Debts to the Dead, Deals with the Living
Vrrr.
The text from Kwak Young-ho had come at eleven at night. It was late.
Lee Geum-kyeong had excused herself, saying there was business she needed to see to alone, and so only Kang Hyeong-seok remained at the funeral hall. And he set about helping with the work.
A funeral hall, it turned out, had far more to help with than one would guess. Checking supplies as they ran short, counting the food and water coming through the door to make sure nothing was missing, tidying the shoes of visiting mourners—he lent his hand to all of it.
"Are you family?"
He worked hard enough that even a staffer from the funeral services company asked him that. Truth be told, he had no obligation to go so far. But it was too hard to look away. Kang Hyeong-seok had seen far too many evil spirits and lingering souls at Anmokji. For every one of those spirits, the old shaman had redeemed a living person. And this was the funeral of a shaman who had done just that—a courtesy owed to a senior gone on ahead. So Kang Hyeong-seok lent his hands to the work with the devotion of a man performing a ssitgimgut, the rite of washing a soul clean.
"Thank you. Thank you."
It was after the mourners' visits grew sparse and the hall finally eased that the son came to him, worn-faced, bowing his head in thanks. Kang Hyeong-seok dipped his own in reply, smiling.
"Not at all. You're the one who's suffered, Chief Mourner."
"Um..."
The son began, then ran his tongue across his lips. When he spoke again, his manner was careful, almost tentative.
"You— you said you work at a company, didn't you?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Might I ask what kind of company it is?"
He might already know, truthfully. He would have seen the boxes of disposable supplies sent over by the company. But he was probably asking because he wanted to hear it from Kang Hyeong-seok's own mouth.
"It's called Daejeong Mulsan. An ordinary company."
"Ah... Mulsan."
"Yes. We connect good products with the people who need them."
The son sank into thought for a long moment, then settled a quiet smile onto his lips.
"It suits you."
It was an unexpected compliment, and Kang Hyeong-seok smiled without meaning to. The son's voice followed on its heels.
"Could our company sign a contract with yours as well?"
The voice was grave. The smile had drained from Kang Hyeong-seok's face—yet the son's stayed soft and calm.
"They seem like good people, your company. I run a modest little chicken farm, you see—it's called Samgol. I'd like to open a trade relationship with Daejeong Mulsan."
Kang Hyeong-seok pressed his lips shut. By rights he should have said thank you. But for some strange reason, the words would not come easily.
It was a first. Never once had he met a man who proposed a contract with such earnestness.
"Would you happen to have a business card on you?"
"Ah—yes."
Kang Hyeong-seok slipped a hand into his jacket and drew a card case from the inner pocket. He offered over a card printed with the words Section Chief Kang Hyeong-seok, held in both hands, and the son received it with a courtesy that outdid his own.
"The moment the funeral is over, I will contact you."
So much could be read in the son's voice. A gratitude straight from the heart. And beneath it, the feeling of a man who knew exactly how much effort had been spent on his family's behalf, and wished for nothing more than that this stranger go home and rest at last.
"...Thank you."
The son fingered the card a moment, then exhaled through his nose, mouth firmly closed. His face looked like a man about to say something more. But he said nothing. Instead, he only bowed his head, deep and long—and so Kang Hyeong-seok bowed just as deeply in return.
Having gathered his things and stepped outside, he looked back once at the funeral hall. Then he made for his car, pressed the key fob to unlock it, and climbed inside.
Vrooom!
And with that, Kang Hyeong-seok pulled out onto the road.
The next day, the commute was a genuinely leisurely one. With Kwak Young-ho's approval behind it, there was nothing to trip him up. He woke at eleven, showered under hot water, put away a simple brunch, and climbed into his car with a coffee an app had delivered right to his front door. He had managed all of it without burning so much as a half-day of leave.
Tap, tap, tap.
With the office set as his destination on his phone's navigation, he dialed Kwak Young-ho from behind the wheel.
Brrring, brrring.
"Oh! Section Chief Kang. Welcome back—everything go smoothly yesterday?"
"Yes, sir."
Kang Hyeong-seok took a sip of coffee.
"You sound good. And I hear you even lent a hand at the funeral? Their side hasn't said a word to you, though?"
Something like expectation, faint but unmistakable, seeped through Kwak Young-ho's voice.
"Hey, why so quiet? Did it not go well?"
Kang Hyeong-seok, who had stayed silent for all of a few seconds, took another sip of coffee before opening his mouth.
"He says he'll be in touch once the funeral wraps up."
"Oh—for real?"
"Said he wants to do business with us. It's verbal for now, but he's made his intent to contract perfectly clear."
Kwak Young-ho's face might as well have been visible straight through the phone.
"Incredible! Section Chief Kang!"
Just as he'd pictured.
"You're the real deal, the real deal. How do you breathe life into even something like that?"
The reaction was precisely what he'd imagined, and Kang Hyeong-seok let a small smile through.
"I'll give you the details at the office."
"Hold on, Section Chief Kang. They've stated their intent outright, right? This isn't going to fall apart halfway, is it?"
"We'll close it without a hitch."
This was no ordinary B2B transaction. It was a promise between one person and another, and Kang Hyeong-seok had forged that link with his own hands. Thanks to him, Samgol's farm owner had been able to send his father across to the other side safe and whole. How could a grieving son turn his back on that?
"Then I'll trust you and file the report right away?"
"Wouldn't it be wiser to wait until the contract is actually on paper?"
