The Name She Kept Hidden

Crown Prince Yunhwi at Baek-yeongji had grown noticeably haggard.

Baek-yeongji lay close to the capital — the very opposite of the isolated village Seonghwi had been assigned. People crowded its streets day and night, and every one of them was a dead end.

"A waste of effort…."

Harassed endlessly by the corrupt and the grasping, Yunhwi carried dark shadows beneath his eyes. His complexion was poor, but his resolve burned as firm as ever.

He had tried everything to seize even a single thread of truth — who, in heaven's name, stood behind Seonghwi? Whoever it was commanded inhuman things at will, so surely the person was a shaman of some renown. And yet their identity remained sealed away from him. The frustration was suffocating.

"I'm telling you, it's true!"

Just then, an old man reeking of drink shoved his way toward Yunhwi's guards, trying to push through them.

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing, Your Highness. A drunkard — pay him no heed."

"It's true! I'm telling you it's true!"

The old man, beside himself, hurled the bottle in his hand. Crash! A sharp sound of shattering glass split the air.

"There was a shaman who swallowed an entire village, I say!"

The old man had come seeking Yunhwi, who was asking after shamans, and now he poured out his long-buried anguish.

"Wait. Let him through."

There was something here. Yunhwi sensed it instinctively. This old man held a thread.

"When I was young, I lived in a little village near Jincheonji. A tiny place, it was."

The old man wept as he spoke. There had been a shaman in the village, he said, and her spiritual power was so great that when drought came, she called down rain; when famine threatened, she made the soil rich again.

"With power like that, why did she stay buried in a place like that?"

"Because it was my husband's homeland, that's why. We'd been wanderers all our lives, and we wanted to put our feet in one patch of earth at last."

The shaman devoted herself to tending the village, but the very people who had first adored her slowly began to fear her — for her power was not a human thing, and so she herself could not quite be seen as human.

"And then her belly swelled, and they grew even more terrified. No one knew what kind of monster would come out of her, or whether that monster would look kindly on us. Some of them whispered she hadn't conceived a child at all — that she'd swallowed a person's living spirit to fill her womb."

The old man sniffled, his nose flushed red, and then wept bitterly.

"But it really was a monster, in the end! It was! I'd gone across to Jincheonji to see my cousin for a few days, and when I came back, the village was simply gone. Vanished. That shaman girl and her child swallowed it whole, I tell you. Swallowed the whole village! My wife, my precious children…!"

Yunhwi's brow furrowed. If the man spoke the truth, the enemy's power surpassed imagination.

Because a village had been swallowed whole — and yet not a whisper of it had ever reached Yunhwi's ears.

"What was the name of that village?"

"Don't know…. It's eaten my memory clean through, I can't recall it."

"Are you certain the village stood directly beside Jincheonji?"

"I told you, didn't I! But here's the strange thing — no matter how many people they sent, no road could be found. As if it never existed at all. As if it never, ever existed…."

Yunhwi considered the possibility that everything connected to that village — down to the memories of it — had been annihilated wholesale. He bit down hard on his lip.

"Then what is it that remains in your memory?"

The old man, who had been sobbing loudly, answered with vacant eyes.

"When the child was born… she said she would name it. Whether it was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠boy or a girl, she said — she wanted to give it that name, no matter what."

From far away came the dizzying clamor of gongs and drums.

It was a troupe of traveling performers, singing at the top of their lungs.

"Yeomga."

The yeom of flame, the ga of a jade-beautiful name.

Yeomga's name had not been Yeomga to begin with. It was the name of the child she had been forced to kill with her own two hands, her mind torn from her.

A name she had chosen praying that its life would blaze bright. And yet it became a name she could never speak aloud nor hear spoken, not once in her whole life. So she took her abandoned child's name and wore it as her own.

Every time she called herself Yeomga, she must have ground the words over and over in her heart — clutching a chest that burned as though she had swallowed a fistful of fire.

Yeomga, your mother will have your revenge. I swear it.

The performers were drawing closer now. In time with their song came the pounding of footsteps — kung, kung, kung, kung.

"You must go now."

