The Fox's Marble
The mountain shrouded in fog proved far more difficult to climb than Yeo-won had anticipated. Just as Grandmother had warned, the ground was sodden and treacherously slippery, while the mist blurred her vision at every turn.
Yeo-won focused intently, placing each foot with deliberate care.
Thirty minutes after setting out from the trailhead, she finally paused.
With her breath heaving up to her throat, Yeo-won scanned her surroundings.
Between the dense trees stood a low, flat rock. She hurried over and sank onto it.
About halfway, I suppose.
She remembered sitting on this very rock often when she had climbed with Grandfather. The mineral spring lay a little farther up.
Yeo-won exhaled a long, weary breath.
Harder than I expected.
She had assumed that since a child could manage it, an adult would find it easy. What a complacent thought.
In truth, her stamina was now so poor that even a child might outlast her.
She had possessed at least some muscle while working at the company, but now her body was gaunt—nothing but skin and bone.
She had known she was out of shape, yet she had not expected the realization to strike quite this hard.
Yeo-won let out a weak, empty laugh.
When I get back, I should start exercising.
She would clean the house she had been putting off, go to the gym, and remember to eat proper meals.
When she got back...
She would never return to this place again.
A shadow suddenly crossed Yeo-won’s face.
Once she drew the spring water, descended the mountain, and visited the hospital, her duties here would be finished.
Climbing this dangerous slope on such an ominous day was her final act of filial piety toward Grandmother.
She was not severing ties. If necessary, she would nurse her, care for her until the very end.
Yet this was not born of familial love. It was simply repayment for the years Grandmother had raised her.
Yeo-won had decided to abandon any lingering hope of truly becoming family.
You cursed demon! Because of you—because of you—my son, my husband!
Grandmother’s screams still echoed in her ears.
Had the pain finally dragged out her true feelings? Had she thought this way all along?
Rather than hatred or resentment at those words, Yeo-won felt pity first.
After all, Grandmother had lived for thirteen long years with the very demon that killed her husband and son.
In a way, Grandmother had been extraordinarily selfless.
Since childhood, Yeo-won had watched her friends and yearned for a real family.
Parents arriving with umbrellas on rainy days, friends chatting about weekend family trips—she could never join those conversations. She would simply smile awkwardly and change the subject.
Even so, it had been all right.
Because she had a family too.
They never came to fetch her with an umbrella, but Grandmother was always at home.
They had never exchanged a single warm word, but she and Grandmother were family.
To Yeo-won, Grandmother had been her one remaining attachment.
She had climbed the mountain to shake that attachment loose.
The mineral spring was not far now.
Yeo-won rose to her feet and resumed her ascent.
Before long she reached the spring she had longed to find.
She had just filled the empty plastic bottle she had carried up and was screwing the cap on tight.
When she turned to look back at the path she had climbed, the trail had vanished.
The fog had grown so dense she could not see even an inch ahead.
Grandfather’s words—that mountain weather could change without warning—suddenly drifted through her mind.
Yeo-won calmly rested her hand on the stone wall surrounding the spring.
She refused to panic and lose track of her exact position.
As she fumbled in her pocket for her phone, something dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
“Ah, this…”
It was the small bell Grandmother had given her before she set out.
A bell no larger than a baby’s fist, tied with a red cord.
When she picked it up, a rustling sound came from behind her.
“Eek!”
Her body jerked in a ridiculous spasm. Glancing back, she saw only a leaf brushed by the wind.
With visibility so poor, even tiny sounds made her nerves jump.
Yeo-won brushed the dirt from the bell.
Before the climb, Grandmother had pressed the bell into her hand with a grave warning.
Even if something speaks to you, do not answer. No matter what you see, ignore it. It probably won’t happen, but if this bell ever rings…
Grandmother had frowned and paused, choosing her words. Then she drew a deep breath and continued slowly.
Run as far from that spot as you can. Understand?
The intensity in her eyes left no room for argument. Yeo-won could only nod silently.
She had never seen Grandmother wear such an expression before.
That deadly serious, almost frightening look—was it the face she had worn during her years as a shaman?
Overwhelmed, Yeo-won had not even managed to ask what the bell was for.
Yet the bell had not rung once during the entire ascent.
Now that she thought about it, the bell must have been jostling in her pocket the whole way up, but she had never heard it.
Yeo-won studied it closely, then gave it a light shake. No sound came out.
“...It really is hollow inside.”
No matter how she shook it, the empty shell produced no sound at all.
Perhaps Grandmother had only meant to frighten her so she would not climb.
Yeo-won gave a small, wry laugh.
She slipped the bell back into her pocket and reached for her phone—when a chill suddenly swept over her entire body.
The temperature seemed to plummet. Yeo-won swallowed hard.