"If you're that confident, Section Chief, then it's as good as done. And I'll use this as my excuse to wrangle the corporate card while I'm at it."
Right. The company dinner. The one they'd meant to hold from the very start to celebrate Lee Jin-pyeong's discharge from the hospital. At long last, it was actually happening.
"Understood."
"Did you leave already? On your way in?"
"Yes. Driving in now."
"Aigoo, you diligent rascal. Why don't you stop by a sauna on the way, since you've got the time?"
"No need, sir. I've already washed up. I'll head straight in."
"Heh heh heh, got it. Hurry up and get here! Miss you already, Section Chief Kang!"
Kang Hyeong-seok ended the call and turned his attention back to the road with a level face. Perhaps it was because everything had worked out so smoothly. The noon sunlight streaming through the car window felt good.
A cafe on a busy commercial street—one of the big franchise chains. Soft jazz murmured from the speakers, and the patrons were almost all young people, headphones or earbuds in, buried in textbooks or hammering away at laptops. Amid all that, Lee Geum-kyeong was a presence impossible to overlook.
Ding-a-ling—!
The cafe door swung open, and Hong Gyeong-soo walked in. He wore a light suit, a bandage stuck to his face.
"Shaman Hong."
Hong Gyeong-soo caught sight of Lee Geum-kyeong and dipped his head, ordered a coffee at the counter, and took the seat across from her.
"To what do I owe the honor, going so far as to summon me."
Watching him toss off the greeting like it was nothing, Lee Geum-kyeong answered, calm and even.
"I see you came through it in one piece."
"'In one piece,' you say. It's been three days. Three."
"And the injuries?"
Hong Gyeong-soo scratched at the bandage on his face and shook his head, sour.
"Maybe it's the age, but nothing heals clean anymore. It's a bother."
"And how is Kim Mi-suk, then?"
A question tossed out lightly. And still, Hong Gyeong-soo's face went cold and hard.
Gulp.
Across the table, Lee Geum-kyeong sipped her warm coffee and continued in an unhurried voice.
"A death curse came flying at that child, Kang Hyeong-seok. In the very hours you'd gone off to fetch the jar, no less. And so the curse was turned back around. Is Kim Mi-suk safe and sound, I wonder?"
Hong Gyeong-soo forced his stiff face into something more pliable and lifted his cup.
"I'll admit I owe your boy a debt or two, but that much I couldn't tell you."
"Is that so."
"Yes, 'course."
He said it as though he could look up at heaven without a single speck of shame. Only then did Lee Geum-kyeong, who had let the corners of her mouth curl up briefly, set her coffee cup down.
"Now then—why do you suppose you're here?"
"Pardon?"
"Why would I have called you out to this place? That is my meaning."
Hong Gyeong-soo's face, trained on her, slowly slackened. He pushed a breath out through the crack in his composure, then rubbed a thumb across his brow and scrubbed the expression away altogether.
"...Honestly, I figured you'd called me out to tell me I'd been through the wringer."
He clicked his tongue, sending her a look soaked through with quiet grievance.
"Never in my dreams did I think you'd grill me over something I know nothing about."
"Shaman Hong."
Holding Hong Gyeong-soo's gaze, Lee Geum-kyeong let only her eyes gleam out of an expressionless face.
"This round—you set the board yourself, didn't you."
"Ha, honestly. Madam."
"Carrying Kang Hyeong-seok off with you. Setting the man under you to hurl the death curse. Was there a single piece of it that wasn't your doing?"
"...Madam."
Hong Gyeong-soo spoke in the tone of a man with a great deal left to say. Lee Geum-kyeong answered him with a silent nod, and Hong Gyeong-soo, letting his displeasure show, sipped at his coffee.
"Can you swear it before your god?"
"Yes!"
There was no hesitation anywhere in the answer. If anything, it felt as if he meant to leave not so much as a crack of room.
"If you'll go that far, then I'll accept it."
"What a relief. To think you'd finally recognize my sincerity."
"Then take this to heart."
Holding Hong Gyeong-soo's eyes, Lee Geum-kyeong began to ready herself to rise.
"Nothing good has ever come of laying hands on that child. I trust you understand what I'm telling you."
I will be watching.
A chilling thorn sat buried, needle-sharp, in Lee Geum-kyeong's words. There was nothing to be gained from provoking Kang Hyeong-seok. Least of all for one who served a god. He was a vessel for a great one, and he walked beneath that god's protection. Make a careless move against such a man, and even Hong Gyeong-soo—master of hexes and curses though he was—would not come away unscathed.
"If you say so."
Hong Gyeong-soo said it without interest, then went on with a blank face.
"I know perfectly well what manner of man that friend of yours is. If anything, I'm the one keeping him safe. Nothing you're worrying over will come to pass."
"Then I'm glad to hear it."
Lee Geum-kyeong drained what remained of her coffee in a single swallow. Then she rose from her chair, and Hong Gyeong-soo stood with her, full of courtesy.
"And there's someone who runs about with you, isn't there."
"Yes."
"He's about to have a hard time of it."
For the first time, Hong Gyeong-soo's face went rigid. Two people had hurled the death curse. The man who had worked alongside Kim Mi-suk was a sorcerer who had long moved in step with Hong Gyeong-soo himself.
Thump. Thump.
Hong Gyeong-soo glared for a long while after Lee Geum-kyeong as she left the cafe. Left alone, he ran his tongue across his eyetooth, dropped heavily back into his chair, and swallowed the scalding coffee in one go.