The child at the head of the troupe spoke, looking straight at Yunhwi. At the performers' sudden appearance, his guards had hidden themselves and risen like a wall to block the way — but from the look of the child, he had already known the man before him was someone exalted. He showed not the faintest surprise.

As if he had heard of Yunhwi's identity from somewhere long before.

The song they sang, too, was a melody wishing a beloved safe return from a long journey.

"You know me, then?"

The child spared not a glance for the surrounding guards. His gaze rested only, entirely, on Yunhwi.

"The time has come, Your Highness."

The moment they barely broke through Yeomga's sorcery, what spread before their eyes was a vision of hell itself.

"What in the world…."

Myeong-do and Seoryeong froze where they stood. Rotting corpses were heaped in a great pile — children and elders alike, eyes rolled back, dried blood crusted around their gaping mouths.

It was a scene of utter desolation, as though someone had reaped their lives like so much grain.

Seoryeong approached them slowly. Maggots writhed in the bodies; they could not have been dead more than a few months.

At her arrival, the flesheating worms scattered in every direction with a dry, whispering rustle.

In that instant, Seoryeong realized something.

"Something's wrong."

She reached to lift the clothing of one of the corpses.

"Careful. That one was surely carrying disease."

Myeong-do caught her hand before she could touch it, as if he could not tolerate even the thought of filth touching her skin — and wiped her hand clean against his own sleeve.

The corpse's exposed forearm bore a ravaged mess of bite marks. Seoryeong felt her way along the wooden pillars nearby, which were gouged with the ferocious marks of something being scraped at.

Not a single one was intact. It was as if someone had been eating them.

And on a scarred pillar, along with dried blood, something had been carved.

"These people didn't die of sickness…."

"…."

"They starved to death. Slowly, over a long, long time."

A village hidden away and sealed off from the world. People so starved they gnawed at the very pillars of their homes. On land where not a blade of grass remained, they had thrashed and clawed, trying to devour one another — until every last one of them died. Why would Yeomga create such a hell?

"…Is this Yeommae?"

It was Myeong-do who spoke first, standing beside Seoryeong's dazed stillness. And indeed — every one of the corpses was missing a finger.

"Hihihi."

Just then, the sound of a child's laughter drifted from somewhere. The two of them turned toward it as if spellbound.

"Hihihihi."

One, two, three… Children in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠filthy, tattered clothes were giggling, finding it all terribly funny. A wave of despair swept across Seoryeong's face.

"Don't!"

The children ran — faster than anyone could ever catch. The instant Myeong-do lunged after them, Seoryeong clutched desperately at his arm and hauled him back.

"Every one of those is a vengeful spirit…."

The children were stampeding together toward some single destination.

"Are they heading to where Yeomga is?"

"…Yes. It was carved on the pillar, wasn't it. Baek-yeongji."

A place where crowds came and went — the perfect soil for spreading plague.

Just then, a small cloud of dust rose from the ground, thickening gradually like the fog that had shrouded this place.

And in that moment, the corpses sprawled across the earth began to rise.

Myeong-do drew the sword at his waist and planted himself firmly over Seoryeong, determined that nothing would lay a hand on her. His gleaming blade turned toward the things that were no longer human.

"There's no point in raising your sword. Their target isn't us."

Indeed, what they wanted was not the two of them.

"Isn't that Taejagwi?"

"That's made by tearing the soul out of the white spirit and wielding it — it has no body of its own. But look at those…."

What Yeomga had made — human and yet not human — were things that had died and yet not died.

"What Yeomga builds… is an army that can never die."

The corpses, too, went sprinting — this time in the opposite direction. Toward the palace. The color drained from Myeong-do's face as he understood her words.

Plague-bearing vengeful spirits.

An undying legion — the Immortal Demons.

"Pull yourself together. There's no time to waste standing here."

Seoryeong yanked Myeong-do back from his trance, then caught his eyes and pressed her words home —

as if this were the last time. As if they were parting now forever.

"Listen to me carefully. Go to the palace. Every curse can be broken. Yeomga must have some object that binds their souls to her — you have to find it."

Myeong-do could say nothing at all. He only looked at her — at the calm, unshakable expression set above that cool face.

It was the same face as the day they first met, when she had already resolved to die.

