Chapter 121
It was all my fault.
Eun-hwi becoming cursed by the white fox, allowing him to be kidnapped by the black fox, and failing to prevent Chairman Jang Gitae’s sudden attack. Everything.
I should have ended his life for certain.
I didn’t want to kill his father in front of a child who loved his parent more than anyone else. Because I wanted him to pay for his crimes—manipulating familial bonds and committing all manner of evil deeds—with a punishment heavier than death, I left him alive. That was my greatest mistake.
Yeo Moon-beom had hoped Jang Gitae would condemn himself, rather than delivering punishment directly.
Not realizing that a rotten apple must be removed immediately, lest it rot the others too.
To prevent hemorrhagic shock while the open wound healed, Moon-beom continuously gave his own blood.
Without the Jangseung dokkaebi’s ring, he could enter the house protected by a barrier and sense each other’s presence due to their resonating souls, so there likely wouldn’t be any rejection.
How much time had passed like this?
As he struggled to maintain consciousness while checking on Eun-hwi’s condition, it happened. A tall man suddenly entered the punishment room.
His black coat and hat were unremarkable, but his bluish lips and deathly pale face proved he was not of this world.
Could it be…?
Moon-beom immediately recognized him as a messenger (使者) who had come to collect the soul of the dead. In an instant, his world crumbled.
“Jang Gitae. Born in the Year of the Snake, fourth month, ninth day, at the hour of the Ox. Accidental death.”
With an eerie voice, the grim reaper confirmed the deceased’s identity and extracted Jang Gitae’s soul—still clinging desperately to life—from his body and placed it in a gourd bottle.
“…”
Moon-beom deliberately avoided eye contact and quietly waited for the grim reaper to leave. As expected, the man glanced at Eun-hwi and took out a small scroll from his bosom, checking something. He appeared to be consulting the ledger of the dead.
Soon, the grim reaper folded the lengthy scroll and tilted the mouth of the gourd bottle downward. Seeing this motion that seemed meant to draw in Eun-hwi’s soul, Moon-beom quickly spoke.
“If you must take someone, take me. Not this child.”
“…Manager Yeo? What’s wrong?”
Professor Bang Ki-bong, who had been applying pressure to the wound with his clothes, groped the air with confused eyes. Moon-beom spoke once more in a firm voice to the grim reaper who was staring fixedly at Eun-hwi.
“Even if the King of the Underworld himself came, I would never surrender this child. Either leave now, or take me instead.”
Eun-hwi.
Even if it costs me my life, I’ll save you.
He picked up the knife that had fallen to the floor and once again cut deeply into his wrist. The sensation of the blade cutting into flesh felt not painful but comforting.
I hope that you can find that bright smile of yours again.
For you who forgave me despite my betrayal, I can endure any hardship.
The blood that had been flowing like a small stream suddenly gushed forth. Moon-beom looked at the grim reaper and smiled defiantly.
* * *
“Where am I now…?”
At the far end of the distant darkness, the dawn was faintly brightening.
Eun-hwi stood in a daze, looking around. He could only feel the movement of water waves lapping above his waist; nothing was visible through the thick fog.
He slowly inhaled. The refreshing scent of salt-free wind filled deep into his lungs. The subtle flower fragrance carried on the breeze was a mysterious scent he had never encountered before.
“…Is this a river?”
He wiggled his toes to check the bottom. The water wasn’t very deep, and the pebbles beneath his feet were smooth and round, making it seem possible to walk through.
Having decided to move, the half-dokkaebi began crossing through the waves toward the source of the flower scent.
“Eun-hwi.”
As he continued walking along the seemingly endless river, a delicate voice calling him was heard from somewhere.
“…Huh? Me?”
“Yes, Eun-hwi.”
Although it was clearly a voice he was hearing for the first time, it somehow felt familiar. Tilting his head in confusion, Eun-hwi exerted strength into his impossibly heavy legs and moved toward the source of the voice.
“My light, more noble and gentle than any light in the world. Eun-hwi.”
The once-thick fog gradually cleared, revealing a woman standing by the riverside, looking at him.
Dressed in a beautiful hanbok, with her hair neatly pinned up and adorned with a yellow amber hairpin, she was the person he had seen in the scroll painting at home.
“…Mother?”
A faint smile appeared on her elegant face, which evoked the pure, transparent light and graceful curves of white porcelain.
“Mother!”
Splash! Splash!
