Dokkaebi Lair 5
Assuming my hunch was right—that this dokkaebi was similar to those born from the barbarians' sorcery in my original world—I drew a sentence on the bonsai to bind it. That could have been the end of it, but wouldn't the people standing behind me just be left with question marks floating in their heads? A quick glance back confirmed it: the shaman grandmother's apprentice was sensing something and focusing intently, but the others were still quietly watching, oblivious that it was over.
I gave a subtle nod to the dokkaebi standing in front of me, beaming with pure delight. Just in case it didn't want to reveal itself to everyone. Better safe than sorry.
"All done?"
"Not quite. One more thing left—don't freak out, okay? No telling what form it'll take."
Dokkaebis appear differently depending on the person, so it could look like a truly horrific ghost to someone. Aside from the shaman grandmother's apprentice and Hyeon-a, they were all elderly folks who always had to watch their hearts. Before they could even process what I meant, I spread my energy wide around us.
The tiger watching from the side snapped its eyes open and stared at me. I'd momentarily forgotten that not just the dokkaebi, but the tiger beside it would be visible too. It felt so natural, like a pet tagging along.
"Oh my!"
Everyone flinched as a dokkaebi in the form of a little girl—who'd been standing quietly in front of me, people-watching—suddenly appeared. They blinked once, and there she was. Instinctively, they sensed it wasn't some ordinary ghost that chilled the blood of normal kids or adults. Ruling out all other possibilities, they inferred it was a dokkaebi, but for now, shock was all they could muster.
Hyeon-a, who had to work late nights in this place, seemed greatly relieved at the sight of a small child.
"Goodness gracious!"
The old man in the back—who usually didn't believe in ghosts—rubbed his eyes repeatedly, then focused on the white shape next to me and jolted in surprise. A house-sized white tiger was staring right at him, so he instinctively clung to his wife beside him. A natural reaction, given all the wrongs and sins he'd committed in life.
"My goodness, what's that tiger?"
"This one's my little cute tiger that follows me around. See? Nice and gentle even when you pet it."
I tucked the cloth tightly around the flowerpot and rubbed the tiger's head vigorously. It yawned widely, as if annoyed, then flopped back down. To me, it was an adorable pet, but to the parents and others, it was a beast with razor-sharp fangs that could paralyze with fear. The level of terror varied by the guilt in their hearts, it seemed.
"Can I pet it too?"
"It won't bite, so go ahead."
They looked at me like those zoo owners who say, "Our kid won't bite if you go in the enclosure," but with trembling hands, they lightly touched its body. Seeing that they could feel something, Hyeon-a might actually make a decent assistant for the shaman—or even my work—if she tried.
After a bit more time passed, the visions before their eyes all faded away.
"Do you see stuff like that all the time?"
"Not really. Only the ones with strong presence or power are visible to me directly, like what you saw. The rest? Might as well not exist."
"Like ghosts?"
"Yeah. Believe it or not, up to you. Living like they don't exist won't cause you any trouble anyway."
"Hmm..."
I'd told them not to worry too much about seeing ghosts, but having witnessed it with their own eyes, the mood had shifted toward believing. No point explaining the difference between dokkaebis and ghosts now—it'd be like reciting sutras to a deaf ear for minds already made up.
"Still, what a relief. I was picturing something with horns and a scary face, but it's just a little kid. Puts my mind at ease."
It had shifted from their imagined monstrous dokkaebi to a child, but best not to mention that. When the dokkaebi said it'd block other ghosts, she'd been thrilled, declared she'd keep the bonsai in her room forever, and vowed to tend it diligently. Seeing her grin ear to ear, pleased with the dokkaebi, it looked like things had worked out. I'd been anxious it wouldn't go as planned, even though I'd handled it.
"...And that's it."
Aside from Hyeon-a, who'd spoken up from behind, everyone else looked entranced, their eyes glazed over. Dokkaebis—mountain spirits or otherwise—had that passive effect of bewitching anyone who saw them. I clapped sharply with a bit of force—clap!—and they snapped out of it, starting with the mom up front.
Even after regaining their senses, they just eyed each other awkwardly until a murmur of chatter broke out.
"Honey, you saw it too, right? A huge white tiger and a somewhat tall woman..."
"Uh... huh? I saw a black tiger, though."
As pairs chattered away, the shaman apprentice watched me with sparkling eyes.
"I was sorely mistaken, deeming what my skills couldn't detect as nonexistent—a grave error. Thank you, enlightened one."
"...Sure."
She bowed deeply with renewed reverence, saying those who served mountain spirits outranked any god-worshipper.
It had been ages since the family gathered, so we were dining at a restaurant. My siblings were still at academies or school, studying away, leaving us to enjoy our meal in relative quiet. Fine dining's saving grace: staff bringing tiny portions one plate at a time made private talk tricky.
Mom and Dad kept glancing at me, clearly bursting with things to say, so I spoke first.
"Spit it out. You've been eyeing me this whole time."
"Nah, just... you've grown up so much without us noticing."
"What about it?"
"For big decisions like buildings, should we call you from now on?"
"I'm not a fortune teller."
"Sure you aren't. Looked like you knew more than that shaman."
Dad sounded dead serious, no joke. People turn to religion or shamans to offload anxiety and soothe their minds. Blame God or call the shaman a fraud if things go south, and poof—peace. Dad was no different, facing daily high-stakes choices from debuting trainees first to massive investments.
"If I step in and pick, won't your underlings talk? Say you're into weird stuff."
"Pfft. Every major corp calls shamans for big deals. Some even summon priests to bless computers for important work."
"Still not interested. Introduce me to someone you know?"
"No need. Why bother with frauds who can't even show a dokkaebi right in front of you?"
Thanks to me, their standards for faith had skyrocketed. They wouldn't fall for scams now—silver lining.
"So that tiger's been with you since you were little? Protecting you all along?"
"...Something like that."
"Makes sense. You were always fearless, wandering everywhere—not your average kid."
Mom finally piecing together my wild childhood made it hard to spill the truth. At least she seemed to get why I'd ditched studies to run a detective agency solo.
"Sticking with the agency?"
"Yeah. Gotta keep at it till it gets boring. Now that I have staff, quitting on a whim's tough anyway."
"Good. As long as you stick to something. Home's always here—give it your all."
"Thanks."
Their view of my work had upgraded from childish hobby to legit career. No more nagging to come back to the company—pure win for me all around. Old sayings were spot on: befriend a dokkaebi, and blessings roll in!
Back at the quiet office after wrapping up—a rare treat. Hyeon-a napped on the mattress in the corner, Baek-gu curled snugly in her arms, eyes closed. They perked up at the door, blinking sleepily as they lifted their heads.
"Hey?"
-Whine...
The dog recognized two masters: me, who'd brought it to the office, and Hyeon-a, who'd fed it treats and cuddled without hesitation. After some internal debate, it wriggled free from the warm embrace and trotted to me. Smart pup—knew who filled the bowl. I approved.
"Aww, at least it knows its real owner."
-Yip!
I scooped it up lightly, and it immediately lolled out its pink tongue, straining to lick my face. No way was I starting the day drenched in dog slobber.
"What're you doing napping in the office? Sleep at night."
I set the yawning pup down and nudged the sleeping manager with my toe. She twitched at the poke to her side, eyes flying open as she squirmed.
"Haaah... just five more minutes. Pulled an all-nighter here."
"Then crash at home. Eaten lunch?"
"Nope."
"Order something—mine too."
"Got it."
She stretched hugely, got up, and grabbed her phone.