7C | Chapter 02.1

Seonrak Mountain was a small mountain, its highest peak barely surpassing 250 meters. Yet, with its rugged terrain, poorly maintained paths, and heavy snowfall in winter, it was hardly suitable for hiking.

That said, it wasn’t entirely isolated. Descending the mountain led to a village sizable enough to be considered a town, and it wasn’t completely devoid of visitors. Near the entrance of the trail, there was even a small parking lot. But none of that mattered to Yoonjae, who woke up in a room where the air was freezing cold and the floor scorching hot, only to be met with an utterly baffling reality.

“…No signal?”

His phone, which had been suspiciously silent, had no data connection whatsoever. Not just the internet. There was no reception at all. A place in South Korea where cell phones didn’t work? He stared at the screen in disbelief, mouth slightly agape.

“…Hah.”

Pushing the now-useless expensive gadget aside, Yoonjae sat up. Turning his head, he saw a neatly folded blanket where Youngso had been sleeping.

It was 6 AM, and outside, the world was still pitch-black as if deep in the night. Wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, Yoonjae blankly processed his situation.

His first concern was school. Thankfully, today was Saturday, but he’d have to return by Monday. That realization calmed him slightly. His mother wouldn’t just leave him here. She’d definitely come to get him, if only for attendance’s sake.

Of course, that required being able to contact her first.

“…A phone.”

“Phone?”

The response came from beyond the sliding door. As soon as Yoonjae turned his head toward the sound, the door opened. Youngso, draped in shadows, stood there in a stark white jangsam¹.

The morning wind that rushed through the open door was sharper and colder than anything from the night before. In this weather, at this hour, don’t tell me he went out dressed in just that hemp cloth. As Yoonjae stared in disbelief, Youngso closed the door and asked again.

“You need to make a call?”

“……”

“You can use the one in the main house. Who do you want to call?”

When Youngso stepped closer, an unmistakable chill radiated from him. Even in the dim light, his face was pale, almost bluish, and his lower lip trembled slightly. Yoonjae narrowed his eyes, studying him silently. Taking the silence as hesitation, Youngso’s voice lowered slightly.

“Are you cold?”

Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned back toward the door.

“I’ll bring the phone here. There’s a line in this room too.”

“…Wait, hold on.”

Youngso looked ready to dash out immediately. Yoonjae instinctively reached out and grabbed his wrist. The slender arm beneath the long sleeve was startlingly cold enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“…..!”

Startled by his own action, Yoonjae pulled slightly, causing Youngso to sway unsteadily on his feet before collapsing onto the floor with a soft thud. Something glinted at the tips of his damp hair. Water droplets, Yoonjae realized belatedly. His voice rose without thinking.

“Your hair is soaking wet.”

So this was where he’d gone at dawn. To wash up? But why, on a day he didn’t even have school, in that outfit? Pushing aside the flood of questions, Yoonjae immediately bundled Youngso in blankets. If he sent the kid out like this, he’d freeze to death. As Yoonjae piled every available blanket onto him, Youngso just sat there, looking utterly bewildered.

“Don’t you have a towel? A hairdryer?”

“……”

“If drying your hair is too much trouble, at least dry yourself before coming back. Walking around like this in the cold…”

“Huh? Oh…”

Only then did Youngso glance down at himself. His dark eyes, momentarily lost, slowly lifted to meet Yoonjae’s.

“It’s fine. I was just coming back from prayer.”

“…Prayer?”

“Because of the divine retribution caused by revealing your fortune.”

Youngso said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but to Yoonjae, it made no sense. Fortune? Divine Retribution? What the hell is he talking about? Before he could ask, Youngso, now looking oddly refreshed, tried to push the blankets aside and stand.

“Anyway, I’ll go get the phone…”

“Wait, no. Hold on.”

“Why? Didn’t you need to call someone?”

“…I do, but not right now. It’s still dawn.”

Only after Yoonjae calmly stopped him did Youngso sit back down with an ah. His bluish cheeks seemed to regain a hint of color.

“Who were you going to call?”

His lips, no longer trembling, formed the question in a clear, matter-of-fact tone. Yoonjae exhaled quietly and answered.

“My mom.”

“Why?”

“To let my mother know what’s happening, and also because I don’t even understand what’s going on…”

“Huh? You didn’t get it yesterday?”

The baffling question left Yoonjae momentarily speechless. What high school student in the world would’ve understood that nonsense? As he stared silently, Youngso’s expression shifted to something oddly knowing.

“Ah… I see. You really don’t know anything.”

“…?”

“So you’re wondering why you can’t leave this house? If that’s it, I can ask Grandmother when I go to greet her…”

“—Hold on, sorry for interrupting.”

