Golden Axe, Silver Axe
[Is this axe yours, you bastard?]
If I answered honestly that it was my iron axe—no, my 5160 spring steel chrome-alloy high-carbon steel axe—what would happen here?
Would that so-called Mountain Spirit praise me for doing well and hand over a golden axe and a silver axe? Or would he shout, “Caught you, you little bastard,” and split my skull open?
So, entirely out of place for the situation, I started weighing the appropriate answer.
Then the bastard barked at me again.
[You crazy bastard, why are you hurling an axe at someone the moment you meet them? Is that how your father and mother raised you?]
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a father or mother, so I couldn’t help it.”
Usually, when you said something like that, people backed off with a bit of an apologetic look.
But the thing in front of me—well, just looking at him made it obvious he was no ordinary being.
[Indeed, a person’s roots are what matter. You were made vicious because you received none of the teachings of your parents.]
For some reason, even his manner of speaking had become obnoxious all of a sudden, but... fine. I’d keep my mouth shut. It was my fault, after all.
[How are you going to take responsibility for this?]
Take me to court. I’d been prepared for a life sentence, so what was there to fear?
The Mountain Spirit—blasphemous as the label sounded, but I couldn’t think of anything better—studied me for a moment before speaking.
[Your body’s fine. So is your face.]
A chill ran down my spine.
Come to think of it, there was something scarier than a life sentence.
I hurriedly raised my guard. It was a guard I hadn’t even bothered to raise when I killed six men.
And the Mountain Spirit ignored me completely.
[I’ll take your body.]
Sure. If you can turn me into a cute girl spirit first, maybe we can talk.
The Mountain Spirit pulled the axe out of his own head—he did not, in fact, transform into a cute girl.
Then he thrust it toward me as if tossing it over.
And in that instant, something happened on the reservoir that absolutely should never have happened.
A wave rose up as though the entire body of water had flipped over.
It came crashing down on me.
* * *
Prince Sado, famous for King Yeongjo the Great’s scientific paternity experiment, is better known for how he died than for how he lived.
But from the Joseon way of thinking, it’s hard to call his fate merely tragic.
After all, every king of Joseon after Yeongjo was, in one form or another, descended from Prince Sado.
Among the scholars of Joseon, how many had flung away their lives for righteous principles, clinging to the hope that their descendants would be reinstated, posthumously honored, and given a shrine?
Even if your own body died, if your descendants rose in the world, it was as good as your own success. The same went for adopted sons.
Yi Won-beom, exiled to Ganghwado as a criminal and making his living as a woodcutter in 1846, was also one of the seeds left outside the rice chest by Prince Sado.
“Oh, no! My axe!”
Yi Won-beom collapsed in front of the reservoir in a perfectly woodcutter-like wail.
The problem wasn’t merely that he couldn’t cut wood anymore.
In Joseon, a single axe was more valuable than you’d think. If things stayed like this, his wedding to Bong-i—the lover he’d secretly been meeting at the spring—would go down the drain too.
But as expected, heaven had not abandoned the royal bloodline’s last offshoot.
Something shot up out of the reservoir with a loud splash.
“……!!”
Yi Won-beom could do nothing but hiccup.
He didn’t know the tale of the golden axe and silver axe. That story comes from Aesop’s Fables.
And even for a modern person, it would have been hard to think of that here.
There are many kinds of axes. A Mountain Spirit can appear holding an axe, but so can a certain killer who loves Friday the 13th.
Taesu’s appearance leaned closer to the latter.
The instant Yi Won-beom laid eyes on the yokai-like figure standing there, holding a bloodstained axe and dripping water from his hair, he lost his one chance to prove his honesty and fainted on the spot.
* * *
I opened my mouth.
Of course, I wasn’t speaking to the young man passed out in front of me.
“So let me get this straight. You were supposed to appear to the person who dropped an axe into a pond, but because two people happened to do the exact same thing in the same place, you ended up appearing in the wrong time period?”
The Mountain Spirit answered from inside me.
[I thought you were nothing but a bandit, what with the way you hacked apart six men and even set a fire, but you’re sharper than I expected. Yes, that’s right. While I was confused in the wrong place, your axe came flying in, and I ended up like this.]
Apparently, a Mountain Spirit who gets struck by an axe during a summoning and has his functions shut down is supposed to enter some kind of dormant state.
[A soul without a spirit is not long for this world. But with my ethereal form shattered because of you, I had no choice but to rely on your own spirit instead.]
In other words, he had chosen me as a host to prevent himself from disappearing.
