Hidden within the shadow of Noryang, who was diligently playing the role of a house spirit, Dojin was utterly flustered—completely dumbfounded.
He’d known there was some kind of scheme going on, but he never imagined it would be this.
Never imagined it would be this…
That he’d use it on a human!
It wasn’t forbidden for humans to use curios.
However, if a woman in her sixties suddenly began rejuvenating and lived long enough to see her grandchildren’s grandchildren, just like in Noryang’s song, human society would be thrown into chaos.
If it were that serious, even Iri might end up being reprimanded by the King. Dojin didn’t care whether human society fell into disorder or not—but he absolutely did not want Iri to be dragged into that chaos.
This was… Dojin made his decision. This was no different from jaywalking on a highway!
“Hey!”
“Uwaaa—ohmygoodness!”
When Dojin emerged from the shadow, Noryang—who’d just been getting ready to sleep—was so startled he nearly fainted. Dojin set up a barrier around Noryang and himself so the woman wouldn’t wake up. Noryang, terrified, pressed himself into the corner of the living room.
“Th-th-that terrifying, bulging-eyed one from the rental shop?! How did you even know to come here?!”
“I followed you in case you tried something shady. And sure enough, you were plotting something huge. I’m taking back the curios, and you’re fucking permanently banned as a customer.”
“I-I don’t understand what you’re saying. The Immortal gave permission—why are you demanding them back?”
“The Immortal gave you permission to use the curios. He didn’t give you permission to save that human.”
When Dojin strode toward the bedroom, the Bokbaebari let out a bizarre, warbling cry and grabbed onto Dojin’s pant leg.
“Please, let it slide! Just this once—if you close your eyes, I’ll give you all my virtue!”
“Try bribing someone it’ll actually work on.”
“I heard you’re accumulating virtue to become a Taoist. Don’t you want 180 years’ worth of it?”
“I know damn well you don’t even have 180 years.”
“I-I gave some to the Immortal earlier as payment for the curio, but I still have plenty left.”
“You little shit, every time you open your mouth it’s a lie. You barely had a few days’ worth of virtue to begin with—that’s why my Master deliberately only took a small amount. Now that I look at it, you’ve been burning through what little virtue you had just to extend that woman’s lifespan.”
Noryang hiccupped and shut his mouth. Hit dead center, his turtle-like neck retracted completely, leaving only his eyes peeking out as he nervously gauged Dojin’s reaction.
Dojin clicked his tongue.
“I’m a pretty flexible guy, you know? Not exactly the poster child for law-abiding behavior. But using curios to extend a human’s lifespan and throwing society into chaos—that’s something I can’t ignore. Move before I kick you.”
At the threatening tone, Noryang flinched. But even while trembling, he clung to Dojin’s leg again when Dojin tried to move.
“Please. Please, listen to me before you decide! Aren’t you human too? As a human, you should know how pitiful Jisuk’s life has been.”
“I don’t care. I’ll seriously kick you.”
“Ha Jisuk is only sixty-four! That’s too young! She’s worked since she was nine years old. For fifty-five years without rest, she raised three children all by herself. She married all three off—and less than a month after finally starting her own life, she was diagnosed with cancer. Isn’t that pitiful?!”
“Getting cancer doesn’t mean you die immediately. If she gets proper treatment at the hospital—”
“Jisuk doesn’t have much time left. Less than even me!”
“…What?”
Dojin grabbed Noryang by the scruff of the neck and lifted him into the air.
“You lying again?”
“I’m not lying! Check for yourself. Go and see with your own eyes!”
Noryang burst into tears. This Bokbaebari had 24 hours and 30 minutes left as of 3:30 a.m. If Jisuk had even less time than that…
Dojin let out a deep sigh.
He roughly tossed the Bokbaebari aside and went into the bedroom. This time, Noryang didn’t cling to his pant leg.
Jisuk lay there with her face twisted in pain. Noryang quickly snatched up the ‘Grill-Sand Hourglass’ and the ‘Golden-Water Goldfish’, stuffed them into his pocket, then placed his hand on Jisuk’s forehead.
“It’s okay. Jisuk won’t hurt anymore. The pain’s all gone.”
As Noryang gently stroked her forehead, Jisuk’s expression truly relaxed, as if the pain had faded.
After staring down at the patient for a moment, Dojin clapped his palms together—smack—then twisted them slightly. When he pulled them apart, he took the transparent sphere formed between his palms and flung it straight at his face, like splashing water. Warmth spread around his eyes, and things that hadn’t been visible just moments ago came into view.
[Ha Jisuk – 22 hours 27 minutes]
“…….”
Noryang had been telling the truth. Jisuk’s life would end at 2:01 a.m. the following dawn.
The Bokbaebari looked up at Dojin with watery eyes.
“Agh, fuck…”
Scratching his head roughly, Dojin sank down onto the floor.
