A Bell to Clutch in the Dark
Mu-ho opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut again. Exhaustion clung to his face as he let out a long sigh.
How long had it been since words failed him? And to think it would be a mere human—not Shin-wol, not even the Heavenly Deity—who left him speechless.
Mu-ho himself knew there had been no need to drag up the past. Yet watching Shin-wol’s behavior, he found it impossible to let the matter slide.
From long ago, Shin-wol had always possessed a stubborn streak, latching onto a single thing with single-minded intensity—whether that thing was an object or a person.
To those he favored, he gave his affection without reservation. But humans, once pampered, inevitably forgot their place and climbed atop his head. Because of this, Shin-wol had suffered countless betrayals at human hands. Just as he was about to sever all interest in their kind, he encountered a human child named Mun-a.
Back then, when Mu-ho had seen the two of them together from afar, he sensed at once that Mun-a was different from every other human Shin-wol had met.
To be sure, their relationship resembled that of master and disciple, or even father and daughter, rather than lovers. Yet the depth of their bond was undeniable.
Unlike with the others, Shin-wol’s care was plain to see—he handled her as though she might shatter if touched, might scatter like petals if breathed upon too hard. That sight had worried many of the gods.
Mu-ho had been among them.
What are you going to do, pouring so much affection into her?
She was only human; she would not live even a hundred years. What would he do when she died?
The mere thought of Shin-wol sinking into decades of despair and wasted time had already made Mu-ho’s chest ache.
Yet not long afterward, an event occurred that made him think it would have been better had she simply died.
Mu-ho’s expression darkened. He ruffled his hair in irritation while Yeo-won watched him in silence.
After a long moment spent lost in thought, he finally looked at her with clear displeasure and spoke.
“Pardon?”
At the ambiguous question, Yeo-won faltered. Mu-ho barked out a hollow laugh.
“Ah—if I offended you, I’m sorry—”
Mu-ho cut her off swiftly. He narrowed his eyes at her, then shifted his gaze toward Shin-wol.
A guy like that… Yeo-won stole a quick glance at Shin-wol. He did not appear angry, but his mood was clearly sour.
She, too, wanted nothing more than to leave this place. Gathering her courage, she approached Mu-ho.
“Mountain God. I know you aren’t feeling well, but could you open the path for us?”
Stopping two steps away, Yeo-won knelt so she sat eye-level with the mountain god.
“It’s almost my grandfather’s memorial day, so I need to hurry back. I’ll return later to apologize properly. I’ll even bring a gift.”
By then the cat had pressed itself against her side. Yeo-won stroked it gently as she spoke. The moment she did, she felt a murderous aura rolling in from a distance.
When she lifted her head, she found Shin-wol staring at them with gleaming, dangerous eyes. His lips moved in a silent whisper.
Though he had merely mouthed the words, the voice echoed directly in her ear. Mu-ho let out a disbelieving chuckle.
Yes. It was because of that face.
The face he had never shown that girl.
Back then he had always worn the gentle, scholarly expression of a benevolent man. This face, however, was forged from every conceivable malice. It stoked Mu-ho’s unease.
A fleeting thought sliced through his mind.
Should I simply kill her?
Before the same tragedy repeated itself, would it not be better to end this child’s life now?
Shin-wol’s expression was that perilous. In some ways, it was even worse than before.
The days when he had fretted over her breaking if touched or scattering if breathed upon now seemed almost endearing. The only thing radiating from Shin-wol now was the foul stench of a beast.
It was the same scent a beast gave off when claiming its mate.
The first time Mu-ho had caught that scent, he had unconsciously pinched his nose.
On top of that, this human’s situation did not look promising. If even he could sense it, the likelihood that Shin-wol had already made preparations was high.
Yet Mu-ho could not believe such preparations would truly benefit her.
In that case, perhaps killing her now was the only mercy he could offer—the sole way to free her from future suffering.
Mu-ho’s eyes narrowed.
At this close range, with Yeo-won right before him, he would undoubtedly be faster than Shin-wol.
The moment a ruthless conviction took shape in his mind and spiritual energy began to coil around his hand—
“Mountain God?”
Yeo-won’s calm, resonant voice scattered the dark thought like smoke.
“Are you all right?”
“……”
“You look like you’re in pain. You’re covered in cold sweat…”
Watching her genuine worry, the way she seemed at a complete loss, the tension drained from Mu-ho’s entire body.
He dropped his head and laughed bitterly.
What on earth had he been thinking?
Had the Heavenly Deity witnessed it, she would have been outraged.
Mu-ho waved a hand through the air. A tremendous roar shook the space, only to vanish seconds later, leaving perfect silence.
In a tired voice, he said,
“…Well, that’s true, but—”
At his warning, Yeo-won’s shoulders drooped. She fidgeted with her lips, then bowed and made to stand. The cat promptly leaped into her lap.
It buried its head against her body, eyes sparkling, and began to meow.
“Meow.”
“Hm?”
“Meow, meow.”
Yeo-won tilted her head, stroking the cat’s head as though trying to understand its words. When she glanced at Mu-ho, he frowned in clear annoyance and asked lazily,
“Pardon?”
“Ah, I’m Yeo-won—mmph!”
At that instant Shin-wol appeared without a sound and clamped a hand over her mouth. Though startled, Yeo-won struggled; he showed no sign of releasing her.
Still holding her, Shin-wol lifted Yeo-won into his arms and looked down at Mu-ho with a chilling gaze. Mu-ho laughed as though the sight were absurd and rose slowly to his feet.
Shin-wol’s eyes narrowed to slits.
In the meantime Yeo-won pried his hand from her face and drew a shaky breath.
Mu-ho’s eye twitched at the remark.
As the atmosphere grew icy once more, Yeo-won quickly intervened.
“That’s not what he meant. It was just… an exclamation. Like something little kids say.”
She decided not to add very little kids.
When Shin-wol’s expression soured further, Mu-ho waved a dismissive hand and gave a short laugh.
“……”
Yeo-won pressed her lips together. Since she had been the one to supply the “ancient” comment, she subtly avoided his eyes. Mu-ho continued.
“Meow!”
Nabi, who had already leaped onto Mu-ho’s shoulder, answered energetically. She pushed against Shin-wol’s chest in an attempt to escape his hold, but his body was as unyielding as stone.
Judging by the strength in the arms wrapped around her, he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.
Still cradled against him, Yeo-won offered Nabi an apologetic glance. The cat meowed again.
“Meow. Meow.”
“My hand?”
When Yeo-won cautiously extended her palm, something small and round dropped into it with a soft clink. It was the bell that had been hanging from Nabi’s neck.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“Meow, meow.”
Yeo-won stared at the bell in bewilderment. Nabi meowed once more.
“Meow.”
“Meow!”
“What is she saying?”
Mu-ho let out an irritated sigh, glanced at Shin-wol, then spoke.
“Meow!”
“Mrrrow. Meow!”
Though Yeo-won could not understand the words, Nabi’s cry sounded distinctly unhappy. Nevertheless, Mu-ho turned his back with finality.
As the mountain god trudged deeper inside, Yeo-won called after him urgently.
“Wait—Mountain God! Isn’t this important to Nabi? I’m really fine without it!”
He halted at her voice and glanced back over his shoulder.
Yeo-won blinked down at the bell. It had belonged to one of the mountain god’s own servants; she had never imagined it was ordinary. But what could one possibly use a bell for?
“What exactly is this?”