Chapter 1
It seemed spring had only just begun, yet a warm breeze suggested summer was already arriving. The cherry blossoms, which had painted the world white, could not withstand the fluttering wind and showered down to the ground. In a corner of the bustling marketplace, a young girl with cheeks as red as unripened peaches whispered to the children gathered before her.
“So, when I quietly called out to the lady…” “When you called out…?”
Her features were delicate, but her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint that rivaled any young boy’s. As Arin paused to catch her breath, the children sitting before her held theirs, staring at her in unison. Arin’s heart raced, excited by the thought of scaring her friends.
“The lady turned around, and her eyes were—!” “Hong Arin!” “Eek!”
At the climax, her grandmother’s thunderous voice boomed from behind. Startled, the children screamed and scattered in all directions. Realizing she’d been caught, Arin leaped up to flee, but she couldn’t make it more than a few steps before being halted.
“I told you to stay quiet!” “Ow, ow! Grandma, let go of my ear first! I wasn’t telling ghost stories! I swear!”
Tears welled in Arin’s large eyes as her ear felt like it might be torn off. Letting out a deep sigh, Yeong-cho released her and glared at the girl with stern eyes.
“Did I not tell you never to speak of spirits to anyone!”
“They asked me first!” “Hush! You rascal!”
Wilting under Yeong-cho’s gaze, Arin clasped her hands together and begged for forgiveness. Yeong-cho gave Arin a light flick on the forehead and turned to head back. Her wrinkled hands were full of sewing work she had picked up that day.
“Grandma, give that to me. I’ll carry it.”
As if she had never been scolded, Arin stepped up to Yeong-cho’s side with a bright, easy smile. Yeong-cho handed over the bundle and walked out of the crowded marketplace with her hands behind her back.
“Grandma, why can’t I talk about the spirits?” Arin asked as they entered a quiet mountain path.
“Nothing good comes from seeing ghosts. People will whisper and doubt your words, and ghosts will cling to you, begging you to resolve their bitter grudges. Be thankful you only see them. If you started hearing them too, you would be in true misery.”
Arin had begun seeing the souls of the dead after suffering a severe fever when she was two years old. At first, she couldn’t distinguish between the living and the dead, but over time, she realized that what she saw was different from ordinary people.
“There are plenty of kind ghosts, though. Like the baby ghost at Mr. Kim’s house who died recently.” “Hush! I’ve warned you repeatedly. It’s bad luck to hang around spirits like that.”
Yeong-cho had been a shaman with great spiritual energy, but she had been driven out of her village following an unfortunate incident. Ever since discovering Arin’s ability, she had strictly guarded the girl’s tongue.
“Always remember: the moment you grow close to the dead, a great calamity will surely befall you.”
Yeong-cho looked back at Arin with an anxious expression. Arin nodded and replied in a small voice. “It’s a shame. Nothing is as fun as telling the kids ghost stories and watching their reactions.”
Seeing Arin’s pout, Yeong-cho offered a cryptic suggestion. “Go to the southern valley. There will be something interesting there. And look at the peach blossoms on the way.”
A long smile spread across Arin’s face. She tossed the bundle onto the old wooden porch of the shrine and ran off, waving back at her grandmother. “I’ll be back before sunset!”
At the southern valley, the fragrant peach blossoms were bursting into bloom, filling the air with a sweet scent. Feeling lighthearted, Arin plucked a blossom and tucked it behind her ear. Her cheeks flushed a pink hue, mimicking the crushed petals of the flowers.
“Oh? A spirit…!”
Just then, a woman wearing a beautiful dang-ui (formal royal coat) caught Arin’s eye. Even to a young girl, the spirit looked elegantly beautiful. The golden dragons embroidered on her shoulders looked ready to fly, and the fine silk reflected the sunlight into Arin’s eyes. The spirit beckoned Arin to come closer. As if possessed, Arin took a step toward her.
Five Years Later.
Summer hadn’t arrived yet, but perhaps due to the unseasonable heat, Hyeon’s handsome face looked weary. He pulled at the string of his traditional hat and let out a deep, hot sigh.
“It’s already been several months.” “You should rest, My Lord. I worry for your health, walking around all day in this heat,” said Yul, his companion.
“It’s fine. I heard this place is famous even in the marketplace. Let’s stop here and then head back.”
Midway up the mountain sat a small shrine. A massive zelkova tree stood guard over it, draped in five-colored ritual cloths that created an eerie atmosphere. As a breeze blew, the rustling leaves sounded like the crashing of waves.
“Is that the truth?”
Inside the small shrine, a man named Mr. Park looked at Arin with disbelief. Arin slammed her hand down on the small table.
“Why would I lie to you!”
The baby fat on her cheeks had vanished, leaving a smooth, womanly face. Her fingers, once stained black with dirt, were now long and slender. Her large eyes still held curiosity like stars, and her sharp nose and red lips made her features even more striking.
“You are possessed by a ghost that died of starvation, so take a talisman immediately. Paste it in front of your storehouse, and the trouble will stop.”
Mr. Park nodded and slid five pun (currency) from his sleeve to Arin. She snatched the money and quickly drew a strange symbol on a small piece of paper with red ink.
“Now, leave.”
Arin gestured for him to get out. As Mr. Park exited, Yul was seen peering into the shrine. “Is anyone there?” Yul called out.
The door creaked open, and a fair-faced woman appeared. She looked back and forth between the two men. “Are you here for a talisman?” “Are you the owner—I mean, the shaman who serves this place?” “A shaman… yes, well, I suppose that’s correct.”
Arin beckoned them inside. A faint smile touched her face; business had been slow lately. Hyeon and Arin sat across a small table, gauging the atmosphere. Dressed in a fine silk robe and sitting with a straight back, Hyeon looked every bit the noble young master.
“If you’ve come all this way, you must have heard the rumors. I won’t waste words. What can I do for you?” “Are you the one famous in the marketplace for seeing the souls of the dead?”
Hyeon’s low voice echoed in the room. Arin noticed sweat beading on his forehead from the heat. As he breathed out, a subtle scent of orchids reached her.
“I wonder if it is also possible for you to speak with the dead…”
Arin had been reaching for her brush to write a quick talisman and take their money, but she paused. She tilted her head, furrowing her brows. Hyeon continued:
“I want you to see the spirit of my deceased mother.”
