A Mudang Among the People
Staring down at the shaman bells, Kang Hyeong-seok worked his lips for a moment before he finally spoke.
"I could tell it wasn't an ordinary object, but I never imagined it was that kind of thing."
This was a relic that even Lee Geum-kyeong had never laid eyes on in the flesh — a sacred object whose mere possession would turn the head of every shaman in the land. Owning such a thing had settled a weight across Kang Hyeong-seok's shoulders.
"It is an object your Momjusin guided you to. There is no cause for such a face."
"...I'm not so sure."
"Surely receiving your god must have brought you something good?"
Kang Hyeong-seok's gaze jumped to Lee Geum-kyeong. She was already wearing a serene smile, as though she had known all along — the smile of a mother watching a child rise from a long illness.
"I can't see the stray spirits anymore. No — it's more than simply not seeing them. It feels different from that."
This was not the same as having his Yeongan closed. Whether it was because he had received a god, or because of the power of the shaman bells themselves, his senses had grown sharper than before — so far beyond what they had been that comparison was impossible.
"I think I can control my Yeongan now."
The wandering spirits that had once assailed him at all hours were gone from his sight. It was the same when he looked in the mirror that morning, and when he woke from sleeping in his car. Before, the ghastly things he would rather never have laid eyes on had gone flitting through his vision, gnawing away at his mind.
"Now you have taken your first step."
"My first step?"
"It was not the formal rite, but you have received a god. You have obtained a sacred relic as well. What would you be, if not a mudang?"
It felt as though Kang Hyeong-seok had been struck across the head. It was so obvious, and yet he had never quite allowed himself to see it. A mudang — and Kang Hyeong-seok. The pairing was simply too foreign.
"Could these be connected to the marks that appeared on my hand as well?" He held out his palm and showed her the three dots that had formed there. "They turned up the moment I took the shaman bells. I don't know what they are myself."
Lee Geum-kyeong took his hand and studied the marks on his palm through eyes narrowed to thin slits. Then, with a hand wrinkled and hardened by callus, she stroked over the dots, and without letting go, she spoke.
"So they are Sugye."
"Sugye... isn't that a term from Buddhism?"
Lee Geum-kyeong nodded and released his hand. She could hardly do otherwise. If these were truly Sugye, then the meaning sealed within them was anything but light.
"Do you know the meaning of them as well?"
"Yes. It does differ from sect to sect, but..." Kang Hyeong-seok worked his lips for a moment, then went on. "'Do all your deeds rightly, and with goodness.'"
The hand is where action begins. Sugye pressed into such a place emphasized righteous conduct — and there were three of them. Each no doubt carried its own distinct meaning, yet none would stray far from the same teaching: act rightly.
A sudden clarity washed through his head. So that's it. That's what he meant when he left these behind. It was his Momjusin who had left this Sugye — reaching out, however indirectly, to tell Kang Hyeong-seok to walk the right path.
But one question remained. "Then why did he not simply say so, instead of leaving marks behind?"
Worrying that perhaps he had never truly received his Momjusin at all, Kang Hyeong-seok murmured the words half to himself — but Lee Geum-kyeong answered with disarming directness.
"Because your Sinnaerim is not yet complete."
"Then shouldn't I receive the Sinnaerim properly, from you?"
"From me? To you? Nonsense."
At that, Kang Hyeong-seok blinked. He had been thinking, quite naturally, that an incomplete Sinnaerim simply had to be replaced with a proper one.
"There are few mudang who could perform a Sinnaerim for you. Perhaps not even a mansin could manage it. And besides — what need has one who has already received a god of an initiation?"
"But you just said my Sinnaerim wasn't complete..."
"It is because you are not yet a vessel fit to receive your Momjusin."
It sounded like a rebuke, and Kang Hyeong-seok had no choice but to close his mouth. It was not as though he had drawn a strict line between himself and the world of shamanism all these years — but neither had he lived the life of a holy man. He knew there were bound to be shortcomings, so he had nothing to say in his own defense.
But Lee Geum-kyeong's next words were no scolding. They were comfort.
"Your Momjusin is not a presence one receives lightly. Even had you lived as a baksoo — a male shaman — all your life, you would never have been able to receive him."
"..."
"What has you so tangled up?"
