What the Bells Revealed

(Did you see the news?)

Shin Yo-sep's voice came lunging through the receiver the moment he picked up.

"Listening to it right now."

(Huh? Doesn't sound like you're in the car.)

"A restaurant."

(What kind of restaurant puts the news on?)

This guy really does only set foot in expensive places.

Scooping up fish porridge with his spoon, Kang Hyeong-seok carried on with the call.

"There are places like that. Anyway — I hear some grotesque case just broke?"

(Yeah. Word is it happened last night.)

Last night? That was when the factory had burned.

Kang Hyeong-seok's brow drew tight, and Shin Yo-sep's next words only fanned the unease.

(It might not be the work of a human at all.)

"Meaning what, exactly."

(It probably never made the news, but they say a hermit living up in those mountains had his head taken off by a blade.)

Kang Hyeong-seok abruptly recalled the onmyoji and the box from his dream. The box had held a head.

A head...

Was it because of the call just now? Or because of the news? Either way, it felt like he was seeing something he was never meant to see.

Covering one eye, Kang Hyeong-seok tried to shake off the image that kept welling up in his mind — but like fish porridge crusted onto the rim of the pot, it wouldn't come loose at all.

Squelch... squel-squelch.

It was the image of something inhuman — a thing that had claimed a body at the end of a long, long ritual — crawling out of the kiln where bone urns were fired.

(So what do you want to do? I go alone? Or do we move together?)

"Hold on. It's a crime scene. How would we even get in?"

A murder scene. The police would be all over it by now, and even if they weren't, they'd probably have strung yellow police tape around it in the name of preserving the site.

(Getting close is fine, though.)

"You..."

(I'm not saying we go in. I'm saying that once the sun's down, we at least take a look from nearby.)

It was hardly a bad offer. The best move would be to stand where the massacre had actually happened, but even just closing the distance would help plenty.

"Send me the location for now. I'll go first and check it out."

(Got it. Ah — and just in case: don't do anything that gets you arrested.)

Kang Hyeong-seok huffed a laugh.

Was it because the call had dragged on so long? Or had something in the conversation caught the man's interest? From the back of the restaurant, the owner was staring at him so openly it bordered on rude — though there was nothing suspicious in the way he looked at him.

"Well, I'd rather not lose my head at the office either."

(Might not be so bad. My offer's still on the table.)

Since their very first meeting, Shin Yo-sep had been trying to make him his secretary. He hated the very thought of it.

"Piss off."

(Heh. Expensive bastard.)

A moment later, his phone chimed with a message from Shin Yo-sep. The location of the massacre site.

At a tap, the map application unfolded, laying out the exact spot.

Swish. Swipe.

Thumb and forefinger panning and zooming the map, Kang Hyeong-seok fixed the precise location in his mind — then ended the call with a "talk later."

"Shall I warm that up for you?"

The owner, who had been watching him for a while now, tossed the question out, and Kang Hyeong-seok shook his head with a smile and said he was fine. Then he polished off the fish porridge — cooled now to the perfect eating temperature — in a few quick spoonfuls and rose from his seat.

Vrrrooom.

Driving toward the mountain Shin Yo-sep had pointed him to, his mood sat heavy.

Was it because the sea was close by? The sky, clear all morning, was now packed with clouds — ominous enough on its own — and the drive stretching out far longer than he'd expected crawled up his spine too.

"Haah..."

He was already six kilometers from the factory — and had three more to go before he reached the destination.

Is that thing really what came tearing out of the factory? Please — let it be anything but that.

Something unknown, born and immediately going around carving through human necks... he couldn't even begin to imagine how one was supposed to handle such a thing.

Krrrumble.

Thunder rolled out of the thick, churning clouds, almost as if looking down on him. Kang Hyeong-seok pushed out a heavy sigh through his nose and took a sip of the coffee riding in the cup holder.

"Whew—!"

Go. Just go and see. You never know until you go. First thing was to confirm what was actually there.

The blue line that had been guiding him vanished from the screen. Staring at the suddenly hollow display, Kang Hyeong-seok parked in an empty lot nearby.

For a place where a man had died, the mountain was remote enough that he wondered how anyone had found the body at all. The nearest village sat a good kilometer away.

Step.

Kang Hyeong-seok climbed into the mountain, navigating toward the destination by phone. Maps didn't show the small trails of a wild mountain like this one.

Crack! Snap!

Snapping off branches here and there so he wouldn't lose his way, checking his bearings against the sun's position, he kept walking toward his goal.

"Hooooh!"

Insects darting at his face, spiders the size of his palm, flying squirrels racing up the trees, nameless birds — he even crossed paths with a raccoon dog.

Krrrrrumble!

There was probably a simple reason the thunder sounded so strangely close: he had climbed that far up the mountain.

Step, step.

He had climbed a long way, over a long while — and at last, Kang Hyeong-seok spotted the cabin he'd been searching for. The grounds around it were so neatly kept that the place could have been called a picture of harmony between home and nature. But under that yellow police line, it looked like something sinister sealed off behind a Geumjul, a sacred taboo rope.

The police... Damn it. They were here.

Sitting among the trees and brush, Kang Hyeong-seok let only his head show.

"Looks like it might rain, sir."

"Unbelievable. Rain hits, and the scene's ruined. Any trace of the attacker?"

"No, sir. We combed this whole area inside out. Nothing."

