Free Web NovelAfter a long time, Jaegyeom finally pushed himself up and crossed the living room, where the household things lay scattered in disarray.
It had been a very long time since his purpose had felt this sharp, this absolute. He had grown used to a life with nothing he wanted to do and nothing he needed to do.
But not today.
Jaegyeom went up to the attic on the second floor.
He opened a mother-of-pearl box where old things long since stripped of use had been gathered together. A tangle of worn, faded objects shifted beneath his hands. At last, he found what he was looking for.
Without hesitation, he carried it out into the yard.
Standing there in stillness, Jaegyeom lowered his eyes to the object in his hand.
It was a copper horse tally.
How long had it been?
Darkened by years of handling and mottled with rust, the tally showed every trace of the long time it had endured.
Using his foot, Jaegyeom scraped open the dirt in the yard.
Then he buried the palm-sized tally there and covered it again with earth.
He bit down hard on his index finger, and blood spilled down in a bright stream.
Strangely, it did not hurt at all.
There was no room left in him for pain.
Jaegyeom stretched out his hand precisely over the place where the tally lay buried. Blood dripped from his finger through empty air and fell in heavy drops. As it sank into the soil, the earth darkened.
He watched for a moment.
Then he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“Let the mane of Bima cease its wandering and answer the call.”
The instant the words left his mouth, a bizarre sound began to rumble up from beneath the earth, like thunder trapped underground.
The ground shook violently beneath his feet, as though an earthquake had struck. The patch of earth where the tally had been buried suddenly collapsed inward—
and then something burst up through the soil.
A horse’s cry rang out, deep and resounding enough to shake the very ground.
A beautiful mane flew loose before his eyes.
The horse kicked once into the empty air in a light, effortless leap, then came to a halt before Jaegyeom in a proud, noble stance.
“It’s been a while.”
Jaegyeom greeted it.
Bima lashed its tail grandly from side to side and snorted several times in reply. Jaegyeom said nothing, waiting for the horse to finish.
At last, the horse began to speak in a human voice.
“Well now, look who this is!”
With obvious delight, Bima trotted once around the yard.
“Young master, how long has it been?”
“I was worried you might not remember me. Good thing you did.”
“There had been no word from you for so long that I assumed you had finally achieved the thing you wanted most. But seeing you again like this...” The horse clicked its tongue in mock pity. “It seems you still haven’t managed to cut off your life, young master.”
One corner of Jaegyeom’s mouth lifted faintly.
“Yeah. That’s how it turned out.”
“A shame. But you’re as beautiful as ever, young master.”
“You haven’t changed at all either. You look exactly the same.”
“And where have you thrown away your robe to end up dressed in such strange clothes?”
Used to the sight of Jaegyeom in garments from another age, Bima pushed its face forward as if the school uniform were a marvel.
His connection to Bima had come long ago, through the man.
So much time had passed between them that the strangeness of this reunion was only natural.
Without a word, Jaegyeom reached up and ran a hand through the horse’s mane. The blood on his fingers smeared across the soft hair.
“I’m sorry to say this the moment I call you out after so long, but...”
Bima snorted and stamped a hoof with airy amusement.
“There’s only ever one reason you come looking for me, young master.”
“Mesan is gone.”
“If you mean that ginseng child who used to trail after you like a shadow—”
“Yes. Mesan. I need to find him. Take me to him.”
“I cannot hand over my reins so carelessly to someone who is not my master.”
He had heard that line dozens, hundreds of times before.
Bima turned its head away with affected grace.
Jaegyeom knew exactly what it meant.
It meant: Be my master.
Apparently the beast still had not given up.
“I tell you every time. I have no intention of becoming your master.”
As always, Jaegyeom rejected the request.
And Bima, too, was used to being refused.
That stubborn talk of withholding the reins was only an old fit of temper. Looking back, there had never once been a time when Bima truly refused one of Jaegyeom’s requests.
“But if you grant me this favor...”
“You mean to make the same bargain as last time?”
“Yes. Your nightmares. I’ll buy them.”
Bima was a ghost horse that could run through the empty air without wings.
In exchange for that special ability, it bore a fatal flaw:
every night, it dreamed nightmares.
For that reason, Bima suffered constantly from sleeplessness and rarely knew a peaceful rest. Its eyes were always bloodshot in a way that was almost frightening.
So Bima made a trade of dreams, mostly with spirits and other ghosts. Rare among humans, Jaegyeom had also been one of its customers.
Each time Jaegyeom needed Bima’s help, he paid for it by purchasing several days’ worth of nightmares.
Once Bima sold off its nightmares, it could sleep in peace for that stretch of time. The more difficult the favor, the longer the period it demanded in exchange. There had even been times when Jaegyeom took Bima’s nightmares onto himself for more than a month.
“Well, I’ve no reason to refuse. Will you truly be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. Name however long you want.”
“You seem desperate indeed. Will you really give me whatever I ask?”
“Ten days, a year, ten years. It doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll spare you. I’m not a monster.” Bima pawed at the soft earth with one hind hoof, looking faintly uncomfortable. “Tracking him won’t be difficult. Three days will do.”
Jaegyeom had meant every word, but Bima only snorted as if the very thought were excessive.
“All right. Thank you.”
He went to the front door, picked up one of Mesan’s shoes from where it had rolled near the shoe cabinet, and returned to the yard with it in hand.
As soon as he stepped back out, Bima bent its legs and lowered its body.
Without a second’s hesitation, Jaegyeom vaulted onto its back.
“Here. Follow his trace from this.”
“Understood. Leave it to me.”
Bima paced the yard once, loosening its body.
