When Dojin carefully carried in the pot he’d spent a full hour diligently boiling, he found Iri spreading out small, neatly cut pieces of paper across the table. Some were white, some yellow, some a pale yellowish hue.
“Master, I brought the boiled water. What are those papers?”
“They’re papers for making talismans.”
“Huh? No matter how I look at them, these aren’t ‘Gwehwangji’, are they? They’re way thicker—more like regular drawing paper.”
“This paper is called ‘Oroji’. From here to here—quartz color, opal color, pale gold, cream. People don’t really use Gwehwangji these days. It tears too easily, the ink bleeds, and it’s inconvenient in a lot of ways.”
“But when we filmed those exorcism videos, we used Gwehwangji.”
“That was because it needed to look like a talisman to ordinary people. Put the pot here.”
“Okaaay.”
Dojin set the pot down and lifted the lid. The water inside was bubbling vigorously—pitch black. Iri picked up a small rectangular piece of Oroji and dipped it into the black water.
“The entire sheet has to be submerged in the black water. Like this—soak it fully, then take it out after a few seconds. You can just use your fingers when you pull it out.”
“Isn’t it hot?”
“Not to us.”
When Iri lifted it out again, the paper that had turned jet-black in the water instantly returned to its original Oroji color the moment it left the pot. After demonstrating three more times, he yielded his place to Dojin.
Taking over, Dojin continued the talisman-making process with the Oroji. After working for quite a while, he glanced at the remaining stack—only to find it taller than when he’d started. That was because Iri kept cutting more paper. Behind Iri, there were at least five more boxes of paper stacked up.
“Master… what did you even do when I wasn’t here…?”
“I don’t know how I managed on my own either. For repetitive work like this, I used to hire day laborers.”
“Really? Who the hell would—ah. You mean the peddler hyung.”
Sometimes, when Dojin came to the shop after school, a red-haired punk covered in piercings would greet him casually while wearing an apron. The first time Dojin saw him, he’d thrown a fit, thinking Iri had another human by his side besides him—but it turned out that man wasn’t an ordinary human.
He was a Taoist known as a ‘peddler’, the sole direct blood relative of the King of the True Mortal Realm. His rank was clearly lower than Iri’s—roughly at the level of a divine spirit—but he seemed to be on friendly terms with Iri.
“Besides that hyung, who else worked as day laborers? Your divine spirits?”
“The divine spirits helped sometimes, and occasionally I even had customers do it. There were Wia who’d sneak in trying to steal curios.”
“That’s insane. Those asshole troublemakers steal too? Were there a lot of them? Did they ever threaten you, pull knives on you or anything? Fuck—tell me their names. I’ll go find every single one of them and deal with it myself.”
“Calm down. You’ll tear the paper.”
No sooner had Iri finished speaking than Dojin ripped a sheet with a loud rrrip. Glancing nervously at Iri, Dojin tossed the torn paper into the trash. What was done was done. He pressed on, interrogating him.
“Hurry up and tell me. Why protect those bastard thieves?”
“They were all clumsy and failed at stealing—and they paid the price. I told you, I made them work here.”
“Working part-time at the rental shop is an honor! I bet those guys went back to their neighborhoods bragging about how they worked all day with Immortal Iri. Honestly, maybe that’s why they half-assedly tried to steal in the first place.”
“Dojin. You’re going to tear another sheet.”
“You think I’d make the same stupid mistake again? Anyway, I keep saying this, but we really need to install CCTV here. You know these days you can check the cameras on your phone even when you’re far away, right? You get alerts the moment someone breaks in. We need to watch out for human thieves too, not just Wia. This alley isn’t shrouded in fog 24/7, you know. And instead of letting thieves work part-time here, they should be banned from renting for a full year.”
Even as the disciple poured out his nagging, he didn’t tear another sheet. By the time all of the remaining paper was processed, only a single sheet had been ruined. He truly was a capable, talented disciple—though his nagging was a bit, just a bit, excessive.
After taking on two more customers and continuing work on the requested curios, it was already 11 p.m.
“Yori-iki said to meet tomorrow night?”
“Yes. The reply was literally just three characters: [tomorrow night]. It seriously pisses me off. Fine, the location’s one thing—but not even an exact time? Are we supposed to wait on the mountain the entire time after sunset?”
“Organize those on the display shelf, then go home.”
“It’s scary walking through the alley alone this late, so I’ll sleep over.”
Dojin said shamelessly as he gathered up the curios and stood.
Iri let out a small chuckle just as he turned off the lights in the first-floor workshop.
Riiing.
The rental shop’s phone rang—not a cellphone. Dojin, who had been organizing things in the storage room, exploded again.
