The Shaman's Bargain
At that moment, Inwol, bathed in the dying glow of sunset, was in a state of considerable uproar.
The villagers had gathered in front of Yoon’s house, exchanging wary glances laced with a restless blend of anxiety and unease.
In an atmosphere where no one dared step forward, one man clicked his tongue in frustration and strode up to the iron gate.
“Hey, Yoon! You in there?!”
The former village head took the lead, pounding roughly on the door.
Even his urgent shout brought only silence from beyond the iron gate.
Just as he was about to strike the door with greater force, it swung open abruptly, revealing the homeowner.
“What the— you’re inside, so why… Wait, what’s happened to your face?”
The man recoiled at the sight. Dark circles hollowed out her eyes and her complexion was deathly pale; she looked far from well.
Yet her gaze remained sharp as a honed blade, and for a brief moment the entire surroundings fell into stunned silence.
Yoon Suk-ja was the one who broke it.
“What’re y’all raisin’ such a ruckus for?”
The man faltered slightly at her chilly tone, then cleared his throat and pressed on.
“The jangseung we set up at the village entrance have all split apart. Not one, but all four of ’em.”
His expression demanded some kind of response, but Yoon Suk-ja remained utterly silent. Her calm face suggested she had known all along, which only fueled the former head’s irritation.
“They were perfectly fine until yesterday! They didn’t just crack—they split clean down the middle! You got any idea how monstrous that looks?”
The villagers nodded vigorously at his words.
The sudden roar that had shaken the village the day before had sent everyone searching for its cause.
After hours of fruitless inquiry, a resident heading into town had discovered the shattered jangseung and come racing back in a panic.
The uproar spread like wildfire, drawing a small crowd to the entrance to inspect the totems. The former head had been among them.
Those who had dismissed it as nothing fell deathly quiet the moment they laid eyes on the ruined guardians.
The grotesque sight of the posts split into several jagged pieces was enough to seal every mouth.
Seized by sudden fear, the villagers hadn’t even dared touch the broken jangseung. Instead they clustered together and marched on Yoon Suk-ja’s house to demand answers.
She answered with a composed expression.
“So what d’ya want me to do about it? You sayin’ it’s my fault they split?”
“Wh-what?”
“They’re useless now, so yank ’em out or leave ’em standin’—do whatever the hell you please.”
The moment her indifferent words ended, the door slammed shut with a resounding bang. The crowd stood frozen with their mouths agape before every face twisted in anger.
Some pounded on the gate hard enough to break it, shouting for her to come out, even kicking it furiously, but the unyielding iron door eventually defeated them all. One by one they gave up and left.
“The split jangseung ain’t the real problem, you fools.”
Yoon Suk-ja pressed hard against her temples and retreated back into the shrine room.
Inside the dim space, dozens of candles flickered in time with her movements. Against one wall stood a scroll depicting the gods of heaven and earth.
On the long table beneath it, fresh fruit, rice cakes, meat, candies, and other offerings were piled high like a mountain.
She had stayed up all night preparing them, but at least the arrangement looked respectable.
Yoon Suk-ja picked up the garments she had set aside and began to dress with solemn reverence.
A lavish robe that artfully combined the red used to repel evil with the blue that invoked peace.
It was the very shamanic robe she had worn in her mudang days.
“I never thought I’d wear this again.”
Now clad in the robe and crowned with a floral hat, Yoon Suk-ja scattered rice and salt across the floor and sat down.
She rubbed her palms together and began to chant under her breath.
As she recited the scripture, the last traces of sunset faded and a darkness deeper than any other night descended upon Inwol.
Outside, crickets chirped and an owl hooted. Just as she registered that night had truly fallen and tried to focus even harder, the candles lighting the shrine began to thrash violently.
“……”
At the same moment, a profound silence swallowed the room. Even Yoon Suk-ja’s chanting lips froze.
A single bead of sweat that had gathered on her forehead slid down in a slow, graceful curve.
Plop.
The sound of the droplet seemed deafening in the unnatural stillness.
In that eerie quiet where all creation seemed to hold its breath, just as Yoon Suk-ja tried to resume her chant, a low chuckle reached her ears.
The Okgap Chuksa Gyeong, is it? A scripture for driving away evil spirits.
A mesmerizingly low voice seemed to burrow straight into her ear, sending goosebumps racing across her skin as though hundreds of insects were crawling up her spine.
Will you continue?
Yoon Suk-ja, who had been sitting motionless, lifted her heavy body and turned around. From the darkness emerged a being that seemed to melt out of the shadows, walking forward with languid grace.