"What about forensics? They find the weapon?"

"Word is it's a long blade — something like a katana."

"What the hell kind of bastard does this? Rotten scum."

Two officers were in view, their stifled frustration plain as they prowled the grounds with fire in their eyes.

"One more sweep before we pull out."

"Yes, sir."

Then one of them began edging, little by little, toward the patch where Kang Hyeong-seok was hiding.

And that was when it happened.

Krrrrrumble!

A colossal thunderclap shook the mountain. The officer stopped dead and looked up — and fat raindrops began to fall, one and two at a time.

"Shouldn't we be pulling out, sir?"

"Tch, damn it. We're turning back."

"We've done all we can for the scene. Let's head in for today."

The officer farther away beckoned him over with an irritated flick of his hand. The police were leaving.

Kang Hyeong-seok let out a soundless sigh and tipped his head back toward the sky. The same sky that had felt so ominous before now seemed almost to be lending him a hand — and it brought someone to mind.

Don't tell me...

Eyes brimming with gratitude, Kang Hyeong-seok gazed up and gave a small nod. Right after, the police headed down the mountain — slow going on foot.

Krrrrrumble!

Thunder rolled again, and Kang Hyeong-seok raised the Mudang Bang-ul — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sacred shaman bells.

Pzzt-crack! Krrrumble!

Thunder boomed with abandon, yet no rain came — and under that strange sky, Kang Hyeong-seok shook the bells. Their chime was swallowed whole by the thunder, but the effect showed all the same. The corrupt energy fell back, and in the same breath the air around him cleared, and at last the divine spirits could return to their places.

Krrrrrumble! Jing-jangle!

Shaking the bells in time with the thunder once more, Kang Hyeong-seok fixed his gaze on the cabin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠far below and began reciting the sacred scripture, low, like a murmur.

No sooner had the scripture ended than thunder cracked. Jing-jangle! He shook the bells in that same instant — and everything around him darkened, fast.

The sun hadn't truly plummeted from the sky like a bird struck by an arrow. What was playing out before his eyes was the massacre that had unfolded here last night, replayed.

Creeeak.

A night when a bright moon floated full and clear. From the cabin emerged a man who looked to be past seventy. His clothes were a rough, weathered combination, but his face was neat and clean — the very image of someone who lived off the land.

Click, click.

Perched on a boulder near the cabin, the man gazed up at the moon and set a cigarette between his lips. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Then, as if afraid even one stray spark might get away, he rounded his hands into a windbreak and lit up.

Rustle.

Leaves stirred. Perhaps it was a common enough occurrence, because the man went on smoking without a care — but Kang Hyeong-seok's gaze snapped toward it.

Something's there. Something was crawling closer. Pressed flat against the ground, reeking of an impossible evil and a rancid stench, pouring out malice so thick it was nearly visible — something was coming.

Something that had no right to exist in this world was there.

Rustle. Rustle.

The sound repeated as the thing drew near the man — yet it left no trace upon the world at all.

"Hm?"

The man must have sensed it too, for his eyes shifted that way —

Crack... cra-crack.

With a sound like joints breaking, the thing raised itself upright. At a glance, the movement resembled a person with a crippled body. But there was no way that thing was human.

What the hell is that...

Two horns jutting from its skull. Ragged khaki trousers. Black hair, and a body red as if aflame. And a face twisted into something vicious, with needle-sharp fangs.

"Sanbyaku."

It was as if the word the onmyoji had spoken in the dream were replaying beside his ear. Only then did Kang Hyeong-seok understand everything — what that thing was, and that it was the very being the onmyoji had summoned.

It resembled the Dokkaebi from the old storybooks. But it was no Dokkaebi. A Japanese folktale had crossed into Korea and been adapted along the way — so even translated as "Dokkaebi," its true nature was a Japanese yokai.

"...An Oni."

The moment Kang Hyeong-seok breathed the word, the man noticed it too.

"Huh? Aaah!"

The sight was so dreadful, so grotesque, that the man dropped his cigarette.

Shring!

The Oni drew a katana from the scabbard slung at its hip like a dokkaebi's club. The icy blade drank in the moonlight and gleamed a pale blue, and the man's face went white.

"S-save me! Somebody, help!"

He scrambled to flee, but an old body seized by terror refused to obey. The Oni's body, by contrast, looked as hardy as a soldier's.

Tat-tat-tat!

Blade tip flung skyward, the Oni covered the distance in a heartbeat and ran the man down. And then — the neck of the man who had whirled around in horror —

Thwack!

— severed with a single stroke.

The man's head rolled across the ground. His body crumpled, blood fountaining from the severed stump.

Watching the earth blacken in an instant, watching scarlet blood splash across the green leaves and grass, Kang Hyeong-seok swallowed drily. Then he raised his gaze to the Oni.

Shhhk.

Katana sheathed, the Oni began to shamble away on unsteady steps. Its thoughts — of leaving for somewhere else — seeped into Kang Hyeong-seok's mind as if bleeding through. He knew no Japanese. But the clear purpose and the obsession that transcended language itself, those he could understand.

What?

The instant the question formed, the Oni — steps frozen dead — slowly turned to look at him.

How could any face twist so thoroughly with hatred and resentment? The Oni, its face as hideous as a Japanese hannya mask, turned its head away again. Then, at a slow shuffle, it melted into the darkness and was gone.