The Man in the Mirror
(Hyung-nim, could you say something for us?)
At Yoon-sang's words drifting out of the headset, Kang Hyeong-seok launched the program.
It was nothing grand. He had bought the headset, found a download link in the instruction manual, and installed it — that was all. The headset itself looked decent enough, but the program gave off a strangely shabby impression.
"Ah, ah — can you hear me?"
(Hyung-nim, hit the voice-mod button!)
"There are a lot of options. Which one?"
(Anything that says machine or robot should do it?)
Click, click.
"And now?"
(Ooh! That's perfect, Hyung-nim!)
Kang Hyeong-seok drew a deep, chest-filling breath.
His first broadcast.
He'd assumed nerves wouldn't get to him by now, but this was a type of experience he'd never had before, and there was no helping the way it needled at him.
(Let me know once you're all set!)
Yoon-sang's screen was already being shared.
Mouth pressed firmly shut, Hyeong-seok took a slow, deep breath through his nose. Honestly — what even was this? His nerves were wound tight in an entirely different sense than when he faced down evil spirits.
Still, this was a road that led to helping someone. A road that repaid the help Yoon-sang had given him.
"Hoooooh—!"
With the long sigh spent, Hyeong-seok pulled the headset's microphone to his lips, resolve etched across his face.
"I'm ready."
(Thank you! Going live now!)
Pop!
On the screen shared to his laptop, the chat window began spewing out messages like mad.
Is this what broadcasts are always like?
Kang Hyeong-seok had no way of knowing — just how much of a phenomenon he had become, despite never once having appeared on a broadcast. And even if he had known, it would have been none of his concern, really.
(Everyone, please don't rush me! You all read the announcement before coming, right?)
The chat was flooding by faster than his eyes could follow. Just as Hyeong-seok thought, Yoon-sang's popularity is no joke. The chat's on fire,
(To be honest, I do want to draw out the suspense a little...)
(Okay, okay, one moment! Fine, fine. Then let me introduce him right away.)
So this is what makes streams worth watching.
Growing more accustomed to the atmosphere by the minute, Hyeong-seok caught himself wishing he had a can of beer on hand — and then Yoon-sang's voice rang out.
(Introducing the legendary Hyung-nim himself! Hyung-nim, a word for our viewers, please!)
Yoon-sang said it in a voice so ridiculously buoyant it bordered on strange. And Kang Hyeong-seok opened his mouth to the headset mic.
"A pleasure to meet you. I'm the hyung you know."
The chat reactions split precisely down the middle. Even at Hyeong-seok's voice, some viewers cheered while others led with suspicion.
(The heavy voice modulation is for protecting his identity — we can't help that. And as for our Hyung-nim... well, he's the type to prove himself with results rather than words.)
That settled it. By now he had adapted completely.
Hyeong-seok took a deep breath and fixed the monitor with steady eyes, while Yoon-sang invited one of the pre-arranged tipsters into the voice chat.
(Hello! Welcoming our first Sarang-gwi member! Please give us a brief self-introduction!)
(Oh, hello.)
(Why are you trembling so much? Relax, please!)
(It's my first time doing anything like this, so I'm nervous.)
Yoon-sang chatted with the tipster in a practiced, easy flow, while Hyeong-seok watched closely.
There were two screens to watch. One was Yoon-sang's broadcast feed; the other, the house the tipster was filming on their phone.
(You said you get sleep paralysis often?)
(Yes, yes. I only moved in recently, and it's been so frightening.)
Even as the conversation went back and forth, Hyeong-seok studied the house intently. Just in case, his other hand was closed around the Mudang Bang-ul — his sacred cluster of shaman bells — but he sensed no hint that they would ring.
And as far as he could see, there was nothing in particular to point to.
(Then let's turn things over to the Hyung-nim. Hyung-nim, do you see anything by any chance?)
"No."
(Sorry?)
Staggered by an answer that dropped like a blade, Yoon-sang faltered — and Hyeong-seok addressed the tipster directly.
"What I'm seeing now looks like the bedroom. Could you head over to the front entrance?"
(Oh — yes, yes, yes!)
The screen bobbed up and down as it moved toward the front door. Then, after peering closely at the feed, Hyeong-seok spoke.
"You can rest easy. It's simply that your environment has changed, that's all."
Faced with reactions far cooler than he'd hoped, Yoon-sang scrambled to smooth things over.
(Hold on, just a moment. Hyung-nim? Could you elaborate a little for us?)
"There's nothing special to say."
(Still. If you explain in detail, that'll put everyone's mind at ease.)
Hyeong-seok furrowed his brow, scratched at his neck, and focused on the screen.
"Um, our Sarang-gwi viewer?"
(Yes, yes!)
"You don't need to worry. You said you moved in recently, didn't you?"
(Yes...)
"There is a Joswangsin in your home."
(...Pardon?)
"One of the guardian deities who watch over a household. Naturally, there is no evil spirit here, either."
The chat poured out in a torrent, but Hyeong-seok kept his eyes on the screen and carried on in that same even voice.
"The nightmares seem to stem from a different cause. Might you have married recently — or be planning to marry soon?"
(Th-that's right!)
"That is most likely what has been weighing on you. But there is no need to fret. The Joswangsin is watching over you warmly."
