The Shy One — Part 1
"Whaaat?"
Lee Ho-young's eyes bulged past their limit.
Was that really something to be so shocked about?
"You're telling me a woman appeared in the real world and spoke to Mr. Moon Sung-il? She must have been speaking Japanese, right?"
When I first met the evil spirit cat, it had spoken Tungusic.
On top of that, it was an ancient tongue that sounded like alien gibberish, yet I'd understood it—and that had surprised me too.
How had that been possible?
My best guess was that it wasn't language being exchanged at all, but thought itself. Just like how I now communicated with No. 1 through our inner minds.
"Ask Mr. Moon again whether she was a Joseon person or a modern Korean. That's the only way to figure out what she actually wants."
"If they can't communicate, maybe that's exactly why Mr. Moon is suffering."
"You think so?"
From what I'd experienced, spirits and ghosts all had their own ways of communicating—each one different.
"For now, get that dagger far away from him. No matter how much the woman threatens him, that's the best move at this point."
Everything I'd learned about how an evil spirit becomes a possessed vessel like No. 1 came down to this:
1. If the house is destroyed, the evil spirit dissipates.
2. If it stays too far from the house for three days, its existence begins to unravel.
3. It may have such a catastrophic lack of direction that once it leaves the house, it can never find its way back on its own.
That was the extent of it.
"Don't stash the dagger in some shed on the property—put it somewhere you'd have to take two buses and transfer to a train just to reach. Far enough that it would struggle terribly to come back. A four-hour round trip should do it."
"W-will that really work?"
"It was buried in the ground for a thousand years before it came out into the world. Do you really think it knows the way home?"
"Th-that's true, isn't it."
I took a sip of coffee and turned to Ho-young.
"You said the mummy and the grave goods were handed over to the Cultural Heritage Administration, right?"
"Yes, sir. A mummy discovery is rare enough that they took everything."
"Then dig into the historical records. You'll find clues about who the deceased was and what grudge they're carrying."
A burial in the Joseon era—and not just any burial, but one conducted while the country lay in ruins from war.
A proper coffin, full mortuary rites, grave goods packed alongside the body—this was no commoner. A scholar-official, or the descendant of a renowned military family, most likely. And our country keeps meticulous genealogical records, so tracing the lineage was entirely possible.
'When I was in school, a Joseon-era boy's mummy was discovered, and researchers managed to identify exactly who he was and how he died.'
That was all the advice I could give.
"If anything comes up when you're in Seoul, just call me. Even if I don't pick up because I'm out walking the chickens, I'll check my phone and call you right back."
"D-do you... walk your chickens?"
"Exercise keeps them healthy, and healthy chickens lay tasty eggs, don't they?"
It was truly time for me to get going.
Grandpa Hosik was probably waiting on pins and needles for me to come back with the supplies to build his chicken coop.
"Well, give me a call."
"Um, Sunbae-nim."
Ho-young hurried out of the café after me, half-jogging to keep up.
"My grandfather, before he passed away, hid a fortune in gold somewhere, and we've never been able to find it. My family's in real estate, so it must be an enormous amount of gold. Would you... meet with him sometime?"
I turned around, peering over Ho-young's shoulder, and said, "Say, Grandfather—where did you hide the gold?"
"GYAAAH!"
Ho-young shrieked and collapsed right where he stood.
Apparently the idea of his deceased grandfather standing behind him had terrified him out of his wits.
"Sorry. That was a joke."
"N-no—no, what kind of joke is that?!"
"You should be grateful your ancestor went straight to the afterlife instead of wandering the mortal realm. If he'd latched onto his descendants instead, you'd all have a splitting headache on your hands."
Having said it out loud, I suddenly felt like a shaman myself.
I shuddered violently, then waved Ho-young off.
"Anyway, you'll need to toughen up before you can deal with the ghost attached to Mr. Moon."
"Hrk—!"
"Now get going. Call if anything comes up."
After parting with Ho-young, I hurried back toward the village.
On the way, I studied the house next to Grandpa Hosik's—the Bang household—carefully.
'There doesn't seem to be any evil spirit here, does there?'
