The Crow Beyond the Paper Door
The silence stretched long.
The air hung low, heavy enough to feel its weight. It had been that dangerous a thing to say—that someone was after Kang Hyeong-seok, and not just anyone, but Hong Gyeong-soo, a shaman with a long career in the trade.
"What reason have you for thinking so?"
At Lee Geum-kyeong's question, Kang Hyeong-seok shifted his gaze to his teacup before answering.
"There's nothing clear enough to call certainty."
Intuition—it could fairly be called that. And yet when he turned over his memories of Hong Gyeong-soo, the man who had stood face-to-face with his Momju-sin's pronouncement, there was undeniably something chilling and unclean lurking beneath.
"I've been thinking that the one who set a Chang-gwi on me, too... may have been none other than Shaman Hong."
Cheong-geum's eyes and fingertips twitched darkly. She knew it as well—that Kang Hyeong-seok had only become a shaman because, hunted by a Chang-gwi, he had taken up the sacred shaman's bells to shield himself.
Looking back on it now, something about that was strange. Almost as if someone had unleashed the Chang-gwi on purpose...
"If that is what you believe, then I shall not deny it."
"Teacher?"
Cheong-geum, who knew better than to intrude on their conversation, let the word slip out before she could stop herself and hastily covered her mouth.
But Lee Geum-kyeong only gave a solemn shake of her head and met Kang Hyeong-seok's eyes.
"Shaman Hong has long been one the world turns its face from. Many will not even acknowledge him as a shaman."
A shaman clad in black ritual robes. One who dealt in death curses and hexes. It was easy enough to see him as a man who had forsaken a shaman's duties.
"And yet his skill was genuine—every so often, he even helped people. Once, back in those days, I looked into Shaman Hong's eyes."
"...And? What were they like?"
Lee Geum-kyeong shook her head with an expression impossibly hard to read—the look of someone who would not speak of it. And yet a sliver of what she thought showed through in her eyes.
So she sensed something, back then.
What was Hong Gyeong-soo's true purpose? What could he possibly want, that Lee Geum-kyeong would recall him with eyes so troubled?
"If it is true—what your patron said, calling Hong Gyeong-soo the head of the serpent..."
Wetting her lips with tea that had long gone lukewarm, Lee Geum-kyeong continued in a grave voice.
"Then breathe no word of it."
"Pardon?"
"Words spoken in the night, the rats will hear. Words spoken in the day, the birds will hear."
Then it happened.
Lee Geum-kyeong's eyes slid toward the paper-screened door. Kang Hyeong-seok cautiously followed her gaze—and there, beyond the hanji, a silhouette had appeared. A small, thin shadow. Judging by its shape, a crow.
"..."
"Up to its tricks when it isn't even daytime."
Muttering under her breath, Lee Geum-kyeong dipped her fingertip in the tea and flicked a few drops toward the door.
Flap-flap-flap!
The crow burst upward into flight, its great shadow swelling across the paper screen, and Kang Hyeong-seok sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. For an instant—the briefest moment—the crow's shadow had looked wrong. Almost like a human face...
"Do not even think it."
Lee Geum-kyeong said it low, then let out a heavy sigh.
"Whatever that one's intent may be, I, too, am watching over you."
"...Pardon?"
"I mean to say that your Momju-sin is not the only one guarding you."
Kang Hyeong-seok, who had all but become her spirit-son. Lee Geum-kyeong, who had all but become his spirit-mother. Though that bond had never been tied, it did not mean she was free to turn her back on him.
"I will keep Shaman Hong tethered here, so he cannot show himself openly."
Kang Hyeong-seok swallowed drily. The beasts he had seen all this while rose in his memory—crows, mostly. They had always appeared whenever he faced danger. But never once had they shown themselves so directly.
"...Understood."
There was much he wanted to say, but he forced it all back down. I must not speak of it. The thought filled his head. And with it, the knowledge that Lee Geum-kyeong and his Momju-sin were protecting him.
"Hmm."
