A Child of Prayer

A mudang is sometimes called a gija — a child of prayer.

It means one who prays.

With his eyes closed tight, Kang Hyeong-seok murmured through barely parted lips, each word slipping out like a whisper.

Murmuring the sutra low so that not a sound of it would leak past the curtains, he pressed his palm over the sacred shaman bells — the Mudang Bang-ul.

The bells warded off calamity and cleansed tainted energy.

May that energy be of help to Lee Jin-pyeong.

He prayed, he hoped, he willed it with everything in him.

Perched on Lee Jin-pyeong's chest, the Spitz lifted its head.

Whatever the sutra meant, the little one couldn't possibly have known — and yet it gazed up at Kang Hyeong-seok meekly, its tail lying perfectly still.

Kang Hyeong-seok recited the long, long sutra with care, one syllable at a time. A long stretch of time slipped past before the final line was finished, and he opened his eyes to look down at Lee Jin-pyeong.

Nothing had outwardly changed since before the prayer. His eyelids stayed shut, and the machine checking his heart rate read exactly the same as it had before.

But the energy was different now.

"Now your part is the one that matters."

Kang Hyeong-seok moved his hand from the shaman bells to the Spitz's head.

Only then did the dog give its held-back tail a wag, letting out a soft bark — a sound only Kang Hyeong-seok could hear.

"I've done everything I can."

He had offered his prayer.

He hoped the hearts of everyone wishing for Lee Jin-pyeong to wake would reach the heavens. He had chased off the wicked things lurking nearby and left clean energy to settle around Lee Jin-pyeong's bed.

What remained was time, and the efforts of the medical staff.

And the spirit of a Spitz — one who wished with all it had for its master to open his eyes — keeping watch at his side.

"Arf!"

As if it understood, the dog barked once, short and clear.

Kang Hyeong-seok nodded with a smile and gathered up the shaman bells, then slipped out of the hospital room. Near the elevator, a middle-aged couple — Lee Jin-pyeong's parents, by the look of them — passed right by him.

Ding!

Even as the arrived elevator slid its doors open, Kang Hyeong-seok glanced back at the couple. Then, lifting the corners of his mouth without a sound, he stepped inside.

With the bag holding the shaman bells hugged to his chest, Kang Hyeong-seok watched the couple's receding backs and made a silent wish.

Please — don't worry too much.

Because only then would Lee Jin-pyeong, who would one day open his eyes, be spared the ache of it.

"Assistant Manager Kang!"

It was the next day, and Kang Hyeong-seok was on his way into work.

The moment Kwak Young-ho's call connected, he was already raising his voice.

"Yes, Department Head."

"I just got off the phone with Assistant Manager Lee's parents! He's going in for tests right now!"

"I'm sorry — tests?"

For a heartbeat, Kang Hyeong-seok wondered whether something had gone wrong. But there wasn't a trace of gravity in the voice that kept pouring out of the receiver.

"No, no, nothing bad. I don't know the exact details, but apparently there was some kind of response. They're saying if things go well, he might even open his eyes today — sounds like they're running some follow-up exams, from what I gather."

"Ah."

Kang Hyeong-seok let out a long breath of relief. He'd gone so far as to offer a prayer, so the way he'd jolted at the thought of something terrible having happened now felt like nothing more than a passing mishap.

As he released sigh after sigh, Kwak Young-ho's voice came through again.

"Sounds like he's improved quite a bit. Anyway, I told them I'd stop by this morning for a quick visit. I'm driving over there right now!"

Not a bad choice.

Lee Jin-pyeong hadn't been hurt on company business. Even so, to comfort his parents overseas even a little, it was only right that at least one person from the company pay a visit — and better still if that person was the department head. Had Kang Hyeong-seok been someone's parent, he would likely have wanted the same.

"And they asked me to pass along their thanks. To you."

"I'm sorry — to me?"

"We went together the day he had his surgery, remember? And you went to see him again yesterday, too. They said to tell you how grateful they are that you've looked after their son."

"Please, no. I didn't really do anything."