Long, lustrous black hair like a silken curtain swayed with every step.
Shin-wol wore a hanbok that somehow looked both neat and disheveled at once. His figure was so seductively beautiful it could enchant anyone who gazed upon him.
The aura around him was utterly different from his human guise. Yoon Suk-ja stared, momentarily spellbound, before she jolted back to her senses and shook her head violently. Eyes wide, she leveled a divine sword at him.
Do you intend to exorcise me?
He let out an amused chuckle.
“Reveal your true nature. Are you an evil spirit or a deity?”
Does it matter what I am? That is hardly the question you truly wish to ask.
He answered with a refreshing smile that felt entirely out of place in the tense atmosphere. Even the smallest gesture from him made it hard to breathe.
It seems the gift I gave you was to your liking.
“……”
Her grip tightened around the divine sword. Yoon Suk-ja already knew. With the power he had granted her, she could never exorcise him.
That was precisely why she had opened this ritual—not a gut to drive him away, but a sinnaerim to receive a new deity.
“I am Yoon Suk-ja, descendant of the Papyeong Yoon clan that once served the General Spirit. Our family has venerated the General Spirit for generations and produced many shamans.”
Her bloodshot eyes glared at him fiercely.
“I will guide this being of ill omen, so come and possess me.”
Ah.
A short sigh escaped, followed by a laugh that bordered on ridicule. Then, seconds later, every trace of amusement vanished from Shin-wol’s face.
How is it that you humans never deviate from expectations in the slightest?
“I—!”
Enough. Greed may be the essence of humanity, yet I never imagined you would be this ignorant of your own place.
Irritation radiated from him as he cut her off. Every candle in the shrine went out at once, and an inexplicable chill flooded the room.
I did not spare your life so I might listen to such drivel.
The icy tone that mirrored his displeasure made Yoon Suk-ja clench her teeth. Yet she could not answer. An eerie shadow had wrapped itself around her throat. She could feel that if she offended him any further, she would truly die.
When her body began to tremble uncontrollably, Shin-wol let out an annoyed sigh.
Since time is short, I will speak plainly. Is it spiritual power you desire?
Yoon Suk-ja’s head snapped up. Her helplessly trembling eyes had grown cloudy with naked greed.
With a cold smile at the ugliness of human nature, he continued.
If you swear to carry out my commands without complaint, I shall grant you power beyond the reach of any human.
His voice was unbearably sweet as he whispered. Even though she knew every word was poison, Yoon Suk-ja’s heart thrashed wildly.
“What… what must I do…”
Anything at all. Without complaint.
“I… I…”
Yoon Suk-ja’s voice shook violently. Shin-wol drew closer and whispered softly.
I will not force you. There are more than enough who could take your place.
The words struck her with sudden desperation.
Yoon Suk-ja—once a renowned shaman who had dominated an entire era.
With her exceptional divination skills, she had enjoyed such prestige that even the highest officials of the land sought her counsel. Then one day misfortune struck without warning, and everything began to crumble.
Her spiritual power plummeted. The divination ability she had been so proud of lost its light overnight, and people began to treat her as a has-been.
In her desperation to restore her divine power she had tried every possible method, but all of it had been in vain.
The despair of watching everything she thought she held slip through her fingers like sand was beyond words.
Heartbroken, she had laid everything down and retreated to Inwol, living in quiet seclusion.
The lingering effects of her shaman days still allowed her to sense the presence of minor spirits, but that was all. The realization that she could not even exorcise the lowliest ghost filled her with disgust.
Yoon Suk-ja had tried to forget the past and adapt to this quiet life.
Yet the glory of her former days had been too brilliant. She could not find satisfaction in such an existence.
Even as she told herself there was no meaning in chasing such things at her age, she would sometimes wake in the night with a pain so sharp it felt as though her heart were rotting.
She wanted revenge. On those who had scorned her. She wanted to crush the arrogance of everyone who had laughed and called her a failure.
And after forty long years, a lifeline had finally been lowered before her eyes.
An unknown rope of salvation extended by a being who might be a god or an evil spirit.
Her mind knew it was wrong, but Yoon Suk-ja had already tasted the sweet flavor of power once more.
The corners of her mouth twitched upward in a strange expression—half weeping, half laughing—as she nodded.
Yes. That is more like it.
Shin-wol’s lips curved in satisfaction as he reached out. The moment his fingertip touched her forehead, an overwhelming power began to pour into her in waves.
Yoon Suk-ja had no way of knowing this choice was irreversible.
From now until the day you die, you must serve as the spiritual pillar for my child.
Those final words never reached her.