Reaping the Curse's Harvest

According to the news report, a man in his late fifties had suddenly rushed out of his house wielding a Japanese sword and attacked a delivery driver.

The driver was a thirtysomething office worker who'd had a baby this year and was working two jobs to make ends meet.

"People pull this kind of crap and then claim they were drunk and don't remember, or that they were mentally impaired, and they get let off the hook again."

"Exactly. First offense, so they go easy on him, and he settles with the victim, so it's a suspended sentence. Is it any wonder violent crime keeps happening when the punishment is softer than a slap on the wrist?"

I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a closer look at the screen.

But the face of the man swinging the sword, and even the long blade in his hand, had been covered by a mosaic blur.

Could that Japanese sword be Shoichi's katana?

My instincts were sending me a clear signal—that blade was the missing katana.

"W-well, I think I need to go meet a friend."

As I popped the last piece of apple into my mouth and rose from the table, my father asked, "A friend? Ahh. Minseok?"

"Not Minseok today—I'm going to see Ho, Hoyoung. I have a junior named Lee Ho-young who absolutely idolizes me."

The moment Lee Ho-young opened his mouth, it was all about how much he respected me, how he wanted to do everything together with me. Well, he *was* following me around, so.

"So this time you're heading down without meeting Minseok?"

"I saw Minseok last time."

"Did you? Oh, I see."

My father smiled and mentioned that he'd run into Ko Minseok recently while out near Gwanghwamun.

"That boy couldn't stop singing your praises. I was with a friend of mine at the time, and my chest swelled right up. Who knew our son was that popular with his friends?"

"Minseok does like me a lot."

"Seemed like it. So polite and respectful with me, too."

At my father's words, my mother looked at me and said, "That's because our Yunho is so exceptional. He earns recognition wherever he goes. Am I wrong?"

"Mother is always right. She could never possibly be wrong."

When my mother and I fell into this comedy routine, my father let out a hearty laugh.

Since I'd moved out and only visited home occasionally, I felt my relationship with my parents had grown even closer.

The gratitude and tenderness I'd never noticed while living together seemed to reach me so much more vividly now.

"Well then, I'm heading out. I might be late, so don't wait up."

After telling my parents to get to sleep first, I stepped out of the house.

Whoa, isn't it way too bright for nighttime?

Streetlights. Light pouring from apartment windows. Car headlights. Glaring neon signs.

Every source of light pushed back the darkness, so that even though night had fallen, the sky glowed orange.

No wonder people get insomnia in a place like this.

Having grown accustomed to the deep darkness of the mountain hollows in Gangwon Province, I found this bright night exhausting.

"I want to go back to Ugok-ri already."

I took out my phone and called Lee Ho-young.

"Yes, Sunbae-nim. I was just about to call you myself."

"Did you catch the evening news too, Ho-young? They said they caught the guy who attacked someone with a Japanese sword."

"I received a report. I'd already put people on the ground to track the katana's whereabouts."

"So it's the one we're looking for?"

"A journalist sent me footage of the attack without the mosaic. It seems to be a match."

Just as I thought—a cursed katana, Shoichi's katana.

A man in his late fifties had attacked a delivery driver in his thirties with the blade. So was the delivery driver the target of the curse?

We'd know more once we met the detective investigating the case.

"The stabbing happened in Ilwon-dong, Gangnam, so would jurisdiction go to Gangnam Police Station? Or Suseo?"

"You're going there now?"

"If we don't break the katana's curse, someone else is going to get hurt."

"Then I'll get moving too. Let's meet up and go together, Sunbae-nim."

"Sunbae-nim!"

Before long, Lee Ho-young pulled up in front of a convenience store near Ilwon Tunnel.

I had picked up No. 1 from the cat hotel and taken a taxi over, so I was sitting on a chair outside the store waiting.

"Why are you sitting there looking so forlorn?"

"I left the cat at a hotel, but apparently he wasn't happy with the facilities. I feel like the life's been drained right out of me dealing with his tantrums."

"Can't you bring him to your place?"

"No."

To be perfectly accurate, it wasn't that I *couldn't* bring him home—it was that I *wouldn't*.

After all, No. 1 was a cat possessed by an evil spirit, and I had no intention of bringing him anywhere near my parents' house.

"Anyway, you got here faster than I expected."

At my words, Lee Ho-young waved his phone. "I made sure to finish all the research before coming. I put every single contact I could mobilize to work."

"And what did you dig up?"

"I'll tell you on the way. Hop in!"

Once I climbed into the car, Lee Ho-young began unloading his intel.

"The man behind today's stabbing is Jo Seok-hyeon, a professor in the humanities at Hankook University—and he's a descendant of Jo Bang-su, who was chummy with Won ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Gyun during the Imjin War."

"Wow, and now the name Won Gyun enters the picture."

A collaborator-turned-traitor *and* Won Gyun? Was Admiral Yi Sun-sin going to show up next?

