General So staggered to his feet and stroked his Dragon Horse’s mane. Only then did the Dragon Horse seem reassured, stamping its hooves tap, tap against the ground.
After fastening his armor back into place, General So—though deeply shaken internally—showed no sign of it on the surface.
“Your disciple matched me blow for blow. If you stop sheltering him and let him loose, he’ll become a fine General.”
“Dojin isn’t going to be a General. He’s going to become an Immortal.”
“That’s truly a shame. We’re already short on Generals as it is.”
“General So.”
“Speak.”
“From now on, I’ll be watching to see whether you truly do your job properly as a Welfare Center administrator.”
“…I apologize for how things have been until now. But don’t worry. We never intended to squander our virtue for eternity.”
General So dipped his head in a deep bow. Iri returned the greeting. Mounting his Dragon Horse, General So soared up into the sky.
Watching his retreating figure, Iri turned around.
Dojin had been staring at Iri with his mouth hanging open, but when their eyes met, he jolted in surprise.
“M-Master.”
“Dojin. When we get back, we’ll treat your injury first.”
“Y-Yes…!”
In truth, the bleeding had already stopped, and there was hardly anything to treat, but Dojin nodded vigorously anyway.
As he hurried over to stand beside Iri, Kkiwoong—who had been trembling violently on Iri’s shoulder—climbed over to Dojin. That alone showed just how frightening Immortal Iri had been moments ago.
Careful not to let his steps become too buoyant, Dojin matched Iri’s pace as they walked.
There was only one reason he couldn’t stop smiling.
That’s right. Just now, Immortal Iri had gotten angry. He’d been furious!
And the reason for that fury was a single, tiny wound on Dojin’s body!
Dojin felt ridiculously good. Afraid he might burst out laughing, he covered his mouth with his hand. His nostrils flared as he tried to suppress his grin, and Iri glanced at him as if asking what was wrong.
“Ah, well…”
Dojin blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“That Dragon Horse of General So’s. It’s way too fine a steed to be stuck with a guy like that.”
“It must’ve seen something we couldn’t.”
“Y-You think so? I mean… the way that Dragon Horse was practically throwing itself at you, Master, trying to save its owner—it was really something.”
The corner of Dojin’s mouth twitched. Even though he covered it with his hand, everything showed through the gaps. His eyes were already crescent-shaped with his grin.
Iri slowly closed his eyes, as if restraining something, then opened them again.
“Dojin.”
“Yes… Master.”
“When we get back, it’s been a while, so I think some corporal punishment is in order. Prepare yourself mentally.”
“…….”
Dojin’s steps slowed.
Shaking even harder than Kkiwoong, who was quivering in fear, he followed behind that small yet more terrifying-than-anything back.
13) Things That Cannot Be Gathered Back Up
‘Please, grant us rain.’
‘We are dying.’
‘There is nothing to eat.’
‘We are starving to death.’
‘Please, let the rain fall.’
There was a time when whether rain fell or not determined the life or death of every living being on the earth. During endless droughts, people went to the gods, prostrating themselves at their feet to pray.
‘Please, let the rain fall.’
And yet, when no rain came, a human king left these words as he lay dying.
‘If I die and ascend to the heavens, I will surely make it rain.’
The king passed away the very next day, and just as he had said, rain poured down all day long.
After that, every year on the day of the king’s death—Lunar May 10th—it would rain without fail. The king’s name was Taejong, and the rain that falls on Lunar May 10th came to be called ‘Taejong Rain’.
“I’ve heard of that too. ‘Taejong Rain’. I saw it in a drama. But why bring it up?”
Dojin picked up the desk calendar and checked the date. Lunar May 10th was yesterday.
“It rained properly yesterday too.”
“Near Gijang in Busan, there are small yokai called ‘Juktonghwain’. They live by immersing themselves in rainwater that falls on Lunar May 10th, collected inside small bamboo tubes. After a year passes and the time for ‘Taejong Rain’ comes again, they gather the rain in new bamboo tubes and move there.”
“Oh, right. I remember seeing that in the Wia Grand Encyclopedia. The water left in the old bamboo tube can revive even dead plants. It doesn’t work on animals or humans—only on plants. A miraculous medicine.”
“That’s right. You remember well.”
“…Don’t tell me they failed to collect the ‘Taejong Rain’?”
“Fortunately, no. They collected plenty—enough to live immersed in it for a full year. But when they woke up the next morning, it was gone.”
“Damn it. Which bastard stole it?”
Dojin’s face twisted in fury. No matter when you looked at him, his expressions were dramatic.
“But if it’s theft, shouldn’t they go to the Podo Office? Why come to us?”
“They already reported it to the Podo Office. But while the Podo Office can catch a thief, they can’t make new ‘Taejong Rain’.”
“Ah….”
Recreating the rain that had fallen yesterday.
That wasn’t the Podo Office’s job, nor the Welfare Center’s—it was squarely Iri’s responsibility.
