The Dog Tag in the Mountains

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"Meteors falling? I didn't see anything."

It wasn't a lie.

I'd been sleeping in my tent when a thud jolted me awake — and by the time I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠opened my eyes, the meteors had already landed.

"I seeee."

Lee Ho-young nodded slowly, then pointed at the ground where the meteorite had struck and carved out a crater.

"So when did that appear?"

"What? Oh, that thing? Maybe a mole dug it up? I couldn't say."

"It looks like you've been camping out here, and you're telling me you don't know when something like that showed up?"

He was pressing me. And he wasn't even a detective.

"Camping here doesn't mean I stay here every day. I have to go into town to buy groceries, you know."

"Hmm."

When Lee Ho-young stroked his chin with a doubtful look, the man standing beside him scowled.

"Hey! If you'd picked up a meteorite, would you still be hanging around here? Do you have any idea what one of those is worth?"

"Well, fair point."

Only then did Lee Ho-young's expression soften. He rose to his feet and said, "Some sucker sold a Martian meteorite for 1.5 billion won. What an idiot. If he'd offered it to me, I'd have paid him 3 billion."

3 billion? He had to be joking, right?

And then—

"Hey, a Martian meteorite found in Australia sold at auction for 2.3 billion a few years back. They say it'd go for 4 billion now. You think I'd haggle if someone offered me one for 3? I'd pay on the spot."

Gulp. I swallowed without meaning to.

Even 3 billion per stone would mean 12 billion for my four meteorites.

And apparently the price had climbed to 4 billion.

Not that I had any intention of selling them right away.

The 1.5 billion already sitting in my bank account from the meteorite I'd sold was more than enough to do everything I wanted.

"Here, take this. If you hear a sound with it, that's a meteorite. They contain iron and nickel, and when they pass through the atmosphere they burn, which leaves a black fusion crust."

Lee Ho-young held out a metal detector as he continued.

"Meteorites stick to magnets too. If you find one, will you contact me? I'll buy it for 3 billion."

"You're giving me a metal detector for free?"

Nothing in this world comes free, so I let my wariness show.

"I'll be back in a few days. Just return it then."

"Ah, all right."

For now, I accepted the metal detector and Lee Ho-young's business card.

Lee Ho-young was a gallery owner, and his office was in Jongno, Seoul.

Given all that earlier talk of "Joseon-era cursive script" going for a billion won, he apparently dealt in rare books and antique art.

Come to think of it, it couldn't hurt to know people in that line of work.

These were men who wouldn't split a single bowl of ramyeon with the person next to them — and yet they'd cheerfully paid 20,000 won a bowl for my ramyeon without uttering a single word of complaint.

It wasn't that they were so rich they figured ah, it's just 20,000 won, whatever.

Their standard of value was time. And efficiency.

Their time, and finding the meteorites. Those matter more to them.

Their stomachs had been glued to their spines all day from hunger.

Ordinarily, with their health in mind, they'd hardly let ramyeon touch their lips — but for filling up fast, the ramyeon I was selling was the perfect choice.

Rather than walking to some imported car parked somewhere, driving it to a famous restaurant, and eating there, they'd judged it smarter to down a bowl of ramyeon and get back to combing the area.

Because they were capable of that kind of cold-eyed judgment, they'd happily pay a premium for a meteorite if it meant making a billion won on the deal.

They wouldn't even grumble about how I'd claimed not to know anything earlier, either.

Business is done with people like this.

As long as you brought them profit, they'd handle all the messy details themselves.

Though the moment they decided you no longer served their interests?

They'd treat you like you didn't exist.

Which actually makes them easier to deal with, in a way.

After they had all gone, I learned how to operate the metal detector with my phone.

I had a feeling it might help me turn something up in the mountains.

Ugok-ri was a fierce battleground during the Korean War.

South Korean and enemy forces had fought so viciously, trading mortar fire, that they said a mountaintop had literally melted away.

If there were spent shell casings scattered around the mountainsides, I intended to collect them.

It was all historical material, after all.

And if I offered to donate it and the government said they didn't need it, well, I'd just keep it myself.

Carpenter Jang wasn't due to arrive for quite a while yet.

Time was the one thing I had in abundance.

Sweeping the mountains with a metal detector might turn up something fun.

But then, that night—

"A-are you asleep?"

I was inside the tent with the lantern on, puzzling over how to reconfigure the abandoned house's layout, when someone spoke to me from outside.

A prickle ran up my spine; every hair on my head stood on end.

This is nothing like the old man with the Saemaul hat. Completely different energy.

The old man had startled me by appearing out of nowhere, but this — this was pure, freezing terror.

Without even seeing the face of the man standing outside my tent, I was certain: it was a ghost.

What do I do?

Trembling, I curled myself into a ball.

Flutter. The tent swayed even though there was no wind.

"I've lost my way and can't find my home. Please, help me."

The tent entrance seemed to tremble for a moment — then the zipper ripped open with a long zzzzip.

"No!"

I bolted upright, breathing hard and ragged. My forehead was slick with cold sweat.

The tent zipper was shut tight.

What...? It was a dream?

I steadied my breathing and listened carefully for any sound outside the tent.

Arf!

Somewhere, a dog barked.

When nothing else followed, I cautiously unzipped the tent and poked my head out.

No one was there.

"What kind of dream is that, honestly."

The next day, I went to the village head's house to charge my phone.

He greeted me as if he'd been waiting for me to show up, ready with news.

The people who had gone into the abandoned house property had gotten into accidents.

"I told you not to go to your place, didn't I? It's a dead-end road, a hassle to turn a car around, and the landowner's got a tent pitched up there. And they still wouldn't listen."

The village head shook his head as he went on.

