IOS Ch1

Chapter 1

His grandmother’s house was on a tall mountain.

That mountain had a deadly reputation, rumored to be the place where more than a few had hanged themselves. It was steep, cold, and fierce—one look at it would send even the most notoriously aggressive hunting dogs running with their tails tucked. The packs of noisy stray cats that roamed elsewhere never came near this place either. So, the mountain was always quiet, hushed, not a sound of beast or bird to be heard—despite his grandmother’s deep fondness for animals.

Kwon Yi-hyun was not so different from those beasts. After graduating high school and escaping to a university in the metropolitan area, he had never once returned to the big house. Just like the wild animals that once survived on the offerings his generous grandmother scattered and then disappeared without a trace—fleeing at the mere sight of the mountain… Kwon Yi-hyun would think of those creatures every time he saw an animal.

“Isn’t that the son from that house? Why, we haven’t seen him for a while…”

He paused next to a stray cat and bit down on his lip.

Then he started walking again, eyes fixed straight ahead.

“He’s the shaman lady’s grandson, right…”

As everyone in Cheongna-eup¹ whispered, Kwon Yi-hyun’s grandmother was a Manshin²—a high-ranking shaman. There was a day when she herself whispered that she had never wanted the life of a shaman who serves and honors the gods, and so Yi-hyun didn’t believe in shamanism even to the slightest degree. Nevertheless, in their world, she was said to be the shaman of shamans. The title of manshin—an honorific that only a select few among the most potent and prominent shamans of this era could obtain—belonged to none other than Kwon Yi-hyun’s grandmother, Kwon Seonja. 

Therefore, Yi-hyun’s household was commonly referred to as:

The Manshin’s Big House. The Manshin’s Mountain.

Kwon Yi-hyun’s childhood was filled with memories of sacred jingles from bells, chicken blood, and the flutter of five-colored cloths in a spirit shrine.

Dense greenery always looked dark—almost bluish-black.

In the fog-choked forest of that bluish-black mountain, he was once deemed to have no spiritual potential and therefore lived one step removed from the shamanistic life.

Still, having grown up in the Big House, he understood that when someone urgently climbed the mountain ridge, they were likely in desperate need of help.

When someone dressed in fine, expensive clothes pushed past the dense leaves and came to kneel and beg, the elders in the family would quietly accept their bowed, trembling bodies.

That was normal to him. Instead of playing with kids his age, he spent most days quietly solving textbook problems as the faint ringing of wind chimes echoed nearby. If someone came sobbing from far down the mountain, he could guess how serious the situation was just from the cries, thinking, “This one’s serious enough that Uncle will have to go greet them himself.”

He spent every month of his youth like that.

Fortunately, the 21st century was an era where people who didn’t believe in shamanism far outnumbered those who did. Otherwise, instead of recalling the serene sounds of wind chimes or the scent of incense from his childhood, his memories would feature suspicious bundles of cash in apple boxes and vile adults making shady requests.

Unfortunately, he’d seen adults arrive carrying those apple boxes. The big issue came during the presidential election season. That was when even politicians he’d seen on the news came and went. Strangely enough, his grandmother was colder and more ruthless toward them than any other visitors.

She had her lines. She had principles.

No matter how many chests of gold they offered, she didn’t accept everyone. While ordinary shamans supposedly sucked politicians dry for money to live on and build houses. But perhaps because she truly was a manshin, she turned stone-faced in front of those involved in politics.

She never told Kwon Yi-hyun what criteria she used to screen clients..

Some were scolded and told to get lost, while others weren’t even worth opening the door for. Eerily enough, those turned away always seemed to be exposed for murder or corruption just a few years later.

In short, if you were a politician and could just see the manshin’s face, you’d count yourself lucky. But not everyone could grab that luck the first time.

A certain congressman, Yi-hyun remembered, stormed out complaining that the offering fee was absurd, only to return days later looking haggard and thin, sobbing and clutching at his aunt’s feet. Begging to see her just once more, claiming he had been foolish not to recognize her greatness…

When someone left in anger and returned, the price always increased, but even after spitting out the equivalent of several apartment buildings’ worth, the man looked strangely satisfied.

Yi-hyun had no idea what conversation with his grandmother had caused the man to storm out, or what he had experienced afterward.

In any case, those in power and influence all ended up trying to develop Cheongna-eup—for the sole reason that his grandmother lived there.

As a child, Yi-hyun sometimes thought it would be better if they just gave his grandmother more money, but after hearing her words, he quietly nodded. 

“Listen, people are meant to touch the soil and walk the land. Once your feet lose touch with the earth, you stop being human… That’s why we must be thankful for everything. We’re thankful that Cheongna still has clean, pure energy. We’re thankful that the land let us take root and settle here.”

He hadn’t fully understood back then. But he loved his grandmother, so he memorized her words and mouthed them softly, hoping he’d understand them someday.

Not many days after that, a city bus stop appeared right in front of the village—a spot that previously required a two-hour walk to reach. Construction on a subway station began, more pavilions and flower gardens appeared. Then came the community center, or maybe it was a welfare hall.

Some villagers thought of his grandmother as someone they could rely on in times of trouble, while others mocked her as a scammer preying on politicians. Even older villagers, for whatever reason, made no effort to hide their reverence and avoidance of the manshin, and prevented their children from associating with Yi-hyun. Thus, young Yi-hyun was always treated like an invisible person. He spent his life being treated like a ghost or a contagious disease.

Growing up without parents, raised by a shaman grandmother, was why.

He didn’t resent her. He loved her. But that alone was reason enough to never want to return.

“They said he was doing well in Seoul. What’d he come back for?”

“Here for a spirit descent ceremony, maybe.”

“Guess he couldn’t escape his blood after all…”

Even now, long after he’d moved to Seoul under the pretense of college, Cheongna-eup hadn’t changed a bit. The townsfolk all recognized the handsome young man with his polished, urban air as ‘that kid’ and began whispering spitefully. A woman who used to run a convenience store near his elementary school now had her arm linked with her mother’s, gossiping with a hand over her mouth. Everyone around them—people he knew. Every step he took, familiar eyes followed him, familiar rumors trailed after.

This was why he never wanted to come back. He had once sworn not to return until it was time to lie in his grave. And now, here he was—walking into this hometown on his own two feet. Honestly? It felt like shit.

But at some point, Kwon Yi-hyun had started having nightmares.

And to end those dreams… he needed a superstition.