The Overflowing Vessel
A high-pitched ringing pierced his ears—jiing—and Seojun jolted awake, the world looking utterly alien.
What the hell...
The fluorescent lights blazed like suns, while the workbench and anvil around him seemed drab and colorless. Amid the confusion of this changed world, a fierce thirst hit him. He grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge and chugged it down. The thirst vanished in an instant, giving him the leisure to look around—and there, behind the fridge, he spotted something glowing faintly red.
Am I seeing infrared or something? Seojun doubted his own thoughts but couldn't deny it. When he flicked off the fluorescent switch, the glow faded quickly.
"This is real..."
The sudden change deepened his bewilderment. But he quickly pinpointed the cause.
Monster Affinity: 5%
If there was a change in him, it had to be tied to kaeyi. The problem was, knowing the cause didn't offer a solution.
How... how do I...
The looping thoughts numbed his reason. That numbness awakened instinct, and from the pile of scrap metal in the forge's corner came a low woong-woong—noises of varying wavelengths. They sounded like the screams of iron, or a clamor begging to be hammered.
"Alright, I'll forge you."
Seojun stopped thinking and moved his feet. He effortlessly lifted the scrap heap weighing hundreds of kilograms, set it before the furnace, and lit the fire.
Shaaaak—the mechanical bellows kicked in, stirring the air. He stared at the roaring flames, endlessly feeding in coal (coke).
Hwaruruk—undeterred by the searing heat, he waited for the right moment. He could judge the fire with his own eyes now.
Now...
As if entranced, Seojun thrust the scrap into the furnace. The metal heated, turning from red to a brilliant yellow-white. He grabbed tongs, pulled out the glowing scrap, and laid it on the anvil. With his other hand, he hefted the hammer and swung with all his might.
Taang!
A clear metallic ring echoed, and the hammering began. But unlike usual, taang!—after just a few strikes, the iron oxide on the scrap scattered. At the same time, the metal's internal structure shifted rapidly.
"This is it..."
A grotesque smile crept across Seojun's lips. Watching the metal yield to his will—crumpling and stretching—felt like becoming a god, crafting the world anew. The thrill was intoxicating.
Tang! Tang! Tang!
The pace quickened. A bizarre red haze rose from his entire body, but lost in the trance, he didn't notice.
Harder. Sharper. More.
The scrap had lost its original form, taking shape as a sinister awl exuding chill menace. But Seojun didn't stop. He wasn't satisfied. He wanted to push it beyond its limits, until it shattered. Reason was numb; only a mania-like obsession remained.
Suddenly—takak. Takak.
A rhythmic wooden clack echoed from somewhere. It should have been drowned by the hammer strikes, yet it burrowed into his ears.
Takak. Takak.
The sound of wooden clogs on the floor. Or dry firewood clattering.
Kkaang!
The intrusive noise shattered his rhythm. Regaining a sliver of sanity, Seojun turned toward the entrance.
A customer stood there, arrival unnoticed. He wore a white hemp jeogori and pants, a red sash at his waist, a long pipe in hand, and a wooden mask carved on his face. Drooping eye corners, mouth stretched wide in laughter—a face any Korean would recognize.
Hahoe Mask?
The Hahoe Mask grinned, but the aura beyond it was far from amused. A cold, dry wind swept into the forge.
The voice emerged without moving the mask's mouth—a creaky groan like twisting wood.
Seojun stared blankly, hammer still gripped tight.
"...Who are you?"
The Hahoe Mask pointed his pipe at Seojun.
With that, the Hahoe Mask lightly tapped the workbench corner with his pipe.
Dak!
A crisp crack rang out. In that instant, the red fog filling Seojun's mind cleared.
"Huck!"
Seojun screamed and dropped the hammer.
Clang.
The hammer hit the floor. His eyes fell on the thing atop the anvil. It was no longer scrap—just a grotesquely twisted abomination, its surface hideously warped, brimming with malice. He could almost feel the metal's agony.
What have I... done?
