The Door Behind the Wallpaper

Kang Hyeong-seok studied Shin Jeong-ah's face. She was looking back at him as though she couldn't begin to understand why he was watching her. As he'd expected, the ringing of the shaman bells had reached his ears alone this time as well.

Thump. Even as he toed off his shoes and headed for the small room, the bells went on ringing.

Kang Hyeong-seok stepped inside, and Shin Jeong-ah hesitated a moment on the threshold before belatedly following him in.

"Was the salt like this in the morning too?"

Shin Jeong-ah, peering at the salt from behind his shoulder, answered with a nod. Which meant that since sunrise, whatever it was had not stirred.

"Excuse me for a moment."

Crunch! Stepping across the scattered salt, Kang Hyeong-seok pushed the clothes rack aside. Damn it, how does one person own this many clothes? He was hanging the rack—no matter how he shoved it, it kept sliding right back into place—somewhere else when...

"Hyeong-seok, did folklore studies really teach you things like this?"

"Like what?"

She didn't answer. So Kang Hyeong-seok set his hands moving again and began shifting the clothes to one side.

"I'd ask that you keep this a secret from the company."

"...A secret about what?"

"About what's going to happen from here on."

Clang-clang-clang! The bells rang harder.

Kang Hyeong-seok extended a nail from the hand that had been tracing the wall. Then, with Shin Jeong-ah looking on, he began cautiously scraping at the wallpaper.

That was when it happened.

Tik.

His nail caught on a hairline seam. Pressing down, he followed the line with his fingernail, tracing its course. How he wished it were nothing more than an ordinary crack.

Sssssss.

But the groove carved by his nail was forming a shape.

Shin Jeong-ah's face hardened further, anxiety and dread written into it, and Kang Hyeong-seok was little better himself.

Ssssshh. Having run the line all the way down near the floor, he straightened his knees and stepped back a pace. The line was drawing a shape far too familiar.

A rectangle.

"...Isn't that a door?"

To her words, Kang Hyeong-seok answered with a heavy nod. Even to his eyes, a door lay hidden beneath the wallpaper.

Her gaze swung to him, and the shaman bells let out a rattling clang.

The scattered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠salt. The ghost that had scurried along the ceiling. The bells ringing as if to warn against something wicked. All of it had converged on one point—the door hidden in the wallpaper.

"W-wait a second—I'm calling the landlord right now..."

Just as Shin Jeong-ah, her face a picture of confusion, moved to take out her phone—

"Do you have a knife?"

"...To tear it open?"

"You said this place had been remodeled. The landlord hid it. He'll only own up to it once it's shown to him, won't he?"

Silently, Shin Jeong-ah lowered the hand gripping her phone. Then she brought back a utility knife and handed it to him.

Tak. Sssshk. Cutting an outline slightly larger than the door itself, Kang Hyeong-seok began tearing the wallpaper away.

Riiiip! Shreeeeek! The wall had been finished with a layer of lining paper to flatten out the unevenness, with wallpaper applied over the top—so the lining peeled away along with the paper as he ripped.

Shreeeeek!

Having stripped the wallpaper off, Kang Hyeong-seok exhaled a thin breath and stepped back another pace. Through the torn paper, a complete door had come into view.

And it was no ordinary door.

The frame, nailed fast so that it could never be opened. The handle hole, stopped up with concrete. Most grotesque of all was the faded Bodhidharma painting covering the door—hung upside down.

At this point, no one could excuse it as something merely papered over for the sake of the interior.

Looking into the eyes of the inverted Bodhidharma, Kang Hyeong-seok spoke in a low voice.

"Make the call."

"O-okay."

With hands that shook uncontrollably, Shin Jeong-ah managed to place the call to the landlord.

Oddly enough, the one calling Shin Jeong-ah back was the real estate agent.

"The small room! No—if you knew something like this was in the house, you should have told me!"

"And this is supposed to be a conversation I have calmly? I'm sending you a photo—look at it with your own eyes!"

They were standing in front of the house. Shin Jeong-ah, her voice raised to just shy of ringing down the whole alley, fumed as she fired off a photo of the door with its upside-down Bodhidharma hanging.

"No! How would anyone open that!"

Hanging up, Shin Jeong-ah wore the face of someone swallowing her rage one gulp at a time. If Kang Hyeong-seok hadn't been there, the curses would likely have poured out by the bucketful.

Chick-chick, fwoosh! Watching her clamp a cigarette between her teeth, Kang Hyeong-seok turned his eyes to the house.

The shaman bells had fallen silent. Nothing in particular offered itself to his spiritual eye either. And yet, strangely, the conviction kept welling up in him that he had to open that door—that it was the right thing to do. He couldn't have said why. The thought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simply kept springing up, unbidden.

"Is there a crowbar in the house, by any chance?"

"Why? Don't tell me you're going to open that door."

"Yes."

