The Taste of Betrayal
Clink.
The stainless steel straw rattled against the inside of the cup. The sound was loud — because a silence even greater than that sound had settled over the room.
"It appears the two of you were close."
Kang Hyeong-seok had spoken with such care and softness that it bordered on tenderness; now he let his gaze drift to Buyong.
"Was this someone you trusted? A friend?"
Buyong nodded with visible effort, her eyes damp.
Shock played its part — but more than anything, a great wave of betrayal came crashing over her until it felt as though her heart might crumble to pieces.
"Please tell me. I have to find her."
"Huk—"
The tears Buyong could no longer hold back spilled from her eyes as her breath hitched.
Drip.
When the tear struck the back of her hand and scattered into a tiny droplet, Buyong took a deep breath and rubbed at her eyes.
"She's my friend."
"Your friend..."
The taste in his mouth was bitter.
Hyeong-seok looked down at the cup with its steel straw. The condensation beading along its side looked for all the world like the tears Buyong had been forced to swallow — and that was no trick of the mind.
"What kind of friend is she?"
"We've known each other since high school."
"Haa..."
Friendship is a bond at once light and heavy. The older you grow, the harder it becomes to make a new friend — and, by the same token, the easier it becomes to lose an old one.
Buyong was of that age. An age when old friends come to matter more than new ones.
And that was precisely why the trust between them could only run so deep.
"Do you know the shrine your friend attends?"
"No. My parents don't believe in that sort of thing, so I've never once gone with her."
A daughter who listens well to her parents. If only she had disobeyed them, just once — everything would have been so much easier.
"Then please give me her contact information. I'll need to meet her face-to-face."
"Th-that... I don't think she can be reached right now."
Now what...?
Hyeong-seok's brow was just beginning to crease when—
"She said she went abroad."
"What is her family situation like?"
"As far as I know, it's just her mother."
"And her father?"
"He passed away a long time ago."
Hyeong-seok found himself recalling the ghost from last night's broadcast.
No. That can't be it.
He turned the worst possibility over in his mind — that the friend had married Buyong off to appease her father, the man who had died in an accident.
But it was hard to believe a human being would commit an act so vile. Above all, the ghost's face and the friend's features were simply too different — so different they could not have passed for distant relatives.
"I'll have to pay her home a visit."
At that, Buyong's face went rigid.
"What is it?"
"Oh."
Confusion clouded Buyong's eyes as her fingers drifted to her lips. She looked like someone who had just been blindsided by a memory springing out of nowhere.
"I-I don't know. I've never once been inside her house."
"You said the two of you have been friends since high school."
"I did... but we always said our goodbyes near my place, and she'd make excuses so I could never come over."
Buyong's eyes trembled.
Her friend had said she lived with her mother.
"You know how my mom is. She'd never let me bring friends home."
That was how the friend had kept Buyong away — and at the time, she'd simply assumed the household was a strict one.
But with the thought that her friend might be the very person who had bound the ghost to her, suspicion came flooding in.
"Why would she do that? She's not that kind of person."
Hoping to soothe Buyong, who had taken the realization like a blow, Hyeong-seok softened his voice further than usual.
"If I find the answer, I'll tell you."
"H-how will you look into it?"
"You said you've walked as far as her neighborhood."
"Yes."
Buyong answered with anxious eyes, and Hyeong-seok nodded, slow and grave.
"That should be enough."
Just then, Yoon-sang's gaze slid silently toward him as well — the look of a man dying to ask whether there truly was a way.
There was. Several, in fact.
"Could you mark the location for me?"
"...Yes."
Buyong took Hyeong-seok's phone and opened the map, zoomed in hard on a single point, and captured the screen.
"It's somewhere around here."
Those who have been betrayed look desolate. In the eyes, the corners of the eyes, the corners of the mouth, the expression, the feelings beneath it — everything sinks.
"For now, I'll limit myself to a few simple protective wards."
Hyeong-seok retrieved his phone and turned his gaze toward Buyong's house.
"The moment you step inside, scatter salt through every corner of the home. Cover the mirrors, and the one in your bedroom should be blocked off with newspaper or carried out of the room entirely."
Buyong listened in silence, head bowed.
"Moisture matters as well. Remove every trace of it. Before you sleep, rinse your mouth three times with salt water and set red beans at the head of your bed. But above all else, it is your state of mind that matters most."
Watching Buyong sit without the slightest movement, he went on.
"So please — don't cry."
"Mmh—"
Buyong, who had been weeping in stifled silence, crumpled, her shoulders shaking.
It was a heartbreaking sight. A marriage to a ghost she never wanted. The betrayal of a friend. Either one alone would have been crushing — and she had been dealt both at once.
"You said you had a boyfriend."
Buyong, too choked for words, answered with a nod. Hyeong-seok shot Yoon-sang a glance telling him to get ready, then continued.
"He isn't far from here."
"...What?"
"He cannot come near you just yet. But he is watching over you, Buyong, from somewhere far away."
Buyong lifted her head and, eyes brimming with tears, looked toward the place Hyeong-seok was looking.
But she had no Yeongan, no second sight. All she could see was a single forlorn tree at the edge of the yard.
"Grieving like this will only sadden him."
Buyong held her gaze on the tree without a word — and in that moment, Hyeong-seok rose from his chair and bowed politely to her.