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
He had not received a proper Sinnaerim, and yet a god already dwelt within his body. He was neither shaman nor ordinary man. And yet he carried the shaman bells — a sacred relic that had acknowledged him as master — and on his hand, the Sugye that showed him how he ought to live. His mind tangled itself trying to interpret it all.
"He has given me a shaman's power, yet so much of what it takes to work as one is missing from me. And still, I don't believe he wants me to live as an ordinary man, either." Kang Hyeong-seok met Lee Geum-kyeong's eyes, hungry for an answer.
Shamans give answers. They hold out a single thread of path through the fog of confusion. That is why so many seek them out — and why shamans become guides to those people. Lee Geum-kyeong, who understood his heart, drew her mouth into a bittersweet smile.
"How pitiable. To know the answer already, and still walk through fog."
"I know the answer?"
"Haven't you been saying it with your own mouth?"
With quiet, unhurried movements, Lee Geum-kyeong took a sip of green tea, then continued in a level voice. "It is exactly as you said. So — what will you do?"
Kang Hyeong-seok blinked and sank into thought. He thought, long and deep, until the green tea had cooled and no longer raised steam — and then he caught hold of a single thread.
"Don't tell me..." He began, his face tight with embarrassment, and Lee Geum-kyeong nodded for him to go on. Drawing a deep breath, Kang Hyeong-seok took a sip of his tea and spoke.
"I believe he may not want me to become a mudang."
At that, Cheong-geum very nearly opened her mouth. Nonsense. It was an absurd thing to say. A Momjusin wants the mortal it has chosen to become a mudang. Refuse, and the god afflicts you with a divine illness — cruel agony, and in the worst cases, the loss of those you hold dearest. That is how far a Momjusin will go to make a mudang of someone. And Kang Hyeong-seok's Momjusin did not wish to make him one? It was the thing every mudang in the world must have wished for at least once — yet as far as Cheong-geum knew, no such god existed, and no one had ever been granted such a privilege.
Just as Cheong-geum's concentration crested, Lee Geum-kyeong smiled, looking quietly pleased.
"That is right."
Kang Hyeong-seok and Cheong-geum both turned to her in astonishment, but Lee Geum-kyeong kept her serenity, eyes resting on Kang Hyeong-seok alone. "You've put your finger on it exactly. Your Momjusin does not wish for you to become a mudang of the common kind."
"But, Teacher—"
"It means the place where you belong is not a shrine hall."
Kang Hyeong-seok's face stiffened, and Cheong-geum only grew more bewildered. Meanwhile, Lee Geum-kyeong lifted her chin slightly. Her gaze had settled behind him — on the place where his Momjusin would be. Staring into that empty air, she slowly opened her lips.
"Your Momjusin wishes for you to live among the people."
"They all do. There is no mudang who doesn't."
"And is this place your next-door neighbor?"
The question, tossed out so carelessly, cut Kang Hyeong-seok's words off at the root. Only then did he and Cheong-geum truly grasp what she meant. A mudang among the people. One who helps others from somewhere far closer than the mudang of old. One who takes the teaching of the Sugye for a compass and lives by it. That was what Lee Geum-kyeong had been saying all along.
The answer was out, but there was no ease in Kang Hyeong-seok's face. "I can't make sense of it. Why would he expect such a thing of me, of all people?"
What on earth does he expect of me? Does he want me to walk a road different from everyone else's?
Just as the questions deepened, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A powerful presence behind him. His Momjusin. He was right there at his back — and Kang Hyeong-seok felt a sensation he knew well.
Chime! Chime! Chime! Chime!
Just as when the Chang-gwi had hunted him, he heard the ringing of the bells — a sound meant for his ears alone. And with it came the same sensation he'd had when the god had first entered him. That was how he could receive his Momjusin's thought: far clearer than anything Lee Geum-kyeong could sense, distinct enough that though no voice sounded, the will behind it was unmistakable.
Do what is right.
Having impressed the teaching of the Sugye upon him once more, his Momjusin vanished as though he had never been there at all.
"What is the matter?"
Lee Geum-kyeong's puzzled gaze settled on Kang Hyeong-seok's suddenly stiff face. He shook his head and rubbed at his brow — it was damp with cold sweat.
"He made contact with me just now."
"Contact...?"
Lee Geum-kyeong looked behind him, a question in her eyes. She had certainly felt the presence of his Momjusin, if only for a moment. Yet even to her eyes, no contact appeared to have taken place.
"What did he say to you?"