The sickening aura, the vague unease I'd felt from the Former-Former Village Chief and from No. 1. The grayish haze, the crushing weight that pressed down on the air itself.
None of it was present here. Not a trace.
"Going by what Seonghyun says, his little sister Seongeun should have an evil spirit latched onto her."
So why was there no sign of one?
"Honestly, I have no idea."
Not that I could just barge into their home at dinnertime, uninvited, and start gushing about how I'd heard their child was sick.
"Hey there, Young Yunho!"
Grandpa Hosik must have heard my car pull up, because he came out through the gate.
"Where've you been until the sun's gone down?"
"I went out to town and met a friend."
"That friend of yours still hanging around?"
"Ah, he left ages ago. And another one came down today, actually."
"Haha. Must be nice having so many friends. All of mine are dead."
Grandpa Hosik looked up at the sky, where the last light was fading, and let out a hollow laugh.
"No telling whether they're doing all right up there, though."
"I'm sure they're all fine."
"Well, that's a relief. Now let's see. Show me what you brought."
I parked in front of the house, unloaded the chicken coop supplies, and stacked them up neatly.
"You've been waiting for this all day, haven't you? I'm sorry."
"Don't mention it. This time of year I've got nothing to do all day anyway."
The cold had set in lately—no more gathering marsh snails from the streams, and the wild mountain greens had all dropped their leaves and gone dormant for the winter.
Which was why Grandpa Hosik was throwing himself into raising chickens these days.
"Here, hold this a sec."
He held out a basket he'd been carrying. Inside, wrapped snugly in a pair of sleeping socks, were eggs.
"Eggs? Are these for me?"
"Heh heh, that's right. You're the one who bought my land, aren't you? It's so you'll eat well and farm healthy."
"Oh, right—I almost forgot!"
I pulled out my bag and showed him the receipt for the Nonghyup loan, paid off in full, along with the deposit slip for the thirty million won I'd transferred into his account.
"And this here is five million won. I withdrew it in cash."
"Good lad. No point letting it sit in a bank—that's spending money. Spend every won of it, you hear?"
With an expression caught somewhere between gratitude and wistfulness, Grandpa Hosik gazed out over his old land.
"Never used fertilizer once in my life, you know. Just hauled leaves down from the mountain on an A-frame carrier and spread them on the fields. People pointed fingers and asked why in the world I was scattering dead leaves on my soil, and I didn't so much as listen. Then I watched how the wild mountain greens flourished without a drop of pesticide or a fistful of fertilizer, and I knew my way was right."
Even in years when the harvest was poor, he never bent. And the results spoke for themselves.
His land was so rich in natural organic matter that apparently anything planted there thrived. Better still, it could earn organic certification, which meant premium prices.
"Turns out the one thing I did right my whole life was scatter leaves on my own fields. Haha. Everyone called it the dumbest thing a farmer could do, but in the end, I won."
"You really are remarkable, sir."
Selling off the land he'd tended so stubbornly all his life—he could smile on the outside all he wanted, but inside must have been another story.
"Come on, sir. Let's get this coop up quick, then you and I will have a shot of soju with some rolled omelet."
"Haha, now that sounds fine."
"Yes sir. I'll make some kimchi stew too, and grill up some meat."
"Skipped dinner just waiting for you—good thing I did, eh?"
Grandpa Hosik pulled a pair of cotton work gloves from his pocket, tugged them on, and set to work with the tape measure, marking and cutting the lumber with practiced strokes of the saw.
"You take that wire mesh over there. Cut it here and here, bend it like so—all we need is four L-shapes."
"Got it, sir."
It being early winter, the sunset seemed barely done before night fell straight on its heels.
Before the pitch darkness swallowed everything whole, I quickly switched on the yard floodlight.
"Lighting the place up like that—what about your electric bill, boy?"
"It's an energy-efficient lamp, so it's fine. Should I change the lights at your place too, Grandpa?"
"I'd be much obliged if you did. Anything my Young Yunho offers, I intend to accept. That's how it works—you give so I can give right back."
"What could you possibly want to give me? You've already promised me the hens—what else is there?"
