The typhoon-like wind passed, and just as Dojin was about to push Iri away, the dokkaebi barked in a furious voice.
“I cannot understand your exchange. Human—use your full strength.”
“Very well. Don’t regret it.”
At Dojin’s immediate reply, Iri hurriedly shoved him away.
“Dojin. Absolutely not.”
“Master, I almost got blown away just now and smashed into something over there. If I hadn’t been right beside you, that tiny head of yours would’ve cracked like a watermelon, and your slender arms and legs would’ve been ground to dust.”
That would never have happened. The wind raised by the dokkaebi would’ve scattered gently before Immortal Iri.
But going beyond merely saying he would’ve been injured, the strangely cruel imagery made Iri fall silent.
“Please stay back, Master.”
“…All right.”
Iri stepped out of the circular clearing and stood among the bushes.
Cracking his wrist with a ttuduk, ttuk, Dojin called out into the air.
“Come out, mountain dokkaebi. I’m ready. How long are you planning to just pick fights with your voice?”
“An arrogant human indeed….”
A gigantic dokkaebi appeared before Dojin. Its massive body stood around 250 centimeters tall, with two horns rising from its forehead. Its limbs were as thick as Dojin’s head, and every single tooth was sharpened like a fang. Its brown skin, tinged with red, was as solid as a rough tree trunk, and thick clumps of gray and blue fur sprouted around its joints, like grass pushing through parched earth. The black pupils within the whites of its eyes were unnaturally small for their size, and its hands were larger than its own face.
Most striking of all was the dokkaebi club at its side—something Dojin had never seen before. The black club, studded here and there with thick spikes, was as thick as one of the dokkaebi’s arms. Standing upright on the ground, it looked like a tree that had taken root in the mountain.
Yori-iki flicked out his long, thick tongue, which reached all the way up to his forehead.
“The rules follow the basic rules of human wrestling, but there is no out-of-bounds. When one party is completely overturned or forfeits, it ends. Do you agree?”
“I agree.”
“I am black. You are white.”
As Yori-iki swung his club, wrestling belts flew out of the air. Dojin snatched the white sash.
“They’re not blue and red.”
As Dojin tied the sash around his waist in puzzlement, Iri explained.
“Among dokkaebi, blue and red went out of fashion. Black and white are popular these days. Look—he even dyed his fur.”
“Dyed…?”
“He’s a regular customer at our rental shop.”
“So there’s even hair dye among curios….”
“It’s quite a popular item. I’ll teach you how to make it someday. Yori-iki has five hundred years of wrestling experience, so don’t let your guard down.”
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
Dojin answered dutifully, though his mind was actually elsewhere.
Should I say I don’t know how to tie the sash and ask Master to do it for me?
Up close, Iri would surely smell sweet as he tied the knot for him. Long, thick eyelashes would cast shadows beneath lowered lids…. What if his warm breath brushed against Dojin’s chest and neck? What if his soft hair tickled his chin?
His hands, which had been tying just fine, slowed, then eventually he simply undid the sash.
“Master, I don’t know how to tie this. Could you come do it for me?”
“……”
With a small, exasperated sigh, Iri waved a hand through the air. The white sash tied itself neatly around Dojin’s waist.
“Please focus…. A mountain dokkaebi isn’t an opponent you can beat just by letting your guard down.”
“You’re the one who said not to use my full strength.”
“You don’t have to use your full strength, but you do have to keep your head clear.”
“I’m totally focused. Don’t worry, Master.”
Dojin grinned like a mischievous boy. Iri shook his head. First time seeing a mountain dokkaebi, first time testing strength against one—and instead of tension, the brat was harboring indecent thoughts. At this point, it was impressive, if nothing else….
He worried that Dojin’s overconfidence might lead to a painful lesson, but considering his young age, perhaps this level of confidence was acceptable. He decided to set his concern aside for now.
Humans of Dojin’s lineage had always been like this.
Rather than humble, they were confident to the point of arrogance, and honest about their feelings to the point of embarrassing others. They had been this way since time immemorial.
“Begin!”
The wrestling match between dokkaebi and human began.
Though Dojin was large for a human, standing before the dokkaebi made the height difference obvious. Even so, Dojin firmly grabbed the dokkaebi’s black sash. At Iri’s signal, human and dokkaebi exerted strength simultaneously. The ground thudded and caved in, but neither posture wavered in the slightest.