Cold sweat poured like rain. The euphoria from moments ago was gone, replaced by bone-chilling shivers and nausea. It hadn't felt like handling iron; more like being manipulated by something.
The Hahoe Mask approached, hands behind his back. The mask's grinning face seemed oddly distorted—mocking, perhaps, or pitying.
Seojun leaned on the workbench, gasping raggedly.
"I... must've lost my mind for a bit."
The Hahoe Mask picked up the abomination from the anvil.
Seojun nodded silently. Egg Ghost, Net Bag Grandpa, Kappa, Vampire. Too many kaeyi in too short a time.
The explanation was clear. Monster Affinity 5%. He was getting closer to kaeyi.
"Then... what happens to me? Do I become a kaeyi?"
Seojun's voice trembled. The Hahoe Mask put the pipe in his mouth and puffed.
No smoke emerged, but a acrid scent of burning wood filled the air.
He removed the pipe and tapped Seojun's chest.
"Dream...?"
As if emerging from a dream, the world around Seojun crumbled. The realm of light and drabness vanished, colors flooding back to normal.
"Ah!"
Now he truly saw the Hahoe Mask—overwhelming pressure unlike any other kaeyi, like facing an ancient, massive tree trunk.
The Hahoe Mask flicked his pipe against Seojun's forehead in disapproval. The momentary daze shattered, mind sharpening.
"Haran?"
The first visitor flashed in his mind—the Egg Ghost who'd requested a mask.
The Hahoe Mask puffed his pipe, surveying the forge—specifically, the byproducts from kaeyi clients.
"...I'll be careful."
He wandered the forge, tapping out his pipe. Dark red ash fell, dissolving into space.
The Hahoe Mask patted his mask.
Up close, fine cracks marred the mask, especially at the laughing mouth—traces of ages past.
Seojun pondered special materials.
"Any preferred materials?"
The Hahoe Mask slipped a hand under his chin and removed the mask. Seojun held his breath, bracing for horror—an egg-smooth face or monstrosity. But beneath was nothing. Literal void.
The voice came from the void. Seojun quickly took the mask. The wood's texture warmed his fingertips, carrying the heat of aged timber and echoes of countless joys and sorrows.
With utmost sincerity.
Seojun sat at the workbench, picking the finest sandpaper.
Shuk, shuk, shuk.
He gently abraded the surface, flaking paint and grime revealing the wood's true grain. For the cracked mouth, he mixed glue and sawdust, filling seamlessly along the wood's lines.
His eyes deepened with focus—not the prior madness, but a craftsman's calm immersion.
Capture the sorrow hidden behind the smile.
The Hahoe Mask's charm lay in its ambiguity: laughing or weeping depending on the angle. He honed his fingertips to preserve those subtle curves.
Finally, urushi lacquer. He dipped the brush in dark red lacquer.
Swik, sak.
Deep luster bloomed in the brush's wake—subtle, bearing the weight of years, not garish.
My best.
Seojun held the mask to the light. Cracks gone, a soft sheen animated the expression vividly.
"All done."
He handed it over. An empty sleeve in midair accepted it.
The mask spun in the air.
The Hahoe Mask donned it again at face level.
Takak.
It clicked into place crisply.
Satisfied, he rummaged in his bosom.
From his red sash, he drew a small bundle of horsehair.
Seojun took the horsehair bundle. It felt more precious than special, bringing mental stability.
The Hahoe Mask swung his pipe once and turned.
Takak. Takak.
The wooden clogs faded into silence.
Caaak—only a distant crow's cry lingered.
"Discard... or endure..."
Seojun gazed at the mangled abomination on the anvil—the warped result of sudden kaeyi-ization. Proof of how desperately he'd need to cling to sanity to avoid being consumed.
"Won't be easy, but..."
Seojun murmured low. No thought of fleeing. He'd already stepped in, tasted the infinite potential of kaeyi materials. As a blacksmith, he couldn't resist that temptation.
Only one path remained.
"I'll endure."
Seojun retied his work apron. He took the abomination, heated it in the furnace, and hammered with resolve.
Tang. Tang.
He faced the kaeyi head-on.