7C | Chapter 02.2

Despite being called a shaman’s house, the place resembled a mountain temple, and Yoonjae half-expected meals to consist of simple barley rice and wild greens. But the tray Youngso brought in not long after defied his arrogant assumptions. Grilled ribs, thinly sliced kimchi, a mound of steaming white rice, and beef-filled cabbage soup. Notably, there was only one set of utensils. Yoonjae’s.

“…Aren’t you eating?”

“No.”

Youngso answered with a simplicity bordering on coldness, then immediately stood to head back outside. Yoonjae, almost unconsciously, stopped him with a quiet, “Wait…”

“What?”

“Uh, well…”

Youngso was now wearing a quilted magoja over what looked like a school tracksuit.  The oversized clothes hung awkwardly on his thin frame, his pale neck looking dangerously fragile. Yoonjae clicked his tongue silently.

“Are you skipping breakfast? Or do you eat somewhere else…?”

Even as he asked, he knew it was none of his business. The stifling situation had just made him desperate for conversation. Youngso, however, took the meaningless question seriously, his expression turning thoughtful before replying calmly.

“During prayer, I can only eat pure foods.”

“…?”

“If you want to know more, I’ll explain later. Right now, I need to go pay my respects.”

Pay respects? That was something Yoonjae had only ever heard in his mom’s favorite historical dramas. With no excuse to keep him, Yoonjae nodded silently. Youngso slid the door shut without hesitation, his footsteps fading quietly.

“……”

Left alone, Yoonjae stared at the meal. It was clear they’d gone out of their way to treat him well, likely because of his father’s status. Picking up his spoon, he admitted he was hungry, having last eaten lunch the day before.

By midday, the temperature had risen enough to be comfortably warm. After clearing the breakfast tray, Yoonjae changed into the school uniform he’d arrived in and stepped outside. Youngso’s room was located near the inner gate of the servants’ quarters. Beyond it lay a courtyard separating the main house and the inner quarters, with a dense hillside of fir trees behind the latter leaving no way for outsiders to approach.

The overall impression was that of a well-preserved aristocratic home. Even the shaman’s inner quarters were spotless, devoid of the usual colorful talismans or statues. The only notable feature was the geumjul hanging at the gate. And even that was so plain and undecorated that you’d miss it if you didn’t look closely.

“Huh?”

As he stepped onto the wooden porch, a cheerful voice called from near the gate. Turning, he saw a woman holding a broom, her eyes sparkling. Small and round-faced, she looked almost childlike at first glance, but the faint wrinkles and gray streaks in her hair betrayed her age. Yoonjae reflexively bowed.

“Hello.”

“Ah, you must be the guest staying in Youngso’s room! Hello!”

She approached with quick steps. With her neatly tied-back hair and simple daily clothes, it was clear she lived here. Yoonjae looked around for his shoes, thinking he should come down to greet her properly, but tilted his head in confusion. They were missing from the stone step where he was sure he had left them.

“Your sneakers? Youngso probably put them in the warm corner of the room.”

“Huh?”

“He does that for important guests. Says the dew damages them.”

She smiled brightly as she stepped onto the porch. Even standing on the same level, the height difference was stark. Sliding open Youngso’s door, she pointed to a small cabinet.

“There they are.”

Sure enough, his sneakers were neatly placed in front of it. Yoonjae nodded with an ah, and she beamed again.

“I’m a disciple studying under the shaman. You can call me Auntie Miran.”

“Right, I’m Lee Yoonjae. I’m here because…”

He trailed off, unsure how to explain. Miran winked as if she already knew.

“Guests are just guests. If you need anything during your stay, just ask.”

“…Thanks.”

“Oh, right! Youngso asked me to—ah, the phone!”

She suddenly perked up, arms crossed.

“He asked me to help you use the phone. Isn’t that right?”

“Ah…”

“But we have another guest in the anchae¹ right now. Would it be okay in a couple of hours?”

“Yes, there’s no rush.”

Yoonjae replied politely, and Miran gave a pleased little “Alright!” in her chipper voice before heading back down to the yard to resume sweeping. She looked experienced, efficiently gathering the fallen leaves scattered over the yard overnight.

“Youngso seems unusually excited.”

