Gwisu Island, Part 1
I had been thinking about the island all this time.
But if I were to condense my thoughts into a single sentence, it would be this:
"A land steeped in malice."
That was the only way to define it.
Thus, Dang Sobaek had answered the weasel's question in that manner. It was an all-encompassing answer, but not a specific one.
He still lacked trust in the weasel, and he did not yet clearly understand the intent behind the question.
Yet, it seemed to be a thoroughly satisfying answer for the weasel.
"Precisely. This island is indeed such a place. The fact that you know this must mean you have traveled to its very edge. Is that not so?"
At this point, there seemed to be no need to hide it.
Dang Sobaek decided to ask the questions that had been lingering in his mind.
It was clear the creature harbored no immediate hostility. As the being who had undoubtedly lived on this island the longest, he would surely possess the most knowledge.
"...A translucent barrier surrounds the island. It felt like a birdcage trapping the entire place. I could not tell if it was a boundary array or something else. Do you happen to know anything about it?"
"A birdcage... Well, from your perspective, that is not entirely incorrect. This island is called Gwisu Island. By the way, the more I look at you, the more fascinating you are. Could this perhaps be your second life? You have only just awakened the Yo-language, yet you speak it with bizarre fluency. One might even mistake you for a human."
Dang Sobaek flinched inwardly, but he did not let it show on his face. Instinctively, he was reluctant to speak of his reincarnation. A rejection reaction flared from the depths of his soul. Feigning composure as best as he could, he sneered.
"Hmph. Your idle chatter is long. So, what is it you wish to say?"
"Yet, your attitude remains utterly rotten. Impudent brat. What I wish to say is simple. This island—do you not wish to escape it?"
"How?"
"I cannot tell you that just yet. I shall make my decision after observing your actions."
At the weasel's words, Sobaek's expression clearly betrayed his ridicule. The very fact that the creature had brought this up meant he required Sobaek's assistance.
"I do not understand what you expect of me. You brought this up because it is impossible for you to do it alone anyway, is it not?"
"...Audacious brat. Well, you are not wrong. However, there is a reason I am not speaking of it in detail just yet, so let us leave it at this for now. Always watch your tongue and keep your ears open. This Gwisu Island is far more insidious than you think."
It was a cryptic warning, but Sobaek nodded.
There was no need to press him.
Though his manner was eccentric, the weasel was, for now, his savior. How frustrating had it been to be unable to speak all this time? For that alone, Sobaek was willing to grant most favors.
"Do you have any other questions? Since it is certain I will need your help later, I shall answer honestly with whatever I know."
Dang Sobaek began asking about everything he had previously only guessed at, starting from why the island was named Gwisu Island to the details regarding the harvesters.
First, the reason the island was named Gwisu Island was simple.
It meant an island teeming with ghosts and beasts.
Originally, the island was said to be named Porando—the Island of the Nestled Egg.
It was called that because its shape resembled a bird cradling an egg, but the harvesters deemed it ominous and changed it to Gwisu Island.
What on earth could they possibly find ominous about that?
It was difficult to understand, but he accepted it for now. It was not of great importance anyway.
He also learned that Gwiungok was a place formed by the condensed grudges of spiritual beasts whose cores had been ripped out by the harvesters, and that they returned in cycles of one hundred years.
It was a truly staggering sense of time.
It was nearly equal to Sobaek's entire past life.
But the weasel seemed entirely unfazed.
Is it because spiritual beasts have long lifespans?
Ancient texts stated that the lifespan of a Jimjo was roughly three hundred years. He figured a weasel that had become a spiritual beast would have a similar lifespan. Naturally, Sobaek's tone became slightly more respectful.
He had no intention of taking him as a master, but an elder was a different matter. He had assumed the creature had lived a hundred years at most, but...
"How old are you...?"
"Brat! Have you finally found some respect in that heart of yours? Let's see... I should be around two hundred years old. Well, I have not kept precise count, so I cannot say for certain."
Surprisingly, he was older than Sobaek.
"...I see."
Just then, Jim-i flew into the inner temple. She appeared to be perfectly fine. The moment her eyes met Sobaek's, they welled up with tears.
"Pyah— pyak!"
She immediately rushed over and wrapped her wings around Sobaek.
"S-Speak with words. You should have awakened the Yo-language by now."
Dang Sobaek managed to slip out of Jim-i's embrace and spoke.
Jim-i tilted her head in confusion for a moment, then...
"Sorry."
She said, "Sorry."
"Hmm?"
He could not understand. It did not seem like she had failed to comprehend his words.
Could she still be harboring guilt over what happened?
Since they said three days have passed since I lost consciousness...
She must have surely thought I was dead.
She could never have imagined the weasel would be here, but regardless, it was Jim-i who brought him to this place. Thus, she must have been tormenting herself with guilt.
"Do not dwell on it. Even if you had not guided me, I would have ended up here eventually."
"Sorry."
"Yes, I understand. Is Jim-il outside by any chance?"
"Sorry."
"Did I not say it is fine? How long are you going to..."
"Sorry."
"?"
"Sorry."
"Argh!"
Jim-i repeated the same word like a parrot. When Sobaek shrieked in sheer frustration, Jim-i flinched and spoke again.
"Sorry."
The weasel spoke with an awkward expression.
"It seems this ordeal was quite a shock to her. She appears to feel immense guilt toward you. Still, she will get better as time passes."
In short, she was suffering from psychological trauma.
"And you are the abnormal one. Normally, even if one awakens the Yo-language, they can only manage simple words. It is only natural that it takes time to speak it fluently."