"Thank you for the juice. I'll be in touch again soon, so please stay indoors."
"O-okay."
Had it given her any comfort? Though her voice was still wet, Buyong answered with clear, careful enunciation, and Hyeong-seok left the house with Yoon-sang at his heels.
"Haaah—!"
At the mouth of the alley, he let out a heavy sigh.
"Whoa — Hyung-nim."
"Hold on."
Hyeong-seok rubbed the corners of his eyes and pulled off his mask, then drew in a long breath — and not only because the mask had felt stifling.
Where does a shaman get off pulling filth like this?
The friend's mother was, beyond doubt, a shaman. Whatever her reason, she had fastened a vicious ghost onto Buyong.
The friend of her own daughter. Of course she had known the girl's boyfriend was dead — and she had done it anyway.
That was what made his chest tighten until it was nearly unbearable.
"Um... are you okay?"
"No."
"Aw, come on! You gotta keep your chin up, Hyung-nim!"
Yoon-sang tossed out the joke, then craned his neck this way and that, hunting for a convenience store or a café. He already knew Hyeong-seok liked his coffee.
"First things first — let's track down that shaman."
"Oh, right! The mood was too heavy to ask earlier, but — how are you planning to find her?"
Hyeong-seok ran his tongue across his lips and raised his phone.
"When it comes to shamans, I know someone who can help."
As Yoon-sang's brows knitted in pure bewilderment, Hyeong-seok pressed the contact.
Crunch, crunch.
The front yard of Lee Geum-kyeong's shrine. Cheong-geum sat crouched there, and before her, a bristle-spined wild hedgehog was busily devouring a small piece of cucumber.
Cheong-geum held her breath, watching its every move.
"Oo, oooh."
A wild hedgehog was not something you stumbled across every day around these parts. She watched the cucumber dwindle, and when the last of it was about to vanish, she snapped off a fresh piece from the one in her hand and set it down.
Then the hedgehog's tongue brushed the tips of her fingers.
"Wow."
Cheong-geum's eyes sparkled all the brighter as she played with the little creature.
There was no harm in it. Lee Geum-kyeong was away on business, and there were no visitors on the books.
Which was when it happened.
Bzzzz!
Her phone shrilled in her pocket. Cheong-geum set down the cucumber — more than half of it still left — fished out her phone, and rose to her feet.
Skitter.
The hedgehog bolted in sudden haste and — how had it even managed this? — went sprinting off with a chunk of cucumber stuck to its back.
"Huh?"
Mourning the hedgehog's departure, she glanced down at the screen — and hastily composed her face. The playful ease drained away in an instant.
Beep.
"Yes, Young Master."
The call was from Kang Hyeong-seok.
"Sorry for calling out of the blue. Were you busy?"
"No. Nothing at all."
"And Madam...?"
"It's just me today."
Cheong-geum cast a single glance at the spot where the hedgehog had vanished, then turned herself toward the shrine.
"What is it?"
"The truth is, I've been tangled up in... that sort of business. And it involves a shaman."
"...Yes?"
Cheong-geum's expression turned grave as Hyeong-seok's voice came through, heavy with solemnity.
"I've met someone who was bound into a ghost wedding without even knowing it."
"...Where did you see this?"
Her voice had dropped low. Her fists clenched hard, and the corners of her eyes rose razor-sharp.
This was a shaman's doing. A shaman had done the one thing a shaman must never do.
That was the part she could not forgive.
"More than that — right now I need to find the shaman responsible, and I was hoping for your help."
"I'll need her whereabouts, then. Even roughly will do."
Shamans have affiliations, after all. From ancient times there had existed shamanic communities known as the Mujohap — the shaman guilds — with the Samucheong throughout the northern regions, the Sincheong across Jeolla Province, and the Sinbangcheong all over Jeju Island, each in great number.
Nor had much changed today. There was the Great Korea Union for the Veneration of Shamans, and the Korean Shamanist General Federation besides.
Any practicing shaman was likely registered with one of them — which meant that knowing where the woman operated would make the search vastly easier.
"I have it saved. I'll send it over now — do you think it will take long?"
Cheong-geum worked her lips.
"It's Saturday, so it could take a while. And Madam isn't here, either."
"Haaah—"
A heavy sigh. And a heart heavier still.
"Is the situation serious?"
As Cheong-geum listened intently, his voice came through so vividly she could almost see his face — frustration and fury woven together.
"From what I saw, this wasn't done to just one or two people. There's no telling how many victims there are. It may even be happening as we speak."
The first act of evil is the hardest. The second comes easier, the third easier still — and from then on, the heart turns numb to it.
"Hooo..."
Cheong-geum let out a deep, weighty sigh and spoke through a furrowed brow.
"I'll have it done as fast as I can."
"I'm sorry to make you shoulder something like this."
"Please — say no more."
No sooner had the call ended than Cheong-geum was combing through her contacts, dialing one number after another.
"Yes — forgive me for calling so suddenly. My name is Cheong-geum, a disciple of Lee Geum-kyeong. The thing is..."
All to find the shaman who had done what no shaman should ever do.
Driven by the resolve to save a life.
Brushing past all courtesy, Cheong-geum routed calls to every place her own reach could touch.