Just One More Time
Kang Hyeong-seok didn't ask for much. All he wanted was for his sincerity to get through.
But the blacksmith's brow shot up, and he hoisted the sickle high.
"You son of a bitch! Where do you get off spouting that goddamned lie!"
Holding the man's murderous glare, Kang Hyeong-seok forced weight into every word.
"Your daughter was a Dokkaebi shaman, wasn't she?"
At that, the blacksmith's body flinched and his eyes wavered wildly.
"The Dokkaebi that served as her Momju-sin—her body-governing patron deity—is the cause. Drive out that Dokkaebi, and your daughter will come back to herself."
The corners of the blacksmith's mouth trembled. So did the sickle in his fist. His eyes swam with confusion, but he soon wrenched the venom back up by force.
"Goddammit... so you're a shaman too, huh."
The man bared his teeth, gone yellow from years of neglect.
"Five! Five shamans have fed me that exact same line! Every last one of them bled me for money, then turned tail at the end saying it couldn't be done! What makes you any different!"
Yet as he shouted, his eyes brimmed over, wet and glistening. The memories of how those people had tormented him, time after time, must have been rising up in him.
"A big-name shaman said it straight to my face! Even if a manshin came, my daughter's mind would never return! Said she'd grow old and die just like this! Said her spirit was gone—that she couldn't even kill herself if she wanted to!"
The voice was vicious, flung out in spite.
But underneath it brimmed a raw, helpless grief.
And that was exactly why it was so hard to turn away.
Kang Hyeong-seok clenched his jaw, then drew a voice recorder from inside his coat.
"Your daughter's spirit is still alive."
"...What?"
The blacksmith's eyes went huge with shock, and Kang Hyeong-seok fingered the button on the recorder.
But he couldn't bring himself to press play at once. The recorded voice of the blacksmith's daughter was so saturated with agony that it drove into the chest of anyone who heard it, without mercy. If it did that even to him, what would it do to her own father?
"It may be hard to listen to."
Even so, Kang Hyeong-seok steeled himself to press the button. For a man who had lost all hope, this would do more good than silence ever could.
Click.
"Save me! Please, somebody save me!"
The shaman girl's voice poured out of the little speaker through a wash of static.
The blacksmith had frozen solid as ice. His mouth opened, but no words came.
"That will be your daughter's voice."
"You... you—where did you... how did you get this..."
Kang Hyeong-seok held the man's gaze a moment, then let his eyes fall to the recorder. The blacksmith's face, just now, was not an easy thing to look at.
"Her spirit hasn't vanished."
The Dokkaebi was holding it captive. Drive the creature out, and the spirit could return to its body.
"I can free your daughter's spirit from that Dokkaebi."
His gaze still fixed on the recorder, Kang Hyeong-seok went on.
"I know how many times you've been hurt. But please, think of this as the last time—and trust just once more."
His eyes carried the rest. Your daughter can live. No more hellish nights spent listening to her screams—he could have back the everyday life he'd lost.
So much passed wordlessly from Kang Hyeong-seok to the man. Please. Let my sincerity reach you.
Only after a long, leaden stretch of time—silence so heavy it smothered even breathing—did anything change.
With a hollow clatter, the sickle slipped from the blacksmith's hand and rolled across the floor. Kang Hyeong-seok lifted his head to find the man sinking down, both hands pressed over his eyes.
"Help me. Please, I'm begging you—help my daughter, Master Exorcist."
It was a wail like a wounded beast.
And that was why it seized the heart like a mourner's cry.
Kang Hyeong-seok drew a deep breath. He wanted to offer some word of comfort, but all he could do was nod. Right now, that seemed the better answer.
The car door thumped shut, and Yoon-sang's stare locked onto Kang Hyeong-seok at once. The kid sat in the passenger seat with his phone, a notebook, and a pen arranged on his lap, Bluetooth earbuds wedged in his ears.