"He said nothing. He simply let me know. That I am to do what is right."
"Hmm."
Lee Geum-kyeong rubbed the corner of her mouth, looking for all the world as though she had expected exactly this, while Kang Hyeong-seok wet his lips with tea gone completely cold. It had been the briefest of contacts, but the experience was far from familiar, and his throat had gone dry as though he had just put himself through punishing exercise.
"One thing is certain — he does expect something of me." Perhaps because he had received his Momjusin's teaching firsthand, there was more force in Kang Hyeong-seok's voice than usual. "So I intend to try living as he wills."
For a moment, neither Lee Geum-kyeong nor Cheong-geum said anything. However different its shape from their own, Kang Hyeong-seok had chosen to enter the world of shamanism in his own way — and because they knew how heavy that resolve was, the words would not leave their lips easily.
"Will you truly be all right?" Lee Geum-kyeong asked, her voice subdued, and Kang Hyeong-seok nodded, his face composed.
"I believe this is my path."
Beneath the watching eyes of Cheong-geum and Lee Geum-kyeong, he gave a bitter smile. "I resented having my Yeongan open ever since I was a child. But looking back now, I think perhaps it was so that I would come to understand the hearts of those who suffer at the hands of ghosts."
Kang Hyeong-seok looked down at the Sugye on his palm, then at the shaman bells, and his smile turned more bittersweet still. "I steeled myself when I took up those bells. I knew I would never live an ordinary life again."
"Hmm."
"And yet, being told not to raise a shrine hall at all — if anything, it feels like more grace than I deserve." Kang Hyeong-seok turned his gaze to Cheong-geum for the first time. "So much so that I even feel guilty toward the other mudang."
Cheong-geum's eyes went wide, and then she smiled, wry and rueful. He had nothing to apologize for. What a god has decided, how could a mortal defy it? And yet she was grateful, all the same, that he thought of her — of her kind. And in some small way, she felt she was beginning to understand why Kang Hyeong-seok had to walk a path unlike anyone else's.
"It will not be easy."
Kang Hyeong-seok shifted his gaze back to Lee Geum-kyeong as he answered. "I've made my peace with that."
"You will see many foul things, and hear many words you will hate."
"I've made my peace with that, too."
"There will be those who thank you — and those who envy you, hate you, and would flay the flesh from your bones."
"I can bear it."
Lee Geum-kyeong smiled, looking quietly delighted. Before her eyes flickered the image of a much younger Kang Hyeong-seok — the boy who had undergone the Sin-nureum suppression rite under her hands so long ago. That child had grown into a man, and now he stood facing his destiny.
"Then I will ask you. What is a mudang?"
"One who joins gods and humankind together."
"A mudang is also called a gija. What does that word mean?"
"One who prays."
"And what does a gija pray for?"
"For those who need help."
At answers given so cleanly, without a moment's hesitation, Lee Geum-kyeong's smile deepened. "You know it all. You know everything."
"Honestly, I don't feel sure of myself at all."
"Then don't speak so weakly. When your heart wavers, you need only trust your Momjusin."
"Yes, ma'am."
The conversation had taken on the unmistakable air of an ending.
"Anything else you're wondering about?"
"I'll seek out the rest on my own."
Lee Geum-kyeong laughed, looking more pleased than ever, and drained the last of her tea as though tossing it off. "If it grows too heavy, you come see me. Any time."
"Next time, I'll come to pay my respects — not for counsel."
"If you were that sort of fellow, you'd have shown your face long ago."
At her joke, Kang Hyeong-seok let an easy smile spread across his face, and the small talk flowed back and forth.
"Next time, I'll bring some of that red bean jelly you like, too."
"No need. I've had my fill of it in this life."
"And yet you never turn it down when there's some in front of you."
A comfortable atmosphere settled over the room, and beneath it, Kang Hyeong-seok felt his heart grow lighter. But if he lingered any longer he would be stealing into Lee Geum-kyeong's bedtime, so at last he rose.
"Then, Teacher — I'll see you again next time."
Kang Hyeong-seok performed a deep, formal bow before Lee Geum-kyeong, then stepped out into the courtyard. A mountain was truly a mountain. His limbs were heavy with unpaid sleep, but the air — crisp beyond belief — seemed to rinse the weariness right out of him.
Gazing up at the moon, which hung that night with unusual brilliance, Kang Hyeong-seok made his way toward his car.