The Crown Prince Ghost's Bell
Fake kaeyi?
"...Sintanjae?" Seojun muttered the unfamiliar name, his guard instantly up. The little girl before him wore a colorful patchwork hanbok with a bright red skirt, her hair neatly braided into twin loops. But there was nothing cute about her—instead, she exuded an eerie wrongness. Her feet didn't touch the ground; she floated lightly in the air. And her skin was a sickly pale blue, her eyes pitch-black voids without a hint of white.
Taejagwi.
A child ghost born from a young one's grudge, one that shamans revered as a sacred spirit tablet. Among them, the most potent and dangerous.
"Mister smells just like Uncle Sintanjae." The Taejagwi sniffed around him, circling playfully. Her movements were as light as walking on air.
"But... spicier? Like something burned, too."
Seojun gripped his hammer tighter. With his kaeyi transformation still active, he could vividly sense her overwhelming presence. If the Hahoe Mask was beyond measure, the Taejagwi teetered right at the edge of what he could gauge.
"I don't know who this Sintanjae is, but we're closed. Go home."
Seojun forced his voice to stay even. The Taejagwi burst into a tinkling giggle.
"Liar. You're the kaeyi blacksmith, right? Gotta take commissions if you're a kaeyi blacksmith."
Her face turned serious as she floated right up to him, those black eyes boring into his. Seojun flinched back, crushed by the vast gap in their presences.
"Make one for me too."
She switched to a wheedling tone, like a child throwing a tantrum—but it carried real weight. Refusing felt like it could spark disaster.
"Make what?"
"A bell."
She pulled something from her waistband: a dented, rusted bronze bell, like part of a shaman's ritual rattle.
"It doesn't ring anymore. It's gone mute."
She shook it. Clink, clink. Just the dull scrape of metal on metal. No clear, resonant chime.
"Make me a new one. One that rings so far it reaches the afterlife."
Seojun hesitated. A bell's sound wasn't just about shaping metal. Thickness, alloy ratios, internal spacing—all had to harmonize perfectly. And one that echoed to the underworld? Impossible.
"Got any materials?"
"This."
She opened her mouth wide. A single bead popped out, landing cold and slick-free in his palm. Jet-black.
"The tear I shed when I died."
Chills ran down his spine. Clearly meant as the bell's clapper. It felt like it really could ring to the afterlife.
"...You got payment?"
Seojun asked gruffly. Deals with kaeyi demanded compensation.
The Taejagwi tilted her head, then fished out a crumpled sheet of paper.
"No money... but I got this. Uncle Sintanjae said to give it to the next kaeyi blacksmith I met."
It was yellowed hanji paper, inked with crude drawings: a hammer, anvil, will-o'-the-wisp flames. At the bottom, a short phrase.
[Kaeyi Smith's Path]
Seojun knew instantly. This was Sintanjae's provision for a fellow kaeyi blacksmith. Its exact purpose was unknown, but its value was clear.
"Deal."
He pocketed the rusted bell and black bead, heading to his workbench.
A bell...
Plain bronze couldn't handle the bead's energy. The cold it emitted would shatter the metal. His eyes drifted to the workbench corner: scraps from the froststone shield, and the shadow thread from Net Bag Grandpa.
Mix them.
He set the crucible in the forge, adding froststone fragments and leftover paektong from the warehouse. Paektong for clarity of tone, froststone for durability against the bead's chill.
Whoosh!
Flames roared. With kaeyi transformation active, he read the fire's colors. Melt the paektong to liquid, vaporize the froststone just before—fuse in that instant.
Now.
He dripped in leftover egg ghost byproduct jelly. Sizzle— The reluctant metal and stone bonded through the jelly. The molten mix turned pale white with a faint blue sheen.
Seojun poured it into molds for ingots, cooling them just enough before slamming onto the anvil.
Clang!
The clear ring of paektong alloy filled the forge. The Taejagwi perched on the workbench, swinging her legs as she watched.
"Whoa, like fireworks!"
Each hammer strike sparked red embers—oxidized film flaking off the hot metal like fireflies.
Clang!
He hammered the ingot paper-thin. Thinner meant sharper, farther-carrying sound—but too thin, and it would shatter. Finding the balance was key.
He sheared the sheet into uniform pieces with heavy shears, then shaped them delicately with tongs and a small hammer. Breath held to avoid mistakes.
In the quiet work, he fitted the black bead inside.
It resonates.