Letting out a low hum that seemed to shiver in her throat, Lee Geum-kyeong studied him with tranquil eyes.
"It will chafe at you, I know. Weigh on your mind as well."
Kang Hyeong-seok nodded with a wry twist of his lips, and she turned her gaze back to the paper-screened door. Then she folded one knee up and rested an elbow upon it.
"In the end, he is a man who curses his own gift. I have matters of my own to consider, so for now, give your attention to your work."
"My work... you mean?"
She could not possibly mean his office job.
"I mean for you to live as a shaman among the people."
"Ah."
"Live as the god's proxy—while doing what you believe to be right."
Lee Geum-kyeong moved her eyes from the door to Kang Hyeong-seok and smiled faintly. The mood was still as heavy as the creases at the corners of her eyes. But her smile soothed it, if only a little.
"Only then can your patron deity gladly go on protecting you."
A shaman and a god are bound by a powerful tie. But if the shaman does not serve the god—if devotion and prayer fall away—the tie frays. Kang Hyeong-seok's prayers were made of action, of practice.
"I understand."
His answer came low and heavy, as though he were carving his mission into himself.
He hadn't known.
(Aigoo, Hyung-nim!)
He truly hadn't known.
(Yes? I'll make absolutely sure no harm ever comes to you, Hyung-nim.)
He'd never imagined Yoon-sang would call that very night, begging him onto a broadcast.
"Yoon-sang..."
(It's not about the spectacle, I swear! I'm not taking this lightly either!)
"Hoooooh—!"
Kang Hyeong-seok, sprawled across his bed, sat up and dragged a palm down his face.
"You know I hate streaming."
(I do know!)
You know, and you still pull this? His heart lurched—and Yoon-sang's next words came clinging like glue.
(Do you have any idea how much I respect you? And these are people who need your help. Of course nothing is going to touch you.)
"What?"
(I will guard your identity like my life depends on it!)
"No—not that."
Kang Hyeong-seok rose from the bed and pressed the phone closer to his ear.
"What do you mean, people who need my help?"
Normally, uneasy as he might have felt, he wouldn't have asked like that. But there had been the conversation with Lee Geum-kyeong that afternoon. Her words—help the people—still sat in his heart like settled sediment, and he found them impossible to simply let pass.
(Well, the thing is... I've been getting tips lately.)
Yoon-sang picked his way through each word, careful not to strike a nerve.
(And there turned out to be more of them than I expected. People asking me to come check whether there's a ghost in their house or not.)
"...What?"
Kang Hyeong-seok asked, one eyebrow cocking, and Yoon-sang's voice came sprinting out to stick itself against his ear.
(Some of them looked dangerous even to me. One person keeps having nightmares about an evil spirit in their house—says they've been through all kinds of strange phenomena, too.)
Shin Jeong-ah rose in his mind unbidden. She was someone who had suffered over her home from the very first day they met. How terrified she'd been—he could still see it as plainly as if it were yesterday.
Damn it. Even so... is this right?
Of all things, a livestream. He knew perfectly well that Yoon-sang was no bad sort. But his prejudices against streaming made it hard to say yes. And beneath that lingered the question of whether this was any way to live out the teaching—to be a shaman among the people.
(Hyung-nim, I'm telling you, there are people who genuinely want a consultation with you.)
"...You're not lying to me, are you?"
(Of course not! When would I ever lie to you!)
"Phewww."
(I know you're hesitating. So don't think of it as my stream—just think of it as lending someone a hand, once. And neither your face nor your voice will ever go public.)
That much, at least, was a relief. But still he wasn't certain.
(Um... could you maybe think of my broadcast as just a way to reach the people who desperately need it?)
Yoon-sang's wheedling voice burrowed in and lodged itself vividly against his heart.
"Phew. Tsk."
(If it makes you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I won't bother you again, Hyung-nim.)
Kang Hyeong-seok let out a soundless sigh through his nose and opened his mouth.
"All right."
(Huh? Huh? R-really?)