Dying in one’s mid-sixties was undeniably too early these days. It tugged at the heart—but weren’t there countless people with heartbreaking stories like this? Just walking into a hospital would show you dozens. If every tragic story were granted the power of a curio, the world would turn into a total apocalyptic mess.
“Terrifying human. Then how about this? Don’t take the curios right away. Stay with us for just one day. Your thoughts might change.”
At that moment, the words Iri had left him resurfaced in Dojin’s mind.
Noryang has 25 hours left. For those 25 hours, observe his every move. If you judge that he’s trying to use those curios for something frivolous, stop him.
That’s right. Iri had said 25 hours. He hadn’t told Dojin to decide immediately—he’d told him to observe for 25 hours, then judge.
Iri had known this would happen.
“…Alright. I’ll watch for now.”
“That’s such a relief. Thank you. But now I need to sleep……”
“What the hell did you just say?”
“…….”
“Hey.”
“…….”
“Hey, are you asleep? You’re sleeping now?”
As a yokai who slept during the early morning hours, the Bokbaebari fell asleep the instant Dojin finished speaking. Even then, the small creature tightly held onto Jisuk’s hand, as if determined to protect her.
Dojin stared at the two of them in disbelief, then quietly slipped back into Noryang’s shadow.
***
Jisuk woke up at six in the morning. As she stirred and sat up, Noryang also rose, yawning. Glancing around and realizing Dojin wasn’t visible, Noryang cautiously pulled out the ‘Grill-Sand Hourglass’ and the ‘Golden-Water Goldfish’—only to hastily shove them back into his pocket after hearing a sharp “Tsk!” from his shadow.
Jisuk sat blankly on the bed for a while, then got up and prepared breakfast. Her movements were sluggish, her face tinged gray—she looked submerged in sorrow.
“The soup is too salty, Jisuk. If you want to live long, you need a low-sodium diet. Vegetable side dishes are fine, but you must eat meat at lunch. Still, you’re chewing your food properly now. It’s good you’re making an effort to get better, but if only you’d done this since you were young. I told you so many times, and you never listened—now look at this. Still, you are trying now, so I’ll praise you for that. But the soup really needs to be blander.”
Noryang sat across from Jisuk as she ate alone, nagging incessantly.
When she took her medicine, he complained that the water was too cold and secretly warmed it to lukewarm.
When she watched her morning drama, he lounged sideways on the sofa, hurling curses at the characters.
When she went out for a walk, he scolded her to dress warmly and then trotted along behind her.
He looked like her guardian, her friend, and her pet all at once.
During the walk, Jisuk was struck by sudden pain and had to hurry back home. After swallowing a painkiller, she stared at the medicine packet for a long time before tossing it into the living room. Then, with a drawn-out, grief-stricken moan, she collapsed onto the floor.
Jisuk wailed, pounding her chest.
Noryang squatted down quietly.
“Terrifying human… look at Jisuk. Isn’t she pitiful? Her mother died when she was young, and her father was an alcoholic. Jisuk had to work from the age of nine. At twenty-seven, she met a good man and married him, and together they opened a small restaurant. Her husband died when she was thirty-six. Jisuk raised three children on her own.”
The terrifying human didn’t want to hear about someone else’s life—but this time, he decided to let it slide.
“She had one day off every two weeks and worked from dawn till night. Then last month, after marrying off her youngest daughter, all three children were married, and Jisuk sold the restaurant. Until then, she hadn’t been sick at all. She bragged to her regulars that she’d finally sleep in and travel as much as she wanted. Then, just days later, she felt pain, went to the hospital thinking it was nothing, and was told she was gravely ill.”
“…….”
“She tells her children not to worry, but when she’s alone, she pounds her chest and sobs. Jisuk feels wronged. Just as she was about to finally live her own life, she was struck by illness—and it feels unbearably unjust. The hospital even told her it would be a long fight, that she’d need to battle on and overcome it. But we know the truth, don’t we? Jisuk doesn’t have much time.”
Not much time—she would die in just fourteen hours.
“Jisuk doesn’t know this at all. She’s wronged and resentful, but she’s still trying her hardest to fight and survive. What do you think will happen if she suddenly dies in the middle of all this?”
She’d become a vengeful spirit.
“She would definitely become one. Jisuk lived too kind and diligent of a life to deserve that. She was so busy working she never even had time to do bad things. She lived faithfully for sixty-four years—if she ends up becoming a vengeful spirit out of injustice at the very end and is dragged to hell unjustly, what could be more unfair than that?”
“…….”
Still sobbing, Jisuk stood up. She gathered the scattered medicine packets, neatly arranged them on the table, then went into the bathroom and washed her face with cold water. Staring clearly at her reflection in the mirror, she murmured, “Get it together.”
It was truly the voice of someone prepared for a long battle.