For a god, he seemed awfully fragile, but after hearing that even the god of some western household had no choice but to ascend after having nails driven through his hands and feet, I didn’t really feel like arguing.
“That god returned to the father’s house, I hear. Looks like you don’t have a father either.”
[You little... I was descended from a distinguished family. Without that kind of root and merit, one cannot become a Mountain Spirit.]
“So because you have roots and merit, you moonlight as a mental parasite?”
[If anyone heard that, they’d think you were innocent.]
I couldn’t see his face.
But I could tell very well that the spirit was making an ugly smile, the kind you’d expect from a malicious demon rather than a deity.
[Do you know why the ethereal body of a high-ranking spirit like me collapsed? Because of the resentment seeping from your axe, that’s why.]
I’ll admit I swung the axe. But that last part, I couldn’t accept.
“What right did those bastards have to hold a grudge?”
[I’m not talking about the resentment of the dead.]
I couldn’t see his face.
And yet I could feel, all too clearly, that grin—so ugly it was almost like the smile of a vengeful ghost.
[The feelings you were feeding on. The killing intent you carried. That savagery was more than even a spirit could endure.]
The spirit whispered as though into my ear.
[Whether it’s admirable or not, a spirit like that is strong. A normal person would have gone mad, but someone like you should be fine even if I’m riding along. So keep that in mind, and until I return to normal, don’t go dying a ridiculous death.]
* * *
I studied the face of the collapsed woodcutter.
“This really does feel like the Joseon era.”
Not because I was some expert historian, either.
No matter how faithful a production designer was, they wouldn’t dress an actor in clothes crawling with bedbugs. And on top of that, lice were marching through the hair tied in a greasy daenggi braid—greasy, and braided, not braiding grease, mind you.
You’re asking how I knew about bedbugs and head lice if I didn’t know much history?
You learn that stuff when you grow up in an orphanage where they pilfer the government-subsidized hygiene supplies to sell them off, and make the kids sleep on beds scavenged from a demolished inn.
If I hadn’t spent those years reading a few web novels, my mind would probably have shattered by now.
Hoo. Calm down.
There were plenty of positives too. For one thing, the police definitely weren’t coming after me.
The guy collapsed in front of me wasn’t in such a bad position either.
He’s basically the hero of a fairy tale. I even felt a little jealous of him and turned my attention inward.
“When he wakes up, do I just give him the golden axe and the silver axe?”
The Mountain Spirit seemed to think about it.
[To receive those, he has to answer, ‘The thing I dropped was the iron axe,’ but since he’s just fainted...]
He’s a stickler for rules in the strangest places.
[Ah, just take them. In a way, you’ve lived honestly too. Honest to your own desires, that is. It’s the same as throwing the iron axe into the pond.]
Forget it. This bastard is really just doing things half-assed, isn’t he?
[And I don’t care what happens to that fellow, but if you starve to death, I’d be in trouble too. For now, use them as seed money or whatever.]
I turned my head blankly.
Then I looked at the golden axe and silver axe poking out of my waterproof backpack.
The design was Joseon-style, but the size was about the same as a modern two-handed chopping axe.
If it were iron, each one would weigh about four or five kilos.
But gold and silver are much heavier than iron of the same size.
So how much was this, exactly?
I quickly pulled only the axe heads free and shoved them back into the backpack completely.
* * *
The woodcutter soon woke up.
His speech was a little odd, but not so much that I couldn’t understand him.
So I took in Yi Won-beom’s complaints without any trouble.
After a few exchanges, and once it became clear to him that I wasn’t some water ghost, Yi Won-beom launched into an extremely theatrical wail.
“What am I supposed to eat now... With my parents gone so early and now this calamity on top of it, heaven truly is indifferent.”
Probably he was asking for the iron axe I was holding. Since I’d basically stolen the golden and silver axes, maybe I should just give this one to him? He’s an orphan, so I’m feeling oddly sympathetic and all that.
[No. That axe is the bridge between you and me. I absolutely need it to recover.]
Your recovery isn’t my problem... no, wait, it is.
If he didn’t recover, I’d be mentally possessed for the rest of my life.
[You think that’s the end of it? If I vanish, do you think I’ll be the only one to die? If you yank a tree out by the roots, not only the roots suffer—the soil gets torn apart too. Your soul and spirit won’t be safe either. The best-case scenario would be that you end up as a complete invalid.]
Just as I was wondering whether I ought to kill myself right then and there, I finally accepted reality.
I preemptively snapped at Yi Won-beom.
