Rock Mushrooms, Pheasant Soup, and a Black Stone
It looked like Grandpa Hosik had finished dressing the pheasant. I hurried out to the backyard carrying the meat I'd seasoned with salt and pepper.
"There you are. I was wondering where you'd gotten to."
Grandpa Hosik, who was placing the dressed pheasant into the cauldron and filling it with water, glanced over at me. "What's with all the stuff you're hauling out here?"
"I'm going to make skewers."
"Skewers?"
"Yes — ginkgo nuts, chicken, beef, scallions, mushrooms. Thread it all on thick and grill it over charcoal, and I bet it'll be delicious."
Abe gave a faint smile. "Master, thank you. I will eat well."
'Then go light that fire over there. Grandpa's wearing himself out trying to get it started.'
Grandpa Hosik had cooked his meals over a wood fire his whole life, but coaxing a flame out of damp firewood was no easy feat.
Even on clear days, the mountain valley was wrapped in thick fog morning and night, the air heavy with the moisture the trees gave off. I hadn't known it before I lived in the mountains — that a house built close to the forest could never fully escape the damp. 'Even firewood stacked upright to dry turns clammy sooner or later.' That was exactly why the mushrooms grew so well here. A quick trip up the hill before making doenjang stew was enough to come back with both arms full of oyster mushrooms and bush clover mushrooms.
'Which is why I bought a fire-starting accelerant to help the wood catch — and it looks like I just used up the last of it.'
"Would you… kindly ask Grandfather to step back from the stove for a moment?"
'Sure, got it.'
As I spoke to Grandpa Hosik, Abe eased back from the firebox. "So, um, the film crew asked us to promote the mushroom farm, you see."
"Oh, oh, is that right?"
"We'd love to get your mushrooms on camera too, sir."
"Come film them whenever you like. You're working yourself ragged to put Pyeongcheong County on the map — you think I'd say no to one little thing?"
"Thank you, sir."
Just then Abe murmured an incantation and gave a quick push of his palm. In that instant, flames roared up from the firebox that had been doing nothing but belching smoke.
"Well, I'll be — it caught all on its own!"
"I think it was the wind."
"You think so?"
A breeze had just come sweeping up from the lower end of the village. "Reckon you're right, then."
Grandpa Hosik went back to the stove, topped the cauldron off with water, and clapped the lid on. "Now then — shall we wash these rock mushrooms?"
True to their name, the rock mushrooms looked like moss wedged into stone. Because they grew pressed flat and clinging tight to the rock, refusing to let go, they were caked with grit. Grandpa Hosik carefully washed the mushrooms, which had been soaking so the dirt would sink to the bottom of the basin.
'Well then, shall I show off a little too?'
"Chai!" I called him over and told him to start threading ingredients onto the skewers.
"Chai is only putting beef on. That way Chai gets lots of meat."
"Nope, it won't cook through like that. And you need to eat vegetables to stay healthy."
"Chai ate only grass his whole life. Because poor."
Sometimes I swear that boy plays up the pity-poor act to get what he wants.
"You eat meat at every meal these days. And beef alone on a skewer tastes bland — it doesn't even cook through to the middle."
"Raw meat is scary, though?"
"Exactly."
I threaded beef, scallion, mushrooms, and carrot onto a skewer in even layers as I talked. "Do it like I'm doing. That way you get plenty of fully cooked meat — and vegetables too."
"Yes!"
Chai was remarkably quick with his hands. In the time it took me to finish one skewer, he'd knocked out three, then four, and a tidy mountain of them began to pile up.
Meanwhile the pheasant baeksuk came to a rolling boil in the cauldron and threatened to bubble right over the rim. Ssss — Grandpa Hosik lifted the lid with a rag and slipped in the briefly blanched rock mushrooms. A nutty aroma, something like chicken soup but wilder, set everyone's appetite alight. I stole a peek inside the cauldron: the pheasant was cooking away in a milky-white broth.
"How much longer until the pheasant's done, sir?"
"Fire's running hot — give it twenty more minutes and it should be ready to eat."
"Then I'll start on the skewers. We need to cook rice too."
I ladled the already-soaked rice into a pot and set it on the burner, then loaded charcoal into the brazier and began grilling straight away. Sssss — the oil brushed onto the grill sizzled and smoked as the beef, mushrooms, ginkgo nuts, and carrots on the skewers slowly cooked through.
'Even the smell is delicious.'
I rolled the skewers gently, keeping the ingredients from burning.
"Looks fun! Chai wants to do it."
"Go ahead."