“If it’s curio-related, we have to do it. Then when should we head down to Gijang?”
Dojin clicked the back of his pen, ready to take notes. In his mind, he was already planning to tour every famous tourist spot in Busan with Iri, and if possible, spend a night at a hotel overlooking the sea.
Though the Welfare Center had been actively distributing work lately, Iri still spoke while looking at his tightly packed schedule.
“Let’s set it for Saturday morning.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll call and let them know.”
“For now, tell them to stay in the old bamboo tube.”
“Yes.”
Just as Dojin reached for the receiver, tring— the bell rang.
Kkiwoooong!
Startled, Kkiwoong leapt and dove into the front pocket of Dojin’s shirt.
“This little guy just gets more and more chicken-hearted… Yes, this is Iri’s Curio Rental Shop.”
—Hello… I’m calling because something strange has happened….
“Go on.”
—The flowers didn’t bloom in the flower bed. This has never happened before.
Are you kidding me? Calling the rental shop just because flowers didn’t bloom?
For a moment, Dojin nearly hung up. But Iri was staring straight at him, so he held back.
“You’re looking for a curio to make the flowers bloom because they didn’t bloom in the flower bed?”
—…Please pass this on to Immortal Iri. The name of this flower bed is ‘Taegohwa’.
At that moment, Iri pressed the speaker button.
“The Taegohwa didn’t bloom?”
—Ah, Immortal Iri. It’s been a while. Have you been well?
“Yeah, hello. Explain in detail.”
—Just as it sounds. For 800 years, without fail, Taegohwa has bloomed every year—if not in March, then by May at the latest. But this year… today is June 9, isn’t it? And it still hasn’t bloomed. I thought I’d wait a bit longer, but decided to call.
“Did other wildflowers nearby bloom?”
—They bloomed normally.
“That’s strange…. I’ll go there tomorrow afternoon.”
Dojin was startled. Going tomorrow meant it was more serious than the Juktonghwain case.
—So you think it’s strange too, Immortal? I’m glad I called.
“If there’s trouble with any other flower beds, tell me immediately.”
—Yes, I will. Ah, Immortal—about not being able to attend the Gido Ceremony this time, I’m truly sorry.
“It’s fine. You’re busy in the summer, and of all times it had to be held in summer. I should be the one apologizing.”
—Please don’t say that. I’ve already prepared a gift for the ceremony. I’ll give it to you when we meet tomorrow.
“Alright. Thank you.”
After hanging up, Dojin immediately asked Iri,
“What kind of flower bed is Taegohwa?”
As Iri wrote [Mulburisan Taegohwa] on tomorrow’s date in his schedule, he answered.
“Long, long ago, in a certain country, there was a ritual called the ‘Gihwaje’—much like a rain-invoking rite. It was a ceremony praying to the gods for flowers to bloom.”
In a sense, it was no different from a rain ritual. Flowers only bloom when there is enough rain and enough sunlight. Ultimately, it was a prayer for weather suitable for farming.
“The king left a final will as he lay dying. ‘If I die and become a god, I will make flowers bloom every spring’. When the king died, his body returned to the earth, and flowers bloomed in that very spot.”
“That flower would be Taegohwa.”
“Exactly. It’s both the name of the flower and the name of the flower bed. A later king moved the flower bed to the peak of Mulburisan in Geumwi County, Gyeongbuk. Since Taegohwa is a flower that can hold souls, the Heavenly Flower Garden manages the bed now.”
“So Taegohwa is one of the soul-flowers.”
New souls aren’t created only in the Heavenly Flower Garden; soul-flowers are planted throughout the Middle Realm as well, mostly deep in the mountains. Since the Heavenly Flower Garden exclusively manages them, even Iri didn’t know all their locations.
“The person who called was Princess Bari. You might end up speaking with her often, so remember her voice.”
“Ah… yes.”
The Heavenly Flower Garden.
Dojin had only heard about it through explanations—a peaceful, quiet place where vast fields of flowers stretched endlessly. He’d also heard that it was breathtakingly beautiful, each flower cradling a new life.
The Underworld, Paradise, and the Heaven-and-Earth Seas weren’t so much quiet as they were crowded. There were many people working, many staying, many just passing through. Rather than tranquil, they were like bustling cities. Among the five powers, only the Heavenly Flower Garden—ruled by Magohalmi—was truly idle and serene.
While the Underworld had the Ten Kings and forty-nine grim reapers, Paradise had the Seven Star Gods and the Five Directional Generals, and the Heaven-and-Earth Seas had the Twelve Divine Generals, the Heavenly Flower Garden had only four beneath Magohalmi: Lady Bak, Princess Bari, Dohwa-nyeo, and Bihyeongnang.
Lady Bak guarded the Heavenly Flower Garden. Dohwa-nyeo and Bihyeongnang tended the flowers. Princess Bari placed the souls of the flowers into empty bodies that required souls. Like Iri, Princess Bari was one of the few beings able to freely travel between the Middle Realm and the True Mortal Realm.
