Renovating the Abandoned House - 2

"A Cheondo rite? You mean a ceremony to guide the dead to the afterlife?"

When I raised an eyebrow, the man with the janggu drum strapped to his back twisted his face into a vicious scowl, as if telling me to lower my eyes.

"Who do you think you are, daring to look me straight in the eye? Cheongdam Baksu is a great shaman who serves an ancient general spirit!"

"Which general, exactly?"

"Even if I told you, what would you know?"

The Janggu Player scoffed, clearly intending to brush me off.

For your information, I'm a history major.

"If you're going to be like that, then by all means, find your own way."

"Wh-what do you mean, find our own way! Are you refusing to guide us?"

"It's not as if you're with the Ministry of National Defense or the remains excavation team."

The remains excavation and identification unit had originally been a Defense Ministry organization, led by a colonel-ranked officer. But after its team leader became embroiled in embezzlement and sexual harassment allegations in 2018, the work was outsourced to the private sector, with a military civilian employee dispatched to head it. All the Defense Ministry ever checked was where the annual budget went and what results it produced. The team leader was chosen from among military doctors, under strict selection criteria — that much I'd learned when I looked into it myself.

"This isn't even an official request from someone serving the state. Why on earth would I owe you two a guide?"

I stared the Janggu Player dead in the eye.

"You told me not to so much as open my eyes wide. If I take a fall in the mountains, that's my loss, isn't it?"

"Don't you know that if you get on this man's bad side, you could be beaten half-paralyzed?"

"No, I didn't know that."

"Ha! Guts to spare, I see. The general who guarded Goguryeo's northern frontier — once he draws his sword, nothing can withstand him! I'm telling you that when you come crawling on your knees begging later, we won't lift a finger. Got it?"

A general who guarded Goguryeo's northern frontier?

At those words, the cat evil spirit came to mind.

Yeon Chumo — a Malgal general and the right hand of Dae Jo-yeong, founder of Balhae. The cat evil spirit had surely been born from the killing intent steeped into Yeon Chumo's longsword.

It would've been nice if that one were still around.

As for this general spirit the shaman claimed to serve — if he had even lived during Yeon Chumo's heyday, he would have ranked far below him as a subordinate.

Above Yeon Chumo, after all, there had been no one but Dae Jo-yeong himself.

He gives off a foul, sewer-rat stench, so I'd bet he's a deserter ghost.

A squad-leader-level soldier, probably, who ran off alone to save his own skin and died for it.

"Haha. Amusing."

A resentful soul who'd died without ever winning fame or respect, drifted through the underworld for ages, and finally latched onto a shaman like this as a stray spirit — that had to be the story.

I spun around and fixed the shaman with a level stare.

"Your dog tag— actually, never mind that. Goguryeo had its early, middle, and late periods. From which era is this general of yours? I'm curious."

"A general of the late Goguryeo,"

the shaman answered, puffing out his chest.

Between his white suit and the yellow shirt beneath it, a gold necklace gleamed. Ridiculously, the pendant on that gold chain had a Buddha stamped into it.

He serves a late-era Goguryeo general spirit, does he? Then why on earth is he dragging Buddhism into it?

"My name is Park Hyuk-soo. Say 'Cheongdam Baksu' and there's no one from celebrities to politicians who doesn't know me."

"Ah, a famous man indeed."

I gave a token reply and let out a long sigh.

I knew the world wouldn't bend to my wishes, but this is a bitter pill to swallow.

When I'd stumbled upon the dog tag while out picking matsutake mushrooms, the village elders and I had both welled up with tears, hearts aching — thinking of how anguished those souls must have been, sacrificed for their country, their remains never recovered, never able to return to their families' embrace.

The people waiting for the missing must not have locked their gates for a long time, must have slept fitfully night after night.

They would never have let go of that thread of hope — the certainty that their loved ones would come home.

Seventy-five years had flowed by since then. Most of those who waited for the missing were dead now, the rest infirm, and in the end they must simply have forgotten.

If even one family member still lived, I'd believed they would come running, weeping tears of joy.

Instead, not a whisker of a relative in sight — they'd sent a shaman?

"By the way, why hold a gut ritual at all? I can see the janggu and the gong."

