The Ghost of Joseon and the Moon Rabbit

A Startling Encounter!

Seoul, 2023

What in the world was happening? Time and time again, the cosmos seemed to have a knack for presenting me with the most outlandish predicaments. Once again, I, Jin Eun-bi, found myself confronted with a complete stranger who had made himself at home within the very confines of my apartment!

He was lounging on my sofa, sipping tea as leisurely as if he owned the place. Had it not been for his unusual attire, he could easily have been mistaken for one of my eccentric pieces of furniture.

He was tall, possessing strikingly defined features. His dark eyes were inscrutable beneath the shade of a jade-encrusted gat perched atop a neat bun. His face suggested that he was perhaps on the threshold of thirty or in the earlier part of the decade, a supposition emphasized by the mint-green hanbok and a deep green jeogori he was wearing - the latter bearing signs of better days.

As I entered, he arched an eyebrow, displaying an audacity as if I were the intruder in my own home, not him.

"I don't usually entertain spectres at this hour," I retorted, tugging at the sleeves of my pyjamas. "You might want to come back later. Or better yet, not at all."

"Such a warm reception," he commented, displaying no signs of being phased. "Are you always this cheerful in the morning?"

I let out a heavy sigh, not bothering to veil my vexation.

"Why are you here?" I asked, eager for answers.

"Madam, it's a rather intricate matter, I fear."

"Of course, they always say that."

"They?" he queried, standing up to fetch a bottle of makgeolli from my fridge.

"Hey!" I objected, snatching the bottle from his hands. "Don't hold back, make yourself at home."

Our eyes locked for the first time, and his eyelids fluttered slightly.

"Really? May I? You're kinder than you appear."

Was he joking? I was torn between laughing and screaming. As a practicing shaman for over five years, I had encountered my fair share of spectral entities, but this one was truly a phantom nonpareil!

Stepping back, I withdrew from the kitchen area of my apartment. Keeping my eyes glued on him, I slipped into the living room and my hand instinctively clasped onto a ceremonial sword that was more decoration than a weapon.

His gaze followed my every move and he studied me with a smirk.

"Do you know how to use that?" he asked, a note of mockery in his tone.

"Who knows? I might be full of surprises," I shot back, my grip on the hilt firming.

He shrugged nonchalantly, clearly unimpressed, and brought the half-filled makgeolli glass to his lips.

Choosing to ignore me, he wandered around my apartment.

"So, this is what a modern-day shaman's abode looks like?"

Drawing the blade from its sheath, I followed him, sword pointed towards him.

"You might injure yourself holding it like that," he remarked, glancing over his shoulder.

"What do you want from me?"

He sauntered into my bedroom, taking in its surroundings.

"You're not exactly a neat freak," he observed before tossing his hat aside and sprawling himself across my bed. "Not bad, pretty comfortable."

Spoting my handbag hanging from the door rack, I rummaged inside it and pulled out a vial of salt. I uncorked the vial with my teeth and flung its contents at him.

He brushed it off nonchalantly.

"Save me these trifles. The journey was long," he said, glancing out of the window before his eyes landed on the geomungo in the corner of the room.

"Do you play?" he asked.

His casual demeanor was startling. It was as if we were old friends, and our situation was as mundane as an afternoon chat. Having a handful of salt thrown in his face by a sword-wielding girl seemed to be part of his regular routine.

I approached him cautiously, my sword still pointed in his direction. With my free hand, I reached out and pinched what was within my reach – his big toe.

"Ouch!" he yelped.

I stared at him, taken aback. He felt... tangible.

Recovering my wits, I leveled the sword towards his face. "You... What exactly are you?" I demanded.