The Foul Smell and the Empty House
The stench was something Yongha could not pinpoint. The moment he stepped into the house, his face twisted involuntarily. His nose would surely start stinging any second. And that skin-crawling chill—what was it? It felt as if someone had left a door open somewhere. Besides, the house was far too dark. Why hadn’t the lights been turned on… “Yeo, yeobo?” he called out cautiously to his wife. There was no reply. Yongha felt his tension surge without warning once more. Cold sweat trickled down his spine in a steady flow. Slap. Slap. The wet soles of her feet stuck to the living-room floor with a wet smack. Apart from that sound, the house was deathly quiet. As if no one lived here at all. She had to be somewhere inside… Yongha fumbled for the living-room light switch, finally finding it and flipping it on. Click. The switch clicked up, and light flashed across the room. And then—
////// From the bathroom, Yongha once again gazed out at the silent living room. His wife had vanished again. He searched everywhere, then opened the bedroom door. There was Sunja, sitting blankly. Was it because of the news that the shaman had died? Or because she had already given up hope? Her condition was deteriorating further. From some point she had stopped speaking at all, now uttering not a single word. Her behavior was so eerie, like someone possessed by a ghost, that it sent a chill down his spine. Did she feel like the woman standing in front of him was no longer the wife he knew…? Yongha tried to say something to his wife but stopped. He had nothing to say right now. He wanted to ask if she was all right, but she couldn’t be. His wife was burning away blacker and blacker than he was, he suspected. He simply exhaled a heavy sigh and left the bedroom to sit on the sofa. Silence weighed down heavily. The only sound was the occasional patter of raindrops from outside. What was he supposed to do now? He stared blankly through the dark window, then turned on the TV. A rerun of a variety show was playing. Naturally, he couldn’t focus on the screen. Yongha’s eyes kept drifting toward his daughter’s door. It was still firmly closed, but who knew when it might swing open again and steal him away. Fear refused to leave him. Yet, perhaps because the hangover still lingered, drowsiness crept in. After all, he had been exhausted today. And yesterday too—ever since his daughter changed like that, he hadn’t slept properly. The fatigue was crushing. Yongha began to nod off.
He had a nightmare. In it, Jeong Madam appeared after a long time. Beside her he saw himself grabbing and beating his wife. His wife cried and wailed, calling out his name over and over. Yongha felt an absurd hatred toward her. He hated her. Even revulsion rose in him. Just as he was about to leave the house, ignoring his wife who begged him desperately… Jeong Madam’s face suddenly changed. It had become his daughter’s. She looked at him with resentment, mocking him, laughing at him. Not content with that, the girl’s face began to twist further. More grotesque… terrifying… no longer human… At that moment! Yongha startled awake from the nightmare. Even right after waking, his heart nearly stopped. His eyes snapped open, and there was his wife’s face right in front of him. How startled he was this time—he almost choked on his breath. It felt as though his heart would stop. Meanwhile, Sunja showed no expression, no emotion. She was like a shell with no soul left. She had been asleep like that for a while, and Yongha stared at her in silence. Yongha himself didn’t know how to accept this situation. He licked his lips several times but couldn’t speak. Sweat dripped down his forehead once more… He somehow managed to speak. “Yeo, yeobo?” he called out cautiously to his wife. No reply came. Why? The sound of creaking bones ran down his spine. He waited in silence for a long time, then his wife slowly sat up again. She walked silently toward the kitchen. Something was bubbling in the kitchen. Yongha’s dry lips trembled as he watched his wife’s back, which was changing in a way that went beyond the strange. His hands, clenched tightly, shook like twigs. It was definitely strange. His wife was becoming stranger and stranger. Aaaah! Everyone in this house except him seemed to have gone mad. Enough already. These situations were too ghastly and painful. Like a habit, he swept his hand across his face, but the rich, savory scent of doenjang-jjigae wafted from the kitchen. Even so, his appetite was gone. Moreover, the hangover still lingered, and his head throbbed. When he looked out the window, dawn had begun to break. Yet the sky remained overcast. Meanwhile, was his wife preparing breakfast? With a sigh, he stood up from the chair and went into the bathroom to wash his face quickly, then came out. During that time, his wife’s figure disappeared again. Still, the table was neatly set. As always, three bowls of rice were placed, along with various side dishes from the stew onward. It was too lavish for breakfast. What… he was used to it. That had always been the case. His wife had always been the one with the biggest appetite. No matter what she did, she would fill the table to bursting when preparing meals. Of course she was also skilled in cooking. Why had he always hated this early-morning scene of his wife setting the table full of side dishes… Indeed, at that time, he had hated his wife Sunja so much that he must have been possessed by a ghost. Even now, those moments all turned into regret. Still, watching the table, his stomach growled. The long-forgotten hunger was poking its head out once more. By the way, where had his wife gone? He looked around. Then—his daughter’s door was slightly ajar. Fear struck him again. Could it be… his wife had entered his daughter’s room again? Yongha, about to rush back to the living room to pull his wife out, hesitated. Because he was scared. Because he was afraid. Now, seeing his daughter was far too terrifying. Whatever was inside wasn’t his daughter anymore. Yes, the daughter he knew from before might no longer exist. Whatever had entered her body might be some other being, not his daughter at all. When such thoughts struck him, Yongha stood rooted in front of his daughter’s door. He hesitated, unsure what to do. His body trembled like twigs again. Then—through the gap in the door, he heard his wife murmuring something. He couldn’t make out the words clearly. It sounded like a child’s babble. To listen better, he suppressed his fear and stepped forward cautiously. Then—through the tiny gap, his wife suddenly peered out. Her eyes were still empty, as if her soul had fled. “Hek!” Startled, Yongha took two steps back. Bang! At the same time, the door slammed shut by itself. His heart pounded as though it would explode. Gasping for breath, he stared at the closed door. “Yeo, yeobo…” he called out carefully to his wife. His voice cracked with fear. But had his voice reached her? No reply came. “Yeo, yeobo!”