Episode 14
“I must have startled you. To meet a person here—it feels moving. Surrounded only by yokai, I was starting to think I’d become one myself. Ah, mind if I borrow your fire?”
The man, dressed like a Taoist priest, sat down by the fire as though he belonged there, removing his wide-brimmed hat.
His revealed face was young—at most in his early twenties, with bold, handsome features.
So he clearly wasn’t the old monk-cat from before.
But that had happened only moments ago—they had seen with their own eyes the monk transforming into a cat. Suspicion came naturally.
Poke.
Gahwa nudged Yong with her elbow. He only looked at the man in Taoist robes, showing no special concern.
‘Wasn’t this same indifference what confused the monk-cat, too?’
Suppressing a sigh, Gahwa watched the Taoist warily. She wouldn’t be caught off guard this time.
But under her sharp gaze, the man only smiled and pulled out a mushroom, skewering it on a stick and roasting it over the fire.
“Found this on the way. It’s valuable—used in medicine too. By the way, may I call you gong? Seems too soon to exchange full names without proper acquaintance.”
He hummed a tune as he turned the skewer. He was infuriatingly frivolous.
“Oh, and beware the cry of the Ho-gurokmo—the tiger spirit. If you’re lured by its wails, you’ll be eaten alive.”
He raised a thumb and pointed toward the bushes.
“But I’ve already placed talismans nearby, so we should be safe enough.”
Now that he mentioned it, the crying had stopped. Perhaps his talismans really worked.
“Is that true?”
As Gahwa glanced around, the man pulled the mushrooms from the fire and waved them.
“Truth be told, I only came because I saw smoke rising. Thought you must be trying to lure yokai on purpose.”
At that, Gahwa turned to glare at Yong. No doubt he had known and lit the fire anyway.
‘Selfish lizard.’
She cursed inwardly. Yong, as though hearing, lifted an eyebrow.
“My ears itch.”
Always so perceptive.
Gahwa ignored him and looked back at the Taoist, who continued brightly,
“But perhaps you’d have been fine without my help anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you know? You carry strong energy.”
He pointed at Yong.
“Particularly strong in yang. That’s why yokai couldn’t approach and instead tried luring you out.”
So that explained why Yong had built the fire so boldly.
But Gahwa had nearly rushed out herself at the sound of the crying child—and because of the noise, she hadn’t been able to sleep.
She shot Yong another glare, but he only gazed off at the ridgeline.
“Well, then, since fate has brought us together, let me accompany you until we cross these hills!”
The man’s words were so forward that both Gahwa and Yong instinctively reacted.
“I’d rather not cross the mountains alone. Better to travel in threes than twos, don’t you agree?”
He wanted to join them.
Gahwa studied his appearance again. He wore the robes of a Taoist priest, but he was so young.
In her mind, Taoists were always men past forty—since gathering spiritual power and gaining enlightenment took years. This man couldn’t be more than twenty. His flippant manner hardly inspired confidence.
She eyed him skeptically. He scratched his head and grinned, boyishly shameless.
“Ah, I do seem young for a Taoist, don’t I? It’s my natural talent. My master said geniuses like me come once in a thousand years.”
His nose seemed to lift as high as the hilltop above them.
“……”
Gahwa felt suddenly weary. This man was exhausting, though in a different way than Yong. She even found herself longing for quiet Yeongyeong, who had simply done his work.
But the man before her was no less real than Yong. Gahwa forced herself to focus.
Perhaps this flighty Taoist really was a Taoist.
Hadn’t the monk-cat fooled them by acting fully like a monk? If this man had meant to deceive them, wouldn’t he have done the same? Instead, his casual, silly demeanor resembled a street peddler more than a priest.
“What do you think we should do?”
Gahwa asked Yong obliquely. He made a small chin gesture, clearly uninterested—do as you please.
The Taoist’s eyes lit with admiration.
“This one’s quite the taciturn fellow.”
“Yes, it’s as if his mouth is diseased. He rarely speaks.”
Gahwa teased, glancing at Yong. His eyebrow lifted even higher, displeased.
It was like seeing the dragon’s mark shift across his brow. His expression eased Gahwa’s mood a little.
“From your bearing, both of you seem highborn. Yet since you hide it, I’ll keep things informal. Gong. Gui-gong.”
He addressed them in turn. Gahwa froze, her lips shutting tight—like someone caught in a lie.
Snap.
He clicked his fingers and winked.
“I’m observant. Aside from the calluses on your middle finger, your hands are far too fine, too pale.”
Gahwa looked again at the man. Beneath his jesting lay a sharp eye.
If he really was a Taoist, perhaps having him along until they crossed the hills wasn’t such a bad idea.
Yong, too, looked at him—with an amused expression.
“Fine. Travel with us.”
