That Clacking Sound
Clack. Clatter.
In the deep darkness where even the wind held its breath, a strange sound echoed.
He rested his chin on his hand, moving the janggi pieces one by one with bored eyes. After several scraping sounds, the opponent’s palace was captured and the game ended.
The board still carried every trace of a fierce battle, yet for Shin-wol—who had replayed the match thousands of times—it held not even the smallest amusement. The longer this tedious ritual of shifting pieces from muscle memory continued, the deeper the ennui that settled into his gaze.
When had he first begun playing janggi? It was now so far in the past that even remembering felt distant and hazy.
Janggi was the first amusement Shin-wol had learned from humans. The one who taught him was the greatest player of the age, the Chess Saint himself, a middle-aged man who also served as the king’s tutor.
The man possessed a bizarre and eccentric personality that offered little else to admire, but his skill was so mesmerizing it could captivate anyone. Even Shin-wol had found it interesting.
Yet that interest had not lasted long. The moment the middle-aged man realized Shin-wol was not human, he began to bare his desires without shame—begging for an immortal body, demanding to be made king of the realm.
When Shin-wol refused him, the man retaliated by ostentatiously scattering filth across Mount Inwol, slaughtering the mountain’s small creatures and tearing their corpses apart in grotesque displays. Not long afterward, he was executed for the crime of speaking improperly to the king. As the man’s severed head struck the ground, Shin-wol felt pity for the first time.
That mouth of his had always been a calamity; Shin-wol had known such an end was inevitable. Still, it was somewhat regrettable that he would never play janggi with him again.
He tried a few more humans after that, but none matched the man’s caliber. While he passed tedious days reviewing old match records, he met Mun-a.
“Wow, is this the janggi everyone’s talking about these days?”
Seeing her eyes sparkle as she asked, Shin-wol gave a small smile.
“Do you wish to learn?”
The question had been asked without much expectation, yet Mun-a pondered it for a long while before nodding with the gravity of someone making a momentous decision.
“This is the chariot. This is the horse. When the palace is captured, the game ends.”
Shin-wol took great care in teaching her so she would not struggle. Despite his efforts, Mun-a’s skill was so abysmal it was almost painful to watch.
“Checkmate.”
“……Please play one more game with me, Nari.”
Even with such a hopeless gap in ability, Mun-a never grew tired of challenging him. It should have been boring, yet Shin-wol accepted every match with quiet composure.
It was a different kind of enjoyment than he had known with the former Chess Saint. Mun-a’s face changed moment by moment; simply watching her left no room for boredom.
“Is janggi still fun for you even when you lose so badly?”
He had asked her once while she sat contemplating her next move in a game that was already decided.
“Honestly, it’s so difficult I don’t really understand it.”
Mun-a answered with an awkward, embarrassed smile.
“But playing janggi with you, Nari, is enjoyable. Ah, and the sound is nice too!”
“The sound? What sound do you mean?”
“The sound that comes when you play! That clack when the pieces are placed—it sounds like sparks flying, doesn’t it? It reminds me of the sound chestnuts make when they’re roasting at night.”
At the answer so perfectly like her, Shin-wol burst into laughter. Mun-a’s face flushed red as camellia blossoms and she scolded him not to laugh.
At that exact moment, the janggi board split apart with a sharp crack. The gently fluttering breeze stopped dead.
Shin-wol’s eyes darkened as he stared down at the fractured board. His vertically slit pupils narrowed until they were thin as threads. He covered his face and bent forward.
“Haa.”
The sigh he released drifted across the entire mountain. At that low sound, the small creatures of the forest trembled and hid themselves. Something writhed along his back. The black mist-like substance stretched outward like a shadow and swallowed the room.
At the ominous, chilling aura, every creature on the mountain froze where it stood. Watching what flowed from Shin-wol’s palace, they swallowed their breath as though they had already glimpsed their own deaths.
Power surged into the hand covering his face. Nine tails lashed outward. The ground itself shook with the roar of a colossal beast.
The surface of the celadon bowl placed beside the janggi board trembled.
It’s cold clouds, human! It is!
“I get it, so please eat quietly.”
Hearing Yeo-won’s tired voice through the water mirror was a difficult spell that would tax even most mountain gods, yet it posed no great challenge to Shin-wol.
A faint smile lingered at the corners of Yeo-won’s mouth as she wiped around Cheong-sil’s lips. Cheong-sil bounced around the room clutching something that looked like rolled white cotton candy.
Watching them, Shin-wol’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“……I sent him there as punishment.”
With the quiet murmur, the black mist writhing along his back dissipated. At the same time a warm breeze blew through, and the mountain returned to peace as though nothing had happened.
He flicked a finger, and the cracked janggi board restored itself. Even so, his gaze remained fixed on the water mirror.
