Only Her Reflection in the Mirror
Click.
The world beyond the shrine doors struck Kang Hyeong-seok as oddly bustling — bustling enough that a passing stranger glanced back for a second look, face full of what on earth is going on here?
Small wonder, with Lee Ha-yoon, Shin Jeong-ah, and Yoon-sang all gathered in one spot.
"Is it all done?"
"Yes."
Answering Shin Jeong-ah, Kang Hyeong-seok rubbed at his mouth as though sweeping away a beard that wasn't there — then shook his head.
"I can't curse her out anymore. Not now."
He had gone back in for one final check before coming out. The god was gone, and though the traces of the spirit wedding remained, there had been no other list of names to find.
"The notebook was everything."
"So she hadn't been at it long, then."
"From what I saw, she hadn't been carrying her god for very long, either."
Which meant perhaps that was why the god hadn't found it easy to leave. Perhaps it had only been hoping, all this time, that Jo Myeong-suk would set her heart right in the end. If so, it was a bitter tangle of a thing — for in the end, Jo Myeong-suk had betrayed not merely human beings, but a god's faith in her as well.
"Hoooh..."
Shin Jeong-ah sighed and rubbed the corners of her eyes, and Lee Ha-yoon — who chose that moment to lean in with a sly grin — earned herself a smack on the forehead for it.
"Oh, right — Yoon-sang."
"Yes?"
Kang Hyeong-seok looked at Yoon-sang, whose eyes had gone round as saucers, and arranged his face into a faint smile.
"Pass a message along to Buyong for me. Tell her she did well. And once the spirit on her end is laid to rest too, I'll be in touch one more time — pass that along as well."
"Ah— ah, yes, sir!"
"And I'll say it again: none of the footage you shot goes on the broadcast."
It wasn't only Kang Hyeong-seok who'd been caught on camera — other people's faces were in it too. There was far too much room for trouble, though it was equally true that the footage was something Yoon-sang would hate to throw away.
"Of course, Hyung-nim! I'll send it to Ha-yoon noona and delete it on the spot! No — wait, I'll wipe the whole thing clean and factory-reset my phone while I'm at it!"
"There's no need to go that far."
"Ehehe."
When Yoon-sang made a declaration like that, there was no lie in it. Kang Hyeong-seok, who knew the man well by now, gave his shoulder a friendly tap, then shifted his gaze to Lee Ha-yoon and Shin Jeong-ah.
"I'm truly sorry — for swallowing up your whole weekend like this."
"Oh, no, no! What are you even—"
"Um, and if you come up short, I can pitch in as well."
"Really, really, no. Hyeong-seok-ssi, that is not happening."
The flustered Ha-yoon clapped a hand over her pocket and backpedaled a step.
"I'll be reaching out to all the victims myself anyway. And with any luck I might land a few potential clients out of it, so it's really, truly fine."
Her words and her eyes were telling different stories. Put bluntly — how many people would believe that having one's fortune told at a shrine had ended in a betrothal to a stranger's spirit? Lee Ha-yoon might well end up having wasted her time for nothing.
"I'm sorry. Truly."
"I told you, it's fine? Besides, I watched you work yourself to the bone with my own two eyes, Hyeong-seok-ssi — so it does something for my mood, too."
A person of rare gift had moved to help strangers whose faces he didn't even know. Having studied law and seen far too many cases of the exact opposite, Lee Ha-yoon could measure just how remarkable a man Kang Hyeong-seok was.
"I'll just think of it as donating my skills and take it nice and slow. So stop fretting over it."
"Yes, ma'am. And please keep taking good care of our Section Chief here, too."
Ha-yoon punctuated the words with a playful thump to Shin Jeong-ah's arm — though Jeong-ah's gaze stayed where it was, resting on Kang Hyeong-seok.
"Now get going. You must be busy."
It was Shin Jeong-ah — the one who knew better than anyone what lay ahead of him — who said it, and Kang Hyeong-seok answered with a smile that looked as if it had to be hauled up by the corners of his mouth.