She knew this feeling all too well.
The bushes ahead rustled. Yet the trees and grass around her remained perfectly still. It was not the wind.
Yeo-won froze, unable to move a single finger. Her jaw trembled; she clenched her teeth tight.
The bushes kept rustling. Something inside them was squirming.
Just ignore it. Ignore it and it will lose interest…
They liked to startle people at first, but if there was no reaction they quickly grew bored.
Just as she tried to turn her gaze away naturally, the sound stopped.
The timing was perfect, as though whatever lurked there had been watching her movements.
She held her breath. It felt as if the other presence was also holding its breath, observing her.
In that strange, silent standoff, Yeo-won took one step back.
Through the gap in the bushes, gleaming yellow eyes flashed.
“Hup…!”
The involuntary sound had barely left her when a red shape burst from the undergrowth.
Terrified, Yeo-won’s legs gave out. She collapsed where she stood.
She squeezed her eyes shut, frantically recalling every exorcism chant she had ever heard.
God, Buddha, Allah—anyone, please…
Trapped on the foggy mountainside, Yeo-won’s terror reached its peak.
Tears slid down between her quivering eyelids.
While her body shook helplessly, something strangely moist and soft brushed against her ankle.
“Eek!”
At the odd sensation she jerked upright and opened her eyes.
“Yip!”
A single fox cub was rubbing itself affectionately against her leg.
“A… a fox?”
Did foxes even live on this mountain? As Yeo-won stared in blank amazement, the cub bounded around her in delight.
All the tension drained from her body in an instant. Her shoulders, which had been hunched near her ears, dropped heavily.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake…”
The tears she had been holding back spilled over in a rush of relief.
She remained sitting, too stunned even to wipe her face, while the fox cub circled her happily.
“Yip yip! Yip!”
Yeo-won glared at the playful creature and muttered weakly.
“...Do you have any idea how scared I was because of you?”
When she reached out, the cub—far from fleeing—came closer and rubbed against her hand.
The soft fur and warm body heat beneath her fingertips made Yeo-won laugh in weary disbelief.
The fox rolled onto its back, waving its short legs in the air.
When Yeo-won stroked its belly, it wriggled even more vigorously, demanding stronger pets.
The cub’s adorable antics made the terror she had felt moments earlier seem like a distant dream.
But aren’t foxes usually more wary of people?
Perhaps it had never seen humans before. Or maybe it was simply too young to understand hostility.
Doesn’t the mother usually teach them?
Yeo-won glanced around. The fog made it difficult to see far, but no other animals appeared nearby.
“Are your parents gone too?”
She gently stroked the cub’s chin and asked in a low voice.
She felt ridiculous speaking to a fox, yet her heart ached strangely.
“Yip!”
The cub barked as if in answer. Yeo-won’s smile turned tender.
“Same for me. We’re alike, you and I.”
“Ying…”
The fox licked her hand and whined. The ticklish, damp sensation drew a soft chuckle from Yeo-won.
“Are you comforting me? What a sweet little fox.”
She continued stroking the cub for a long while. When she finally looked up, she thought the fog seemed thinner than before.
Brushing dirt from her clothes, she stood. The bell in her pocket slipped out and fell again.
As she reached for it, a sudden wind whipped through the trees. Yeo-won frowned at the biting gust.
Fog followed by a knife-like wind. She was truly cursed, she thought—when a voice drifted from nowhere.
Yeo-won’s head snapped toward the sound.
At that exact moment the bell jingled.
Her gaze dropped to the bell lying on the ground.
As if to refute her disbelief, it rang again.
Jingle. Jingle. Jingle.
The bell began to peal wildly.
Yeo-won’s face drained of color.
It had been hollow. It should have made no sound at all. It definitely had been—
Then what was this bell ringing so frantically now?
Run as far from that spot as you can.
The moment Grandmother’s warning flashed through her mind, the frenzied ringing stopped. The savage wind died at the same instant.
Sensing something wrong, Yeo-won looked around. The fox cub had vanished.
No sound came from anywhere. The silence was absolute, as though the world around her had been severed.
It no longer felt like a mountain. It felt like an entirely different realm.
Yeo-won staggered, trying to take a step, when a colossal black fox emerged from the thick mist.
It was so enormous she could not take it in with a single glance. The giant fox approached her with leisurely grace.
With every step its obsidian fur shimmered, and its nine luxurious tails flowed like silk.
Her mind screamed at her to run, yet her body remained rooted, captivated by the creature’s unearthly beauty. Reason and instinct warred inside her until she simply froze.
The fox stopped directly before her and opened its jaws.
Between fangs the size of tree trunks, a crimson tongue emerged and slowly licked up her cheek.