Young-hoon's Chuseok

Young-hoon had been born in Gangwon Province — in a word, a country bumpkin.

Gangwon is mostly mountainous terrain, so the region has far more fields than rice paddies. Inje, where Young-hoon was born, barely had even those, and most of its residents made their living gathering medicinal herbs and the like from the mountains to sell.

Young-hoon's family was no different from the neighbors around them. The one blessing Young-hoon had was a decent head on his shoulders — he'd spent his middle and high school years at the very top of his class. Of course, he was still no match for the students in the big cities who'd gone to cram schools and hired tutors, so he'd scraped through a university that could only be called third-tier in Seoul.

Thanks, perhaps, to divine providence, his luck with employment hadn't been bad. He'd been hired outright at LK Electronics, a subsidiary of one of South Korea's top five conglomerates, and was now in his second year as an assistant manager on Marketing Team 3. By his own measure, that made him a perfectly ordinary little citizen living a perfectly ordinary life.

The day before Chuseok, he'd come down to his hometown of Inje for the first time in ages. The sight of the village after so long warmed his heart. Unlike Seoul, where everything spun in a frantic rush, even the drifting clouds here seemed unhurried — the scenery was healing, pure and simple.

Young-hoon's house sat at the foot of a mountain, not far off the road. A low stone wall enclosed a modest yard and house, the very picture of a classic country home. People said the old warmth of the countryside had faded, but the gate standing open at all hours still spoke of how little distance there was between neighbors.

When Young-hoon pulled the car into the front yard, his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mother happened to be coming out of the house.

"Mom, I'm here."

"Oh, my son. You made the long drive safely. Was there much traffic?"

"Not much — it's still early, so the holiday rush hasn't built up yet. That's why I got here a little ahead of schedule. Where's Dad?"

"He went up the mountain for pine mushrooms. He should be back soon."

"And Young-min and Su-jin?"

"Young-min says he'll get in late tonight, and Su-jin's on duty at the hospital. She called saying she'll stop by next week instead."

Young-hoon was the eldest of two sons and one daughter. Of the two younger siblings, Young-min worked as a bank teller in Chuncheon, Gangwon Province. His little sister Su-jin, like Young-hoon, lived in Seoul, but as a nurse at a major hospital she was hard to reach even by phone. Always buried in work, she hadn't been able to line up her schedule for this trip either. As her older brother, Young-hoon couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.

Soon it was lunchtime, and his father came down from the mountain. The pack on his back was stuffed full of pine mushrooms, their fragrant aroma wafting out all on its own.

"Dad, I'm here."

"Ah, Young-hoon's here."

Gruff and spare. His father was a typical country farmer who said only what needed saying. Even so, Young-hoon could feel the affection tucked inside those few words.

"Young-hoon's father, go wash up. I'll set the table."

"Mom, I'll help."

"Oh, hush, you. I'll fix it up nice, so off with you."

"Heh heh. Yes, ma'am."

Before long, the table was laid with a spread that made your mouth water just looking at it. Steaming pine mushroom salad with its wisps of white vapor, a savory soybean paste stew, and a whole array of seasoned mountain greens did their work whetting the appetite.

Just as everyone was digging in with gusto, his mother dropped the heavyweight question.

"So when exactly are you planning to get ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠married? How come you've never once introduced us to a girlfriend?"

"Ugh! Mom, honestly. I'll get married when the time comes."

"Oh, you. You're thirty-two now. In three months you'll be thirty-three. And because you won't think of settling down, Young-min and Su-jin are still single too. I'll be sixty soon — I need to see my grandchildren's faces at least. By the end of this year, find yourself a girlfriend somehow and bring her to me."

"Mom, it's not like a girlfriend is something you can just conjure up on command."

"Why not? What's wrong with my son, huh? He grew up tall and neat, his face is more than decent, and he's got a job at a major company that pays well. What's the problem?"

"Mom, 'pays well' is a bit of a stretch."

Convinced he wasn't even breaking even on that front, Young-hoon hastily steered the conversation elsewhere.

"By the way, Dad, it looks like a good year for pine mushrooms?"

"......"

"And what good does a big harvest do? The price just drops accordingly."

With his father giving no answer, his mother spoke up instead, as if lamenting. It was just for show, of course. No matter how plentiful the pine mushroom season, supply never quite caught up with demand, so prices stayed high. The money a family could earn from a single month of foraging exceeded a full year of farming, which was why most of the villagers spent autumn racing around collecting pine mushrooms.