"Yes."
"Go on, quickly. That's the only way you'll get any rest at all."
"Earlier..."
"Hm?"
"Thank you — for getting that angry over it, as if it were your own."
The truth was, no one had burned with hotter rage than Kang Hyeong-seok himself. And Shin Jeong-ah had raged right there beside him, every bit as fiercely.
"Oh, stop. It was nothing."
Shin Jeong-ah tossed the words off with practiced ease, but perhaps the worry ran deeper than she let on — she stole a sorrowful glance at Lee Ha-yoon.
"Aha — gotcha! She was off napping just now. Had I known that was coming, I'd have stood still and let her land a few more. Then I could've claimed mutual combat."
"Ugh, jeez."
"...Can you really help them?"
"Did this man just question a lawyer?"
Shin Jeong-ah shook her head in small, quick jerks and waved Kang Hyeong-seok toward the road.
"Go on, quick. We'll grab a coffee and call it a day."
"Yes. Thank you all — truly — for today."
"I'll call you later, Hyung-nim!"
Yoon-sang forced down the urge to tag along as he said it, and Kang Hyeong-seok bowed his head to them once, deeply, before walking off toward where his car was parked.
Watching his retreating back, Lee Ha-yoon turned to Shin Jeong-ah and asked:
"Is he always like that?"
"Mm."
"Amazing, right, noona?"
"Th-that 'noona' business is a little much."
"Then what should I call you instead..."
The street was quiet — quiet enough that their banter, faint as it was, carried all the way to Kang Hyeong-seok's ears.
"Heh."
Kang Hyeong-seok let the laugh out on a slow exhale and kept walking, the notebook still in hand.
Doom-doom-doom-doom! Flap-flap!
The setting was the front courtyard of Lee Geum-kyeong's shrine hall, where Cheong-geum and Kang Hyeong-seok stood amid a gathering of practitioners too numerous to count at a glance. Shamans and ritual priests alike had heard the news and come running, glad of the chance to lend their hands.
Doom-doom-doom-doom!
"Let the reciter of sacred verse purge wine and keep the fast, don robes and cap in solemn order, center the heart and straighten the breath, temper the drum and soften the voice — and only then recite this scripture aloud."
With the ritual priest's chanted invocation riding the drumbeats, the gut began. Kang Hyeong-seok bowed his head beside Cheong-geum, palms pressed together in prayer. Before them, arrayed across a straw mat, stood dolls dressed in the full bridal and groom's garments of a traditional Korean wedding.
"Though reverence slacken toward the sacred things, though speech fold crooked, though fast and vigil go unkept, though the flame burn low and the deed lie still—"
It was to be a grand gut — fittingly so, for those who had suffered harm were many.
And such was the truth of it: there are those who harm other people.
"When the votive blessing is chanted, when the vow is pronounced — O every revered Celestial Venerable—"
To the very point of wielding their fellow humans as tools, so long as it served their own gain.
"every revered Mountain God, every revered Dragon King, every revered Divine General, every revered War Deity—"
Such is humankind — at times wicked, selfish, and cruel.
"every revered Bodhisattva, every revered Great Divinity, every revered Daoist Master, every revered Grand Steward—"
And yet not all of humankind is wicked.
"every revered Lord of Heaven, every revered Divine Child, every revered Celestial Maiden—"
Some reach out their hands for the sake of others, sacrifice themselves, and practice goodness in deed. If evil is human, then goodness is every bit as human.
Flap! Flap!
Watching the white cloth billow on the wind, Kang Hyeong-seok bowed his head three times, palms still joined.
"With one heart we beseech you — O honored departed, hear us."
The departed spirits bound to the living by these marriage pacts — to untie bonds that should never have been formed, and to deliver those who had been wronged, Kang Hyeong-seok saw the grand gut through alongside the mudang.
Bzzzz-zzt!
Buyong's eyes snapped open, and she snatched up the phone lying at the head of the bed.
"H-hello?"
"Yes, hello. Sorry to call — is now an okay time?"