Eun-hwi tried to push forward through the water, disregarding the unusually fast current.
Though his mother was just within reach, the strong current wrapped around his entire body, preventing him from getting any closer. No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t move, like a fish caught in a net. Sorrowful tears welled up in his bright yellow eyes.
“My child. This is not where you should remain. Go back now.”
She extended her hand, adorned with a wooden bracelet, pointing to the opposite side. That place, shrouded in fog and emanating a gloomy aura, was the human world where the half-dokkaebi had lived until now.
“No! I won’t go! I want to go to Mother!”
“If you come here, your father will be sad.”
Her face, shadowed with deep sorrow, looked exceptionally mournful. After wiping her reddened eyes with the ribbon of her dress, she smiled at Eun-hwi once more.
Just once.
He wanted to throw a tantrum and ask to be held in her arms just this once. But knowing that even this request would hurt his mother’s heart, Eun-hwi forcibly swallowed the words that had risen to his throat. His clear cheeks quickly became wet with tears.
“I… I have always… always, always wanted to see you, Mother.”
“I’ve missed you terribly too, my child. I wanted to hold you in my arms and kiss your lovely face countless times. Sometimes giving you sweets I had hidden from your father when you whined, and other times comforting you with words of solace and holding you tight when you were upset.”
As she wore a gentle expression, as if recalling a moment from a past that once existed, the half-dokkaebi felt a profound longing.
You were always watching over me.
Eun-hwi shed tears of emotion. Not for a single moment had he been alone. His mother had always been by his side. An indescribable sense of relief flooded deep into his heart.
“Eun-hwi.”
“Yes, Mother.”
With a tone tinged with regret, yet hopeful, she said:
“Your fate has changed, allowing me to break free from the shackles of this world too. It will take a little more time, but I will surely come to find you. Will you meet this mother of yours then?”
Did the change in fate mean that he hadn’t crossed the Sanzu River? Or perhaps…
Though he couldn’t fully understand the meaning, Eun-hwi nodded without hesitation. Waiting for someone to return was an utterly familiar task and something he could do best.
“I will. I’ll be waiting, so please make sure to come meet me.”
“Take good care of your father. And.”
After gazing at the half-dokkaebi’s head for a moment, she conveyed her unfinished words.
“Tell your true love, who is endlessly waiting for you, that I am grateful.”
True love.
Memories he had completely forgotten came flooding back. The face of Yeo Moon-beom, who had desperately cried out because of him, vividly appeared before his eyes.
As Eun-hwi stood anxiously, not knowing what to do, his mother gestured as if telling him to go.
“Although I couldn’t see you in the living world, I’m glad we could meet like this. Take care on your way back.”
At the same time, a Mr. Kim with eye-smiles resembling Moon-beom’s approached his mother’s side and waved goodbye together with her.
The woman, looking much more at peace than in the old memories shown by Eodukseoni, was Moon-beom’s mother.
“I love you, Eun-hwi.”
“I love you too, Mother.”
Whooosh—
The blowing wind pushed against the half-dokkaebi’s back. Strongly, as if telling him not to linger here any longer.
Eun-hwi closed his eyes slowly, surrendering his body to the flowing current. The dazzling sunlight that leaked through the fog enveloped his entire body.
The long, dense eyelashes beneath his closed eyelids trembled finely.
“Mmm…”
The morning sunlight, tapping gently on his cheeks, seeped into his mind, dyeing his entire body pure white. He felt the pleasant refreshment that comes after a deep sleep.
Finally awakening, Eun-hwi wiggled his hand that was covered by something heavy yet warm. Startled by this small reaction, an urgent call was heard.
“Eun-hwi!”
“…Uh.”
“Are you conscious?”
“Yeo Moon… beom…”
A thin face with three long scars across the cheek and jaw came clearly into view. The wrist of the hand carefully holding his was tightly wrapped in bandages.
“Where is this…?”
It was a room with an atmosphere quite different from the gloomy space where not even a sliver of moonlight had entered.
In confusion, he looked down. Instead of a blood-soaked jeogori, he saw a white garment with vertical blue stripes.
“It’s a hospital. I brought you here because you wouldn’t regain consciousness.”
“Hos… pital?”
“I thought you might never wake up. Because of the wrong choice I made… This is a relief. A true relief.”
Unable to control the emotion welling up, Yeo Moon-beom exhaled a long breath and closed and opened his eyes. The hand resting on Eun-hwi’s tightened its grip.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