Unable to suppress his rising curiosity, Yoonjae cut in. Youngso stopped mid-sentence, his dark eyes fixed on Yoonjae without a trace of annoyance. Encouraged, Yoonjae asked the most pressing question.

“‘Inyeok².’ Does that mean me?”

“Huh? Yes.”

“……”

So what Youngso had said earlier roughly translated to: Because I carelessly spoke about Yoonjae’s fortune, divine retribution happened. He still didn’t know what divine retribution was, but apparently, it was the reason Youngso had gone out to “pray” in this freezing dawn.

“What did you mean by ‘revealing my fortune’? That thing about me dying if I leave?”

“Yes. That was the mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“Normally, even if you see something, you shouldn’t say it. It’s human law not to interfere in the affairs of spirits.”

Yoonjae’s gaze wandered for a moment. …Right, what did I expect from a shaman’s kid? Of course, he’d been indoctrinated into this superstition since childhood. A hollow smile tugged at Yoonjae’s lips as he couldn’t help but mock.

“Ah, I see. So the ghosts were standing next to me, screaming that they’d kill me, huh?”

He expected Youngso to flinch or get annoyed, but instead, the boy just stared at him with unnerving calm. After a long silence, Youngso finally spoke in a low voice.

“You saw it too?”

For a moment, Yoonjae felt the blood drain from his neck. Frozen, he could only blink. Youngso’s expression shifted to something almost pitying.

“Sorry. I was just guessing.”

“…..?”

“Actually, I saw them before you even entered the house. On my way back from school. I agonized over it, but since you were supposed to leave soon, I ran to tell you.”

“…What exactly did you see?”

“They must’ve followed you from Seoul. Dozens of heads, surrounding you, each one whispering something.”

“What were they saying…”

Yoonjae cut himself off. Youngso’s face had turned uncharacteristically solemn, lost in thought. After a long pause, he gave the most obvious answer.

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t know.”

Yoonjae pressed his lips together, suppressing a frown. The unfamiliar, surreal situation sent a chill down his spine, but at the same time, he couldn’t help thinking, What the hell is even happening? As he stewed in silence, Youngso spoke again in that eerily composed tone.

“I can’t say for certain they’ll harm you. A spirit’s power is insignificant to humans. Maybe nothing would’ve happened.”

“What?”

“Most spirits are just wrapped in vague resentment. They don’t even know what they want to do. But if they heard me, they might’ve grown stronger. Now they have a clear goal of wanting to kill you. That’s why, the moment I spoke, you couldn’t leave this house.”

The blunt explanation left Yoonjae speechless. So you’re just casually telling me that because of you, I’m stuck here? Whether it was true or not, the sheer audacity of it was infuriating.

“Oh, really? And the result is you running around in hemp robes at dawn to ‘pray’?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Why wouldn’t it be my concern? From my perspective, I’ve been abandoned in some temple because of one word from you. It’s very important!”

The genuine frustration in his voice made Youngso pause. After a moment, he blinked slowly and finally replied.

“…You’re right.”

About what? Yoonjae didn’t ask this time, just stared. Youngso remained as composed as ever.

“I didn’t think of it that way. I was just focused on saving you first. But you’re right. This place is familiar to me, but it must be uncomfortable and strange for you.”

“……”

“Ask me anything. What do you want to know?”

Yoonjae had been ready to argue, but faced with Youngso’s unshakable calm, the fight drained out of him. He sighed deeply and scratched the back of his neck.

“…So, to summarize: I had a bunch of ghosts clinging to me, and this shaman’s house is a place they can’t enter. But no one knows whether they’d actually kill me if I left?”

“Not entirely accurate, but close.”

“Fine, I don’t need the details. What I do want to know is why say anything at all? Because of that one sentence, I’m stuck here, and you got into trouble too, right?”

The small, warm room fell silent. Youngso, who had been quietly listening, suddenly lifted his gaze as if struck by a thought.

“To put it simply…”

“A sparsely trafficked eight-lane road.”

“…What?”

“—It’s like seeing someone jaywalk across it.”

“……”

“They might make it across just fine. The odds are even in their favor. But if, by slim chance, a car comes speeding down that empty road and hits them…”

The analogy was simple and clear, but understanding it didn’t make it any easier to accept. Yoonjae’s frown deepened. Youngso nodded slightly, as if confirming something to himself.

“It was a crossroads. Whether to let you go or not. Think of it that way.”

“……”

“Anything else you’re curious about? If not, I’ll go prepare breakfast.”

Yoonjae had no immediate response. The situation still felt unreal, leaving him utterly adrift.