"One fellow took a tumble off a rice paddy ridge and broke his arm, and the woman walking right beside him stepped on an earthworm, went into a screaming fit, fell down, and fractured her face, if you can believe it."

Sounded like the YouTuber who'd claimed he saw Hwanggu inside the abandoned house, and the woman who said she'd heard a dog ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠barking.

"Watch yourself, you hear. Looks like one of them was so busy staring at his selfie stick he lost his footing."

"And that young man who said he saw the snake and was calling 119? His car rolled into a stream. He nearly died."

Could all this really be called coincidence?

"'Nearly died' — so he's okay, then?"

"The car's totaled, looks like, but his life's not in any danger."

A lenient ghost. No — more like a guardian deity and mountain god, it seemed.

The village head told me I needed to be careful too.

Though he left out exactly what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I should be careful of.

He didn't tell me who the old man in the Saemaul hat was, either.

And I didn't ask again.

A few days passed.

Perhaps because of all the accidents, the crowd that had swarmed into Ugok 1-ri hunting for meteorites drained away like the tide going out.

And goodness, the amount of trash they left behind.

The garbage truck that came once a week had to come two days in a row to haul it all off.

The village grew quiet again, and at last the day arrived to harvest the pine mushrooms.

I went into town early that morning, loaded the tteok I'd ordered in advance into my car, and headed for the village head's house.

"Oh, you're here? I was just about to call you, as it happens."

"Have this first."

I set the armfuls of tteok down on the maru porch of the village head's house.

"What's all this?"

"Nutritious rice cakes. Loaded with pumpkin and beans and such. Have the elders eat them in place of a meal."

"Goodness, you went to all this trouble?"

The village head deliberately leaned back and raised his voice. He was making sure his wife heard.

"My, my! Doesn't that look delicious! You had this custom-made at the Ugok tteok shop, didn't you? They make wonderful rice cakes there."

"Are there even other tteok shops in town?"

From the kitchen, the village head's wife, Madam Han Su-ja, emerged, clucking her tongue.

Madam Han Su-ja had been less than pleased with me for lowballing the price of the abandoned house.

Had I paid the original asking price of 7 million won, she might even have replaced her refrigerator.

But who on earth would buy a derelict house in this remote mountain hollow?

Like Manager Gong at the Nonghyup had said, more than half the village stood empty.

Her grasp of supply and demand was just a little shaky, that was all. She wasn't a bad person.

Last time, when the village head had handed me a fistful of wild mountain greens, instead of snapping at him about why he'd give away greens he'd worked so hard to gather, she had pretended not to notice and slipped quietly into the inner room.

She couldn't get her refrigerator, but it looks like she got a perm. And new clothes, too.

Her hair was freshly crimped into little curls, and the bright red jacket she wore even now looked brand new.

"Hello, madam."

"You're seriously planning to go pick pine mushrooms?"

"Yes."

"In those shoes? The snakes are thick with venom right now!"

I was wearing thick ankle-high socks and hiking boots. Apparently heading up the mountain like that would spell disaster.

"Then what should I wear?"

"Rubber boots, no question. And look how thick those pants are — what do you think you're doing? You think picking pine mushrooms is a stroll on a hiking trail? Aigo. Khekhekhe."

Madam Han Su-ja burst out laughing, then fetched a pair of rubber boots from the farm equipment shed.

Soil caked the boots — she'd apparently been wearing them out in the fields.

"Wear these, and I'll lend you a pair of my old man's pants. Otherwise you'll cook alive in the heat. You'll be crawling on all fours, you know."

"...I'm sorry, what?"

Crawling on all fours in the mountains?

I tilted my head, unable to picture it — but I'd resolved to listen to my elders.

Before long, all the village elders had gathered.

Good heavens...

The village head was 72 this year, and Madam Han Su-ja, two years his senior, was 74.

Those two were apparently the youngest in the village, so I suppose it followed.

Add up the ages of everyone here and it'll top a thousand.

And yet how remarkably hale they all were. Once we were actually up on the mountain, I was the only one gasping for breath.

"Ugh-hurgh!"

Never had I imagined I'd be crawling on all fours through trackless mountain terrain.

"Khekhekhe! Aigo, that's hilarious. See? What did I tell you? I said you'd end up on all fours, didn't I?"

"Ah — yes, yes, you did. I just never imagined it'd be terrain like this."

"Keep those eyes peeled. You might dig up wild ginseng, you never know."

Wild ginseng, nothing — I didn't manage to dig up a single pine mushroom. Still, I gave the elders a great deal of joy.

"Ugh-huuurgh!"

When I misstepped and went rolling head over heels down the slope, the village head and his wife and the elders all doubled over laughing.

"And what did you bring that useless stick for? Throw it away already!"

"It's a metal detector."

"What do you need a metal detector for?"

"Who knows — there might be shell casings from the Korean War, or old Joseon coins. Deep in mountains thick as these, bandits could've holed up right here and—"

Beep-beep! Bee-beep-beep!

Right on cue, the metal detector went off.

"What's that sound?"

"Looks like I found a shell casing."

I dug into the spot where the detector was reacting.

And then—

"A string?"

At the end of a blackened cord hung a small rectangular identification tag.

This was a military dog tag.

In that instant, last night's dream flashed through my mind.

Could the ghost from my dream be the owner of this dog tag?

Nah, no way.

And yet why did that "no way" feel so very possible?

The Korean War broke out in 1950.

Even someone born that year would be 95 now, if he'd been twenty then.

If he'd had children, they'd be 75.

His children might still be alive.

If I brought this dog tag to the Ministry of National Defense, could they lay his remains to rest in his family's arms at last?

I began carefully excavating the spot where the dog tag had surfaced.

And then—

"Aigo, what in the—"

The very place where I'd tumbled down the mountainside and unearthed the dog tag — that spot was—!