It was about one person reaching another. That was what had moved him. The stream was not the purpose—it was only the means.
"More importantly, how are you planning to protect me?"
(Airtight, I promise! It'll all run through voice chat. And thank you. Really, thank you, Hyung-nim!)
What a convoluted business, this internet streaming.
Kang Hyeong-seok rubbed his forehead, rose from the bed, and pressed the light switch. Click. Light flooded the room, and he walked back to the bed and sat down.
"Help me understand—how would this even work?"
(Easy, Hyung-nim! I'll open a voice room. The moment you join and start talking, the voice modulator kicks in. And obviously, your face stays hidden.)
Kang Hyeong-seok pictured himself in front of his laptop, headset on. He had a rough idea now. Of how the whole thing would run.
"And the viewers' homes—how do I look at those?"
(The viewers show their places on camera, naturally. All you do is watch the feed and say whether something's there or not.)
Now he understood completely.
"You really thought this through, huh?"
A voice brimming with excitement. It was only a phone call, yet Hyeong-seok could all but see Yoon-sang's expression, as though the man stood right in front of him.
"I've never done anything like this either. I can't promise it'll work."
(That doesn't matter! It's okay, Hyung-nim.)
In the pause that followed, Kang Hyeong-seok drew a long, deep breath. Yoon-sang had helped him a great deal over time. Just look at the Rokurokubi affair—he had put Hyeong-seok's safety ahead of his own footage. The least he could do was extend a hand to a guy like that.
(Thank you so much, Hyung-nim.)
"All right. Friday night I'm free. Let's do it then."
(Yes!)
The shout was so thunderous that Kang Hyeong-seok winced and pulled the phone from his ear.
(Hyung-nim! Thank you, really, thank you so, so much! My viewers have been begging me for ages just to get confirmation that you even exist!)
"That's enough. It's late—let's leave the call here."
(Hyung-nim, is there anything you'd like to eat?)
"Go to sleep."
Kang Hyeong-seok pried off the hopelessly clingy Yoon-sang and hung up. Maybe from all the worrying, his forehead felt hot.
"Good grief!"
He flicked off the light switch, crawled back into bed, and willed himself to sleep.
"So you've agreed to do the stream with him?"
On the rooftop of Daejeong Mulsan, Kang Hyeong-seok took a sip of coffee and sent his gaze out toward the far skyline.
"Yes. It would have felt wrong, refusing him."
"Mm-hm."
"Why are you laughing."
For reasons he couldn't begin to guess, Shin Jeong-ah was strangling her laughter like someone about to die of amusement.
"Nothing. I just can't picture it."
"Is it that strange...?"
"I always figured a day like this would come. So no, not strange."
Pat-pat!
Shin Jeong-ah thumped his back as if to cheer him on, and each thump made his awkward smile that much more awkward.
"I said yes because it's about helping people, but I still don't feel sure about it."
"And your Momju-sin? Any objection from him?"
"None."
Shin Jeong-ah swept her eyes around him, looking surprised. But of course—without the spiritual eye, there was no chance in the world that she would see his Momju-sin.
"Then it should be fine, no?"
"You think so?"
"Either way, it's your call, Manager Kang. You're paying him back for all the help he's given you. And it's a one-off, you said?"
Kang Hyeong-seok nodded without a word and sipped his coffee.
"Yes. And Yoon-sang's hardly the type to make trouble for me."
"Then it's settled, isn't it?"
Kang Hyeong-seok looked over at her, as if to say he still wasn't convinced. Was it because it was someone else's business? The corners of her tightly pressed lips were trembling, and her eyes crinkled with the effort of smothering the laughter.
"...You never know. You could get tangled up in this too, Manager."
"PWAHAHA! As if that would ever happen!"
At her wide-open laughter, Kang Hyeong-seok said nothing and simply sipped his coffee. Then he glanced at his wristwatch. Quitting time wasn't far off—which meant that soon, voice only though it would be, he would be appearing on Yoon-sang's stream.