"Hyung-nim? Your eyes...?"
"It's nothing. Nothing at all."
Kang Hyeong-seok rubbed at one eye and pointed at Yoon-sang's phone. "You've been studying that properly, right?"
"Yes, I have. But—do I really have to be the one to do this?"
Yoon-sang had searched his face with a taut, nervous look before daring to ask. Kang Hyeong-seok shrugged. "You have to—otherwise you won't have anything to put out on the stream, will you?"
"That's true, but... I'm not sure I should be touching something like this."
Yoon-sang tilted the phone to show him the screen: footage of a gut, a shamanic rite. But it was no ordinary one. The torches ringing the ritual ground, and the white masks on the faces of the people seated along the altar—something about it all conjured an air of the grotesque. And yet the rite in the video seemed to be performed not for human beings, but for something else entirely.
"What on earth kind of gut is this?"
"Yeonggam-nori."
A rite for calling down a Dokkaebi.
"I've never even heard of it..."
"It's a Jeju rite, so it can feel unfamiliar. Besides, you messed around with Bunshinsaba and the like back in your school days, didn't you?"
"Sure, but that was just a game."
"So is this. Yeonggam-nori."
"Hyung-nim, anyone with eyes can see this is professional."
Apparently Kang Hyeong-seok had loosened up a little somewhere along the way. Yoon-sang laid his heart bare, even wrenching out a tearful grimace, and Kang Hyeong-seok forced up nothing more than the corner of his mouth.
"I'm leaving it to you. Nothing bad is going to happen—I'll see to that. So don't worry."
"Okay... I really do trust you and only you, Hyung-nim."
Yoon-sang played the video again. Once the kid sank into concentration, Kang Hyeong-seok started the engine. For a heartbeat Yoon-sang seemed about to ask where he was going, but the words never left his mouth.
Ring, ring, ring.
Because Kang Hyeong-seok was dialing somebody.
"Hello?"
"Are you up?"
"Of course I'm up. Wait—where are you right now?"
"In the village with the smithy."
"What? You didn't come home last night?"
"No."
"Ha! And you swore you wouldn't do anything dangerous! What on earth did you get up to last night? Are you all right? Nothing happened, right?"
What on earth is the relationship between these two? She sounded worried at first blush, but judging by Kang Hyeong-seok's manner, girlfriend didn't seem to be it. Yoon-sang let a flicker of curiosity show, met Kang Hyeong-seok's eyes, and hastily dropped his gaze back to his phone.
"So, is the job finished?"
"No. One big piece left."
"...It's not dangerous, right? And it can't take too long."
A live-in housemate? Or is this woman a practitioner too? Yoon-sang pinned his straying eyes to the phone screen, and Kang Hyeong-seok smiled bitterly.
"I know. You have work in the morning. That's why it all has to be finished tonight."
"Ugh. Another night job."
"Sorry, but may I ask a favor?"
"Doesn't matter to me, but nothing too weird or too dangerous, okay?"
"Just buy some supplies for me. There's quite a lot I need. Once you've gotten them together, I'll come pick you up."
"...That's all?"
"Yes. Sorry to burden you with this, but right now the only person with free hands is you, Section Chief."
Section Chief? Yoon-sang turned startled eyes on Kang Hyeong-seok.
"You're not in the middle of something right now, are you? A gut, or messing around with the blacksmith?"
"Nothing like that. I just have some preparations of my own to make."
"Got it."
"Right. I'll text you the list. You can buy everything at the market."
"Hold on—so I have to go all the way out to Jumunjin?"
Kang Hyeong-seok shook his head. He had no need of seafood.
"Not that one—the traditional market. Gangneung Central Market will do."
"Fine. Just send me the list. I'll get moving right away."
Kang Hyeong-seok texted her the list of supplies.
"Rice cakes, meat—and what's with all these candles? You need a mountain of things."
"Torches would be proper, but candles seemed easier to come by."
