Familiar Voice
A familiar voice echoed as the mountain dokkaebi departed, leaving the forge thick with heat. Seojun stood before the furnace. He had one week to meet the deadline. Twenty iron chain shackles to forge. No small order. But there was no time for hesitation. He immediately pulled out a lump of mana ore and got to work.
Whoosh— Violet demonfire swallowed the metal lump. Untamable by ordinary flames, the mana ore heated up like meek lamb before the yo hwa.
He clamped the glowing metal with tongs and laid it on the anvil. Raising the ougum hammer high.
Clang—!Clang—! Heavy hammer strikes cleaved the night air. With every blow, he infused his own energy. Twisting the metal's properties, embedding it with kaeyi essence. The mana ore gradually took on a dark crimson glow.
He stretched the metal into long chains, forming links one by one. Heating the joints in the fire to fuse them seamlessly. Endless repetition.
****
Time lost all meaning. Outside the window, pitch-black darkness reigned. No moon in the sky—a true new moon night. Even the streetlights flickered out, finally dying completely. As if the forge's firelight was the only existence in the world.
"Hoo."
Seojun set down the hammer for a moment and caught his breath. He wiped the sweat from his brow. On one side of the workbench, five or six finished chain shackles were piled up. His pace was picking up. At this rate, he'd make the deadline with time to spare.
Just as he tried to catch a brief breather.
"Master."
A voice suddenly came from outside. Low and clear as a bell. He stopped what he was doing and looked up. A voice he knew well. Crystal clear in his memory.
"Haran?"
Seojun rose in delight. According to Baek Dongsu, Haran had gone to pay her debt. Had she returned already? He turned to peer outside.
But something felt off.
"Master... it's me..."
The familiar voice continued. But a sense of wrongness crept in. Haran never spoke aloud. It's not Haran.
Haran always spoke directly into his mind via intent. The egg ghost had no mouth. Yet this voice vibrated through the air, striking his eardrums physically. And the tone was subtly different. No trace of Haran's playful clarity. It felt dry and choppy, like a poorly recorded playback.
"Missed you... so glad... old things... hate them... Master... want to see you..."
The words rambled incoherently. Seojun's back prickled with chills as realization dawned. Whatever stood outside wasn't who he knew. Someone—or something—was mimicking Haran.
Another kaeyi.
He swallowed dryly and backed away. Glancing sideways at the Buddha's Hand Tree standing like a statue outside. But it remained still, unmoved.
No hostility?
Frowning, he stared piercingly through the shutter. In the darkness, a faint silhouette emerged. Humanoid, but eerily white. Some indistinct covering—fur? Cloth?—enveloped its form.
"Who are you?"
Seojun asked cautiously. The voice outside cut off abruptly. Suffocating silence fell.
Moments later, it spoke again.
"Busted."
This time, not Haran's voice. Childlike, oddly so. The silhouette stirred slowly. Inching toward the forge. Very slowly.
From the shadows, a white figure revealed itself. A kaeyi resembling a girl, draped in a poncho of pristine white fur. Long hair hung halfway down, red eyes gleaming between strands. A pleased smile played on her lips.
Jangsanbeom?
Seojun dimly recognized it. Far from his imaginings, but the yokai from legend that mimicked voices to bewitch people. Said to take tiger or human form—an enigmatic being. Yet this one clearly wore a human girl's shape. Though the aura pouring from it was anything but human.
The kaeyi's savage presence sharpened.
"I've been watching you."
The Jangsanbeom approached, speaking as it came. It fully emerged under the open shutter. Humming a tune, it stepped into the forge. Its form seemed both bound and unbound by rules.
"Don't go. Don't run."
The Jangsanbeom reached for Seojun. Nails sharpened to claws. Not an attack—more like a child touching a favorite toy.
Seojun instinctively retreated, back hitting the wall. But the Jangsanbeom pressed on, stopping only nose-to-nose. Her red eyes bored into his.
"I saw you first."
Incomprehensible words. But jealousy laced her voice.
"Before that faceless girl. Before that club-wielding granny. I saw you first. Way before."
Seojun couldn't make sense of it. Probably referring to Haran and Doyokshini. She'd been watching him before them? Since when?
"Make something for me too."
The Jangsanbeom's eyes sparkled as she surveyed the forge. Displayed gear, roaring furnace flames, tools on the bench. Everything delighted her like a kid in a candy store.
"You made a mask for the faceless girl. Gear for the granny's minions. Give me something. Everyone but me."
Whining like a spoiled child. But beneath the petulance lurked chilling obsession. Refusing might provoke who-knows-what.
Still...
Seojun eased his tension slightly. No immediate murderous intent. The Buddha's Hand Tree's stillness confirmed safety.
"What do you want?"
At his cautious question, the Jangsanbeom grinned wide. She fiddled with her endlessly long hair. White fur and locks tangled in a mess.
"This. It's so tangled, it hurts. Comb it out for me."
She wanted a comb, evidently. Seojun carefully examined her hair. Each strand sharp as wire. No ordinary comb would do. It'd snap or cut skin mid-stroke.
"Understood."
Not impossible. He nodded. No point refusing anyway. Better to satisfy her fully.
Needs to be metal. Sturdy and smooth.
Ougum was too heavy. Yin Iron too vicious. Something gentle yet strong enough for her energy.
Silver.
Silver filtered poisons and purified energies. Mix in a touch of Spirit Iron for durability.
He tossed silver ingots and Spirit Iron scraps into the crucible. Placed it atop the rising violet yo hwa. Without a fusion forge, the silver and Spirit Iron melted, blending into a subtle blue-tinged liquid.
Can't forge a comb by hand.
Seojun poured the molten metal into a flat mold. As it cooled, the watching Jangsanbeom squatted nearby. Staring intently—uncomfortably so.
"So cool. Pretty fire."
She murmured at the violet yo hwa. Her childlike whims unpredictable. Seojun gave up pondering and focused.
The cooled flat metal became a plate. Clamped in the vise, he wielded the grinder.
Vrrr—
The grinder sheared and shaped the plate swiftly—far faster than forging. In moments, a half-moon comb form emerged.
But not done. He meticulously refined each tooth with wire. Rounded the tips to spare skin. Etched vine patterns on the surface. Finally, polished to a mirror sheen.
"Finished."
Seojun handed over the comb. Bluish-silver gleam. Spirit Iron's aura added mystique.
"Mine alone..."
The Jangsanbeom took it gingerly. Brought it slowly to her hair.
Swish.
Tangled fur untangled like magic. Gliding smoothly, no snags. Each pass rang with clear metallic chimes—like song.
"Wow..."
The Jangsanbeom's face lit up. Beaming like a child, she kept combing. Tamed fur revealed her beauty. Pale, ethereal girl.
"Love it. Really."
She clutched the comb dear. Looked up at Seojun. Red eyes full of fondness.
"Thanks, Master."
Suddenly, she grabbed his hand. Cool yet soft touch. Her nail grazed his palm. Not painful, but odd.
"That time... you struggled, right?"
Out-of-nowhere words. Seojun eyed her quizzically.
"Looked real tough when you were possessed."
How did she know? Only Haran and Doyokshini were there. Wait—thinking back, there was a familiar voice.
"I cheered you on. To win."
She smiled shyly.
"I was watching the whole time."
Seojun stared blankly. The voice from the darkness. You can do it. No hallucination or subconscious. The girl before him—the Jangsanbeom.
"You're mine, Master."
She flashed a satisfied grin. Pocketed the comb and stood.
"See you later."
She sauntered out. Her form melted into the night. Darkness receded like a tide, moon rising in her wake.