First Snow, and a Warm Hearth-4

"Park Do-hee, Kim Kyung-hoon, Oh Jung-woo, Baek Sol-hee, Min Ki-hoon, Jung Hoon-hee...."

I called out the names of each parasitic spirit that had attached itself to Bang Seongeun, letting every one of them know exactly who it was.

The owner of an arm, the owner of a leg, the owner of an upper body, the owner of a lower body….

After several rounds of this, the task of sending every last one of them to the afterlife was complete.

And then—

"Mister, I… why am I here?"

Bang Seongeun, who had been slumped over just moments before, came to her senses and looked around.

"Seongeun, this is where your accident happened, a long time ago."

"My accident?"

"Yes. On your way to ski camp…."

"Ah, aah. Aghh! I remember."

As the memory she had buried all this time came flooding back, Bang Seongeun began to weep hot tears.

"S-Songji… hic, Songji died because of me."

"No, she didn't. Songji died because of the accident."

I patted Bang Seongeun gently on the shoulder.

"The fact that you never forgot her for a single moment all these years, and the fact that you came all the way back to the accident site—she probably knows all of it. I'm sure Songji would thank you."

"R-really? She really wouldn't hate me?"

"Of course not. You were her best friend."

If anything, wasn't it Choi Songji who would feel sorry—that she'd tried to cling to Seongeun's body as a parasitic spirit?

Muttering this to myself, I held out the chrysanthemums to Bang Seongeun.

"Why don't you give her these? I think she'd be even happier that way."

"Okay."

Bang Seongeun laid the chrysanthemums down beside the asphalt at the accident site and bowed her head in silent prayer.

I poured out the soju I had brought.

"Hsssss!"

At that, No. 1 hissed and bristled, every hair on his body standing on end.

What's wrong with you? What is it?

"There are so many spirits waking up it's ridiculous. They look like earthbound spirits."

The spirits that had shown no presence at all moments ago were about to reveal themselves.

Human figures rising from the asphalt like smoke—along with cats, water deer, and feral dogs.

Beings that had never latched onto a living person, but had lived and died on this very spot as earthbound spirits, began walking toward me.

One by one they bowed in greeting to me, and then passed through the light behind me, off to the afterlife.

I remembered what White Porcelain Grandmother had said—that spirits would pool and gather to me like spring water collecting in a well.

And now I understood what she meant.

I myself was the door, and the road, to the afterlife.

I don't know yet why I'm serving as a gate to the other world, but I suppose I'll find out someday.

Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling.

A clear chime rang out.

I whipped around, and the light that had been glowing at my back faded as something dropped with a soft thud right at my feet.

What's this?

The moment I picked up what looked like a shard of black stone, a voice resonated through my mind.

Startled, I stared hard at the stone, and the characters flickered—appearing, then vanishing again.

Did that mean I had delivered a hundred souls to the afterlife so far?

Come to think of it, this stone feels like a material I've never seen before.

As I ran my fingers over the black shard, something like fine dust came drifting and swirling through the air. It brushed against my eyelashes, melted, and became a tiny droplet of water.

Under a dark sky where gray clouds hung low, the snow began to fall.

It's the first snow.

"It's the first snow."

The wind blew hard, sweeping the snowflakes this way and that, swirling them into eddies until they danced across the asphalt.

It was as if the wind were waving goodbye to the earthbound spirits who had lived here.

"Mister, it's snowing."

"I think Songji is saying thank you to you from heaven."

"If that's really true… I'd like to say something back to her. May I?"

"Of course."

The moment I gave my permission, Bang Seongeun raised a hand to her mouth and began calling out with all her might.

"Songji… Choi Songji… sob! Let's definitely meet again."

Pouring out all the guilt, the longing, the regret she had kept locked inside her chest, Bang Seongeun called Songji's name until her voice grew hoarse.

"Seongeun! Bang Seongeun!"

Just then, Han Mija's voice rang out.

"Over here!"

Hearing my voice, Han Mija came running.

"Mom!"

"Seongeun."

Mother and daughter threw their arms around each other and wept.

"Mom, I… I remember now. I did get carsick, but Mom—I never asked you to stop the car. But everyone said the accident happened because of me…."

"No. It wasn't because of you."

For the first time, Han Mija spoke those words out loud.

"The accident didn't happen because of our daughter. It happened because of the man who drove drunk."

At last, Han Mija seemed to have broken free of her wound.

As I poured out the remaining soju, I spoke in my heart to the souls who had died in the crash without being able to live out their allotted years.