(Ah...)
The Joswangsin, it was said, was a deity who took her seat in the kitchen and prayed for a household's fortunes, its weal and its woe alike. A deity who also watched over the safety and health of one's descendants.
And for one fleeting moment, even Hyeong-seok's eyes caught sight of her — that deity, watching over the tipster from the kitchen.
"You will be safe. Still, if it truly troubles you, fill a dish with water and set it on the sink."
The Joswangsin governed water and fire. That was why the simple act of offering water with a reverent heart was, in itself, a prayer.
(Th-thank you. I-I'll do that.)
"Do you have any other questions?"
(Oh, n-no! No, that's all.)
The tipster plainly had a great deal more to say, but demurred with the air of someone who felt it wouldn't do to hold the Hyung-nim for too long.
Watching the chat scroll past, Hyeong-seok wondered to himself, So this is how it's done?
And just then Yoon-sang's voice cut in — flustered and delighted all at once.
(E-everyone saw that, right? This is the kind of man our Hyung-nim is!)
Fortunately, the broadcast appeared to be going well. Hyeong-seok laughed carefully, mindful of letting the sound carry, and Yoon-sang glided smoothly into the next segment.
Two more households were checked after that, and neither held anything distinctly out of the ordinary.
Was the stream simply going to end like this? Was that all right? He had been told there was someone who needed help — had that, too, been nothing but a needless worry?
Just as that thought took hold, they moved on to the final tipster.
(Alright, please introduce yourself!)
(Oh, hello. I go by the nickname Buyong.)
A young woman. Late twenties? Or perhaps early thirties? And even through the audio alone, she came across as someone with a gentle, mild-mannered air.
(Yes. You mentioned wanting to know whether there's a ghost in your home?)
(Yes...)
(Is there something in particular that's been troubling you?)
(It's just... this is a little hard to explain.)
(Haha, I understand. Then let's hand things over to the Hyung-nim.)
Buyong switched on her camera. It was a clean home — sparse belongings, the interior done all in whites, which made it look cleaner still.
(Can you... see anything, by any chance...?)
Buyong spoke with the same frightened air as the tipsters before her, and Hyeong-seok drew a long, deep breath in through his nose. Then he opened his mouth.
"I'm sorry, but would you walk toward the mirror."
(Sorry? The mirror?)
Perhaps she had checked the viewers' chat, because Buyong approached the mirror with a gait heavy with hesitation. Then she angled the mirror so that her own reflection stayed out of frame.
"Could you tilt it a little more toward yourself?"
(Um, that's a bit...)
"Your face doesn't have to show. Just a tiny bit — and angled upward."
Her hand must have been trembling, for the screen quivered faintly as it tilted along the diagonal, upward. Part of the ceiling and a few strands of Buyong's hair came into view, and Hyeong-seok drew in a deep breath and let it out.
The chat window descended into an uproar.
But Hyeong-seok's gaze was fixed solely on the feed Buyong was showing. There, in vivid clarity, a ghost was visible.
"I must ask. Have you married — or were you about to?"
(Ah... ah...)
Buyong's reaction is unmistakably stark.
It could hardly be otherwise — for above the Buyong visible in the mirror, there hangs a ghost. A male ghost, and he is clinging to her back, piggyback, so that one arm and one leg of his show in the mirror.
(I-I had someone. Someone I was promised to marry.)
Hyeong-seok silently swept his tongue along the inside of his mouth. Part of him thought, Just as expected.
The male ghost clinging to Buyong — even if he was no evil spirit, neither could he be dismissed as some stray, low-grade wraith.
A relationship bound fast by a powerful karmic tie. The living and the dead, joined together in marriage.
"It is a man's spirit, that much is certain. Were you in an accident?"
(Hhk—!)
Along with Buyong's weeping, the screen jolted violently.
The viewers seemed to be picturing a heartwarming scene. And so, apparently, was Buyong.
(That's right. He passed away in an accident. It's probably him.)
Her faintly trembling voice carried feelings far too deep and far too heavy.
But Hyeong-seok, swamped by a creeping sense of wrongness, could not bring himself to share in them. He only ground his lips together and stared hard at the male ghost reflected in the mirror.
"I will ask just one truly important question. Did your accident happen in the water?"
(Pardon?)
"I asked whether he passed away in water."
(Oh, no. It was a car accident.)
Haaah.
Hyeong-seok heaved a sigh that was nearly a groan. That damned premonition of his — why did it never miss, not even once?
The viewers fussed with mingled disappointment, and just as Yoon-sang began to panic, Hyeong-seok shook his head and spoke.
"Listen to me very carefully."
It must have been the weight in his voice.
(Y-yes, yes.)
Tense, Buyong answered in a quavering tone, and Hyeong-seok went on, his eyes pinned to the mirror.
"That is not your lover."
(...Pardon?)
"He is bloated, swollen with water. A man who died in the water is passing himself off as your husband."
And then — it happened.
In the mirror's reflection, the ghost clinging to Buyong's back slowly craned its head around.
And so the face of the ghost that had been waiting in the blind spot slid into the glass.
A middle-aged man's ghost — drowned, skin corpse-pale, eyes rolled white.