“But tell me this—who dared lay a hand on your ginseng child?”
After a long silence, Jaegyeom muttered in a low voice,
“I don’t know. I don’t care.”
Bima burst into a snort that sounded like laughter.
“Unfortunate for them, whoever it is.”
Then Bima drove hard against the earth and shot up into the sky.
*****
“We just need to get to the nearest mountain first, little master.”
Lee Youngshin immediately drove off the expressway.
His plan was simple: get the little master, whose strength had weakened, back into the mountains so he could take in spiritual force. He drove and drove without thinking too hard about it, until he spotted a sloping embankment descending toward a roadside guardrail.
Youngshin pulled onto the shoulder at once and opened the passenger door.
“Little master, this mountain looks a bit low, but how about here?”
Fortunately, the little master nodded.
“I think... if we go a little farther in, it should be all right...”
Mesan answered weakly.
Youngshin nodded at once.
It made sense. This was only a shallow verge running alongside a road where cars flew past nonstop. Of course they would have to go deeper into thick, overgrown mountain land if he was going to take in proper spiritual force.
So Lee Youngshin hoisted the ailing little master onto his back and climbed.
For such a low mountain, the terrain was rougher than he had expected. Carrying the feather-light little master, Youngshin pushed through grass and low branches. Once they had gone fairly deep, they found a flat clearing surrounded by dense trees. The growth around them was thick, and there was no sign of human passage. The air there felt clear enough, rich enough with force.
It was a suitable place to take in spiritual force.
Youngshin carefully lowered the little master to the ground. Then he took a cord from his hip pack and tied it around Mesan’s wrist like a bracelet. That way, he would not be able to get beyond a certain distance from him.
No matter what happened, he had to make sure the little master did not run away or vanish here.
After tightening the knot with great care, Youngshin said, as though it were nothing at all,
“Just... in case you get lost.”
The little master lowered his eyes and looked quietly at the cord tied around his wrist for a moment.
Then he raised his head and stared straight at Youngshin.
Something about that expression was oddly unreadable, and it made Youngshin tense a little. Had that sounded too unnatural?
Fortunately, the little master simply moved to a spot not far away and came to a proper, upright stand.
“...I-I think here will be good.”
Then he closed his eyes and began to steady his breathing.
It looked almost like meditation.
Lee Youngshin sat down on a nearby stump and watched with fascinated eyes as the ginseng child he had only ever heard rumors about began to take in spiritual force.
Ten minutes passed like that.
The little master looked as though he had dissolved completely into the landscape. Before long, every trace of presence and energy around him seemed to vanish.
Youngshin had thought it would be over quickly.
Glancing at the little master, he wondered if he should ask how much longer it would take. But the little master still stood there with his eyes closed, concentrating without the slightest movement.
Youngshin pulled out his phone to check the time, then spoke in a small, cautious voice.
“...Little master?”
No answer came.
Maybe he had spoken too softly for him to hear.
After a moment of hesitation, Youngshin got to his feet and strode over.
“Uh... how are you feeling now?”
“......”
“L-little master?”
“......”
At the total lack of response, Youngshin’s face stiffened slightly.
What was this?
Had he fallen asleep standing up?
A sudden, ominous sensation slid over his body. He could not afford to waste any more time.
Growing anxious, he reached out as though under a spell and touched the little body standing there like a statue.
The moment his hand made contact—
“Huh...?”
Lee Youngshin jerked back as if burned.
Then, with a hardened face, he looked at his own hand, then at the little master, then back again.
The feel of it was wrong.
When he had carried him on his back earlier, the little master’s /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ body had been soft and warm.
Now there was no warmth in him at all.
He was cold.
And horribly hard.
“L-little master? Little master!”
Panic seized Youngshin.
He grabbed both of Mesan’s shoulders and tried to shake him awake like a sleeping child.
The small body did not move.
Not even a little.
Youngshin’s face went sheet-white.
How could this be?
It was impossibly heavy.
The little master stood there like a monument hammered into the earth, like a stone guardian fixed in place.
Before bringing him here, Lee Youngshin had prepared himself for all kinds of possibilities. He had thought the little master might shake him off and run. He had thought he might turn aggressive and resist.
But this—
this lay entirely outside anything he had imagined.
He neither ran,
nor resisted,
nor moved at all.
And so Youngshin tried everything.
He fumbled over the little master’s whole body in a frenzy. He grunted and shoved at him. He poured ghostly force into his grip and tried hauling him away with all his strength. He clenched his teeth and tried to lift him in his arms.
None of it worked.
He even pressed his mouth close to his ear and shouted loud enough to split the forest—
but the merciless little master did not open his eyes once.
“Hah... hah... wh-what... what the hell is this...?”
After a useless struggle as futile as wrestling with a boulder, Lee Youngshin finally collapsed onto the ground in exhaustion.
Sweat poured off him like rain.
He could not make sense of it at all.
There was only one thing he knew for certain.
At this rate, he might not be able to take the little master with him.
The instant that thought took hold, a mad sort of obsession seized him.
How had he come all the way here only to fail now?
He could not retreat like this.
But no matter how hard he thought, no way out of this situation came to him. In every sense, he desperately needed help.
The first person who came to mind, like a savior, was Yoon Taehee.
He was close enough to get there within an hour or two, and one of the very few people who could unquestionably help someone of Youngshin’s rank.
“I got it. I’m coming there.”
At long last, he had managed to reach Taehee, and for once Taehee had obediently told him to give the location.
Thank God. fгeewebnovёl.com
Lee Youngshin had no doubt Taehee would find some way to handle it.
Now that the tension had broken, his mind went completely blank.
He sank down onto a tree stump.