To the spirits not yet awakened, and to those who wish to linger here a while longer, still tethered by earthly regrets—I greet you. May you finally find peace.

Standing amid snowflakes drifting down like fine down, I prayed for the souls of the dead, over and over.

"Good morning, Mister!"

Every early morning when I opened the door to let the chickens out, Bang Seongeun would come out of the downstairs apartment and wave at me.

Since that day, she had made a complete recovery.

Apparently she's decided to go back to school starting next semester.

Her personality was a lot like Seonghyun's, too—lively and full of energy.

"Mister, how many eggs did your chickens lay today? I got two."

Bang Seongeun held up the two eggs clutched in both hands to show me.

Well, of course she got two eggs—she's got the two hens I gave her.

Grandpa Hosik had narrowed his eyes and demanded to know why on earth he'd gone and given away his hand-picked chickens ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠two at a time, but he'd spoiled her anyway, packing her off with sweet potatoes and chestnuts.

He wanted to give Seongeun the chickens himself.

But I'd beaten him to it, so from Grandpa Hosik's point of view, wasn't he the dog that chased the chicken only to end up staring at the roof? Or… was that not the right idiom?

Anyway!

"Now, how many eggs did my chickens lay today, I wonder? Huh? Two?"

I'd given two of my six hens to Bang Seongeun, which left me four.

So shouldn't I be getting four eggs a day? Or at least three?

"What on earth is the problem?"

The feed didn't seem to be the issue, and I certainly hadn't stressed the hens out.

With a troubled heart, I carried my three eggs into the kitchen.

All while completely unaware that out by the dugout cellar on the back mountain, No. 1 was greedily gobbling down two freshly laid eggs and dutifully burying the shells in the dirt.

Around the time I finished breakfast—

Zzzt, zzzt.

My phone buzzed. It was Lee Ho-young.

"Hello, good morning."

"Sunbae-nim, I don't think this is something we can handle on our own."

There was genuine desperation in Lee Ho-young's voice.

"You put the Japanese dagger away somewhere far away, and it's still not enough?"

"When we send the dagger far away, Mr. Moon just tracks it down and brings it right back."

"Hold on a second."

I held the phone away from my ear and gave No. 1, who was slurping down his pet milk, a quick rundown of the situation—that we'd acquired a Japanese dagger from a coffin, and that some strange phenomenon was unfolding around it.

"Possession?"

You mean the spirit inside the dagger has entered someone's body?

"Yep."

This was No. 1's explanation.

Someone like me, whose spiritual vision was open, couldn't be pushed around by ghosts or evil spirits—but everyone else was fair game.

"If you hadn't shown up in time, I might've possessed Ho-young myself and gotten a look at the world."

So harassing people isn't enough for you—you possess them too?

"It's usually the other way around—they harass first in order to possess. A soul has to break a person down before it's easy to take over the body."

According to him, some spirits seek out a body to possess just because they want to taste the food they craved while they were alive.

Others desperately try to possess anyone at all out of a longing to live like a human being, even once.

So what are we supposed to do about it?

No. 1 stretched out long and low, arched his back in a big yawn, and said:

"What do you mean, what do we do? You kick it out of the human's body and send it off to the afterlife. Anything that's possessed someone once and gotten a taste for it will just keep doing it."

Apparently planning to go out and play, No. 1 nimbly leapt through the window that led to the sun room and vanished.

What am I going to do?

I had promised Lee Ho-young I'd solve this for him.

I could either go to Seoul myself, or have Moon Seong-il come here. It had to be one of the two.

The decision didn't take long.

I picked the phone back up and spoke to Lee Ho-young.

"Please send the dagger here, along with Mr. Moon Seong-il."

"May I come too? I just got my hands on an ancient document, and everyone keeps arguing over whether it's genuine or a forgery."

Lee Ho-young trusted my appraisal skills implicitly.

After all, he'd believed a certain blade was a Goguryeo general's sword—until I took one look at the black cloud blade and correctly identified it as belonging to Yeon Chumo, a Malgal general.

He said he'd pay me a fee just for the appraisal alone.

"Do as you like. Just make sure you arrive at the promised time. I'm rather busy these days."

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Once spring came, I'd be starting farming in earnest, so there was plenty to prepare.

After hanging up with Lee Ho-young, I hurried out the door.

Today was the first day of the new term.

"Welcome to Farming School. I'm Woo Jang-ho, and I'll be lecturing you on crop selection, transplanting seedlings, and hydroponic cultivation."