This should be about right.
Accustomed to regulating his strength all day long, Dojin cautiously applied force, unsure how much was appropriate. The dokkaebi didn’t budge an inch.
Even so, Dojin neither panicked nor felt afraid.
“You’re quite solid. Let’s see who collapses from exhaustion first!”
At the dokkaebi’s words, Dojin smiled faintly.
He’s like a massive boulder. I can go all out, then. A mountain dokkaebi won’t get hurt from just this.
Dojin had no intention of dragging the match out. Even after obtaining the bamboo bird eggs, there would still be at least two more hours of additional processing. He needed to settle this quickly and get back to work.
“Hrrngh!” Dojin’s muscles bulged, veins standing out along his neck. His casual shirt tore with a tuduk, tuk.
Watching anxiously, Iri worried that Dojin might get carried away, while Yori-iki was startled by the sudden pressure applied to him.
“What kind of human strength is this—!”
Yori-iki’s furious voice echoed from all directions.
Hm?
Dojin realized it wasn’t coming from the one directly in front of him, but from the entire mountain itself.
I can’t just flip him right away.
Wrestling a dokkaebi wasn’t about technique—it was pure strength. Throws, joint locks, knee strikes—none of that worked. Having devoured Korean legends and folktales since childhood, Dojin knew this well.
He bent his knees and engaged his lower back, as if lifting an extremely heavy object.
“……!”
It was indeed heavy. But not beyond what he could handle. Veins bulged along the backs of Dojin’s hands, and the beast-like muscles hidden beneath his clothes did the same. After letting out a sharp grunt, Dojin lifted upward and then flung it back.
KOOOM—!
The ground shook violently with the tremendous impact.
“My—my tree!”
Though he had clearly thrown it backward, the groan came from the front. Yori-iki’s true form emerged from the dense bushes—without the sash around him.
When Dojin turned around, he saw an enormous tree behind him, large enough that even five adult men stretching out their arms couldn’t encircle it. Wrapped around the middle of the trunk was a black line—on closer inspection, it was the black sash.
Dojin had wrestled with a tree easily over five hundred years old and uprooted it entirely. Yori-iki spoke in stunned disbelief.
“To rip out my tree, roots and all—what kind of monster are you?”
“A monster? Go down to the city right now, grab anyone, and ask them which of us looks like the monster.”
“Are you really human?”
“Well, half of me is human. Not exactly half, but close.”
Dojin replied while smoothing the wrinkled parts of his clothes with tak-tak. He hadn’t shed a single drop of sweat. Yori-iki approached him, sniffing at his scent.
After confirming that neither the dokkaebi nor Dojin was injured, Iri let out a relieved sigh and stepped closer.
“Good work, Dojin. You did well.”
“It feels refreshing to use my strength for once. Master, praise me with a smoo—”
“Yori-iki. If you leave your tree like this, it’ll die. What are you going to do?”
Yori-iki clicked his tongue.
“To replant that tree, we’d need at least three more mountain dokkaebi, and even then, we wouldn’t be able to get the roots properly settled. If the Immortal revives the tree, I’ll hand over ten bamboo bird eggs.”
“You said you only had six.”
“Of course that was a lie. Since Immortals can’t lie, they tend not to suspect others of doing so. Take this chance to learn—mountain dokkaebi lie whenever they get the opportunity.”
“So that’s why you didn’t show yourself.”
Even after being deceived, Iri didn’t get angry. He truly had little emotional fluctuation.
Kneeling on one knee before the fallen tree, Iri stroked its bark and whispered softly.
“Uamsan was a good place to live, wasn’t it? Cozy and warm…. It’d be nice if you could rest again in the embrace of the earth.”
When he finished speaking, the tree’s thick roots began to writhe.
Kugugung….
As the roots moved back toward their original place, the ground beneath Iri’s feet shook. Before Iri could wobble and fall, Dojin caught him by the waist and pulled him into his arms.
The tree, still lying down, moved—first anchoring its roots firmly, then raising its massive trunk upright. The large-scale movement sent vibrations through the entire mountain, like low thunder, and the process of thick roots finding their places felt like an earthquake.
The humans living at the foot of the mountain would be jolted awake in alarm, scrambling to check breaking news alerts.
