KTC | Chapter 31

Seo Jihan, shoving his phone forward, pressed his body close to suggest lunch menus. He rambled on about what was delicious here and what was famous there, unasked.

“The rest stops I remember only had udon or pork cutlets, things really have changed.”

Choi Seonwoo, who kept feeling self-conscious because of him, played along. Over the past ten years, longing had grown larger than sorrow or guilt, and he didn’t want to spread his melancholy to others.

“Let’s have breakfast near there tomorrow. Jeolla-do is famous for its Korean cuisine.”

“Right. There’s this Korean restaurant I always go to when I visit Elder Nam’s house for memorial services. Let’s go there.”

Their conversation had unintentionally turned into a travel chat, but it seemed fine. After all, his mother would have preferred to see him happy on his way to visit her.

Aside from the insane traffic, it wasn’t too bad. The food they picked up at rest stops was delicious, and watching Angela’s cute explorations into unknown territories, as she kept looking back to make sure her owner was following, was particularly enjoyable.

Eleven hours passed in a flash. When the deep hues of the sunset began to spill across the sky, the two sedans were driving down the Seomjin River Cherry Blossom Road.

“It must be even prettier here in spring.”

Seo Jihan muttered absentmindedly. The cherry trees, now bare after their season had passed, lined the road like a wedding arch. He could easily imagine a torrential downpour of cherry blossoms come spring.

“Yes, there’s a spring flower festival too.”

“What’s a spring flower festival like? Do they collect petals and throw them around? Invite singers to perform and dance?”

“Have you never been?”

“No. Have you, Father?”

“Actually, I haven’t either.”

Their silly conversation ended with both of them chuckling at each other.

As the cars entered the village, they slowed down further. The holiday smell of cooking oil began to waft in as they passed the poorly maintained road.

Unlike the chaotic and free-spirited island of Shindo, this village was orderly, with neatly aligned rice paddies and traditional hanok guesthouses lining the well-paved roads. The distant Jirisan mountain, the fresh flowers and trees, and the stylish hanoks combined into a lovely landscape.

“Father, is this the place?”

The driver asked after finding the address and stopping.

“Yes, that’s right. Park next to the fence.”

“Understood. Please get out first.”

Finally, it was time to escape the hellish holiday traffic. Choi Seonwoo felt a small surge of emotion as he quickly got out of the car. Angela seemed equally relieved, promptly stretching out on the ground.

Choi Seonwoo took a deep breath of the cool, fresh air and looked over the low stone wall topped with tiles. Two hanok buildings were connected in an ‘L’ shape, and two small separate houses were spaced apart in a different orientation. Statues of the Four Heavenly Kings stood imposingly in each direction.

It was Seo Jihan’s first visit to Nam’s house in a year, and it was now his ninth visit.

“I’m here, Elder.”

Nam Sang appeared in the courtyard dressed in a white baekjeong robe, his white hair neatly tied back. He nodded stiffly before shifting his gaze.

Seo Jihan felt scrutinized from the first meeting, but since the feeling was mutual, it was not a situation to be upset about. However, he was slightly shocked to realize there were more minds around that could see through to one’s core. It seemed the reputation of a powerful shaman wasn’t undeserved.

“I’ve seen you in photos, so it’s not exactly our first meeting. You are Chairman Seo’s grandson, right?”

Though Nam Sang’s gaze had been harsh on Choi Seonwoo, he now stared piercingly at Seo Jihan. Knowing his grandfather had sought out this shaman multiple times, even resorting to threats, Seo Jihan politely nodded.

“Yes. I’m Seo Jihan.”

Nam Sang turned away after a dismissive response.

“Tell him not to step out of the sarangchae, as the spirits are greatly disturbed by those messy beings.”

With that, Nam Sang ascended to the main building and went inside. Choi Seonwoo shrugged and turned to the others.

“You heard him? I’ll show you to the sarangchae, and everyone stay put there. I’ll go across after the memorial service for my mother.”

After leading Seo Jihan and the others to the sarangchae, Choi Seonwoo followed Nam into the main house.