The metal's vibration matched the bead's tremor. The sound the metal craved, the scream the bead could unleash—tuned into one note.
Finally, he twisted shadow thread into a loop and cord for the bell's handle.
"Done."
Seojun picked up the finished bell bare-handed, skipping the water quench. The froststone kept it inherently cold. As it cooled in the air, white frost patterns bloomed across its surface like flowers.
"Here."
The Taejagwi snatched it midair. Thumb-sized, roughly made, but the silvery surface and chilling aura lent it mystery.
She shook it. Ting—
The audible sound was faint. But—
Hummm—
The forge air pulsed with waves. An inaudible echo pierced obstacles, spreading into the night sky. A sound to stir souls, summon the dead.
"Perfect! So perfect!"
The Taejagwi beamed, her smile purely childlike, devoid of eeriness.
"Now Mom can hear the bell too!"
She clutched it close, then hopped down giggling.
"Mister!"
"Yeah?"
"You absolutely can't become a real kaeyi!"
"What?"
She vanished through the door, leaving only the promised hanji paper.
"Real kaeyi...?"
Seojun pondered deeply, then slumped. Kaeyi transformation faded, the drab world collapsing. Colors returned—and he saw his blood-crusted hands, stained dark red.
"Huh...?"
Tracing the source, he found scabs in his eyes, nose, ears. Awareness brought crashing pain and exhaustion, organs twisting, eyelids heavy.
"Damn it..."
"Gah—!"
Seojun jolted awake, gasping deep. Throat irritation triggered coughs, black clots spewing out. After several rounds, his head cleared.
"...Almost died, huh?"
Stumbling up, the devastation hit: dried bloodstains, forge in chaos like a crime scene. Habitual urge to clean surged, but—gurgle—hunger overrode it.
He raided the fridge for calorie-dense snacks, shoving them down. Still ravenous, he thawed pork belly and wolfed it grilled, tearing strips combat-style until his stomach relented.
"Ah, feels like living again."
Regaining composure, he tidied while reflecting.
Probably...
The blood waterfall? Kaeyi transformation. Cumulative fatigue and kaeyi byproducts played a role, but minor. He'd weathered worse.
Side effect of prolonged kaeyi transformation.
Curiosity spiked about his Monster Affinity stat.
Resonance Value Increased
Monster Affinity: 7%
As expected, the kaeyi system showed the rise. 2% in a day—catastrophic, but—bang bang! Shutter knocks snapped him out of it.
"Boss! You there?"
Han Yura's voice. Tidying mostly done, he raised the shutter. Morning sun blinded him.
"Your face... like you pulled all-nighters for days..."
Han Yura's eyes widened like a startled rabbit. Guild Master Park Cheolwoo and Vice Guild Master Lee Sujin followed, faces worried.
"Pushed too hard working."
"That much..."
"No need to worry. The item's done."
Seojun nodded to the cloth-covered shield on the bench. Park Cheolwoo peeled it back tensely.
"...!"
Gasp from all three. A massive silvery tower shield, etched with living frost patterns, chill wafting even from afar.
Park hefted it—heavy, but grip surprisingly good.
"Infuse mana."
Whirr—
Frost patterns glowed blue; a white chill barrier formed around it.
"This...!"
Lee Sujin reached out, then pulled back.
"Chill force field? Emits cold to offset impacts."
"Exactly. Made it usable anywhere, no dungeon limits."
Park marveled.
"Beyond expectations. A masterpiece. B-grade—no, A-grade artifact quality."
He pulled out his checkbook, poised to double the agreed sum and add zeros.
"Can't lowball this or the industry's rep would tank. And..."
He offered a business card.
"Could you be our guild's exclusive smith? Terms whatever you want."
Tempting. Steady income, prestige from a mid-tier guild.
But Seojun shook his head.
"Sorry, exclusive won't work."
"...Mind sharing why?"
"Already tied elsewhere."
He kept it vague—couldn't reveal kaeyi clients.
"Understood. But we'll always prioritize you. Yura, gear maintenance here from now on."
"Yes sir!"
Han Yura saluted crisply. Deal closed swiftly, satisfactorily. Guild left; Seojun alone again. Bank balance soared.
But his mind circled the unfinished thought.
Don't become a real kaeyi...?
Puzzled, he pulled out the Taejagwi's gift.
[Kaeyi Smith's Path]
No clue how to use the hanji marked [Kaeyi Smith's Path]. But it felt like it held answers to his questions.