Arita and Fukuoka — 5
For someone with Chika's level of spiritual power, dealing with even a single evil spirit would have been a struggle.
So when dozens of them came swarming toward her, terror seized her and she squeezed her eyes shut.
But then—
"Hahaha! Uncle, look at me! I'm dancing, see?"
Somehow she coaxed the hidden evil spirits out, shaking her bells and dancing for all she was worth.
Dring-dring-dring.
The sound of bells, and Chika's laughter. As she swayed, sleeves fluttering, the evil spirits came twisting out of hiding, black as pitch.
Now!
She had been told to tear the talisman the moment the spirits possessed her body. But I judged this to be the perfect moment instead.
Chika could get hurt. Better to end this here and now.
Having the spirits gathered in one place like this was a huge help anyway.
Sriiitch! I ripped the talisman and scattered it into the air.
"Ugh!"
Chika crumpled like a pile of straw.
[Wooo. Wooooo.]
The evil spirits—the very ones who had tormented her and finally lunged in to kill her—plunged into utter confusion. Apparently they now perceived Chika as one of the dead.
"Abe, let's begin. No. 1 stays here—track down any spirits still hiding and eat every last one."
[Heh! See? Told you it was a good idea for me to come along.]
No. 1 transformed into black smoke and began swelling in size, looking for all the world ready to swallow Chika's house and the entire surrounding forest in one gulp.
Chanting an incantation, I flung out more talismans and at the same time charged straight for the center where the spirits were massed.
The talismans whirled up on the wind and linked together into a wall, raising a barrier around us.
[That Joseon man is wielding onmyoji sorcery.]
Sharp one, aren't you?
It was a barrier-casting spell Abe had never even taught Cho Eun-sun—and I had already mastered it.
The spirits that had tried to slip out of the barrier couldn't break through the wall. They were thrown back, slammed against it, and sent sprawling.
What followed was sheer pandemonium. It was as if I had dropped a drop of blood into a pond to draw the leeches, then thrown a plastic bag over the whole lot of them.
The catch being that two salt dolls—enough to melt leeches down to nothing—were inside that bag. For leeches about to be dissolved alive, eyes rolling back was only natural.
[We're trapped! That Joseon man has caged us in!]
[There's an onmyoji here. I can feel the power of a potent spell.]
[What do we do?! Those things are going to kill us!]
Yes. Correct on all counts.
Unless I dissolved this barrier, not a single one of them was getting out. I intended to annihilate every spirit in here—and to make it hurt, badly.
Abe.
Pulling more talismans from my jacket, I flung them skyward as I called to him.
[Yes, my lord.]
Abe swept his arms, channeling his energy into the chant.
[Gwimun Yeokjeongyeol — the Demon Gate Reversal Art. Urgently, urgently, as the law commands!]
The air inside the barrier began to churn. A vortex formed, spinning the demon gate in reverse.
After all, the other side of a mirror is a mirror too.
Apparitions of the evil spirits as they had been in life began to form, slipping back out through the gate.
I tore the last of my talismans, scattering the pieces into the air as I shouted the incantation.
"Saengjeon Hoisangyeol — the Lifetime Memory Recall Art!"
CRACK-BOOM!
A lightning bolt split the air inside the barrier. Like a surge of static electricity, hair rose straight up into the air.
Pajik! Then came a vision of the heavens themselves being torn in two.
This is it—this is the place!
Densuke, the master potter, rubbed his eyes and looked around.
The humid sea breeze drifting in from Imari Port brushed across his face, so vivid it made his skin tingle.
"What... what is this?"
He touched his eyes, his nose, then spread out both hands and stared. Warmth. Living warmth.
I'm alive!
He lifted his gaze to the workshop. Disciples filled the space, sweating buckets as they wedged clay and spun their wheels.
Then... abducting that Joseon potter's child and killing her—it was all a dream?
As if being caught for that crime hadn't been bad enough, the porcelain he had poured his soul into had been graded third-rate. In the end he'd been beheaded and left to wander the underworld as a ghost.
"Haha. Hahaha!"
So it had been one long, miserable dream. Or no—perhaps the god of earth and fire had granted him a vision, a warning not to make the same mistake again.