“Hey, you brat. Did I steal your axe and eat it or something? You dropped it yourself, so why are you glaring at me? This is mine.”
Yi Won-beom snorted through his nose.
“What kind of stranger are you? You don’t seem to take me for a servant, do you?”
“Hah. You’re sixteen and still think that’s insulting? If I’d married early, I’d have a son your age by now.”
In truth, we were only about fifteen years apart, but this was Joseon, so a little exaggeration was fine.
But the fake Joseon man in front of me refused to submit to my Confucian logic.
“Do you think my eyes are those of a blind fool? You’ve got a fine build, but however you look at it, you’re not yet twenty.”
“What did you say?”
I stared at my own hand as I raised it blankly. Maybe it was just my imagination, but my skin did seem a little cleaner...
[It’s not your imagination.]
Did you do this?
I only thought it, not wanting to sound like a lunatic talking to himself, but as expected, the Mountain Spirit understood me anyway.
[If you keep orchids in the same room, even the privy starts to smell fragrant. Since I dwell within your soul, divine influence naturally reaches you as well. Your body has grown young and clean from receiving the immortals’ numinous power. Your soul is still filthy, though.]
Why did you have to add that last part?
[That’s not all. Your whole body’s meridians have been purified, so your energy should be much better too. Show some respect. This is what it means to be a god.]
While the Mountain Spirit rambled nonsense, Yi Won-beom kept stealing glances at me.
“Your head looks like some renegade monk’s... and it doesn’t even seem to be Qing clothes. Are you perhaps some shipwrecked Westerner?”
I hastily looked down at myself in case my race had somehow changed too.
But my hands didn’t seem especially white or especially dark.
[The way you’re dressed is so bizarre that he probably thinks you’re a Westerner.]
I glanced down.
Well, considering I’d left home with the intention of becoming a swindler, I couldn’t exactly call this a stylish outfit.
A heavy oversized hoodie under a coat, with army boots under jogger pants—yeah, no way I was getting into a club dressed like this. But was it really strange enough to change my race? Still looked better than the ragged mess he was wearing.
Then I suddenly felt a chill and turned to the side.
Yi Won-beom’s expression had turned fully hostile.
Apparently my silence had led to a misunderstanding.
He backed away, flailing his hands.
“If you’re a foreigner, I won’t be able to come away unscathed either. Let’s just pretend we never met.”
“Huh? Hey. Hey!”
Yi Won-beom sprang to his feet and ran.
His feet were so quick I could scarcely believe he was wearing straw shoes.
He even leaped suddenly into the air while running, then showed off a rotational tumble that would have scored points at the Olympics before crashing to the ground.
“Kraaagh!”
“......What?”
It took me a moment to realize this was not some special Joseon-style sprinting technique, but a traffic accident of sorts.
That was because a wild boar, stumbling after colliding with Yi Won-beom, was now snorting and regaining its stance.
[It came to drink water, then hid in the brush when it saw a person. But when that fellow suddenly ran at it, it panicked and charged out, which is how they collided.]
I don’t need a commentary. Give me an escape route.
Of course, I was seeing a wild boar for the first time too.
But I could say this with confidence. That thing was the Ma Dong-seok of wild boars.
Like every human being who’s ever met that man, I first thought of a peaceful solution.
“Can’t you get him to calm down somehow? Aren’t you a Mountain Spirit?”
[If I could exercise my divine power to that degree, why would I be clinging to you?]
You’re like a smartphone dropped in a toilet.
[Don’t worry. Beasts are different from humans; they don’t fight simply because they think they can win. It’ll probably avoid us on its own.]
But the situation that followed was different from what he said.
Yi Won-beom was already claiming he was a corpse. So the fierce beast’s ugly snout turned toward me instead.
A roar split the air, a proper challenge to a fair duel, and that deafening kweeeek echoed through the clearing.
The Mountain Spirit’s lazy voice came again.
[It seems hungry.]
I’d heard boars didn’t even turn down meat. They probably wouldn’t care much whether it was human meat or not.
I spat out a stream of curses and gripped the axe tightly.
Then I shouted at the bastard playing dead.
“Hey, Won-beom! If I get out of here alive, let me stay at your house for a while!”
Yi Won-beom’s back twitched.
I could probably take that as a yes.
I lowered my stance and tensed my shoulders.
At that exact moment, the wild boar kicked off the ground.
Author’s Note
1. It is true that Cheoljong lived in exile. However, stories like him working as a woodcutter or the famous anecdote about running from the authorities with his lover Bong-i are not confirmed in official records and belong to unofficial history.
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