DMSD | Chapter 2

“Yes, ma’am. Hello.”

Myeongeun’s mother bowed deeply toward the grandmother. The grandmother slowly got up and approached Myeongeun and her mother. She kneeled down with an “oof” and sat to meet Myeongeun’s gaze. Instinctively, Myeongeun grabbed her mother’s thigh and hid behind her. The grandmother had a warm smile, but there was an undeniable aura around her that made Myeongeun feel tense.

“Myeongeun, come and say hello,” her mother encouraged, gently guiding Myeongeun forward.

“So, you’re Myeongeun, huh?” the grandmother asked, her gaze soft yet penetrating.

Myeongeun’s lips moved slightly before she managed to mumble, “H-hello…” in a tiny voice.

“Yes, indeed,” the grandmother said with a slight smile, reaching out and brushing something invisible off the top of Myeongeun’s head, like clearing away cobwebs.

Startled, Myeongeun blinked. Slowly, very slowly, the constant dull ache in her head started to fade—the same headache that had tormented her ever since the boys started teasing her. And now, it was just… gone.

“You’ve been through a lot,” the grandmother said at last, gently patting Myeongeun’s head.

“Wow, you’re so pretty for a boy.”

Even though Myeongeun was wearing a dress that looked like it belonged to a girl, he secretly didn’t mind being called pretty. Unable to hide his embarrassment, he let out a shy smile.

The Temple of All Gods was a large, traditional hanok estate. Deep inside the main hall was a shrine, surrounded by shining golden statues of deities and vibrant red and gold paintings that looked majestic and mystical.

In the midst of this unfamiliar, overwhelming space, Myeongeun took one look at the towering statues with their fierce faces and burst into tears. They felt far scarier and more intimidating than any of the beings he had seen before—the ones who sometimes appeared in animal forms, sometimes as humans, sometimes as dark, smoky figures that haunted his sight and teased his ears with whispers and laughter.

He rushed into his mother’s arms, sobbing loudly. And soon enough, his mother, holding him tightly, started crying along with him.

Then, as he felt someone’s gaze, Myeongeun lifted his head. Behind a screen in the corner of the shrine, a small boy was peeking at him, hiding his body behind the panel. The boy was adorable, with an exceptionally handsome face.

Through tear-stained eyes, Myeongeun stared back. After a moment, the boy trudged over to the altar, picked up a little yogurt drink, then came back and held it out to Myeongeun with his tiny hands.

“Aigoo, Hwan-ah,” the grandmother chuckled heartily at the boy. “You know you’re not supposed to take those—they’re offerings to the spirits. You’ll get in trouble, you know?”

Without breaking eye contact with Myeongeun, the boy shook his head adamantly.

“You don’t mind getting in trouble, huh? Because you’re giving it to Hyung?”

For a second, the boy looked shocked and glanced over at the grandmother, then back at Myeongeun, then back at the grandmother again. After repeating this a few times, he finally murmured in a small voice, “…Not Hyung… it’s Nuna.”

“What? Hah! This kid cracks me up,” the grandmother laughed heartily, ruffling the boy’s hair. “But isn’t he cute with that pretty face, huh?”

Hearing his mother laugh above him, Myeongeun looked up. His mother was smiling. Since arriving at the Temple of All Gods, her face had been clouded with worry and sadness, but now she was smiling, and it made him feel safe.

“Um, excuse me.” Knowing he needed to clarify, Myeongeun waved his hand at the boy. “No, I’m not a Nuna.”

He was wearing a light pink dress, and his long hair was tied low in a single ponytail. Nervously touching his appearance, Myeongeun stammered, “I’m a boy… a Hyung, it’s just… well… it’s just…”

In the middle of his awkward explanation, he realized the boy was still holding the yogurt out toward him.

“Oh, th-thanks.” He mumbled, taking the yogurt shyly.

The boy just shook his head.

Even now, nineteen years later, Myeongeun remembers that first day he arrived at the Temple of All Gods. That summer vacation, he spent a whole month there with his grandmother, a girl around his age, and a five-year-old boy. He had thought the boy was about seven because of his size, but he was only five. Despite being so young, the boy had a serious demeanor and barely spoke, which made him seem much more mature.

No matter how many times Myeongeun told him he was Hyung, the boy stubbornly called him Nuna right up until the day he left.