"Kuro!"
He beckoned with his chin to Kuro, the disciple he trusted as his own right hand.
"Yes, Master."
"When you abduct Kim Sundol's child, bring the woman back with her. She bore a child to a Joseon man, so we'll stuff them into the kiln together as offerings. That seems fitting."
"Abduct Kim Sundol as well, Master. Time and again he has produced white porcelain that surpasses yours—"
SLAP! Densuke struck Kuro across the cheek before speaking.
"Do you not understand that the Joseon potters stick together? Lay a hand on one of them and the rest will swear never to shape another piece of white porcelain again."
"Filthy vermin, the lot of them—"
Kuro spat blood-flecked saliva and cursed every Joseon potter indiscriminately. It had been Densuke's hand that struck him, yet he ground his teeth in hatred all the same, blaming the Joseon potters for everything.
"The only reason they can fire porcelain without a single flaw is that they put human bones in the clay. Now that you know the method too, Master, you will create the perfect white porcelain yourself."
"Yes."
Only now did Densuke's mood lift. He twisted his lips into a smile.
"His child and wife already went into the kiln alive. Even if they lived, what joy could there be for them? No—a fate worse than a swift death. That is the truest vengeance."
"Indeed. Tonight, then, I will abduct Kim Sundol's child and wife. As it happens, tonight is the night we light the Joseon potters' kilns."
At Kuro's words, Densuke burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! He'll be away from home, staring at his firewood blazing through the night. Serves him right."
Densuke had thrown back his head and was still laughing when it came.
[Now the real show begins. Enjoy the bonfire.]
A man's voice, as if whispered directly against the inside of his eardrum.
"Who's there!"
He shot to his feet bellowing—and in that brief instant, the sky went black.
KA-CHAK! A bolt of lightning slashed a seam across the heavens, and the ground shuddered.
GUWORORUNG! The earth roared as though an earthquake had struck.
Startled out of his wits, he tried to rise—but his body wouldn't move.
"Mmph?! Mmmph-mmmph!"
His mouth was gagged, his arms and legs bound tight. He couldn't so much as twitch.
How did this happen?
He rolled his eyes desperately. Right beside him, an old woman knelt with her head bowed low. Somewhere, somehow, the figure looked familiar.
Mmmph-mmmph?
Mother?
The woman who had borne and raised him was bound tight, blood trickling from a wound on her head.
A sound came from just beside him, and when he turned, he saw his wife and young sons kneeling bound just as he was.
What is happening?
Only moments ago, he had ordered his disciple to abduct a Joseon potter's wife and daughter. Instead, it was his own family who had been taken.
"Mmmph-mmmph!"
Had his secret leaked?
A dreadful premonition turned his blood to ice. It seemed he had fallen into the hands of the Joseon potters—and was about to pay for it.
And then—
[Now you'll suffer exactly as they did.]
The man's voice again, whispering inside his ear.
In the next heartbeat, he was sitting inside a kiln.
His mother, consciousness returned, stared at Densuke with eyes wide with horror.
What in God's name have you been doing, that your own mother should meet this end?
Her bloodshot eyes were full of reproach.
Husband! What do we do? Our children—our children are going to die!
His wife wept openly, shaking with terror.
Papa, I'm scared.
Please, Papa, beg them to spare us!
His two sons pleaded as they looked up at him.
"Mmph! Mmmph-mmmph!"
Densuke screamed toward Kim Sundol, who was loading porcelain into the kiln. But Kim Sundol did not so much as turn his head. He was absorbed entirely in the delicate work of lowering each piece into place.
Spare me! I was wrong! I'll never touch your daughter, I swear it—I'm begging you!
He rolled his body forward, inching toward Kim Sundol, trying to grovel at his feet—
"Firing the kiln!"
The kiln's mouth was sealed with firewood. A moment later, scarlet flames came roaring across it.
AAARGH—!
The agony of burning flesh was so unspeakable that even a scream refused to come. Not only he, but his aged mother, his wife, his two little children—all of them tumbled and rolled inside the searing kiln.
Only then did Densuke grasp, truly grasp, how monstrous the thing he had planned had been.
But—
[You'll feel this pain about a hundred times over. And then I'll snuff out your soul.]