When I made a show of my astonishment, Lee Ho-young chuckled. "What did I tell you? Every connection I could mobilize, fully deployed."

He'd dug into the attacker Jo Seok-hyeon, and then dug some more.

His occupation, his age, his family lineage—all of it.

And when he traced the family tree back, he found Jo Bang-su—the man Jo Seok-hyeon had screamed about killing today.

Jo Bang-su, it turned out, belonged to the same Pyeongyang Jo clan as Won Gyun's wife.

But here was the truly startling part.

"There's a record that Jo Bang-su caught a *fake* defector and was rewarded for it."

"A fake defector?"

As I furrowed my brow, Lee Ho-young clicked his tongue in disgust. "A defector named Sin I-ho—the Joseon name, mind you—was accused of being a spy for the Japanese raiders, and Jo Bang-su received a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠government stipend for exposing him. That Sin I-ho was Moritake Shoichi."

"So Jo Bang-su framed Shoichi with false charges."

"Yes."

"And Jo Seok-hyeon is Jo Bang-su's direct descendant?"

So the curse had sought out the bloodline of its enemy.

While I was mulling that over, Lee Ho-young added, "That's right. But Jo Seok-hyeon isn't just a humanities professor at Hankook University—he also works as a professional appraiser."

"He does appraisals too?"

"He might even know Mr. Moon Sung-il, for that matter."

"Then he would have known the katana was a masterpiece blade."

The coffin discovered at the Wangsukcheon housing development site.

When two swords came out of it, the person who ordered them smuggled away might well have been Jo Seok-hyeon himself.

Which meant—did the curse find the man, or did the man go hunting for the curse?

It seemed we'd only find out by digging deeper.

A Japanese sword attack in an upscale residential neighborhood of Ilwon-dong.

Team Leader Lee Cheol-yong, assigned to the investigation, let out a hollow laugh at the suspect Jo Seok-hyeon's testimony.

"Claiming you don't remember doesn't make it so."

"If I don't remember, then what, am I supposed to just make a story up?"

"I'm saying your statements don't add up."

As Lee Cheol-yong pressed him, Jo Seok-hyeon's lawyer cut in. "My client has the right to exercise his right to remain silent."

True to his credentials as a criminal defense specialist at a major firm, Attorney Park calmly slid forward documents he had clearly prepared in advance.

"Furthermore, Professor Jo Seok-hyeon's identity is beyond question, so there is no risk of flight. And since the attack was already broadcast on the news, he doesn't intend to deny the charges."

Lee Cheol-yong flipped through the papers Attorney Park handed over.

Documents proving Jo Seok-hyeon's credentials, along with a letter from the dean of Hankook University promising to personally guarantee his identity.

Attorney Park continued, "Indict him if you must. But the investigation will proceed without detention. And be careful not to let the press learn the professor's identity—otherwise, we will sue for defamation, even if the facts are true."

Another figure had come along with Attorney Park: Hwang Seok-jung, a police academy senior now working as an investigator.

He spoke in the tone of a man advising that peace was best for all parties. "You know me, Team Leader Lee. Let's do this the sensible way."

Faced with the senior's pressure, Lee Cheol-yong realized this investigation would be anything but easy.

"Then, Mr. Jo Seok-hyeon, tell us who Jo Bang-su is. The man you threatened to kill while swinging a Japanese sword."

"I don't remember."

"Are you saying there's no one named Jo Bang-su among your acquaintances?"

"No idea. I've never heard that name in my life."

After that, Jo Seok-hyeon simply repeated the same three things over and over: I don't know, I don't remember, my head hurts.

When a suspect stonewalled like this, there was little an investigator could do.

Even if I apply for a detention warrant, it's likely to be rejected one hundred times out of a hundred.

A professor at Hankook University. A first offense. And his identity guarantor was none other than the dean of the university itself.

Most important of all—

Jo Seok-hyeon knew the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠law far too well.

A textbook law-fighting weasel.

If they conducted a forced search, he'd file a civil complaint; he might even whip up the media to crush the police.

Out of options, Lee Cheol-yong let out a sigh and gathered the papers with a brisk slap-slap of cardstock.

"Refrain from leaving home for the time being. Cooperate with this request, and I'll allow you to be investigated without detention."

"Attorney Park, do your damn job properly."

Even though he'd secured an investigation without detention, Jo Seok-hyeon still berated his lawyer.

"I have a seminar to attend tomorrow, and you're telling me not to leave the house? It's unbelievable. If I'd known you'd just sit there taking it, Park, I never would have hired you."

"Because you didn't aid the victim, Professor, attempted murder charges could still be applied. We need to settle with the victim as quickly as possible—and to do that, avoiding detention was the priority."

"So you're telling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me to go grovel to the victim's family myself? Isn't that what I pay a lawyer for instead?"

After venting every ounce of his irritation on Attorney Park, Jo Seok-hyeon asked, "By the way, where's the long sword?"