“Those inconsiderate bastards don’t care if it’s day or night!”
Iri quickly picked up the phone.
“This is Iri.”
—Ah, Immortal. It’s me.
A small, buzzing voice greeted him. It was a Pseudo-Ant. Iri flinched. It had already been five days since the Pseudo-Ant had requested help stockpiling food for its spring sleep. He’d asked for a full week at the time, so there was no real reason to feel guilty—yet he did anyway.
—At this rate, spring might be over. Are preparations going well?
“Of course. You can come by tomorrow at dawn, or the morning after.”
—I’d hate to trouble you at dawn. I know you need proper sleep, Immortal. I’ll come the morning after, at sunrise.
“Thank you. I know you must be sleepy—hang in there just a bit longer. I’ll see you then.”
—Yes. Take care.
The moment Iri hung up the phone, Dojin spoke up.
“They called at night, so I thought they’d be a problem customer—but that was a decent Wia. If only all customers were like that.”
“They are decent—but I still feel bad. They’re probably forcing themselves to stay awake right now. Pseudo-Ants only sleep in spring, once a year.”
“What was it doing when the others were stockpiling food?”
“It was stockpiling diligently… but while crossing a puddle to find a place to sleep for spring, it helped a lost snail and ended up losing everything. It tried to gather it all again, but how do you collect a year’s worth of food in a single month? It agonized over what to do, and once March rolled around and time got tight, it finally came to ask me.”
“It should’ve just entrusted it to you from the start. Guess it didn’t want to give up its virtue.”
Iri’s Curio Rental Shop fulfills Wia requests in exchange for ‘virtue’. The amount charged is extremely small—practically free—but Wia who crave their next evolutionary path still find even that amount too precious to part with.
For example, yokai who want to become spiritual beings, or wandering spirits who want to become demons. In the Pseudo-Ant’s case, it was a yokai dreaming of becoming a spiritual being.
“Let’s unplug the phone line and go to sleep, Master. Tomorrow’ll be busy too.”
“You’re really sleeping here again?”
“Yup.”
Dojin dashed up the stairs to the second floor. Iri hesitated, wondering what to do, but decided to let him stay—just for tonight.
He pushed the fact that this “just for tonight” had already lasted a full week into the depths of his subconscious.
***
The next day, after waking up before dawn once again and spending another hectic day, the two arrived at Uamsan in Cheongju—where Yori-iki lived—well past 10 p.m.
They parked the Dragon Horse in the public parking lot and got out, when suddenly the engine roared back to life and the vehicle began to shake.
[╰(°▽°)╯]
[(☆▽☆)]
[ヾ(≧ ▽ ≦)ゝ]
Seeing the messages pop up on the navigation screen, Dojin was dumbfounded.
“Why is this thing so excited?”
“It must want to run around in its true form since it’s night and no one’s around.”
Iri said, gently patting the hood.
“Reduce your body as much as possible.”
The moment permission was granted, the black van transformed into a brave, imposing black horse, its fur glossy and sleek—though its size was no bigger than a puppy.
Hiiiin!
Small as it was, the Dragon Horse was clearly thrilled to be in horse form for the first time in a while. It rubbed its snout affectionately against Iri’s and Dojin’s legs. From the neck up, it still had a dragon’s head, so instead of a soft mane, long whiskers brushed against them, rough and bristly. Having played with the Dragon Horse since childhood, Dojin wrapped it in a hug.
“There are CCTV cameras everywhere, so be careful when you run around.”
Whiiine.
“When it gets this small, it even whines like a puppy. Cute little thing.”
Iri nearly corrected him that it wasn’t a ‘thing’, then chose to hold his tongue. When Dojin would finally realize the Dragon Horse was female was one of Iri’s small personal amusements.
The Dragon Horse dashed off into the darkness like an excited puppy, and Iri and Dojin began climbing the mountain.
After following the hiking trail for a while, they lightly hopped over a wire fence humans had set up to indicate [This is not a path], entering a densely overgrown section of the mountain. Just as when they’d gone to meet the musician, the thick undergrowth and branches politely parted before Iri.
Even relying solely on moonlight to navigate the pitch-dark mountain, their steps never faltered. The chirping of insects, the rustling of leaves, and the distant cries of nocturnal animals searching for prey were nothing more than background music to them.
“Is Yori-iki really a man-eating dokkaebi?”
“He used to eat humans. He’s quit now.”
“Then he’ll try to eat me too.”
“He doesn’t eat living humans—but if you get mouthy, he might try. Be careful.”
It was a light joke, made because Iri knew that no matter how powerful a dokkaebi was, it wouldn’t be able to defeat Dojin.