Each day, the boy would sneak some offering—yogurt, honey candy, jelly worms, or yogurt drink—meant for the spirits and secretly hand it to Myeongeun.

“Nuna, here, for you.”

The grandmother had told him these were offerings for the spirits. Myeongeun never actually saw or heard the spirits, but every once in a while, when the heat was unbearable, he’d feel a refreshing breeze mixed with an odd, mystical energy. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt like this was the presence of a spirit.

Though he hadn’t seen them, he’d felt their existence, which made him uneasy every time the boy handed him something meant for the spirits.

“…Thank you,” Myeongeun would say, but he never once refused. Instead, he’d pretend to eat it in front of the boy, only to sneak it back to the altar when the boy wasn’t looking.

I’m sorry, dear spirits.

He never forgot to apologize on the boy’s behalf.

On the twenty-second day at the shrine, something happened that led to Myeongeun coming down with a high fever. For two days, he was severely ill. When he finally recovered, he realized he could no longer see the dead or those strange entities.

On the thirtieth day, the day he was set to leave, everyone gathered in his room to help pack his belongings.

“Grandma, when will Hwan go home?” he asked.

“Let’s see… Hwan, when do you think you’ll be going?” the grandmother asked, folding each of his dresses and smiling at the boy sitting beside her.

Myeongeun looked at Hwan, too. His eyes were red, his cheeks puffed up, and his nose was slightly swollen from crying. His long lashes were still wet with fresh tears.

Earlier that morning, the grandmother had pulled Myeongeun aside and told him how Hwan had crawled into her arms the previous night, sniffling all through the night. She hadn’t told him Myeongeun was leaving, but somehow, he had already known.

“There’s a Mountain Lord who really likes Hwan, so maybe that spirit told him.”

Myeongeun already knew that, unlike him, Hwan could see the spirits—and sometimes even talk with them. This made him suspect why Hwan stayed at the shrine.

Myeongeun had come to stop seeing those unearthly beings, to be free from them. But Hwan was different. He had a gift, and he was here to learn how to control it under the grandmother’s guidance.

Hwan was the grandmother’s grandson.

“Hwan-ah,” Myeongeun hesitated, feeling guilty that he hadn’t told the boy he was leaving, “we’ll see each other again.”

Hwan had been fiddling with an innocent hair tie, keeping his head down, but now he was looking up with teary eyes, lips trembling. The hair tie was a mix of red and black, one of Myeongeun’s own.

Finally, huge teardrops spilled down Hwan’s cheeks, and even Myeongeun’s eyes filled up as he watched him cry.

During his stay at the shrine, Myeongeun had witnessed the grandmother treating Hwan strictly. Once, around noon, she had instructed him to go to the mountain behind the shrine on his own.

“But why? I can go with him, Grandma,” Myeongeun had protested, shocked by the request.

“No, he has to go alone,” she replied sternly.

Hwan had glanced at Myeongeun, taking his hand briefly as if to say it was alright, then walked off to the mountain with his tiny backpack without a word. Just five years old, he headed off into the woods without even lunch.

Myeongeun waited anxiously for Hwan. He couldn’t bear the thought of eating lunch with his grandmother, who prepared the meal as if nothing unusual had happened.

Five hours later, Hwan returned. His clothes were covered in dust, but he was unharmed. Only then did the grandmother finally scoop him up into her arms, gently patting his small, round back until he fell asleep, exhausted.

Hwan woke up at dusk and, sneaking over to Myeongeun, pulled a small bouquet of grass from his backpack and handed it to him—a bunch of foxtails.

“You picked this from the mountain?”

Hwan nodded.

Alternating his gaze between the foxtails and the boy, Myeongeun smiled and thanked him, much like he did whenever he received the offerings. But unlike those, he knew this little gift didn’t need to be returned.

Only later did he find out that the mountain behind the shrine, though small, was treacherous. It was said that people could ascend, but few could descend without divine intervention. Some even believed that the only way down was with the help of the spirits, so most people avoided the mountain altogether.

Hwan had gone through these kinds of hardships without shedding a single tear. Yet here he was, bawling over the thought of Myeongeun leaving. How could Myeongeun not find him endearing?

“Nuna, this… sniff… I want… hic… this to be Hwan’s…” Hwan muttered, holding tightly onto Myeongeun’s hair tie with one hand while wiping away his tears with the other.

TL Note:
누나 (Nuna) – Older Sister
형 (Hyung) – Older Brother