"Are you insane! Wh-why would you open it!"

The curse flew out of her on reflex, and she clamped her mouth shut in flustered embarrassment. He had anticipated as much from her temperament, so it hardly surprised him—and he knew all too well that the curse hadn't been aimed at him.

"There's a spirit being held in there. A bound one."

"...What?"

"It has to be freed. That is the right thing to do."

Shin Jeong-ah sealed her lips hard, then opened them with care.

"Hyeong-seok... did you receive a sinnaerim—a divine calling?"

"Something like that."

Her eyes wavered. So this was what he had wanted kept secret.

"No, wait—why? You received a divine calling. Why on earth are you an office worker?"

"There are people like that."

It was no lie. There are those who carry on with ordinary lives even after receiving the calling—because their patron deity isn't strong enough for the shaman's work, or simply because they want to be free of their spirit sickness. There are indeed people who take a god in knowing full well they'll belong to neither the world of ordinary folk nor that of shamans, and a great many of them drift through life without even a steady job to their name.

"I... I can't really wrap my head around it."

But in Shin Jeong-ah's eyes, Kang Hyeong-seok was not one of those people. There was something in him that looked more potent than them—no, as potent as those who plied the shaman's trade for a living. The very fact that he had named the hex on her and gone straight to the hidden door already placed him far outside the ordinary.

"Even if I explained, it would be hard for you to understand."

"Is it something bad? Dangerous?"

"It is not."

At his crisp answer, Shin Jeong-ah pressed down her confusion and her questions along with it.

"...Fine, then. I'll accept it."

She had evidently decided this was not a story that needed telling right now. Kang Hyeong-seok smiled wryly and nodded, inwardly grateful.

And then it came.

Vroooooom. The real estate agent pulled up in a little red compact and climbed out, her face gone the color of ash.

"What's going on here?"

At the blunt opener, Shin Jeong-ah's anger reignited and her eyes drew up into slits.

"Excuse me, ma'am! Shouldn't you start with an apology?"

This time her shout rang down the entire alley. When a few of the neighbors cracked their windows open to peer out, the agent was too flustered to get a single word out.

"Ah—let's, let's talk inside."

"How am I supposed to go in there, ma'am!"

"Then we can use my car..."

At that point, Kang Hyeong-seok cut in.

"We can go in."

"Wh-what?"

At his next words, not only Shin Jeong-ah but even the agent visibly relaxed.

"It's all right to enter. It isn't a spirit that stirs about in broad daylight."

A spirit. At the word, the agent's shoulders flinched.

"Who... who are you?"

"An acquaintance of hers."

He hadn't intended anything by it. But such a strong shamanic air was rolling off Kang Hyeong-seok that the two had no choice but to drop their quarrel.

"Th-then let's go in first."

Apparently persuaded that Kang Hyeong-seok was someone of consequence, the agent kept stealing nervous glances at him as she followed Shin Jeong-ah into the house.

Clack. The moment they reached the entryway, Shin Jeong-ah, fury suppressed to a simmer, spoke with weight.

"Ma'am, you are going to explain this to me so that I understand. What is that door? You knew about it, didn't you? And when I signed the lease, you didn't breathe a word about it, did you?"

Whether any of it was true, the agent simply stood there with her head bowed deep, saying nothing at all.

"You have a mouth—use it! What is this house? And what in the world is that door?"

Just as Shin Jeong-ah bore down on her harder, Kang Hyeong-seok stepped in front of her and spoke.

"This is a house where someone died, isn't it?"

Then it happened. The short agent looked up at him in bewilderment, and Shin Jeong-ah fixed him with much the same expression. Between their stares, Kang Hyeong-seok pressed the palm bearing his ordination marks gently over his eyes.

What...? Images...

It felt as though someone else's memories were flowing into his head. This was the shamans' insight, their power—and it was showing Kang Hyeong-seok what had happened in this house.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

A man driving nails into the wall, two women watching from behind him. One was the agent, looking far younger than she did now. The other was a shaman in ceremonial robes. The agent's eyes were those of a frightened woman; the shaman's eyes were fearsome—as if she were wielding a hex that must never be used.

"D-do we really have to go this far?"

The agent asked it in a trembling voice, and the shaman's blade-sharp gaze swung toward her.

"You're the ones who asked ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for this! You begged me to keep the ghost of your murdered tenant from coming out!"

The images were far too vivid. Swallowing a groan, Kang Hyeong-seok took his hand from his eyes.

"It isn't simply a house where someone died. Someone was murdered in there. Am I right?"

"Wh-who... who are you?"

The agent shot back, shaking all over, while Shin Jeong-ah shuddered as though covered in goosebumps.

It was an old house. All the more people must have lived in it over the years, and a death or two among them would hardly have been strange. But this house was the site of a murder.

"Mm."