"Haaah... fine. I'll be waiting at Central Market, so come pick it all up later."
"I will. Thank you."
"Oh, right—this truly isn't anything dangerous, is it? I'm not about to end up in some other weird—"
Click.
Kang Hyeong-seok hurriedly ended the call. He could all but see Shin Jeong-ah's face burning red at being cut off mid-word, and he couldn't for the life of him have answered.
"Hyung-nim... you were an office worker?"
"Well? Did you think I was sucking my thumb for a living?"
"No, I mean— no, but why are you an office worker?"
Yoon-sang's eyes said he genuinely could not compute it. A shaman of Kang Hyeong-seok's caliber had no business worrying about money.
"Take those haunted-site tours your community runs, Hyung-nim. Shamans ride along on those sometimes, and it runs tens of thousands of won a head at the very least. The genuinely skilled can name their own price."
There was even talk that the shamans who'd appeared on broadcasts took home millions per gig. At Kang Hyeong-seok's level, fame would come overnight; pulling in millions of won a day wouldn't even qualify as work.
"You know what it is I can't stand?"
"Ah— sorry."
He couldn't stand people stirring up haunted sites for kicks. Yoon-sang straightened in his seat and ducked his head, while Kang Hyeong-seok punched Central Market into his phone and started driving.
I've given the blacksmith a rough idea of what to expect.
That might have been the most important piece of all. For a man who wasn't a practitioner, it could well be more than he could shoulder. But a father desperate to save his child burns hot, and he would keep Kang Hyeong-seok's instructions to the letter.
What's left is mine to do.
He had to get this right. Kang Hyeong-seok checked his wristwatch and pulled a long breath in through his nose. It would be afternoon soon.
"Over here!"
The moment they pulled into Gangneung Central Market, Shin Jeong-ah was impossible to miss. Her outfit would have read tourist to anyone with eyes, and she was, in every respect, a woman who drew the gaze.
"Stay in the car."
Leaving Yoon-sang behind, Kang Hyeong-seok got out alone and helped Shin Jeong-ah load her bags into the back seat.
"Why not use the trunk?"
"There's already something in it."
"Something?"
"I ran into a kid who does streams, by chance. We came together."
Having smoothed over Yoon-sang's presence, Kang Hyeong-seok ushered Shin Jeong-ah into the back seat.
"Um... hello."
"Oh—yes. Hello."
An exchange that stiff could hardly be called a greeting; it had been a long time since one came out that awkward. Partly to sweep away the uncomfortable air, Kang Hyeong-seok met her eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Section Chief, there's something I need to tell you."
"Hm? Oh, right. The call cut off strangely earlier—what were you going to say?"
Now that the moment had come, the words wouldn't come easily. Kang Hyeong-seok worked his lips for a long while, then settled for simply starting to drive.
Click—as the car gathered speed, the doors locked themselves, and by degrees Shin Jeong-ah's face began to harden. She couldn't have said why, but instinct told her that whatever came next would not be pleasant.
"Section Chief Kang...?"
"It's like this."
"Hey."
"Look, I— I do know this is a difficult favor to ask."
"Hold on. Hey."
"There's a rite called Yeonggam-nori. It summons a Dokkaebi... and it's one I have to perform."
Shin Jeong-ah's face drained whiter by the second, and Kang Hyeong-seok couldn't bear to watch, taking his eyes off the mirror.
"A greater Dokkaebi must be brought in to subdue the lesser one. And for that, we need a vessel fit to receive the greater Dokkaebi."
"...Hey."
"So— that is, Section Chief... I have to ask you to be possessed. Just this once."
"...Possessed?"
Her face went slack—then, in an instant, twisted like a Dokkaebi's mask.
"Hey, you—! You crazy bastard!"
Shin Jeong-ah yanked at the door handle as though to throw herself out of the moving car. But the car was already at speed, and the door didn't budge so much as an inch.