"Quite interested in this line of work, aren't you? Let's see now — your spirit energy is clear, it's... clear? Remarkably clear, in fact?"

The shaman met my gaze, flinched hard, and shuddered down to his bones.

I let my eyes slide away. I didn't like my ability being seen through.

But there were things that still needed saying.

"Unless you're ready to excavate the remains right now, you should pour out some liquor and come back next spring when the weather warms. Go tell the family the same thing, why don't you?"

If they held a gut and summoned a horde of stray spirits, did they honestly think the native ghosts of this valley would sit quietly by?

This village already had more than its share of ghosts. If the shaman started pulling unnecessary stunts — cheondo this, ritual that — discord could easily break out among them.

You know how it goes. Like friction between outsiders and locals.

"In any case, guiding you is out of the question."

"People could die!"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"One of my regular clients drew a dire fortune this year. The reading said his ancestors were enraged — he could be gravely injured, or even die, or lose his entire fortune."

The shaman rattled on, casually mixing in his crude informal speech.

"That ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gentleman came to see me recently and mentioned his grandfather's remains had been excavated. So I came here to dispel the bad luck!"

"Isn't it the other way around?"

"What do you mean, the other way around?"

"Descendants who never once come to visit where their ancestors lie, and just call in a shaman to burn some ritual money — 'oh, let's see you take a proper scolding for once.' Isn't that where the misfortune actually comes from?"

Having said it out loud, I was suddenly convinced that was exactly how it had to be.

"Ahem. And what would the likes of you know, running your mouth?"

"Then this ignorant fellow will excuse himself."

I pulled the white porcelain out of the tent, where I'd packed it in layer after layer of protective wrapping. Carpenter Jang and his crew were starting the renovation today, so the porcelain had to be moved somewhere safe.

"Hey, you! I'll pay you 100,000 won a day!"

"Don't dump trash in the mountains, and be careful with fire."

"200,000 won!"

"From this tent all the way to that abandoned house is private property. Unauthorized entry is prohibited — commit that to memory. I'll say it once more: dump so much as a candy wrapper, and I will not let it slide."

Vrooom.

The moment I started the engine, the Janggu Player came sprinting over and grabbed the rearview mirror.

"300,000 won."

"Let go and step back, please."

"Damn it, 500! You're still refusing? You won't get another chance like this!"

Apparently he'd assumed I'd toss aside my pride and dignity for a mere 500,000 won.

I rolled down the window ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and smiled pleasantly.

"Five hundred, you say?"

"That's right. Lunch money included."

"Hold on — you serve a Goguryeo general spirit, don't you? A general who guarded the northern frontier would be an extraordinary mountain climber. How can you possibly not know where the remains are?"

"Does guarding the northern frontier mean the man has to be good at climbing every mountain?"

"Of course it does. If he hadn't been a human GPS, how else would he have held Goguryeo against that brutal northern wilderness?"

The moment my honeyed flattery landed, the Janggu Player finally exploded.

In a voice bleak as a grave on a moonless night, chanting in the cadence of a funeral drum, the Janggu Player began tapping out the rhythm with his hand.

His voice, carrying an actual melody, wound onward like the wail of a ghost in the night.

"Your car will slam sideways into the drainage channel, and you will be trapped. Your phone will be out of reach — no call for rescue. What's that smell? Gasoline. Acrid smoke stinging your eyes, and then, whoosh, the engine catches fire..."

"Ugh!"

My skull rang like a struck bell.

The crash played out in my head with unbearable, frame-by-frame clarity.

My car heeling over into the waterway, pinned fast, no way out — and then the flames. Me screaming for my life inside the choking smoke, and no one, no one at all, able to save me.

The driver's side pressed flat against the channel bed — the door wouldn't open, and even shattering the windshield offered no escape. The passenger side crushed inward, door jammed shut.

[Fire! Somebody save me!]

I'd been screaming myself hoarse when I snapped bolt upright. My eyes locked dead onto the Janggu Player's.

This bastard is a curse-caster.

The man who'd introduced himself as Park Hyuk-soo was a baksu shaman. The Janggu Player was the one who could lay actual curses.

When it came to handling stray spirits, the Janggu Player was the more capable of the two.