"The police seized it. It's in their custody."

"You think I'm asking because I don't know that?"

Jo Seok-hyeon stared down at Attorney Park as if grinding him underfoot. "Settle with the victim tomorrow, and request a psychiatric evaluation for me. Once diminished mental capacity is recognized, we'll get a non-indictment disposition. Isn't that obvious?"

A non-indictment meant the case would never see a courtroom.

"I'll do my best, but it may be difficult..."

"Difficult? What's difficult about it? Bribe them, threaten them, whatever it takes! Make this whole thing disappear."

Jo Seok-hyeon was embroiled in a staggering 40 billion won lawsuit over charges that he had sold off clan land.

That land was precisely the Wangsukcheon housing development site.

Of all the cursed timing—a coffin has to pop up right after I sell the land?

When word came out that a mummified Joseon-era woman and burial goods had been found inside the coffin, he'd bribed the site manager to smuggle out whatever he could.

Something big. Something worth money.

And that had been the katana.

"Also—not through official channels, mind you—get the sword brought out on informal custody, on the grounds of its historical value. Once the non-indictment comes down tomorrow on the back of the diminished capacity diagnosis, the sword will be ordered returned anyway."

"The odds of approval are low."

"Park. That land of mine is worth forty billion. Think about your retainer fee, won't you? Go grease whatever duty officer you have to—just get that sword out tonight."

He had no interest in a long conversation.

"Handle it. Fast. I'll be waiting in the car."

Bring me the sword—or if you can't, then get lost.

Pushing Attorney Park aside, Jo Seok-hyeon climbed into the luxury sedan.

God, I need to feel that sensation one more time.

The moment he'd taken hold of the long sword, a strange current had surged through his whole body, as if strength were flooding every limb.

He'd felt younger. As if he'd become a man possessed of overwhelming power.

Granted, he'd blacked out for a moment, and he'd swung the blade at a passing delivery driver entirely against his will—but still.

I want to feel it again.

Jo Seok-hyeon flexed and unflexed the hand that had gripped the sword, the corner of his mouth curling upward.

He wanted Attorney Park to bring back that sword so he could savor that sensation to his heart's content.

"There's definitely something inexplicable in that blade."

He was desperately curious what it could be.

But moments later—

"See? Nothing in this world is impossible."

Walking toward him was Attorney Park—with the long sword in his hand.

And yet, as he drew closer, something about Attorney Park's build, his gait, seemed subtly different.

And what on earth was with that long hair rippling in the wind?

A chill crawled up his spine, and Jo Seok-hyeon leaned toward the driver. "Hey. That person coming up ahead. That's not Attorney Park, is it?"

No answer came back. Jo Seok-hyeon turned his gaze away from the windshield toward the driver's seat.

"Gah!"

A long-haired man in armor was sitting in the driver's seat.

"Who the hell are you?"

The instant a terrified Jo Seok-hyeon tried to leap out of the car, the door burst open.

The armored man raised the long sword high.

His face was a uniform gray, as though coated in wet cement, and where his mouth should have been, the flesh split open to reveal a red, lolling tongue.

The voice, as though rising from the depths of hell, bored into his eardrums, and his skull felt ready to split apart.

"Aaaargh!"

As the long sword flew toward his throat, Jo Seok-hyeon toppled backward flat on the ground and wet himself.

At that exact moment—

"No. 1."

"Miyaoong!"

A cat materialized out of nowhere, leaped onto the sedan's hood, and hissed furiously at the armored man.

And right behind it, a woman in a pale pink jacket came riding in on the wind.

The woman passed straight through the car window and seized Jo Seok-hyeon by the collar.

A ghost?

So I really have gone mad after all.

And with that, Jo Seok-hyeon fainted dead away.

"Like grandfather, like grandson—the blood of a traitor really does show."

Watching Jo Seok-hyeon slip out of the police station even after committing an attempted murder with a sword, I clicked my tongue.

Jo Seok-hyeon, descendant of Jo Bang-su, who had gorged himself on power and every private indulgence it could buy.

Part of me itched to just let the curse unleash its fury on him.

But if the curse ever met blood, the katana could end up becoming another Heogunmo, like Yeon Chumo's Black Cloud Sword—an evil spirit born of a clinging obsession.

One evil spirit to keep under control is plenty. No. 1 is all I need.

So I'd ordered No. 1 to put a stop to the curse.

In the meantime, Lady Wolyeong had emerged from the short sword and unleashed her pent-up scream on Jo Seok-hyeon—that part I hadn't stopped.

And so the situation ended with Jo Seok-hyeon passing out cold.

"Sunbae-nim, that's the katana."

"I see it."

I walked toward the katana lying on the ground.

"Wait a moment!"

Lee Ho-young turned deathly pale and scrambled to hold me back.

"What if you get cursed?"

"Lady Wolyeong will gather the curse back. Isn't that right, Lady Wolyeong?"