A Windfall from Appraising Relics – 3
"Wow, this house is so cozy and lovely. It feels completely different from how it looked on TV."
There was no way I could move us over to a restaurant or a café just to explain that a vengeful ghost was dwelling inside a Japanese dagger. If word got out that Kim Yunho, PR Ambassador for Pyeongcheong County, was dabbling in shamanism, that would be a disaster. So with no better option, I had brought Lee Ho-young and Moon Sung-il back to my house—and now they were all in a tizzy, touring the place.
"My dream has always been to build a modest little retreat deep in the mountains, and our CEO Kim has already made that dream come true."
Moon Sung-il must have been feeling pretty comfortable now, judging by the nonsense he was spouting while poking around my house.
"It's not a retreat, it's a home I actually live in. And yes, it's modest."
"Oh! No, I didn't mean small as in tiny—it's just, even after the payment from the white porcelain sale came through, you're still living out here in the mountains, so... it makes me think, what a humble man you are."
Lee Ho-young and Moon Sung-il were both fabulously wealthy. No matter how generously they looked at it, my house was bound to seem modest. After all, Moon Sung-il was rich enough to drop 1.2 billion won on white porcelain purely for exhibition purposes.
That's what the antique business does for you.
There was the story of an office worker who'd bought an old book off a scrap-collecting grandmother's cart for a mere ten thousand won, then sold it to an Insadong gallery owner for a hundred thousand. The gallery owner put it up for a million won, and Lee Ho-young—the old-manuscript specialist—snapped it up and flipped it to Moon Sung-il for a billion.
And then—the kicker. That old book turned out to be a cursive Thousand Character Classic written by Toegye Yi Hwang as a child. Once it was confirmed as a national-treasure-grade artifact, Moon Sung-il sold it for many times what he'd paid.
That's how you make tens or hundreds of billions off a good eye alone.
I could do even better than that. I had the aesthetic sense the White Porcelain Grandmother had gifted me—and I could communicate with any spirits that might be clinging to an artifact.
I poured hot water over the quince preserve Han Mija had given me to brew a fragrant tea, then handed cups to Lee Ho-young and Moon Sung-il.
"Please, have some."
"Wow, the aroma is wonderful!"
"Quince tea, is it?"
Lee Ho-young blew on his tea and sipped it, then chuckled. "Ah, I still can't quite believe any of this. It's thanks to you, Sunbae-nim, that I can sit here savoring the scent of quince tea at all. I nearly met my end back there. Isn't that right, Mr. Moon?"
"I was examined by all five of the country's top specialists and every last one of them spouted nonsense. Kim Yunho-ssi, I owe you a tremendous debt this time."
There he goes again—it's not even over yet.
Wait a moment.
"You said you were examined by all the Big Five specialists?"
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"Did you see a neurosurgeon too?"
"Of course. Starting with neurosurgery, I had every detailed scan and test there is, and they had no idea why the symptoms appeared, let alone how to fix them."
I thought of Grandma Mak-sun's medical situation and spoke up. "An acquaintance of mine needs a full neurological workup. Could you introduce me to a top specialist?"
"Naturally! When would you be available? I'll book the appointment right now."
Moon Sung-il clearly didn't consider this the slightest burden—he pulled out his phone at once. All I had to do was name a date, and the appointment would be made.
So he's not just loaded—he's got connections to spare.
What's more, Moon Sung-il was planning to invite us to his own home. Since a full day of examinations in Seoul wouldn't fit in a single round trip, he insisted we stay over. Apparently he kept a separate guesthouse just for visitors.
Now I'm jealous.
Getting an appointment with a famous specialist in this country was harder than plucking stars from the sky, and here was Moon Sung-il talking as if he could have the schedule locked in by tomorrow.
"How about next week? Since we'll be heading up to Seoul anyway, we might as well handle the meteorite transaction too."
At my words, Lee Ho-young shot up from his chair and bowed deeply toward me. "Thank you for making the decision. I was actually about to tell you the analysis of the meteorite just came back."
"Let me guess—it's so rare it's practically nonexistent?"
"Exactly right!"