The pair worked as a team: a client would come to them, the Janggu Player would lay a curse, and the shaman would dangle the cure and shake the man down for money. That had to be their racket.

Utterly vile.

They'd probably pulled the same trick on the bereaved family, too.

Son of a—

The Janggu Player had cursed me. Whether it would actually manifest was another question entirely.

I was the far stronger medium, after all.

But was I really just going to drive away? And if, God forbid, an accident did happen—

What do I do?

It was another one of those moments when I found myself missing the cat evil spirit.

If the cat were here, it would have taught these bastards a lesson they'd never forget.

If only it hadn't said it could kill people.

I would have searched for some way to keep it from dissipating.

The cat had grown strong devouring Kim Chang-soo's pain and terror, growing more and more monstrous — and I'd feared it would eventually overpower me and turn on other people, so I'd told it to live or die as it pleased. That flicker of regret stung a little now.

There must have been a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way to save it...

[Do you truly regret it? Really and truly?]

Flap-flap! Goosebumps erupted across my whole body and I whipped my head around — because the cat evil spirit's voice was ringing inside my skull.

Did I mishear that?

[No, you didn't. I'm right here! Under the car. Hwanggu was hunting me, so I hid here.]

What?

That cat's crying I'd heard alongside the ghost-dog Hwanggu's barking last night — that had been the cat evil spirit?

No, wait — how could it still be alive? It said it would die if the house was destroyed, didn't it?

I flung the car door open and got out.

"So you're finally scared? That's right. I just placed a curse on you—"

"Move!"

I shoved the Janggu Player out of my way.

"Aigoo, my back!"

The Janggu Player toppled backward, the weight of the drum on his back carrying him down.

Paying him no mind, I crouched low and peered under the car.

"Myaaaow."

There, tucked into the space between the wheels, was a white cat?

A kitten no bigger than a ball of white fluff — it had been hiding in my car this whole time and popped out all at once.

And yet its eyes glinted that unmistakable yellow, just like the cat evil spirit's.

[I can only survive by staying beside you. That's why I followed you.]

I can keep you alive?

[Because you're a house with far greater power than the one I lived in.]

I'm a person. Not a house, not an object.

[You can become a house. You will become home to many spirits.]

What kind of creepy— no, never mind that for now. How did you end up as a white cat?

[I... possessed it.]

Possession... wasn't that that thing in web novels, where someone else's soul enters a dead body or something?

Cats could do it too?

So — so you possessed the cat that died at the parking lot entrance?

[Yeah.]

The cat hopped down and trotted over to me, pad, pad, pad.

Its fur was torn out in patches, and one eye was half sealed shut, crusted with pus.

You look like an absolute wreck.

[It was a sick cat's body to begin with. But that Hwanggu ghost hounded me all night long — I honestly thought I was done for. Hehe.]

The cat pressed its nose into the back of my hand and sniffled.

Nice try with the helpless act.

I'd watched the cat evil spirit clamp its jaws around Kim Chang-soo's head and chew — no way was I falling for such pitiful theatrics.

So you said I'm your house?

[Yeah. As long as I'm beside you, I survive.]

Then the only way anyone could kill you would be to kill me?

[Right. Unless I found some other house — but that's probably impossible. I've lived thousands of years, and you're the first human I've ever seen who could be a home.]

So, are you a lump-sum tenant or a monthly tenant?

[...What?]

Forget it.

How would a cat know anything about leases?

Either way, the arrangement was clear: the cat would obey me absolutely, and the two of us would live in symbiosis.

I scooped the cat up into my arms.

We need to get you to a vet, so first things first ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— deal with the curse that bastard laid on me. You can break a curse, right?

[Of course I can.]

The cat flicked its little red tongue.

[We just kill that bastard.]

Killing people is not happening.

[Then break an arm or a leg — reclaim the power he poured into the curse. And hold on a moment. Huh? Huhhhh?]

The cat turned its gaze on the shaman and suddenly started giggling.

[Ha — of all the places to run into each other! The thing attached to that shaman — he's the bastard who betrayed my master, General Yeon Chumo, and hunted him down.]

See? What did I tell you?

The thing attached to that shaman wasn't any Goguryeo general spirit. It was a deserter ghost.