I taught Chai how to grill the skewers, then ducked inside and came back from the fridge with sake and soju. When I stepped into the yard again, dusk had settled, so I flipped on the lights. The LED bulbs strung along the fence glowed to life, casting a warm light across the backyard.
"Oh, wow!" The exclamation slipped out of me all on its own.
Grandpa Hosik tending the fire by the stove, Chai grilling skewers at the low wooden table — and beneath that table, a row of kittens sat at rapt, absolute attention, eyes locked on Chai. They looked ready to snatch anything he happened to drop and bolt with it.
"Whiiiew!" I whistled to turn the kittens toward me, then scooped kibble into their bowls. "Mi-yang."
"Aaaang."
"Mi-yaong."
The kittens trotted over, sat politely in front of their bowls, and waited for my signal. "Eat!" At my command, they buried their faces in the kibble. Chomp-chomp-chomp. Crunch-crunch.
Third Wife, who'd been sprawled out loafing all this while, rose and went to each of her kittens in turn, licking their heads clean. 'Moments like this, I have to admit — they are pretty cute.'
Number 1 had told me our village was shaped like the Haechi topography — that this place had very likely been used since ancient times to round up and pen in ghosts. The barrier had supposedly broken in the war, letting the trapped spirits scatter outside while outside things tried to push their way in, which meant trouble would keep cropping up. That was why, he said, he'd sired the Twelve Shin, splitting off his own power to guard against it.
"Eat up, little ones. And hurry up and get independent, kids." I truly hoped they'd strike out on their own soon. Not because I believed the Twelve Shin would protect the village — but because only once they were independent could I use the Seonlum as freely as before.
"Huh? Something smells delicious!" It was Bang Seongeun's voice. Bang Jeongsoo was nowhere in sight, so I gathered he'd gone to pick her up after class — and instead of heading home, the two of them had come straight here, to my place.
"Uncle, where are you?"
She seemed to be looking for me, so I stepped out of the Seonlum. "Over here."
"Uncle, look at this. Look!" Bang Seongeun bounced on her toes, holding out her phone. "Hm? What is it? Ah — the Segok-ri Reservoir premiere? Funny enough, Seo Jinwoo called me about that. He's inviting us to the VIP screening."
"When is it?"
"When was it, again?" The call had come while I was out hunting for treasure in Hwacheon, so we hadn't talked long. Quick-witted as ever, Seo Jinwoo had sensed I couldn't focus and said he'd text me the schedule instead.
"Hold on." I rummaged through my phone and found his message. "Next Friday, ten p.m.?"
"VIP screenings are always at night. And I heard there's an after-party afterward."
Bang Seongeun wriggled her fingers and looked up at me, and her eyes were so pleading I couldn't bring myself to play dumb. "Alright, alright. You want us to go together, right?"
"Yes!"
"Then let's make it the whole family — your mom and dad and Seonghyeon too. How's that?"
"Yay! Really? The whole family gets to go? Really really?"
I smiled and nodded. "He said I can bring anyone from the village who wants to come to the screening. The movie was filmed in our village, after all."
"This is so exciting!" Bang Seongeun hopped up and down on the spot.
"Then, um, I'll be sure to finish the field work early that day." For all his giddiness at the prospect of his first family outing in ages, Bang Jeongsoo was determined not to let the farm work slip.
"Good. Oh — if you haven't eaten yet, join us."
"Ah-hee, no, no. I'll eat with my wife. Seongeun, you—"
"I'm eating here! Uncle, that's okay, right?"
"Of course."
I patted Bang Seongeun's head, then filled a basket with the ungrilled skewers and handed it to Bang Jeongsoo. "Share these with Mak-sun Halmeoni."
"Oh! We're always leeching off you. This feels like too much."
Just then Grandpa Hosik came over carrying a pot of the pheasant baeksuk. "Think of it as a debt, and pay it back next time by gathering some acorns and making us suot-muk." In Grandpa Hosik's book, even with not a penny to your name, a willing heart was all it took for neighbors to look after one another.
"Yes, sir. We'll enjoy it."
Bang Jeongsoo bowed deeply, the pot and basket cradled in both hands.
"Off you go, then. Seongeun, did you look after the hens properly while your grandpa was away?"
"Yes! They laid lots of eggs, and I ate every single one!"
"Ah-hee, good girl, good girl."
Grandpa Hosik fished a fifty-thousand-won bill out of his rock-mushroom earnings and pressed it into Bang Seongeun's hand. "For your hard work."
"Heheh! Thank you!" She took the money, unfolded it wide, and hollered toward her father. "Dad! I earned money! Grandpa paid me for taking such good care of the hens!"