Crackle, crackle.
Gahwa poked the fire. Sparks leapt up. Dawn had come, but they needed the flames against the cold.
Huff—
Her breath puffed white into the air.
The northern chill was unlike anything she had known in Juwan. Even wrapped in padded clothes and a blanket, the cold pierced to the bone.
She glanced at the others. They slept soundly—whether impervious to the cold or simply unaware of it, she could not tell.
She longed for the sun to rise high, to burn away the chill.
As she stirred the fire, the noise woke the Taoist.
Last night, only she and Yong had kept watch, while the Taoist had promptly fallen asleep with a “leave it to you.”
Seeing his peacefully sleeping face had irritated her. She had barely slept two hours herself.
“Good morning, gong.”
He rubbed his swollen eyes. After sleeping more than four hours, no wonder his lids were puffy.
Gahwa sighed inwardly.
Why is it that everyone around me is so good at getting under my skin?
Yet, it wasn’t all bad. Being constantly irritated left her less time to brood about her mother.
Tap, tap.
She rapped the ground with the fire-stick.
“It’s time we moved. Open your eyes properly.”
“Just a moment. They’re opening.”
He pulled an exaggerated face as he opened them slowly.
Gahwa frowned. He had a way of breaking down people’s walls alarmingly fast. Almost suspiciously so—like a yokai.
But last night, he had shown them the talismans he carried, proof of his humanity.
“You look good with a scowl. Last night you were sharper, ready to drive me away.”
“With so many strange yokai about, can you blame me?”
“That’s the nature of these hills. But still, there are far too many now.”
“The monk-cat said the same.”
“You met him? Ah, that explains your wariness.”
The Taoist nodded knowingly.
“I understand. I once nearly fell prey to the Mirror-Ghost.”
“The… Mirror-Ghost?”
“A yokai that steals human forms. Malicious in nature, murderous. Many families have been destroyed by it.”
The idea of a yokai stealing one’s face made Gahwa shiver.
“Did you catch it?”
“Not yet. After I deal with this hill’s problem, I intend to hunt it.”
His talk intrigued her so much she unconsciously leaned closer.
“So you’re here to exterminate yokai?”
“Not exterminate—resolve the cause. Normally, yokai appear, but in limited numbers thanks to the Nine Peaks Array. Yet recently they’ve swarmed, bringing grief to the people.”
“No wonder—the yokai have blocked the roads, and the people of these hills can’t leave.”
At her reply, his eyes widened for an instant, then he carried on as if nothing.
“Exactly. The terrain here doesn’t allow large fields, so most food comes from outside. With the mountain roads cut off, famine looms. That’s why I was summoned.”
“Then you must be quite skilled.”
“As I said before, I’m rather exceptional.”
He raised an arm and sketched imaginary talismans in the air.
“Even half a Taoist is still a Taoist.”
Yong’s dry voice cut in. His eyes had opened, face fresh as before sleep.
“I am a proper Taoist, I’ll have you know.”
The young man pretended to wipe away tears, wounded.
Gahwa couldn’t help but twitch her lips in suppressed laughter.
“You laugh too easily.”
The words stopped her cold. She hadn’t realized she was smiling.
She shouldn’t be able to smile yet. Her expression froze.
The Taoist scolded Yong:
“Why spoil it? She was smiling. What a waste.”
“And what’s wasted about it?”
“Don’t they say laughter brings blessings? If she stops midway, won’t the blessings flee too?”
Nonsense—but with a kernel of truth.
Gahwa looked at him again. Truly, a strange man.
Sensing her warming attitude, Yong stood, cutting things short.
“Let’s move.”
They set out again at Yong’s urging. Fatigue slowed them more than yesterday.
Gahwa pushed herself, not wanting to hold them back.
Before long, the path sloped downward—toward the next ridge.
“Let’s rest a bit.”
They paused, ate lightly, and consulted the map. The compass remained useless, so they relied on the Taoist’s knowledge of the terrain.
He pointed to the shortest route.
“This path is best.”
The hills were nine ridges, but to reach Moju in the southwest, they only had to cross four in a line.
With one down, three remained. Fourteen days, as the monk-cat had said.
As Gahwa tucked the map away, the Taoist scratched his chin sheepishly.
“Oh, there’s something I forgot to mention.”
“More like you hid it.”
“Don’t be harsh. Aren’t we risking life and death together now?”
“Have you staked your life?”
He was remarkably sociable. On the way he had pestered Yong with jokes until, out of sheer annoyance, Yong had begun answering.
Now the two exchanged barbs like old acquaintances.
Gahwa marveled at his talent for connection. Truly, such a man would never starve.
“You all right, gong?”
“…Eh?”
She had drifted off in thought, missing his words. He grinned and pointed at Yong.
