Those Who Are Not Customers
Seojun Im placed the rusty ring sword on the workbench. Red rust blanketed the blade, dulled to the point where it couldn't even slice through a sheet of paper. Yet the energy dwelling within remained razor-sharp. A ferocious weapon that had claimed countless lives and drunk deep of blood.
Blood Iron.
Swords that had rolled through battlefields for ages, gorging on flesh and blood, changed their very nature on their own. Infused with the essence of blood, they took on bizarre properties. Such items couldn't be handled carelessly. A single misstep could unleash the grudge embedded in the blade, turning on the blacksmith himself.
"Scared now, are you?"
The man smirked sardonically. Seojun didn't reply. Instead, he disassembled the rusty ring sword and drew out the blade. The rust had seeped deep inside, revealing just how dire its condition was. Ordinary methods wouldn't cut it here.
"That...?"
When Seojun fetched the dokkaebi fire from the storeroom, the man's face twisted in surprise. He seemed to recognize it at a glance, but Seojun ignored him. He set the dokkaebi fire in the cold forge and steadied his energy.
Purple demon flames erupted in an instant.
"How the hell is a half-baked punk like you handling dokkaebi fire!"
The man recoiled in shock, making a racket. Seojun tuned him out completely and picked up the tongs. He gripped the blade and thrust it into the demon flames.
Szzzzz.
Black smoke billowed up, filling the air with a foul stench—a nauseating mix of blood and iron tang. Seojun wrinkled his nose without thinking. Then the purple demon flames consumed even the black smoke.
He pulled out the heated blade and laid it on the anvil. The rust glowed red-hot, twisting into grotesque shapes. Seojun grabbed the hammer leaning against the anvil and lightly tapped the blade's spine.
Clang—
The blade didn't ring like metal should; it sounded sickly.
"Ah, so that's it. No wonder the Kaeyi General took an interest—you've got real potential as a kaeyi."
The man recovered from his shock and muttered to himself. Seojun had been ignoring his nonstop chatter. He struck the spine harder this time.
Clang—!
But the heated rust clung stubbornly to the blade, refusing to budge.
"Handling dokkaebi fire when you're barely half-baked. You've got some skill, but approach kaeyi with that half-assed mindset, and you'll get what's coming."
Clang, clang, clang.
Seojun deliberately held back his strength, tapping the blade's side at steady intervals. It vibrated evenly with each strike, resonating through its length.
This can't be right.
At this level of rust, the blade should have lost its spring, its vibrations dead and uneven—like brittle bone. It was the opposite of what he'd expected from its diseased ring. He stared hard at the blade, then reheated it.
He drew out the glowing crimson blade and laid it on the anvil.
It should work now... right?
Seojun raised the hammer with some doubt. But when he brought it down, there was no hesitation.
Claaang—!
The hammer struck the heated side, producing a crisp metallic ring. It felt like it might shatter if he forced it. But this was a hammer he'd wielded his whole life, its weight second nature. Enhanced senses guided his precise strikes.
"Remember this: the anti-kaeyi gear you forge can strike at a kaeyi's reverse scale."
Claaang—!
He hammered with enough force to forge even the rust itself. Just in case it flaked off, he contained the blade's heat. At any hint of trouble, he reheated it in the demon flames.
"If you're some halfwit half-human fleeing kaeyi-hood out of fear, fine. But if you bail before it's too late, no one will come looking."
Claaang—!
After a solid pounding, the blade rang clear and true. Its surface, once pitted and rough with rust, was now smooth.
Whether the rust had been hammered in or oxidized into sparks, the searing heat made it impossible to tell.
"Truth is, becoming a kaeyi is a blessing."
Seojun finished forging and eyed the blade. Newly honed, it gleamed with an unearthly poise. Soot obscured it somewhat, but still.
"You know how frail the human body is. A little injury and it bleeds, ages, sickens. Doesn't even last a full century before returning to dust."
The blade's structure had loosened from the heating. He reheated it milder than during forging, for tempering.
"But as a kaeyi? No aging, no sickness. Strength beyond any human. And freedom—no chains of morality or law to bind you."
He'd filled a long trough with cold water. Quenching hot metal was tricky, but success meant immense hardness.
Sizzle—
He dipped just the thinnest edge of the blade, then pulled it out.
Szzzzz—
Gradually, he submerged up to the flat, then withdrew.
Szzzzzzz—
Finally, he plunged the whole blade. The water boiled furiously from the heat, bubbles rising. Above all, blood seeped from the blade, staining the water red. The forge reeked of gore.
"With talent like yours, becoming a kaeyi ASAP might be best. Both the auspicious elder and the Kaeyi General favor you."
The man closed the distance, urging him on. Seojun stayed silent, lifting the blade from the bloody water.
"My cherished blade...?"
Even the babbling man fell quiet, staring at the revealed blade. Blood-red hamon waves rippled across its surface.
"Work's not done yet. Step back."
Seojun took the blade to the grinding wheel, lined with dozens of whetstones. He laid down a cloth, secured a stand, sprinkled water on the stone, and began.
Saaaah—
Grime sloughed off like old skin under the coarse stone, baring the blade's true form.
Saaaaah—
Switching to finer stones, he sharpened the edge, bringing its elegance to life.
"Whew."
He exhaled the stale breath he'd held in total focus. He oiled the blade, set it aside, scraped rust from the disassembled parts, reforged the broken ones, and restrung the decorative cords.
"All done."
He reassembled the reborn ring sword and handed it over. The man drew it dazedly from the scabbard and stared at the blade in silence for a long moment. Transformed, yet the blood hamon evoked their shared history.
"Ahh..."
The man trailed off, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He wiped it quickly, but the trace lingered.
"...I'd like to know your name."
"Im Seojun."
"I'm Baek Dongsu."
He sheathed the sword, donned his black horsetail hat. Shadows veiled his face.
"Are you human... or kaeyi?"
"I don't know."
"I fell for a woman and chose to become kaeyi. But she departed on a path far too distant."
The man turned as if meeting his eyes. Shadows hid them.
"Like this ring sword, I'll return to my beginner's mind."
He turned away like a frog hiding its eyes and left the forge. Silence fell instantly.
"...?"
Seojun couldn't make sense of it but pushed the thought aside. He pondered the blood dripping from the Blood Iron.
"Might be usable if done right..."
But the stench was overpowering, so he sealed the lid. He vented the forge to clear the ingrained gore smell, opening windows and doors to speed it up.
"Hm?"
It was past midnight, yet he felt eyes on him from outside. He whipped around, but the alley was empty. The sensation vanished.
"Just my imagination?"
Seojun shrugged it off and tidied up. He picked up the face net Hahoe Mask had sent.
A finely woven black horsetail mesh. It concealed kaeyi energy from humans.
"Oof."
Never worn one in his life; he worried it'd look odd. A 21st-century blacksmith in a face net? But image mattered little now.
"Whoa?"
As he brought it to his head, it melted away like absorption.
If the net did that, what about the hood? Curiosity bubbled, but—
Seojun's thoughts shattered at the kaeyi reflected in the mirror. It was a man in a tall hat and plain clothes. Soundless, he spoke through intent.
A sudden, inexplicable dread welled up inside him.