"Oh, that's great, sweetheart." Watching her glow, Bang Jeongsoo wore the smile of a proud father.
"Right — shall we start getting dinner ready?"
"I'll set the table!" At my words, Bang Seongeun rolled up her sleeves.
The smell of grilling skewers wafted thick across the backyard while the pheasant baeksuk burbled away on one side. I hadn't eaten a single bite yet, and already I felt full — warm clear through, as if I'd downed a bowl of hot soup.
"Rock mushrooms have this wonderfully snappy, springy bite — no wonder they're such a pricey ingredient, huh?"
The pheasant wasn't fatty, but its clean, savory depth seemed a good two times richer than chicken's. The more I chewed the springy meat, the more nuttiness bloomed on my tongue. The rock mushrooms swirling in the deep broth had a gloriously toothsome chew — less like drinking the soup, more like eating it.
"Ahh, that's good."
Whenever the pheasant's clean flavor edged toward rich, I'd tear off strips of aged kimchi, drape them over my rice, and take a bite. The moment my palate cleared, I'd pull beef and vegetables off a skewer and chew. The charcoal-kissed beef, the sweet scallion, the faintly bitter ginkgo nuts — they went together beautifully.
"Wow, Chai! My stomach's turning into a frog's belly."
"I have overeaten today, I surely have."
"Me too."
Grandpa Hosik, a famously light eater, and Bang Seongeun alike patted their rounded bellies and smiled. Everyone had waved the white flag claiming they couldn't eat another bite — everyone except Abe, who worked his way through the leftover skewers to the very last one. What he was really eating was the energy steeped into the skewers, the qi of the food itself — but he could taste every bit of it too. That was the same reason Number 1 went weak in the knees over sweet cake.
'Abe, I'll make these for you again sometime. Don't overdo it, though.'
"There is no need, Master. This once is more than enough."
Abe gazed at me with shining, moved eyes, then took a sip of sake. He looked so forlorn somehow that I poured him another.
"Ah-hee, I ought to be heading home soon." Grandpa Hosik rubbed his heavy eyelids and rose to his feet. "You must be worn out — go wash up and get some sleep."
"What am I to do about all these dishes, then?"
"Don't worry about that. Chai's doing them."
At that, Chai — mid belly-pat — jumped as if scalded and stared at me. "Me? Me, why?"
"Whoever ate the most does the dishes. Isn't that right, Seongeun?"
"Yes! I'm one hundred percent on Uncle's team!"
"Seongeun is mean."
Chai stuck out his lips in a pout. Laughing, I helped Grandpa Hosik up. He'd had a bit more rice wine than usual today, and I meant to see him home.
"Sir, I'll walk you as far as the gate."
"No need, I can manage on my own. You get your rest too — you must be tired."
Grandpa Hosik waved me off and reached for his mesh sack — and fumbled it, picking it up upside down so the stones inside clattered out. "Aigoo, look at that. Seems I've been lugging these around all this time instead of throwing them out."
"Wait — this one!"
It was a jet-black pebble. And to my eyes, unmistakably, the words One Hundred Nine Thousand flashed across it before vanishing.
"What's the matter? You know this stone?"
"Where did this come from?"
"I was out picking rock mushrooms, and it was sitting right on top of a little mound of bulged-up earth — looked curious, so I brought it home. Why, what of it?"
I held the pebble up to the light. In size and shape, it matched the One Hundred Nine Thousand stone in my possession exactly, as if stamped from the same mold.
"Collecting rocks like this, are you? Then keep it."
"I'll hold on to it for now and give it back to you."
"Give it back? I only grabbed it meaning to toss it in the peony bed. It's yours."
Grandpa Hosik flapped his hand dismissively and started off across the front yard.
"Grandpa! I'll walk you home. Uncle, I'm going! Good night, Mr. Chai!"
"Why is the boss 'Uncle' and I'm just 'Mister'?" Chai made a face like he was about to cry. I watched Grandpa Hosik and Bang Seongeun disappear down the path, then went inside.
When I compared the pebble with the one I already had, they were identical — same stone, same stamp. 'This definitely popped right out of the entrance to the underworld.'
And in that instant, something Jo Eun-sun had said came back to me.
Jo Eun-sun had known I was carrying the pebble marked with those words.
Both her eyes, when she'd said that, had burned with pure obsession.
'What on earth can this stone actually be used for?'
It was clearly something enormously important — and yet, with no idea of its purpose, I was left holding a mystery in the palm of my hand.