Memories Best Forgotten
Yongha squeezed his eyes shut. Rumble… crash! Outside, thunder and lightning raged without pause. It sounded like the furious roar of an angry sky. Every time his daughter’s voice cut through that din—her desperate, broken voice—his body would jerk and tremble on its own. He wanted nothing more than to run to her, but he forced himself to stay rooted, pressing down the urge with everything he had.
Sometimes her voice turned so grotesque it sent chills racing across his skin. The sound alone was enough to make his flesh crawl. He would hold his unconscious wife tightly in his arms, weeping for what felt like hours, praying desperately that their daughter would return to herself. He begged over and over for the thing wearing Heejin’s face to disappear.
“Dad… Dad… Are you going to abandon me again? Dad… Dad…”
Heejin’s voice stabbed into his chest like a razor-sharp blade, carving out a wound that grew deeper with every repetition. The pain was becoming unbearable.
“I’m sorry… Your father is so sorry…”
He regretted everything. The moments when he had acted worse than a beast, the behavior no different from a worthless scoundrel—he regretted it all, again and again.
“I’m sorry… I’m so terribly sorry…”
All Yongha could do now was repeat his apologies like a broken record.
Crash!
Another violent thunderclap split the air. Right after came a piercing scream.
“Kyaaaah!”
Yongha shuddered violently and tightened his arms around his wife. He squeezed his eyes shut once more.
What had happened?
A heavy silence began to settle. The only sound left was the steady shhh of pouring rain. Heejin’s voice, the horrible monster’s voice—both had suddenly cut off. In their place, only the soft murmur of a young priestess reciting prayers drifted through the air.
From Heejin’s mouth poured a thick, black, tar-like substance. It gushed out in violent waves that refused to stop. Again and again she retched, until all her strength seemed drained. Her body slumped limply. The rain-soaked clothes clinging to her began to stain with spreading patches of vivid red blood.
“Ugh—!”
One final heave, and what she vomited this time was unmistakable: a massive toad. It was at least the size of Heejin’s own face.
At that moment, Hwan turned his head and looked at Miho, who had been watching with a detached expression. She answered his gaze without a word. From her chest she drew a long sword, which flew naturally into Hwan’s waiting hand. He gripped it tightly.
Vrrrrm…
A faint tremor ran through the blade. It felt like a sob. The sword seemed to scream with hunger, desperate to cut something—anything. Its greedy desire vibrated through the ringing of the blade.
Along with the razor-sharp cry of the sword, Hwan recited the familiar prayer out of habit.
"We have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God. Let us hold firmly to the faith we profess."
⟨ Exorcism Prayer ⟩
A bloody hue gathered and trembled along the blade. A sharper wail burst from the sword, and an eerie energy began to swirl at its tip.
"Then the Lord said to Satan, 'Very well, then, everything he has is in your power, but on the man himself do not lay a finger.' Then Satan went out from the presence of the Lord. Job 1:12."
Hwan stamped hard on the ground and surged forward. The toad flinched and tried frantically to flee, but its bloated body had no hope of escaping the edge of his blade. Crimson energy bloomed at the tip where the eerie aura swirled, carving a single horrifying arc through the air. The toad was sliced cleanly in two and died on the spot.
No one knew how much time had passed. The silence only grew heavier. By the time the rain began to ease, Yongha cautiously opened his tightly shut eyes. A faint light was starting to seep through the window. The long night was finally over; morning had come.
The world outside was eerily quiet. It was as if everything that had happened last night had been nothing but a lie. The terrifying demon’s voice was gone. Heejin’s sobs had vanished. Even the young priestess’s prayers could no longer be heard.
What had happened? Was it safe to go outside now?
Yongha hesitated, fidgeting anxiously. He was terrified that if he stepped out of the room he might ruin everything. Just then, Sunja’s body twitched.
Startled, Yongha looked at his wife.
“Sunja! Wake up! Come on! Please, open your eyes!”
He tried to rouse her with an urgent voice. Her eyelids fluttered, and at last her eyes opened. At the sight, fresh tears threatened to spill from Yongha’s eyes again.
“Do you recognize me? Huh? Say something, please!”
His voice was thick with desperation. Sunja blinked several times, then spoke in a small, hoarse whisper.
“Honey…”
Only then did Yongha feel the heavy stone that had been crushing his chest finally lift. Tears poured down like rain. Why had something like this happened to them? Why did such terrible things have to occur? He couldn’t hold back the sobs. He clutched Sunja and wept bitterly.
His wife, however, seemed unable to understand his tears at all. It looked as though she remembered nothing of the previous night.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen? Is it… did something happen to Heejin again? Honey!”
He didn’t know. He truly didn’t know. The sudden silence outside—had it all ended? Was Heejin all right? Was the young priestess safe? He had no answers. In the abrupt, oppressive quiet, Yongha had no idea what to do. He simply held Sunja tight and cried without end.
“Honey… why are you crying like that? What on earth happened?”
What a foolish man he was. What an idiot. He had treated her so cruelly, yet here she was, staying by his side until the end, still calling him “honey” in that steady voice. All he felt toward this simple, kind-hearted wife was endless guilt and regret.
“B-by the way, where’s our Heejin? What exactly happened? Heejin! Heejin!”
She struggled to get up, calling for their daughter. Yongha helped support her as they left the main bedroom together.
The moment the bedroom door opened, Sunja gasped in shock at the state of the living room. It was understandable. The room was in complete chaos. Every window was shattered. Dishes lay scattered across the floor. The television had toppled over, furniture was overturned, and worst of all, crow carcasses were strewn everywhere. The scene looked like a battlefield. Sunja’s face turned deathly pale.
“Th-this… what in the world… Heejin… Heejin!”
Staggering, she frantically called her daughter’s name. She rushed toward the small room to look for her, but Heejin was nowhere to be seen.
Meanwhile, Yongha’s gaze fell on the broken window. The sky was slowly growing brighter. How long had it been since he last saw sunlight? The thought crossed his mind. Strangely, the wind didn’t feel as cold today.
His wife kept calling Heejin’s name without pause. Yongha walked toward the open front door. Someone was sitting there. He knew at once who it was.
“Heejin?”
He called her name carefully. Heejin’s lips moved with great effort.
“Dad… Mom…”
The faint voice reached him. Yongha rushed over and pulled her into his arms. A moment later Sunja came running as well.
“Oh my goodness! Heejin! Heejin! What happened? What on earth… what happened here? Heejin!”
“I don’t know…”
Heejin answered weakly. She could barely open her eyes. Her body was as cold as ice. In front of her, Sunja fussed frantically.
“How’s your body? How do you feel? Oh no! What is this? Is that blood? Oh dear! Are you okay? Are you really okay? Does anything hurt?”
“Yeah… It doesn’t hurt anymore. Not at all… I’m just a little… tired.”
As Heejin answered, she managed the faintest of smiles. How long had it been since they last saw that smile? Sunja could no longer hold back. She burst into loud, childlike sobs.
Meanwhile, Yongha looked at his daughter, then hurried out into the yard. What in the world had happened here? Bloodstains covered the ground in every direction. In one spot there was even a long, deep gouge, as if a giant blade had slashed across the earth. But the most important person was nowhere to be seen. The young priest who had resolved this bizarre and eerie ordeal was gone.
“Where did he go…”
He even stepped outside the gate just in case, but amid the now-stopped rain and the growing sunlight, there was no sign of the young priest. Like a ghost who had appeared without warning, he had vanished just as suddenly.
“Just who… who on earth was that man?”