A single round of this unbearable torment—repeated a hundred times?
Then just kill me. Please.
Having forgotten even that he was already dead—that he was already an evil spirit—Densuke slipped toward unconsciousness.
Inside the glowing red kiln, porcelain was firing to a flawless white.
I sent the evil spirits back, one after another, to the memories of their lives. And there, I made them relive their horrors on an endless loop.
[Kill me. Please, just end it.]
I don't see any reason I should grant that request.
I laughed off the spirit's plea.
The work had begun around noon and carried on until the sun went down. The spirits with weaker spiritual energy simply couldn't endure the torment and dissolved away entirely.
By the time deep night had fallen, even the survivors had faded so far that the word "evil spirit" no longer applied to them.
I released the barrier and called No. 1.
No. 1.
[Yeah, Boss.]
The chonky cat came waddling over, wheezing with every step. Just how much had this thing eaten?
No wonder my stamina never ran dry all those hours of casting spells and flinging talismans, even transparent ones—the little glutton had been serving as my spiritual battery the whole time.
So that's what you were for.
I shook my head, told No. 1 he was free to eat the remaining spirits, and stepped back.
[P-please... let me go to the afterlife. I want to see Kim Sundol and beg his forgiveness.]
Densuke clutched at my ankle, pleading.
Afraid of being snuffed out?
[No—it's the apology, I want to apologize—]
Ha. You're not even funny.
Densuke was melted into a puddle by now, like an ice cream cone dropped on summer asphalt—and still his mouth kept running.
If he simply dissolved here, that would be the end of it. But if he passed on to the afterlife, he might get his shot at the underworld, and then perhaps another chance at reincarnation. That was the calculation, anyway.
But you know what?
I gave a casual shrug of the shoulders and said,
[Kim Sundol hasn't gone to the afterlife yet. So—shall I let you two meet?]
Chika had called the names of the Joseon potters one by one at the shrine. The very first name she'd called was Kim Sundol's.
The only reason I hadn't handed Kim Sundol his revenge directly was that I feared the responsibility might come back to haunt me at the gates of the afterlife itself.
If Kim Sundol had a next life, I wished for him to be born wealthy, to live without a single hardship, with every good and happy thing in the world coming his way. Out of that wish, I hadn't even wanted Densuke's shadow falling anywhere near him.
That was what was in my heart—but I asked anyway.
"If Kim Sundol stood before you, what do you think he'd do? Do you imagine he'd forgive you?"
[N-no. No, I don't. I watched his child burn to death over and over, and because of that... I don't think he could ever forgive me. I was wrong.]
"You have no forgiveness to beg from me. A cockroach spreads disease because it vomits up everything it eats—that's simply what it is. Which is why extermination is the answer."
I shot No. 1 a look. A cavernous mouth yawned open.
"No. 1, make sure you chew thoroughly. Swallowing whole is bad for your digestion."
[Got it.]
No. 1 popped Densuke into his mouth and set his jaws working with great diligence. Whether the man tasted anything like sushi—I decided I didn't want to know.
The next day, once Chika had woken, I suggested we go grocery shopping together.
I wanted to set out a proper memorial table for the Joseon spirits before sending them on to the afterlife. Chika had tended them and held rites for them all this time, but she'd never once laid out a proper Korean ancestral feast for them.
The Joseon potters dragged here by the Japanese invaders. The ancestors lost when the tunnels collapsed on Hashima Island. Those who died in forced labor at the shipyards and the mines.
What could they long for more than a bowl of white rice with a hot meat soup beside it? White kimchi, boiled pork with salted shrimp paste, the kind of savory pancakes that even nobles only got to taste when their pawnbroker's luck ran dry.
To lay all of that on the memorial table, I headed for the biggest supermarket in the area.
"Oh? You're the CEO of Ugok's Yard!"
Imagine—someone recognizing me even here in Japan! I really had gotten famous, apparently.
She was a descendant of Korean expatriates running a ryokan here in Saga Prefecture. She even insisted on helping me prepare the memorial table with her own hands.
And then—
"After the rites are finished, won't you come visit our ryokan? You can soak in the carbonated hot springs and look right out over the sea."