The words seemed half to herself, half directed at him. With no one else around, Yoonjae naturally responded, “Huh?”

“No matter how important the guest, he’s never been like this. You should’ve seen how frantic he was since last night. Complaining the blankets and sleepwear weren’t good enough, even meddling with the side dishes for breakfast.”

“……”

“Living here, he doesn’t get to meet kids his age. Must be why he’s so worked up.”

She chuckled warmly, as if the boy were her own child. Yoonjae blinked, recalling Youngso’s expressionless face from the night before. He was just nodding blankly at everything. That’s ‘excited’? As he mulled it over, something else struck him.

“Does he go to school? He was wearing a uniform yesterday.”

“School? Oh, yes. But he’s the only student.”

“…What?”

“The schools around here are all branch campuses. There were a few kids in elementary, but from middle school up, no one his age… He’s been the only one in his grade since first year.”

“……”

“The teachers are all temporary hires who leave for Seoul after a few months… He doesn’t really know how to interact with peers. Growing up surrounded by old folks, even his speech is full of antiquated phrases.”

Yoonjae sighed inwardly. He had finally figured out why the boy had spoken to him so casually, almost like scolding a child. A wry smile escaped him. Come to think of it, if the shaman herself had been the one preparing his bedding and meals, she’d probably spoken to him like that.

“Auntie, what does inyeok mean?”

“Inyeok? It’s usually between married couples.”

Yoonjae’s practiced smile froze. Thankfully, Miran was too focused on sweeping to notice.

“‘Darling,’ ‘dearest,’ That sort of thing. More formal than ‘you,’ but not for elders… Oh!”

“……”

“Manshin-nim uses it for everyone in the household. If Youngso said it, he probably picked it up from her.”

She’d pieced together the context. Yoonjae forced another smile and replied, “I see.”

“By the way, guest.” Miran suddenly stopped sweeping, her gaze sharpening.

“Were the clothes uncomfortable?”

“Huh?”

“Youngso said the sleeves looked too short on you and didn’t seem quite right. Was that it?”

Her eyes swept over him, and Yoonjae realized she was asking why he’d changed out of the plain clothes from last night.

“No, they were fine… I thought they were pajamas?”

The light blue set, resembling modernized hanbok, had been neatly folded and carried a faint herbal scent. The sleeves were slightly short, but they hadn’t been restrictive, , so it hadn’t interfered with his sleep at all.

“They’re for both sleeping and lounging.”

“I thought they were pajamas, so I figured wearing them outside would be rude…”

“Oh my, is that why?”

Her playful pout dissolved into laughter.

“Look at me, getting carried away because Youngso was so fussy.”

“…Haha.”

“You must be bored with nothing to do. It’d be nice if you could visit the village, but Youngso can’t leave the house right now…”

Yoonjae tilted his head. According to what he’d heard that morning, he was the one who couldn’t leave, not Youngso.

“I’m the one who can’t leave, right?”

“Is that so? I didn’t know the details… Youngso can’t cross the gate during his purification prayers. The divine punishment must’ve been severe. The shaman was furious.”

Miran, who had been chattering away, suddenly went “Ah,” and closed her mouth. Her expression said she thought she’d said too much. But then she smoothly changed the subject with her usual cheerful smile.

“Well, if you need anything, just ask. I can fetch things from town.”

“…Right.”

As she walked away with quick steps, Yoonjae muttered under his breath, “Purification prayers, huh…”

Youngso didn’t return to the servants’ quarters until after lunch, carrying an old-fashioned rotary phone straight out of a period drama. It had a rotary dial with the numbers 0 to 9. Seeing Yoonjae pressing the numbers hesitantly with a confused expression, Youngso knelt down and picked up the receiver himself.

“Tell me the number.”

Yoonjae recited his mother’s cell number awkwardly. Youngso meticulously turned the dial for each digit, pausing between rotations. After a moment of silence, he spoke into the receiver in a flat, professional tone.

“This is the temple. Transferring to Youngrang.”

His tone was so businesslike and flat that it felt almost cold. Taking the phone, Yoonjae froze again. When Youngso extended the phone to him, the sleeve of his magoja shifted, revealing his entire arm. It was covered in bruises, red and blue, running from the wrist up to where the sleeve would normally hide them.