“Anyone would think you’ve met your arch-nemesis.”

Though Seo Jihan was incredulous at the overt snub, wanting to make a good impression on Choi Seonwoo, he quietly stayed in the sarangchae, muttering his grievances to himself.

The sarangchae wasn’t particularly large, but it had everything necessary including two rooms connected by traditional sliding doors, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Despite feeling neglected in guest treatment, expensive silk bedding was laid out.

Seo Jihan sprawled out on the silk bedding and closed his eyes, planning to rest while Choi Seonwoo attended his mother’s memorial service, but sleep didn’t come easily. After tossing and turning, he sighed in resignation and opened his eyes.

And in the next moment.

“Huh…!”

An involuntary gasp escaped him.

The ghostly figure clinging to the ceiling was distinctly visible.

Though he had often seen the monsters within people, seeing an actual ghost was a first for him. The chilling realization made Seo Jihan’s eyes widen in shock.

“Father…?”

The face of the female ghost bore an uncanny resemblance to Choi Seonwoo, especially the captivating eyes and lips. Her elegant hanbok attire only added to her mysterious aura. Seo Jihan, lacking the ability to read ghosts, was certain neither harm nor fright was intended.

As he realized the ghost must be Choi Seonwoo’s mother, his initial shock swiftly gave way to curiosity. Seo Jihan slowly sat up, continuing to gaze up at her.

Then, the woman’s eyes turned red, and a sticky liquid dropped, dampening Seo Jihan’s cheek. Startled, he wiped his face with the back of his hand, but nothing came off.

“Are you here to blame me?”

With a heavy heart, he asked softly. A tightness filled his chest.

“You can blame me if you like for ruining your precious son’s life. You have every right to. I’m sorry.”

However, the ghost vanished like smoke without a response.

Tears nearly spilled from the whirlwind of emotions when someone started shaking him.

“Brother, Brother!”

That familiar voice snapped him back to reality. The yellow light from the ceiling’s traditional paper lamp stung his eyes. Squinting, he saw Choi Seonwoo’s familiar face blocking the light.

“Huh?”

Seo Jihan blinked, confused. His back, heaving with rough breaths, felt the comforting warmth of the silk bedding.

“Did you have a bad dream again?”

Choi Seonwoo asked, and only then did Seo Jihan realize he had fallen asleep. He didn’t remember when he had dozed off.

Choi Seonwoo’s fingers lightly brushed his forehead, picking up the dampness. Choi Seonwoo rubbed his wet fingertips together and said,

“That’s strange. I thought there’d be no disturbances from vengeful spirits at Elder Nam’s place, so you shouldn’t have any trouble sleeping.”

Seo Jihan sat up slowly. Sweat that had pooled in his eye sockets rolled down and dripped from his nose. After hastily wiping his face, he spoke softly.

“It wasn’t really a bad dream.”

It was just your mother who visited.

He kept that to himself and looked down, noticing his T-shirt damp with sweat. His newly defined pecs were visible under the fabric, accentuated by protruding nipples.

“Ah, maybe it was a nightmare after all.”

Seo Jihan, sitting comfortably, grabbed Choi Seonwoo’s belt and pulled, causing him to stagger and adjust his posture. Choi Seonwoo turned around, looking puzzled. Seo Jihan boldly embraced his waist.

“Just let me stay like this until I calm down.”

Choi Seonwoo couldn’t suppress a laugh at the shameless warmth covering his back. It was like saving someone from drowning only for them to demand your belongings too.

“Is this also a whim?”

Seo Jihan chuckled lightly, pressing his damp cheek against Choi Seonwoo’s shirt collar.

“You know it is. This is just your craftiness.”

“Then move over, young man.”

Choi Seonwoo pushed him away with his index finger on Seo Jihan’s forehead. Seo Jihan resisted for a moment, hugging him tighter, then let go on his own. The pale nape of Choi Seonwoo’s neck showed traces of Seo Jihan’s sweat, gleaming faintly. It was a sight he found quite appealing.