"Just you wait. Prepare to be surprised. Haha."
The mountain night wind was cold as a block of ice—it numbed my nose and chilled me to the bone.
But there was no stopping Grandpa Hosik, sweating away as he hammered the coop together. His face was so earnest, his hands so diligent, that I couldn't bring myself to interrupt.
"What are you two working on so late?"
I'd caught the savory smell of frying oil, and now Han Mija came walking over with a plate piled high with kimchi pancakes.
Beside her, Bang Seonghyun stood grinning ear to ear.
"Oh, we're building a chicken coop. And there's Seonghyun too?"
"The road's too dark, so I came to hold the flashlight for my mother."
"Good boy."
'I never listened to my mom half that well in high school.'
When Han Mija's eyes met mine, she spoke up, looking embarrassed.
"You bought our Seonghyun a phone, a bag, new shoes... I honestly don't know whether we should accept all this."
"It wasn't my idea, really. My junior seemed to have taken a shine to Seonghyun. Kept going on about what a talent he was, said he wanted to sponsor him—I couldn't talk him out of it."
Ho-young had more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes.
And when he'd bought the phone and everything else today, he'd looked even happier than Seonghyun himself.
'It seemed like he was healing some wound of his own, somehow.'
I didn't know what Ho-young's story was, but either way, there was no reason for Han Mija to feel so burdened by it.
"That friend of yours was never the generous type, you know?"
This was a man who wouldn't even split a single pack of ramen with a friend.
"I suppose he fell for Seonghyun's talent. He said he wanted Seonghyun to start taekwondo again, and even paid to renew his dojo membership. Did you hear about that?"
"Yes, Seonghyun told me."
"And what are you planning to do about it?"
"He's so happy about it, I don't think I can stand in his way. But just taking and taking without giving anything back feels too shameful, so..."
Just then, Grandpa Hosik straightened up from the half-built coop and spoke.
"Refusing out of shame only makes things harder on the one giving. I've lived to this ripe old age, and I took money from young Yunho myself, didn't I?"
"Sir, that was payment for your land."
"You took five million won on top of it, didn't you? If you're grateful, just be grateful. No 'buts.' And then live harder, that's all there is to it. Isn't that right?"
With that said, Grandpa Hosik bent right back to work, hands flying over the chicken coop.
"Yes, sir. Thank you for those words."
Han Mija bowed her head deeply. Grandpa Hosik added a little more.
"That's it. Keep bringing food by, smile and greet folks when you pass them—that's all there is to living well. And someday, when your eldest boy can stand on his own two feet, then you go and do something good for a neighbor in even harder straits than you. That's how it's done."
"Yes. Those are truly wise words. I'll take them to heart."
Han Mija held the plate out to me.
"Here you go."
"Thank you. Wow, the smell alone is incredible."
"My mom's a great cook. It'll taste even better than it smells, promise."
Bang Seonghyun said it with a beaming smile.
"Looks like it. Seonghyun's mother, I'll enjoy this. But—I heard your youngest hasn't been well. Is she all right?"
Truthfully, I'd gone back and forth for a long time over whether to ask that question at all.
But just as a doctor can't pretend not to see a patient's illness—
with my spiritual vision opened, I couldn't pretend not to notice a girl who might have a ghost clinging to her.
Yet Han Mija, seemingly unaware of any of the gravity, simply smiled warmly and said,
"I think she was out trying to learn her way around all day, wandering every which way. When I came back from taking dinner to Grandma Mak-sun, she was fast asleep—hadn't even eaten supper. Before, we never let her out because there's a busy road right in front of the house."
She beamed, as if there was nothing left to worry about.
"Out here in the country there's hardly any traffic, so she can run and play to her heart's content. I think she'll be back to full health in no time."
"Oh, good."
"Well, I should get going. I have to bring some kimchi pancakes to Grandma Mak-sun too."
Bang Seonghyun switched on the flashlight, and Han Mija picked her way down the dark road, feeling her steps.
"That house's girl is sick? She looked the picture of health when I saw her earlier today."
"You saw Seongeun during the day, sir?"