"Well then, after lunch I should head up the mountain and pick some myself. There are a few pine mushroom patches only I know about."

"Oh, you. A patch only you know about? Where would you get such a thing?"

The truth was that pine mushrooms grow on the shady slopes of pine groves, which is why country folk call them pine mushroom patches. Young-hoon had been earning pocket money picking them since he was small, so he had his fair share of confidence.

"You drove all morning — you must be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tired. Just get some sleep. What do you know about picking pine mushrooms?"

"Just don't be shocked when you see what I bring back."

Young-hoon climbed the mountain full of ambition, but pine mushrooms weren't about to reveal themselves so easily. Still, having talked big in front of his mother, he couldn't very well just turn around and go back. In the end, Young-hoon kept pressing deeper into the mountains.

He came back with nothing. He hadn't found a single pine mushroom. And as if that weren't bad enough, a sudden cloudburst came pouring down.

"Ugh, of all the times for rain. This area was supposed to be the mother lode for pine mushrooms... First things first — I need to get out of this rain."

Scanning his surroundings, Young-hoon dug through old memories and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠found a suitable spot.

"Ah, right. There was definitely a cave up ahead in the valley."

It was the cave where villagers had sheltered during the Korean War, and it ran quite deep inside. Young-hoon had wandered in and out of it with his friends a few times as a kid, so it didn't take him long to find it.

"Huh?"

Lying on the cave floor was a skeleton — a skull and bare bones, clearly dead a very long time.

Thanks to his military service in a medical unit, the sight of a skeleton didn't particularly alarm Young-hoon.

Bones this clean would mean he's been dead at least ten years. So no one in the village has come into this cave all that time? What do I do? Report it to 112? That'd turn into a whole headache... Ah, forget it. Call it fate. I'll bury him somewhere sunny and head down the mountain.

"I don't know who you were, but I hope you rest in peace."

After muttering this to himself, Young-hoon waited out the rain, then sorted the bones and buried them in a warm, sunny spot beside the valley. He offered a simple memorial for the unknown stranger's death, which somehow struck him as terribly lonely, and made up his mind to head back down. Quite a bit of time had passed, and his heart wasn't in hunting for pine mushrooms anymore.

As he returned to the cave to grab his pack, something glinting on the floor caught Young-hoon's eye.

"Huh? What's this?"

It was a small gold ring.

"That's odd. It definitely wasn't here before. A ring, of all things?"

Young-hoon examined it closely. Nothing special about it — the kind of gold ring you'd see in any jewelry shop.

"I suppose it belonged to the one who died here. Must have dropped it when I moved the remains... Hmm, is it a gift of thanks for the burial? Well, I'm not complaining."

Out of curiosity, Young-hoon slipped the ring onto his finger. It was slightly too big and slid on easily — then suddenly, the ring began to shrink. Before he knew it, it had resized itself to fit his finger perfectly.

And at that very moment, a voice began to sound inside Young-hoon's head.

"Wh-what the—? Is somebody playing a prank on me?"

Flustered by the voice from out of nowhere, Young-hoon looked around, but there was no sign of another soul inside the cave. And through it all, the voice in his head kept going.

The sorrowful story tugged at Young-hoon's heart, and without realizing it, he grew solemn. He could feel, keenly and painfully, what it must have been like to meet one's end all alone in a foreign land, so far from home.

After a long while of the voice recounting its life and fortunes, it finally reached its last words.

With those final words, the ring gradually grew faint, sank into his flesh, and vanished entirely. Strangely enough, there was no pain at all.

"Whoa, this... it's like I'm possessed by some ghost or something..."

Having just lived through a very strange experience, Young-hoon waited until he saw the light fading, then hurried down the mountain. By the time he reached home, it was six in the evening. His mother, who'd been watching for him from a distance, asked:

"Did you pick a lot of pine mushrooms?"

Young-hoon scratched his head and put on his most breezy face.

"Oh, come on. If pine mushrooms were that easy to spot, they wouldn't cost an arm and a leg, would they?"

"Then what were you doing on the mountain all this time if you're only coming down now? I told you to just rest at home — why go up there and put yourself through it?"

"Hey, it's good exercise."

At that moment, a small sedan pulled up in front of the house. It was Young-hoon's younger brother, Young-min.

"Mom, I'm here."

"Good. Welcome home, my second son."

"Oh? Hyung's here too? When did you get in?"

"Yeah, before lunch."