So that settled it: Grandma Mak-sun's specialist appointment and the meteorite deal, both next week in Seoul. I looked back and forth between the two men.
"Let me say this again. Find the katana—the long sword that was originally a set with the dagger. Only then can we release the grudge bound up in that dagger."
"There was no katana in the coffin, though. And I heard the mummy's identity was never established."
"Lady Wolyeong."
The moment I spoke the name of the woman who had become the dagger's vengeful spirit, a translucent membrane shimmered up from the box holding the blade.
No. 1, could you give Lady Wolyeong a little tour of the yard?
No. 1, who had been dozing off in a bow at my feet, heaved a long sigh. "Can't I just stay here? All a vengeful ghost knows how to do is cry and beg for what it wants."
Vengeful ghosts only repeated the same words over and over—like the old tale of the demon that chased you down crying, "Give me back my leg." Buried under their resentment, they'd laid down a curse and sealed their own mouths shut.
They can't speak, but they can still listen, can't they?
"Listen to what they want to hear, you mean?"
Which is exactly why she can't stay here. If a ghost I've barely calmed down hears talk of her husband and flies into a rage, there's no telling what she might do. Take her outside.
I addressed Lady Wolyeong, who stood before the box. "Please step outside. Once we've made our plans, we'll call for you again."
Lady Wolyeong stared at me for a long moment, then turned smoothly away. Only then did No. 1 raise his tail as if to say follow me and trot off toward the back gate.
She actually listens to me. What a relief.
Except Lee Ho-young and Moon Sung-il were watching me with expressions of utter terror.
Please stop looking at me like that.
"Ahem! 'Lady Wolyeong' was most likely how her husband addressed her—a pet name."
In the Joseon era, a woman had the name she was called as a child, the formal title she took after marriage, the style that followed her husband's official rank—and for some members of the gentry, even a separate pen-name or ho. But when a husband addressed his wife, he used something different altogether: an affectionate pet name modeled after the name of her quarters, her inner chamber. In other words, "Lady Wolyeong" was almost certainly a term of endearment derived from Wol yeong dang—Moon Shadow Hall—where the lady of the house resided.
"Wangsukcheon was a place called Pungyang back in the Joseon dynasty. The king kept a detached palace there to escape the summer heat, and the area around Jincheon-eup was a royal hunting ground. Later in the dynasty, it became the seat of the Pungyang Cho clan, the royal in-laws who dominated the court."
"Wow, how on earth do you know history so well?"
"I majored in history."
Back in school I'd studied English harder, scrambling to prepare for the job market—but that didn't mean I'd skipped the history books.
"This was a place with a royal residence, and hunting grounds the king frequented. Not just anyone could live there—especially not a member of the gentry."
"I imagine not."
"And yet the Pungyang Cho clan genealogy would have contained no record of the mummy."
"That's right. How did you know that?"
Lee Ho-young and Moon Sung-il were so taken aback by my grasp of history and my deductive reasoning that they hardly dared breathe too loudly. I gave what I hoped was a casual shrug.
"Because the mummy was a Joseon woman who married a surrendered Japanese."
Building on the vision I'd seen when I touched the dagger, I went on. "When the surrendered Japanese left on his long journey back, he gave his wife the wakizashi—the short companion blade that had hung at his side as part of a set with his katana."
"But only the dagger was found in the coffin with her."
At Lee Ho-young's remark, I shrugged again. "Are you so sure about that?"
I opened my laptop and searched for news about the Wangsukcheon Housing Development Site. "If my hunch is right, something must have happened. Let's see... there it is!"
I found an article posted a week earlier and showed it to Lee Ho-young and Moon Sung-il.
"Here, this incident. Coincidence, do you think?"
"'Site manager of Wangsukcheon Housing Development goes on violent rampage, leaving three injured'... 'Assaulted the police attempting to restrain him; charged with obstruction of official duties.'"
"That's it. He went on a rampage exactly like Mr. Moon Sung-il did a little while ago."
Lee Ho-young frowned, working through the deduction—then snapped his fingers. "So there's a vengeful spirit bound to the katana that was in the coffin too?"