"That's just how a parent's heart works!"

Kang Hyeong-seok laughed, careful to keep the sound from carrying into the phone.

Lee Jin-pyeong's parents, the ones he'd passed in the corridor only yesterday, seemed to flicker before his eyes. Slumped shoulders, faces darkened with worry.

So this was how heavy a parent's heart for a child could be.

"Assistant Manager Kang, you call your parents often, don't you?"

"Ah, well, that is..."

"Hey! Call them while you still can. See them while you can still look them in the face. That time doesn't last as long as you'd think!"

Without warning, the conversation had swerved into a scolding, and Kang Hyeong-seok could only laugh sheepishly.

"I'm sorry."

"The holiday's coming up, isn't it? Take a day off then and go by your parents' place. That's what you ought to do."

"Yes, sir."

A bitter, apologetic feeling settled into him as he thought of his parents. There wasn't a single wrong word in anything Kwak Young-ho had said. He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knew he shouldn't let it happen, but somewhere along the way of working life, even calling home had become something he sometimes forgot to do.

"Aigoo. Anyway, how far along are you?"

"Almost there. About five minutes out."

"You remember that meal I mentioned yesterday? It's set for lunch today, so be ready for it."

"That came together faster than I expected."

"Of course it did! Tsk, honestly — you might not realize it, but people around the company are talking about you a whole lot these days."

Kang Hyeong-seok had expected as much, so it didn't surprise him. There was more than enough reason for it. It wasn't as if anyone was talking about the flesh he'd cleared out of that warehouse — the warehouse had plainly been an urgent matter for the company, and the credit for locking in that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠contract on favorable terms was rightly his.

But more than pleased, his first thought was that he'd best mind how he carried himself.

"If anyone comes poking at you, just brush them off. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, sir."

Not everyone at the company was like Kwak Young-ho or Shin Jeong-ah. Kwak Young-ho was already keeping watch for anyone who might grow envious of Kang Hyeong-seok and come looking for trouble.

"And if it comes to that, just call me."

"No, sir. I'll make sure it's nothing you need to worry about."

"I worry because I care, Assistant Manager Kang!"

Seeing the office building come into view at last, Kang Hyeong-seok spoke quickly.

"Really, sir, it's fine. And I've just reached the office — I'll be up in a moment."

"Alright, alright! I'll be back before eleven, so if you've got anything to finish, hurry up and get it done."

"Yes, sir!"

Kang Hyeong-seok ended the call, squared his shoulders, and drew a deep breath.

Lunch with the executives. And a seat arranged through Executive Director Shin Chang-yong's influence, no less.

He would have to keep his wits about him.

And yet, strangely enough, the corners of his mouth refused to come down — probably because the news about Lee Jin-pyeong had been good.

Whirr!

With his car settled into the parking lot, Kang Hyeong-seok took his seat and began readying the day's work. He powered on the monitor, hammered his password into a keyboard that still looked suspiciously brand-new, nudged the mouse aside, and spread open his notebook. Then he headed for the pantry to collect the coffee he'd regret going without.

The mood inside the office wasn't bad at all.

"Hellooooo!"

Through the glass pane of the pantry door he could see Namgoong Min-ah coming in, her greeting stretched into a long, sing-song drawl.

The start of an ordinary day.

Yes — that alone is enough. Don't think about anything else, and don't be nervous.

Beep! Vreeeee—

The machine began feeding espresso shots into the tumbler he'd wedged into place.

Kang Hyeong-seok was gazing idly down at the coffee pooling inside it when—

Tap!

"Assistant Manager Kang!"

He whirled around, startled, to find Im Jin-gil — who had joined the company the same year he did — grinning at him from ear to ear.

"What is it."

"What are you so jumpy for? Anyone would think you had a guilty conscience."

"If you're here for coffee, wait your turn. It's nearly finished."

Nothing in the world was quite as grating as a man you weren't even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠close to trying to trade jokes with you. Kang Hyeong-seok exhaled, straightened up the coffee machine, and planted himself in front of the water purifier.