"Young-min, listen to this. Turns out your hyung went up the mountain after lunch to pick pine mushrooms, came back with not a single one, and only came down just now."

"Aw, come on. Mom, why'd you have to go and tell Young-min that?"

Young-hoon grumbled, embarrassed, and Young-min seized the chance to tease him.

"I was always better at picking pine mushrooms than you, hyung. Even when we were kids. Your skills are plain as day — no need to even look."

Young-hoon had no comeback against Young-min's ribbing. Truth be told, the kid wasn't wrong. Worried the teasing would never end at this rate, he hurried to change the subject.

"So where is Dad?"

"Oh, don't get me started. That man's over at Hye-in's father's place having a drink, and he'll be sleeping it off there."

"What? Hye-in — you mean the one trying to be a singer in Seoul? I've never seen her on TV, though..."

"'Singer' is a stretch — word is hardly anyone knows her name. Her father must be so heartbroken over it that he drags your father out to drink every single day."

Hye-in was the eldest daughter of Mr. Shin, their next-door neighbor. With the big age gap between her and Young-hoon, all that remained in his memory was a cute little girl who loved to sing.

"You must be worn out from tramping around the mountain. Come inside and get dinner."

Ushered in by his mother's call, Young-hoon settled down just as a rerun of one of her favorite dramas came on TV. And then, something odd caught his eye. Any other day, he would have let it slide — but today it was uniquely, maddeningly grating.

That's strange? What's with that actor's acting? It's so... awkward.

"Mom. Young-min."

"What?"

"Huh? You called?"

"Doesn't that actor's performance look a little off to you?"

"Honestly. That drama's a hit with ratings over twenty percent — you think they'd cast someone who can't act? Looks fine to me."

"He's right. Do you know how famous that actor is? Every film he touches pulls in ten million moviegoers — you think his acting is awkward? Don't say such nonsense."

"Really? That's weird. Why does it look awkward to me, then?"

Tilting his head, Young-hoon focused on the drama once more. It still looked nothing but awkward to his eyes.

This is really strange? Even I could deliver those lines more cleanly... Is the script weak?

The truth was Young-hoon rarely watched TV. Work kept him busy, and he'd never had much interest in dramas anyway. But now the jarring mismatch between acting and dialogue was leaping out at him from every corner — it was enough to drive a man mad.

When the drama ended, Young-min switched the channel. This time it was a Chuseok special: an idol singing competition. From bad to worse. Sure enough, the idols' singing on screen was unbearably awkward too. It was like watching a kindergarten recital.

Ugh, even I could sing better than that. But why does this keep happening? I have zero talent for singing — I hate going to noraebang, for crying out loud...

A little later, Young-min went and woke their father, and everyone gathered around the table. Having wandered the mountains all day, Young-hoon was ravenous. No sooner had his father lifted a spoonful than he shoveled rice and side dishes into his mouth —

Huh? The food tastes different from lunch. What's going on? Am I so hungry my palate's changed?

"Mom, this seasoned bellflower root — it's the same one from lunch, right?"

"Hm? Yes... Why? Does something taste off?"

"No, no. Just asking."

"Weird — it tastes great to me. What about you, Young-min? Not good?"

His expression must have been strange, because his mother and Young-min both started teasing him. Worried the mood would sour for no reason, Young-hoon scrambled to smooth things over.

"No, it's just — I think it could use a bit more vinegar..."

"Hyung, you know you're being really weird today? First the actor's acting is awkward, now the side dishes taste off. You don't even like watching TV, and you're too lazy to eat at home — you always grab food out. When have you ever cared about how side dishes taste? What is wrong with you? Are you coming down with something?"

Thinking it was all just pointless complaining, Young-min retorted bluntly. His mother too, unsettled by Young-hoon's uncharacteristic behavior, voiced her worry.

"He's right. Our son is so strange today. Could you have caught a chill, getting rained on while picking pine mushrooms?"

"No — no, it's nothing. I guess I'm just on edge today. I'm sorry, Mom. This seasoned bellflower root really is delicious."

And so passed a slightly awkward night before Chuseok.

Young-hoon couldn't understand why his senses had changed like this. He even worried that, just as his brother had joked, he really had come down with some illness.

He spent the entire Chuseok holiday shambling around like a zombie, and only on the night before he was to return to Seoul did he finally learn the reason. The ring in the cave — and the voice that had sounded in his head. He realized then that neither had been a hallucination.

But Young-hoon did not yet know. He had no idea of the enormous change in destiny that had just come looking for him.