"The vengeful spirit is Lady Wolyeong alone. The katana is a cursed blade."
A vengeful ghost is a spirit that pours everything into its curse and seals its own mouth. That's why Lady Wolyeong clung to Moon Sung-il yet never actually harmed anyone. Whoever had taken the katana, though, was another story—that cursed blade was already hurting people.
"So what you're saying, Sunbae-nim, is that the katana was in the coffin, and the site manager quietly made off with it."
"That's right."
"Then what is it she wants released? What exactly is her grievance?"
"Bring me the katana. Then I'll tell you everything."
Seeing that their teacups sat empty, I rose to my feet. "The roads will freeze once the sun goes down. The village lanes don't get properly plowed, so it's quite slippery—you two should hurry."
"Ah, yes. Then we'll head up to Seoul and start with the site manager."
Moon Sung-il stood first. I brought over the box containing the dagger and held it out to him.
"You'll be taking this, of course?"
"Wha—? N-no! Goodness, no. Why on earth would I—"
"Oh? Then are you giving it to me?"
At my question, Moon Sung-il's lips thinned and he began to stammer. "W-well, you see... once we find the katana, this one's value will only go up, so—"
Too precious to give away, yet far too frightening and tormenting to keep himself. What was the man supposed to do?
That was when the quick-witted Lee Ho-young stepped in. "We'll pay a storage fee. What do you say, Mr. Moon?"
"A storage fee? Ah—yes! Yes, of course, that's the answer. Would a million won a day be reasonable?"
I thought that was a decent sum, but Lee Ho-young frowned as if it were absurdly low. "We'd be keeping a restless spirit along with it—a million won seems a bit... people's lives would be hanging by a thread. And even once we find the katana, we'll have to ask our Sunbae-nim to purify both swords before they can be sold at all."
"He's right."
Moon Sung-il shuddered as the memory of his agonizing ordeal came flooding back. "Very well, then. Until we find the katana—two million won a day in storage fees. And if you purify both swords so they can be sold, I'll give you a ten percent commission."
"Twenty percent."
I raised two fingers. Who knew what price the blades might fetch—but I'd be purifying two swords that were otherwise worthless as merchandise and pure walking misfortune. I ought to be compensated accordingly. Time to lighten a magnate's purse a little.
Moon Sung-il deliberated for a moment, then nodded firmly. "Done! Let's do it that way."
Lee Ho-young came close and whispered in my ear. "Sunbae-nim, there were cherry blossoms painted on that dagger. If that turns out to be a family crest still existing in Japan today, the pair of swords will fetch at least two billion won. In Japan, displaying your family's swords is considered a matter of honor."
So my commission would be four hundred million won?
Not bad at all.
"Um, Sunbae-nim? One more thing. This is the old manuscript Mr. Moon couldn't identify either. I've studied hard, but for the life of me I can't figure out what it is."
Lee Ho-young held out an old book wrapped in silk cloth. "Leave it with me. I'll examine it and let you know."
"I'll pay twenty percent for that too—if it turns out to have market value."
"Deal."
And just like that, I was set to make money appraising relics.
After seeing Lee Ho-young and Moon Sung-il off and returning inside, I found No. 1 curled up and fast asleep in front of the Seonru Hwamok wood stove. Lady Wolyeong had been sitting blankly in a chair; she slowly turned her head to look at me.
Ha! How on earth did I end up rooming with an evil spirit and a vengeful ghost?
I sat down in the chair beside Lady Wolyeong's.
"You said vengeful ghosts only repeat the same words, didn't you?"
"Set me free. Please, set me free."
Why did I even open my mouth? Lady Wolyeong begged to be released, trailing a mournful, ghostly wail.
"All right, I understand. But try to remember—your husband's name, or your own true name. And tell me why you need his long sword found. Only then can your grudge be resolved quickly, and you can go on to the afterlife."
"Set me free, please, set me free."
How deeply must she be consumed by resentment, that those were the only words she had left?
Still, in the vision I'd seen through the dagger, Lady Wolyeong had been pregnant at the time.
I wonder—did that child survive, and grow up well?