"Break the Immortal Demons. Pin these talismans to the foreheads of the fallen dead and burn them. The vengeful spirits will chase Yeomga down, and I'll be the one to destroy her. Got it?"

Seoryeong pulled a fistful of talismans from her breast, then closed her eyes briefly and murmured an incantation over them. Myeong-do's gaze never left her the whole time.

The rims of his eyes flared red. They trembled, on the verge of spilling over.

"Don't worry. I will never let that rebellion happen. All right?"

If you go, then what about me? Myeong-do could not bring himself to say it — only held her in his eyes, his throat trembling with the wordless refusal to let her go.

Seoryeong pressed the talismans forcibly into his hand. Their dry rustle sounded desolate in the air.

"Go. Now."

"…."

"I said go — I've poured every last drop of my remaining power into those talismans. Go. Only when you leave can I break this binding bracelet."

The moment the restraint broke, her location would be laid bare to Yeomga. If Myeong-do stayed by her side, he would be in danger.

"…If you take the road you mean to take, your life will be forfeit."

The words the child of the performers had spoken flashed through her mind. Thank goodness, she thought. At least I can save him. Seoryeong looked up at him and smiled, bright and clear.

"Don't make that face, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠okay?"

"…You."

"Come and get me. I'll be waiting at Baek-yeongji."

A lie. Seoryeong was a better liar than anyone alive. So even now she spat out the heartless words with perfect composure.

"I won't kill Yeomga. Just like you said… I'll seal her power away and let her live to the very end. I won't trade my life for it. Never."

Yeomga's power had been beyond anything Seoryeong had imagined. To face her, she would have to wager her life outright.

"Here — give this back to me when we meet again."

She untied the white cord wound around her arm, then knotted the lotus-embroidered Five Blessings String around Myeong-do's arm once more.

With her small white hands, Seoryeong turned his body away from her, then gave his back a single pat. Now go.

At last, the tears burst from Myeong-do's eyes.

"Now run. There's no time."

And with that she bolted in the opposite direction, leaving him behind. Listening to her footsteps fade, Myeong-do stumbled forward one step at a time.

He could not even muster the strength to run. The road he had to walk alone, with Seoryeong left behind him, stretched out endless and bleak. Tears streamed without pause. He clenched his jaw so hard the muscles stood out in knots; his eyes burned scarlet.

"You asked me once what my name was!"

Seoryeong, who had been running hard, stopped short and shouted.

"My name is Seoryeong! Seo — the seo that means auspicious — and Ryeong — the ryeong of a chiming jewel!"

At the sound of her voice, Myeong-do froze in his tracks as well. The two of them stood framed on the desolate road, poised at opposite ends of it like mirror points.

It was a distance of no more than a few dozen steps — and yet it felt as though they would never meet again.

"Jeong-an gave it to me, a long time ago…! And back then I pretended I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hated it! I told her never to call me that! I said I didn't need her to name me — that I already had a name of my own! I lied!"

Myeong-do shut his eyes, his back still turned to her. He bit down and tried to endure, but the tears would not stop.

"Because until then, I'd never had a real name at all! I was scared it would look stupid if I liked it too much! And then the moment passed, and after that I couldn't bring myself to ask her to say it anymore! I was too ashamed!"

Myeong-do bowed his head deeply.

"…Anyway — my name is Seoryeong!"

She had dug up even the name she had kept hidden all this time, and handed it over at last.

"Then goodbye! Live long and happy!"

Shouting it like a final confession, Seoryeong turned and ran once more — leaving him behind. Myeong-do, who had stood listening to her footsteps long after they faded, slowly lifted his head.

The light in his eyes had changed. He was no longer the man weeping tears of farewell. With the gaze of someone who had made an iron resolution, Myeong-do tore down the road.

He had to reach the palace, and quickly. Just as she said — he would find the way to break the curse, cut down every last Immortal Demon, burn them to ash, and then go back for her.

Because she had promised. Because for the first time in her life, Seoryeong had promised him she would not die. He had to keep that promise — the one promise that must never, on any account, be broken. His robes billowed behind him as he ran like a man possessed.

Not for rebellion — but for love.