Come to think of it, the monkey spiritual beast could 'speak', but it was far from natural. It had been clumsy and awkward.
"I... see. I understand."
Dang Sobaek gently nudged Jim-i aside and looked around his surroundings for the first time.
Immediately after opening his eyes, he had been so focused on his conversation with the weasel that he had not had the chance to examine the area.
Only now did he notice a familiar scent of incense.
It was the kind of incense typically found in Taoist temples or Buddhist shrines. However, no incense burner was in sight.
Then, his gaze drifted slightly upward.
"!!"
He saw a golden statue.
It had disheveled hair, glaring eyes, and a beard like a dragon's. In one hand, it held a sword, and in the other, it grasped a ghost, letting out a roaring cry.
Even at a glance, the golden statue possessed an incredibly imposing presence.
It was, without a doubt, a statue Sobaek had never seen before. No, could it even be called a Buddhist statue in the first place?
It felt unsettling.
Though it was not a pleasant figure, he felt no aversion to it.
Dang Sobaek unconsciously took a few steps closer.
His gaze drifted even higher.
A Buddhist painting behind the golden statue caught his eye. It resembled the Four Heavenly Kings commonly depicted in Buddhism. An inexplicable dread gripped his body.
And above the painting hung a plaque. Written in a vigorous, sweeping calligraphy style was a line of text.
भूतदमनราช जोङ्कुई
It was an unrecognizable language. However, it appeared to be the same script written in the erotic art book he had examined previously.
As Sobaek's expression stiffened, the weasel approached and asked, "What is the matter?"
"I do not know how to read that."
"Hmm... It would be read roughly as 'Zhong Kui, the Ghost-Capturing King.' It is the script of the human race, so I am not entirely certain either."
With those words, the weasel reached deep into a small pouch hanging from his waist. He then pulled out a book and tossed it over.
"Ha!"
Even though Sobaek had witnessed it once before, an exclamation escaped his beak. No matter how many times he saw it, it was utterly fascinating.
"Is this your first time seeing a spatial artifact? Well, I suppose that makes sense."
"It is indeed marvelous."
He did not bother mentioning that he possessed the magatama.
"Here. It is a book that explains the human script in the Yo-language."
Dang Sobaek's face filled with astonishment. Though it was clearly a script he had never seen before, he had absolutely no trouble reading it.
"The Yo-language is different from the language of the lowly humans. It is closer to resonating with another through mental imagery and emotion, so it is a language imbued with the laws that allow communication with all beings. If you are curious, take a look through that book."
A monkey collapses onto the thickly piled snow. The pristine white snowfield is instantly stained a brilliant crimson.
Its entire body is covered in bite marks, looking as if it has been chewed on by something. Its complexion is terrible, its face tinged with a purplish hue like someone suffering from severe poisoning.
After lying as if dead for some time, the monkey opens its eyes once more, roused by the biting cold of the snow against its skin. It crawls forward, desperately clawing at the ground.
It had to return to the hot springs. It had to.
The monkey thinks.
It must tell the leader, and if possible, those Jimjo, about what it has seen.
The things that had blanketed the swamplands would soon spread across the entire island. If they were too late, there was no telling what would happen.
It was a stroke of absolute luck that the monkey had survived.
If a sudden earthquake had not occurred at that moment, it would have been torn to pieces and killed on the spot.
The monkey gnashes its teeth and forces its body up.
Every single step is an agonizing struggle.
It pushes forward through the raging blizzard.
Though it falls and rises repeatedly, it does not give up. Forcing its fading consciousness to hold on, it walks without pause.
In the distance, the steam rising from the hot springs comes into view.
The voices of its kin drift over on the wind.
It is so close now.
The moment it takes another step with that thought,
—Crack!
A sharp, stinging pain shoots through its chest, near its heart. The monkey's pupils turn glassy. Its focus dissolves. It collapses to the ground.
Its warmth slowly fades away.
From the corpse of the monkey, whose breath has completely ceased, a continuous, gnawing sound echoes.
Scritch... scratch... scritch...
The sound is chilling.
Soon, the monkey's chest splits open, and a spider bursts out from within. It is a human-faced spider that inhabits the southern swamplands.
After looking around for a moment, its small head twitching, the human-faced spider covers the monkey's corpse in pure white webbing.
At a glance, it is impossible to distinguish. White snow piles on top of it.
It is a perfect camouflage.
The human-faced spider gazes toward the highlands for a moment, then heads toward the territory of the Jimjo.
In that state, roughly seven days and nights pass.
Beneath the snow, a terrifying sound echoes continuously.
Scritch... scratch... scritch... scratch...
Soon, hundreds of baby spiders hatch from beneath the snow and emerge.
It had laid its eggs inside the monkey's flesh.
Chirp... click... chirp...
However, the vast majority of the newly hatched spiders that take their first steps into the world freeze to death the instant they emerge onto the highlands.
The environment is simply too harsh.
It is a land far too brutal for insects to survive.
Yet, a few manage to survive. Feasting on their dead kin, they scurry quickly toward the south.
For they must reach a warmer place if they wish to live.
But,
—Screeech!
that journey, too, is far from smooth.
The pitch-black bodies of the baby spiders are far too conspicuous against the white snow.
Birds circling in the sky swoop down to snatch the spiders one by one. Of the hundreds of spiders, only a single one remains.
The surviving spider surveys its surroundings, climbs up a suitable tree, and sets a trap with its webbing.
As a month passes in this manner,
a forest within the Jimjo's territory becomes completely overrun by human-faced spiders.