There I sat in the lecture hall, attending my first class at farming school.

I'd purchased Grandpa Hosik's land and completed the registration of my agricultural corporation, which meant I needed to actually do something agriculture-related.

But it was winter.

I had no greenhouse, and I wasn't making and selling processed foods either.

Since I knew absolutely nothing about farming, it seemed like a good idea to learn both the theory and the practice.

Our class had eight students in total, myself included.

Graduating from farming school would bring a whole raft of tax benefits—not to mention access to expert consultation whenever I needed it and cheap rentals of farm machinery.

"Since this is our first class, let's start with introductions. We'll begin from the right."

Woo Jang-ho, the instructor in charge of our cohort, had worked at the Agricultural Technology Center before taking over the training of return-to-farming migrants two years ago.

He was in his forties, with the classic civil-servant temperament—a man who, it seemed, refused to say anything he couldn't take responsibility for.

Time will tell, but he did drop a subtle hint that we might not get all that much out of his lectures alone.

In other words: don't rely solely on his classes—find your own path to a living.

At Woo Jang-ho's direction, the introductions began with the person seated on the right.

"I was born in Pyeongcheong County, moved to the city, and then returned home like a salmon. My father runs an orchard and grows European vegetables, and I plan to lend him a hand. I look forward to working with you all."

"A farming royal, I see! Haha, though you didn't mention your name."

"Hwang Yu-hyeon. And yes, I suppose I am sacred bone."

When Hwang Yu-hyeon, half-blushing, declared himself an aristocrat among farmers, the whole class burst out laughing.

And yet no one could quite hide the envy in their eyes.

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Honestly, I'm a little jealous myself.

A father who owned land, an established farm already in place, a foundation firmly laid?

Those were the cases with the highest odds of success.

No stress about having to buy land in the first place, and the county office and agricultural cooperative staff all knew his family by name.

What's more, if he'd registered as a separate household, he'd be officially recognized as a new farmer—eligible for every government benefit under the sun, living the life of a prosperous farmer.

These days especially, with smart farms, hydroponics, fully automated cultivation and the like—farming on your own capital, debt-free, meant you could live without a care in the world.

"My name is Park Seok-tae. I lived in the city before moving to the countryside to farm, and I've received three hundred million won in government support loans. I'm currently looking for land to farm."

The moment Park Seok-tae finished his introduction, the instructor and everyone else couldn't hide their pitying looks.

A complete beginner who'd never so much as planted a seed, starting out three hundred million won in government debt?

It was obvious he wouldn't even be able to cover the interest, and the debt would only balloon from there.

Maybe one in a thousand could succeed.

But the vast majority, terrified of losing the land itself, would end up as odd-job laborers working someone else's fields.

And then, word had it, some lost the land anyway and ended up on credit blacklists.

Moral of the story: starting out this way is not recommended.

And then, at last, my turn.

"My name is Kim Yunho. I used to be a bank employee. I bought land with my personal savings and established an agricultural corporation. I plan to start slowly and learn as I go."

"Woooow!"

Applause erupted.

I wasn't sacred bone like Hwang Yu-hyeon, but I was apparently somewhere around chief inspector in a true-bone household.

Naturally, they'd all done the math: this man thinks things through, and if I can pick up information on what he plans to grow and what business he's going to run, all the better for me.

Well, the instructor did tell me that himself.

Apparently the reasoning is: he ran the numbers, concluded this would be a profitable venture, and that's why he quit his job and moved to the countryside.

That's really not it. I just messed up, that's all.

In any case, no one was going to treat me carelessly.

"I'm Choi Ho-gyeong. I studied art abroad, and I joined this program because I want to try growing herbs."

There was even someone who, far from satisfied with studying at university, bounced between private academies attending lecture after lecture.

"I'm a schoolteacher, and I plan to sit in on classes whenever I have free time."

"Wow. Impressive."

Once every student had introduced themselves, Woo Jang-ho began the lecture.

When the lecture ended, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Woo Jang-ho proposed a get-together over food.

"It's our first day, so let's have a meal together and get to know one another before we head home. We'll be seeing each other's faces twice a week for the next eight weeks—might as well be friendly, don't you think?"

Fine, that part was all well and good.

But once we moved to the restaurant, word went around that we had to elect a class president so the bill could be split N ways.

"We've got a former banker here—no need to bother with raising hands and all that, right?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

I was caught completely off guard, but with everyone clapping and agreeing, I found myself elected class president of the seventeenth cohort of the Pyeongcheong County Farming School.