Yeo-won’s complexion looked poor; it seemed she had shared spiritual energy with Cheong-sil. For him to draw spiritual energy from her in her current state, there must have been physical contact of some kind.
Shin-wol’s eyes grew icy as he stared down at Cheong-sil. Then he noticed something else hovering around Yeo-won, and his eyes curved with dark amusement.
“All kinds of trash seem to be swarming her.”
When Shin-wol reached out, a lotus root appeared from thin air. He lit it, took a deep drag, and exhaled. A bitter smile played across his lips.
“We’ve arrived! It was hard! It is!”
The moment they reached home, Cheong-sil leapt from her arms. As if he had been waiting for it, his transformation released and he returned to the form of a small fox pup.
“That’s why I kept telling you to hurry……”
Yeo-won barely managed to kick off her shoes and staggered into the living room before collapsing onto the sofa. While she lay there like a sodden cotton ball, Cheong-sil—apparently still full of energy—bounced around the entire room.
“But it was fun! It is!”
Looking at the glossy, shining orange fur, Yeo-won pressed her lips tightly together.
The trouble had started because Cheong-sil had gotten ice cream all over his clothes and hands. She had sat him on a bench and waited for him to finish, only for a child to approach.
“Whoa, look at this kid! It’s so cool!”
One child who found Cheong-sil’s eye and hair color fascinating led the way, and soon the other children heading home from school began to gather.
In an instant they were surrounded. The children stared at Cheong-sil as if he were a monkey in a zoo, blurting out unfiltered remarks—foreigner, weird, and other things only children would say.
When the flustered Yeo-won glanced at him, Cheong-sil seemed either uninterested or oblivious; he was too busy licking the sticky ice cream from his hands.
Yeo-won let out a tired sigh and tried to take Cheong-sil and leave.
At that moment one child grabbed Cheong-sil’s hand.
“Play with us!”
The child immediately began running toward the center of the playground, dragging Cheong-sil along.
What is happening?
While Yeo-won stood frozen, unable to process the situation, Cheong-sil’s hat twitched. Through the gap she caught a glimpse of perked ears. She let out a silent scream and rushed after them.
“W-wait! Not him!”
The child holding Cheong-sil’s hand glanced back at her and flashed a mischievous grin.
“Whoa! It’s tag!”
“Tag?”
“You don’t know? You can’t let the tagger catch you! The noona chasing us is the tagger!”
“Tagger……”
When Cheong-sil turned to look, he saw Yeo-won right behind them, panting. She reached out desperately.
“Cheong-sil!”
Cheong-sil, who had been quietly watching her, had eyes that sparkled in the sunlight.
Just before her hand could touch his overalls, he leapt upward and dodged her grasp.
“Ah!”
Yeo-won lost her balance and fell.
“Ugh……”
The children burst into laughter at the sight of her sprawled on the ground. The playground floor was soft, so she wasn’t hurt, but the embarrassment of such a ridiculous fall washed over her.
Yeo-won pushed herself up and glared at Cheong-sil. He stared back at her with wide, innocent eyes before bursting into laughter along with the other children.
“It’s the tagger! It is!”
Cheong-sil’s pure, simple smile was no different from the children’s. Seeing him laugh so innocently, her anger melted away.
The children tugged Cheong-sil’s hand, saying they should play something other than tag. His peculiar verbal tic ending in “it is” seemed to be accepted without question thanks to children’s natural affinity for one another.
At the sound of their endlessly clear laughter, Yeo-won let out another tired sigh.
Even so, Cheong-sil looked incredibly happy playing with children his own age, so a smile kept rising to her lips as she watched.
She sat on the bench waiting for him, but as time passed the children showed no sign of tiring.
Whenever Cheong-sil felt his transformation might slip while playing, he would scamper over and cling to her tightly.
She knew he was after her spiritual energy, but she couldn’t bring herself to push away such a small body, so Yeo-won reluctantly hugged him.
Later, when she no longer had the strength even for that, she replaced the hugs with high-fives, but Cheong-sil seemed perfectly content with them.
By the time the sun had set and they finally returned home, Yeo-won was utterly drained. She didn’t have the strength to lift a single finger. Drowsiness washed over her and she began to nod off when her phone rang in her pocket.
“Ah, what now.”
Startled awake, Yeo-won pulled out her phone. She rubbed her tired eyes and checked the screen. All traces of sleep vanished in an instant.
The number wasn’t saved, but she knew exactly who it was.
Yeo-won took a short, steadying breath and answered with a resolute expression.
“Hello.”
— Sunbae, it’s me. Yoo Jae-young.
Yeo-won glared at Cheong-sil, who was still bouncing around beside her, and swallowed a heavy sigh.