7C | Chapter 03.1

With a loud clatter, the sliding door was thrown open roughly after Youngso had been laid down on the bedding, covered in dirt. The sharp light pouring in from the front made Yoonjae instinctively raise his arm to shield his face. “Oh god”. He recognized the sighing voice as Miran’s. Only after the blinding light faded did Yoonjae lower his hand, and upon seeing the lantern in her grip, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Auntie.”

He called out, but Miran didn’t move a muscle. Her face was stiff as she stared down at Youngso. Is she shocked? Yoonjae pulled the heavy blanket over Youngso’s body and spoke calmly.

“I think we should call an ambulance. He suddenly had trouble breathing and then collapsed…”

“…….”

“Auntie?”

Then, Miran moved the lantern. In the darkness, the pale yellow light swept over Youngso from head to toe. It wasn’t the action of an adult checking on a sick child. It was more like a detective surveying a crime scene. When Yoonjae, frozen in place, furrowed his brows and looked up, her thin lips finally parted weakly.

“I should have kept a better eye on the guest…”

“…Huh?”

“If Manshin-nim finds out, she’ll be furious… This is going to be a headache…”

Though she muttered under her breath, her gaze wandered aimlessly into the air. The lantern light swung wildly left and right, as if striking Youngso’s pale face.

“……?”

Yoonjae narrowed his eyes tightly. Miran’s hand holding the lantern was trembling violently.

“How am I supposed to cleanse all this impurity again…”

The warm, bright smile she had shown during the day was nowhere to be seen on her ashen face. Yoonjae, still stiff, slowly braced himself against the floor. An unsettling premonition gripped him. It felt like she might lunge at Youngso any second and strangle him.

“Right now…”

“—Bosal-nim¹.”

It was then that a voice, eerily clear and resonant, pierced through the tension. The hairs on Yoonjae’s neck stood on end as he reflexively turned toward the sound. Youngso opened his eyes and stared straight at Miran.

“Please return to your room.”

“…….”

“Pretend you didn’t see or hear anything. I’ll explain everything properly to Grandmother.”

The boy finished speaking and slowly sat up. Only then did Miran’s lantern light waver and retreat. After a long silence, when Youngso called her “Bosal-nim” again, she suddenly burst into a hearty laugh.

“Oh my, hahaha…!”

It was an awkward, mischievous laugh, like a child caught stealing snacks. A shiver ran down Yoonjae’s spine, and his eyes widened.

“Oh dear, ahaha… How silly of me…”

“…….”

“It’s nothing serious, haha… I’m sorry. To you, Dongja-nim, and to our guest.”

Kuk-kuk-kuk. After letting out the last of her laughter, she pulled the corners of her lips up as far as they would go. Then, with round eyes wide open and her neck stiff, she began stepping backward. Tap, tap… Each time her small feet pressed against the wooden floor, the hollow ground seemed to echo. Retreating all the way to the porch without a single twitch in her expression, Miran creakily slid the door shut.

Only after the sound of her footsteps crossing the yard faded into the distance did Youngso turn his head. When Yoonjae reflexively met his gaze, he swallowed dryly. Youngso looked perfectly fine, as if he had never collapsed in the first place.

“It must have seemed strange, but don’t dwell on it. She was just terrified.”

“…What?”

“Those who serve the gods are naturally sensitive and reactive in situations like this. When fear overwhelms reason, they act on instinct. So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t think what you just saw was Bosal-nim’s true nature.”

“…….”

Is he implying she has a split personality? Yoonjae, still frowning, watched as Youngso fully rose from his spot. The boy removed his loosely draped ceremonial robe and slipped into everyday clothes, showing no sign of discomfort.

After neatly folding his clothes and clearing the bedding, Youngso sat facing Yoonjae. His posture, kneeling with his back straight, looked natural and relaxed. His still, unwavering eyes were as calm and serene as deep water.

“I thought I explained enough, but I suppose I was wrong.”

His voice was as tranquil as his gaze, like a swamp, yet without a hint of stickiness. It didn’t sound accusatory. Yoonjae sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“So, what you’re saying is… if I hear the full explanation, I’ll understand?”

“Purification prayers are meant to cleanse the thoughts accumulated in the body overnight. Since personal thoughts form through the eyes, nose, and ears, we wash the face.”

“…….”

“And, well… Ah, you also asked about meals. During prayers, we only eat white food, mashed to ensure nothing impure remains in the body.”

“…….”

“Also… While praying, the connection with the gods surfaces, so any external interference causes severe mental shock. That’s why what happened earlier occurred.”

Finishing his calm explanation, Youngso exhaled a short breath.

“Do you understand now?”