"Yes — yes, of course, Mr. Yoon-sang."
It was a time that could read as late or as far too early, depending on how you looked at it — somewhere around four thirty. And yet Buyong had been sleeping in shallow snatches, and she had not hesitated for a second to answer.
"S-so... how did it, um... go?"
Her desperate hope was simply that great. There was a spirit bound to her in marriage — a spirit so terrifying, so dreadful, that she could hardly bear to live with it a day longer.
"I'm so sorry for the hour. Still, I figured you'd want to hear right away."
"Hahh—"
"I just heard from Hyung-nim myself, actually. He says it went smoothly — yours, I mean. And that the others are being seen to, one by one."
With the phone still pressed to her ear, Buyong drew her knees up to her chest and curled herself into a ball.
"Mmph! Kghm!"
"Huh? Hello? Hello?"
"Hic... hnn-gh..."
I'm free. Everything is going to be all right now. I never have to dream that nightmare-that-isn't-a-nightmare ever again.
"Hnn-gh... hnnnnn-gh..."
Her shoulders heaving with each sob, Buyong felt the words of thanks surging up from somewhere deep inside — but her throat was closed so tight she couldn't force a single one of them out.
"Ah, um — are you... are you all right there?"
Buyong wept a while longer before she finally wiped her face.
"Thank— thank you. Thank you so, so much."
"Oh no, no. What on earth do you have to thank me for?"
"Yes I do. Thank you. Really — thank you for all of it."
"Aigoo, those words belong to Hyung-nim. I'll be sure to pass them along for you later."
"No — I want to, I want to tell him myself."
Clutching a chest that felt ready to cave in, Buyong said this — and Yoon-sang recoiled in alarm.
"You can't do that! You know how Hyung-nim is about that stuff."
With a face caught somewhere between bitterness and deflation, Buyong wiped the spilling tears away with the back of her hand. Then she nodded, wordless.
She understood, after all. Knew that he was a man who lived his life with his identity hidden away, fastidious to the last. She had even met him in person once, and still the mask he wore had let her see only part of his face. And that was why she was sorry — she had received a debt of grace, yet could see no road by which to repay it.
"You absolutely must keep Hyung-nim's identity a secret."
"Yes, yes. Of course."
"And please, please don't post any thank-yous on the community café! You could end up flooded with private messages, you know."
"...Yes."
"Oh, right — one more thing."
It was then that Buyong's eyes, still rimmed with the tears she'd been wiping on the back of her hand, went wide with puzzlement.
"Hyung-nim said I absolutely had to pass this one along."
"Yes?"
"He says it's all over now — everything's fine. And that your boyfriend will be able to come near you again."
"...Oh."
"He also said he'd be glad to help hold a cheondoje — a guiding rite that sees the departed safely on their way — if you wanted one. Have you given it any thought?"
Buyong pressed her lips together hard and shook her head in quick, sharp jerks. Then, with an effort, she swallowed and found her voice.
"No. Later — I'll do it myself, later."
"I suppose that makes sense."
Hers was a bond that had been kept waiting far too long. The spirit that had barred all approach was gone. So now, everything would be all right. At last, the two souls that had been forced apart could close the distance.
"Um, well..."
At a complete loss for what on earth he ought to say, Yoon-sang let loose an awkward laugh.
"...Yes."
Wiping away the tears that spilled fresh all over again, Buyong ended the call. Then, for a long, long while, she sat weeping in the pitch-black room with her face buried in her knees. And when a great stretch of time had passed, her tears finally ran dry.
Thump.
Rising from the bed, Buyong switched on the light. Then she opened her door and walked to the mirror she had left standing out in the hall — a large mirror, covered over with newspaper and tape.
Riiiiiiip!
It's all right now. There's nothing there anymore. And even if something were, it would only be him — the boyfriend she never got to join in this life.
Riiip!
Without a moment's hesitation she tore the newspaper from the mirror — and there, across a face where the traces of weeping had not yet faded, a faint smile broke through.
Because in the mirror, only her own reflection gazed back.