“……”

Yoonjae couldn’t take his eyes off the mottled skin. When Yoonjae’s gaze lingered, Youngso wordlessly pulled his sleeve down and stood.

—Hello? Yoonjae?

Yoonjae mechanically raised the receiver, still staring at Youngso’s retreating back. The boy slid the door shut behind him without a second glance.

“…Yeah, Mom.”

His voice came out heavy and dull even to his own ears. It was more from confusion over what he’d just seen than the call itself. His mother, however, seemed to interpret it differently, clicking her tongue.

—I heard everything. Are you feeling okay? That’s no place to stay long.

“Uh…”

Her worried tone made him hesitate. Compared to their spacious, warm home in Seoul, this quiet, tidy house was lacking, but calling it unfit felt ungrateful.

“No, it’s fine.”

—Fine? It must be freezing up there… Manager Hwang will bring some casual clothes tonight. You didn’t bring anything when you left in such a rush, right?

“Right, just let me know when he—what?”

His mind blanked for a second. He’d assumed she’d send someone to pick him up immediately.

“Mom… I have school on Monday.”

—Don’t worry about that. You’ve got that Dongja-nim taking care of you there, right?

“Taking care…?”

—Once his purification prayers are done, you can come back. Today’s Saturday, so… let’s see, next Friday afternoon should work. We’ll just mark it as a field study.

“Are you serious?“

He wasn’t even angry, just stunned. Field study? Just what exactly was he supposed to be experiencing and learning here?

“I’m not even a shaman, and you’re telling me to miss a week of school because some shaman kid said something?”

—I told you, it’s not skipping! And Yoonjae, that boy isn’t just some shaman’s kid.

“Oh, are there complicated shaman’s kids now?”

—Don’t be difficult. Listen. You’re old enough to know this. The Ryu family’s shaman is a manshin among manshin, one who’s been rooted in that place since the mid-Joseon period.

“…Mom.”

Yoonjae let out a low sigh and cradled his smooth forehead in his hand. His mother’s tone held not a shred of doubt.

—That estate? Preserved exactly as it was since then. It survived the Japanese occupation and the Korean War. You know what that means, right? Your father’s position, your grandfather’s wealth, even your birth were all possible because of that shaman.

The image of the wrinkled old woman, eyes sharp in her sagging face, flashed in his mind, worsening his headache. He’d assumed his aging parents were just overly superstitious. He never imagined they were so deep into it they’d toss aside common sense when it came to their only child.

—That dongja-nim is the elder’s one and only successor and great-grandson.

“Successor…? But he’s not a Ryu.”

— ‘Ryu’ is the family’s spiritual name, not their surname. The Ryu line has always been passed down through women. But her granddaughter couldn’t inherit the spirit, so the great-grandson had to step in.

What kind of insane nonsense is this? Yoonjae massaged his temples.

His parents were nearing sixty. To them, Yoonjae would always be a child to be coddled and guided. No matter how much he protested, his words wouldn’t even reach their ears.

“…One week, and it’s over?”

In the end, as always, he opted for reluctant acceptance rather than outright confrontation. From the other end of the line, his mother let out a relieved sigh.

—Yes. The shaman said so herself.

“And…”

Yoonjae opened his mouth without thinking, then lightly parted and closed his lips. And…

“……”

That dongja-nim doesn’t seem to be in good shape.

“…No, never mind. Just send over my textbooks and materials while I’m here.”

— Okay, I will.

“Yeah. Bye.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, Yoonjae shot up from his seat. He was about to push open the sliding door when he suddenly stopped, gripping the handle tightly. For a while, he stood frozen in place before sharply tilting his head back, then letting it drop as he took a deep breath. He could feel the blood that had rushed to his head gradually cooling.

Huuuu…

After exhaling a long sigh, he rolled his head from side to side as if pressing out the tension. Only then did he feel composed enough to continue. Moving slowly to regain his calm, he finally slid the door open as he had originally intended. Stepping onto the wooden porch, he scanned his surroundings, but there was no sign of Youngso. The gate to the inner quarters was firmly shut.

“……”

Yoonjae clicked his tongue in frustration. Oblivious to his turmoil, the sky remained perfectly clear, as if unaware of the biting cold that would come with nightfall.