He was reaching for the cold water when Im Jin-gil's voice drifted over his shoulder.

"Huh. I never took you for the resourceful type — turns out you've got quite the talent, hm?"

"What talent would that be?"

He turned to face Im Jin-gil wearing genuine incomprehension. Only then came the answer.

"The rumors are flying everywhere. How on earth did you get that contract renewed while Assistant Manager Lee was laid up in the hospital? Come on, if you've got a secret, share a little, won't you?"

Kang Hyeong-seok answered loosely, unhurried, his eyes resting on the man.

They might have joined in the same year, but they were nowhere near close enough for Im Jin-gil to be talking to him like this. And in office life, an eye for reading the room grows faster than a salary ever does — so he could see exactly what Im Jin-gil was playing at.

"Are you sneering at me right now."

"Sneering? Please. It's just the two of us here, so I'm being straight with you. It's not like it's something that can't be said, hm?"

"It is something that can't be said. Right now."

"Ei, you're so serious. And honestly, we all know Assistant Manager Lee has his stifling corners. Still, he is a man lying in a hospital bed — so I do sort of see how the renewal talk feels off."

Im Jin-gil started drawing his own coffee, but the air had chilled to the point where not even the heavy, warm aroma drifting from the machine could thaw it.

"Apologize."

Kang Hyeong-seok said it the way a man drops something onto a table.

But Im Jin-gil only blinked back at him with a look that asked what on earth the problem was.

"Apologize for what?"

"I said, apologize."

"I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's how you're going to come out with this."

"Did something put you in a mood? You've been on edge since a moment ago."

Kang Hyeong-seok let out a hollow laugh.

He knew he shouldn't get tangled up in this sort of thing — knew he shouldn't dignify it with so much as a reply. But of all targets, Im Jin-gil had chosen to walk all over Assistant Manager Lee.

Assistant Manager Lee, lying in that hospital bed with wounds carved into his flesh — a man who had very nearly lost his life.

"Now that's crossing a line."

Muttering it, Kang Hyeong-seok glared at Im Jin-gil as he sealed the lid onto his tumbler.

"Apologize while you still have the chance."

"What chance? And apologize for what, exactly?"

"Haah."

Kang Hyeong-seok sighed and took a sip of his coffee.

The company's benefits were good enough that it never stooped to cheap beans. Even so, the cup tasted of nothing but bitterness — his mouth was in that foul a mood.

"I'm scheduled to have lunch with the executives today."

Im Jin-gil's eyes thinned to slits, and Kang Hyeong-seok gave the coffee in his tumbler an easy swirl.

"The head of your own department will be sitting at that table, Assistant Manager Im. I think I'll go and make myself a little slip of the tongue."

"I'm sorry — a slip of the tongue?"

Only when bewilderment had spread across his face — when Im Jin-gil finally caught that this conversation was sliding somewhere serious—

"I'll be repeating, word for word, what you just said to me."

Despite the panic written plainly across him, Im Jin-gil burst out an empty laugh, as if the whole thing were beneath absurd.

"N-no, what do you even—"

"You said it wasn't anything worth apologizing for. Then it shouldn't matter one bit if it reaches the executives' ears, should it?"

"No! Assistant Manager Kang!"

"I gave you a chance. A perfectly clear one."

As Kang Hyeong-seok made to step out of the pantry, Im Jin-gil hurried around and planted himself in his path.

"This joke's gone too far. What are you doing right now? What did I even do that you'd carry it to the executives?"

"Step aside. I have a lot of work to do."

Lunch with the executives could run long — there was no telling when it would end. Just in case, he needed to clear as much work as possible before noon, which left no room to spare time on the likes of Im Jin-gil.

"N-no, just hear me out—!"

Perhaps the calm, flat face opposite his own rush was what made Im Jin-gil's heart pound faster; his voice climbed higher. And then—

Bang!

Shin Jeong-ah came striding into the pantry, bag still hanging off her shoulder — freshly arrived at work, by the look of her.

And her face was cold enough to freeze Im Jin-gil solid where he stood.