Once again, Yoonjae was the only one left speechless by his composed demeanor. Staring at the boy’s soft face, Yoonjae pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. So…

A sixteen-year-old kid pours cold water over himself at 4 AM every day for some kind of prayer, eats nothing but bland white porridge all week for said prayer, and in the process, his body is covered in pitch-black bruises, completely wrecked…

“…Yeah, I get it.”

If you don’t drop that sarcastic habit, you’ll get a real scolding one day. His father’s warning echoed in his mind like an alarm bell. But the words had already left his mouth, and unfortunately, Youngso didn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation at all.

“That’s a relief. Then now—”

“But is that really a purification prayer? It’s not what I’ve heard.”

“……?”

“In the real world, we usually call that child abuse.”

Youngso blinked in confusion, his face blank as if he didn’t understand the words at all. Yoonjae let out a heavy sigh after a dry laugh.

“Damn it, I should’ve called the police from the start.”

As Yoonjae bowed his head, gripping his throbbing forehead, Youngso spoke up.

“Inyeok, I have a question.”

“What?”

“What does ‘the real world’ mean?”

Yoonjae’s fingers stiffened as he lifted only his gaze to meet Youngso’s. The boy tilted his head slightly. What does ‘the real world’ mean? Was he seriously asking for the definition of the word? While Yoonjae hesitated in silence, Youngso rephrased his question.

“To you, is this place not part of the real world?”

“…Huh?”

“I mean… You’re claiming that I’m being abused, right? From the perspective of societal norms and common sense.”

“…….”

“In other words, you believe the place you usually live in and this place are completely separate spaces that don’t share the same common sense or values?”

Is this conversation really so complicated that it has to be twisted and turned like this? Stunned, Yoonjae opened his mouth, but Youngso shook his head.

“That’s not it. I, Grandmother, Bosal-nim… we all know that starving, beating, or dousing a child in cold water is unforgivable abuse.”

“…Then why?”

“It’s the same as not calling a doctor cutting open a patient to remove a diseased organ ‘violence.’ The gods were furious because of my mistake, and a curse was cast. So, as for me, I have no choice but to endure and beg for forgiveness, no matter how hard it is. Because that’s what’s best for me.”

After speaking, Youngso folded his sleeves up. Yoonjae’s gaze followed the movement, and he unconsciously held his breath. Dark bruises wrapped vividly around the boy’s slender wrists.

“…….”

Even without looking closely, it was apparent they were handprints left when Yoonjae had grabbed him to pull him up earlier. The color was far more ominous than the existing bruises, leaving Yoonjae speechless.

“This is…”

“I know it’s frustrating. But I’m telling you this because I want you to understand that acting rashly will only delay the solution. Just wait a little longer, and I’ll let you leave soon.”

The rest of his words didn’t register. Yoonjae stared down at the injured arm, his brow furrowing. If that level of impact caused such severe bruising, could it be some kind of illness? If bruises appeared easily and healed poorly…

“…You still need to go to the hospital.”

At Yoonjae’s firm words, Youngso let out a pale sigh.

“I told you, I can’t leave this house.”

“Even if it kills you?”

“Why would I die? Unless there’s a landslide, that won’t happen.”

Youngso replied coldly as he pulled his sleeve back down. Yoonjae turned away, lost in thought. His phone was dead, and the only working phone was an old rotary one in the main house. Even if he escaped secretly, there was no guarantee he’d make it to a road safely, and most importantly, this brainwashed little priest wouldn’t follow him willingly.

“…….”

For now, he had no choice but to wait until someone came to pick him up. He steadied his mind. Rushing without a plan wouldn’t solve anything.

“…Fine.”

Muttering calmly, Yoonjae pointed at Youngso’s arm.

“One last thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

Youngso slowly lowered his gaze. He quietly observed his own hands, neatly folded on his lap, before meeting Yoonjae’s eyes again. In the heavy silence, Youngso smiled faintly. It was the first time Yoonjae had seen him smile.

***

“Of course it hurts. The curse was that vicious.”

Miran shuddered as if the mere thought was terrifying. Yoonjae sat on the porch, resting his feet on the stone steps, staring at her. The Miran he met during the day was the same kind, gentle woman he’d seen before.

“The gods are like that. They rely only on humans, so they’re fiercely jealous.”

“Gods rely on humans?”

“They’re just like children. ‘You should only play with me, why are you looking elsewhere?’ From the gods’ perspective, Dongja-nim broke his promise with them to save you. That’s why they’re tormenting him in their anger.”

“No offense, but are gods usually that petty?”

Miran’s sweeping hand paused. Yoonjae belatedly realized he’d crossed a line, but the words were already out. After a moment of silence, she turned to him with a warm smile.

“Well, I suppose it must seem that way to you.”

Her dismissive tone seemed all too familiar. Yoonjae gave up pressing further and turned his gaze to the mountains beyond. White clouds hung motionless in the blue sky.