Kang Hyeong-seok groaned once more at the images streaming into his mind. This time they flickered past in fragments, like pages of a photo album riffled at speed. The spirit being slain. The landlord and the agent discovering the body. Police and an ambulance. And the shaman.

"Hyeong-seok...?"

Sensing that something was deeply wrong, Shin Jeong-ah asked in a low voice, and Kang Hyeong-seok swallowed drily before turning his eyes to the agent.

"What is your relationship with the landlord? A friend? A relative?"

"Th-that's..."

He watched her flounder for a moment, then wrinkled the bridge of his nose. Another image had flashed past, sharp as a stiletto between the ribs.

"Relatives, then."

"Aigoo!"

The agent crumpled to the floor, her ashen face trembling.

"Wh-who... who are you? Just who are you?"

"Did you believe it would be all right? That because it happened long ago, because the door was papered over, it was finished and done?"

The agent could make no answer of any kind. Her body only shook. Everything was exactly as he had said. Every word landed true, without the slightest error—with a thousand mouths she could not have argued.

"The shaman told you to hang the Bodhidharma painting upside down, didn't she? You did it without ever knowing what would become of the victim's wronged soul."

"Oh, M-Master Exorcist..."

By now the agent seemed to have accepted Kang Hyeong-seok outright as a practitioner.

"I-I'm sorry. It's just... I truly never imagined it would come to this..."

"Call the landlord. I am going to open that door."

"No, you can't! That—!"

"Do you intend to leave it as it is? A house that keeps turning out ghosts?"

His voice was low, but it carried force. The agent, on the other hand, seemed to have lost every last shred of strength; her head dropped, and she heaved one deep sigh after another.

"All right."

"Call this instant."

"Y-yes."

Only after the agent stepped out to the entryway with nothing but her phone in hand did it happen.

Shin Jeong-ah, who had stood frozen in shock, spoke at once.

"Wh-what is going on? Hyeong-seok, what on earth are you?"

Kang Hyeong-seok looked at her without a word. It was a look that said: keep it from spreading. Tense-faced, Shin Jeong-ah answered with a firm, deliberate nod.

"You know how I'm said to have a spirit of my own? Well—it's a rather great one."

"..."

"A spirit so great, they say, that receiving it alone would leave a person wrecked. I lack the experience for it to come to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that, but you may as well think of me as half a shaman."

Shin Jeong-ah felt goosebumps climbing up her arms. She had suspected as much, but hearing it from his own lips made the shock land on another level entirely. Caught between awe and a strange sense of unreality, she pressed her mouth shut.

Into that thick silence, the agent came back in, head still bowed.

"He says he'll be here in five minutes."

Kang Hyeong-seok nodded, and sure enough, before long an elderly man came stumbling in, out of breath.

"What in the world is—"

One look at Kang Hyeong-seok bewildered the landlord further. He had come running at a sprint the moment he heard a practitioner was involved—yet from the clothes outward, the man looked so utterly ordinary that he couldn't tell what was what. Even so, he couldn't manage a single word, because both the agent and his tenant, Shin Jeong-ah, were holding their tongues. As though each of them had beheld something in him.

"You're the owner of this house, I take it."

"Yes? Y-yes."

Under that atmosphere, the landlord found it difficult to treat the younger man carelessly.

Kang Hyeong-seok asked Shin Jeong-ah to fetch the crowbar, then turned to the landlord and spoke.

"How much have you been told?"

"That you meant... to open the door."

"Yes. You would do well to prepare yourself."

"P-prepare myself? For what, exactly?"

The landlord's gaze drifted to the crowbar in Kang Hyeong-seok's hand. And then—

"You bound an innocent spirit into this house by improper means. Your body will suffer illness for some time, and there may be small calamities besides."

"N-no! What on earth are you saying—!"

At that instant, the agent hurriedly yanked at the landlord's arm. It was a plea to please, please hold his tongue—and just as the landlord turned a flustered face back to Kang Hyeong-seok—

"This is karma you would have had to untangle eventually. Set it right now, and the harm can be kept to a minimum."

It was not said to pile all the blame onto the landlord's head. It was said so that a wrong would be righted now, and everyone's losses kept as small as they could be.

They understood his meaning, but both the landlord and the agent wore their unease and confusion openly. Even so, neither moved to stop him. Because it felt as though interference would only invite a heavier punishment.

"Um—just one thing, if I may."

The landlord wrung the words out, searching Kang Hyeong-seok's face.

"Are you an exorcist? A Taoist master?"

Without answering, Kang Hyeong-seok unslung his backpack. He unzipped it and drew out the shaman bells, kept inside in a pencil case.

Clang-clang-claaang!

Gripping the bells—which poured out a force potent enough for even a layperson to feel—he started toward the small room, crowbar in hand.

"I will be opening the door now."

Clang! Clang-clang! Clang-clang-claaang!

Overwhelmed by the sight of Kang Hyeong-seok shaking the shaman bells, the others watched him, their breath stolen.