inside the room, torso, limbs, guts…!"
"Stop. Enough."
Having endured gore myself, his words hit deep. I cut him off, asked something else.
"Sure? Not human work, right?"
"Of course. How couldn't we tell beast from man?"
"Last time you couldn't tell suicide from murder."
"Totally different. Human wounds are thin and narrow; beast rips and tears like this."
Sounded convincing, but he didn't inspire full trust. Just for reference. More questions.
"Why's the door intact?"
"Maybe Kim O-dong didn't open it. He only did when he was home."
"Why assume he got bit?"
"Mom's body's there, not his. Blood trail to the woods. Everyone figured."
"What beast?"
"Bear. Bear hairs stuck all over inside."
Bear, huh. Bears smash doors easy. No way it'd stay intact. I examined the door and frame closely. Stiff hairs on the frame, as he said. Room ceiling splattered with blood too. What was that Taoist auntie thinking going in? Door open was suspicious, but that was it. No solid proof Kim O-dong did it yet. Needed clearer evidence.
"Blood trail?"
"Huh?"
"The blood to the woods. Where?"
"Probably faded by now…."
Grousing, he led me there. As said, days later, trail unclear. But one vivid drop on a hand-sized rock.
Squatting, I inspected the splatter.
"Mister. Dragged to the woods?"
"Yeah."
"Tch, doesn't look like it."
Like with my father-in-law's frame-up, blood splatter patterns vary. Drops from standing spread wide; moving point direction. This drop's tail pointed not to woods—but house.
Intact door despite bear attack. Blood pointing home. Plus Cheong-yeon's suspicion Kim O-dong lived.
Yeah. Kim O-dong was alive.