The Ghost of Joseon and the Moon Rabbit

The Money Rabbit

"I have plenty on my plate, I can't babysit you!" I exclaimed, slamming the door shut behind me.

In response, he simply burst into laughter.

"And what might those be? Hunting ghosts perhaps? You don't strike me as a shaman capable of exorcising anyone," he countered.

"Oh, really? So, appearances define abilities now? What, pray tell, does a real shaman look like according to you?" I shot back.

He began to sketch an outline in the air, just in front of me. "Auburn hair, dressed in black, with long, tinkling earrings and a purple scarf embroidered with talismans, accompanied by a mysterious aura and a faint scent of incense."

"That's ridiculous," I said, rolling my eyes at his clichéd description.

My anger was reaching its zenith. I needed to resolve this issue quickly and get this buffoon out of my life.

Stepping forward, I pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Enough with the nonsense, tell me what you want."

Nonchalantly, he dropped onto the sofa. "Oh, it's quite simple really, I need to find the Money Rabbit."

Blinking in surprise, I stared at him. "What? A rabbit? The moon rabbit?"

Sure, we were on the eve of Chuseok, but even for a holiday joke, this was a poor attempt.

"Not the moon," he corrected, "money. I'm pursuing a thieving spirit."

I chuckled at the absurdity of his statement. "Ridiculous. I'm a shaman, not a comedian's agent, so kindly clear off."

He simply shook his head. "Can't do that, I need your help to find it."

"Oh, really? And who do you think you are? The ghost police?"

He paused for a moment, considering my question. "That's a fitting way to describe it, yes."

"Well, Mr. Ghost Cop, I suggest you pursue your delinquent phantom and let me go about my day. I don't have time to play Ghostbusters today."

"The issue," he said, "is that the Money Rabbit might be the real Moon Rabbit. In that case, only a human can help me send it back."

My response was a peal of laughter. Not a chuckle, but a hearty, uncontrollable guffaw that made my stomach hurt and brought tears to my eyes.

"That's the exact issue with this era," he sighed. "Even shamans don't believe in deities anymore."

"Give me a break. Why would a lunar rabbit be wandering around here, in the heart of Seoul?"

"Oh, it doesn't look like a rabbit. Whether it's a thieving spirit or the real moon rabbit, it's highly likely they've assumed a human form."

"But ghosts...", I began, fixing my gaze on him.

"Ghosts have no substance" is what I was about to say. Except, earlier, I had proven the contrary: I'd been able to grab him by the ankles and drag him to the ground. And there was no way this guy was human.

"In other words," I continued, "you're telling me that a divine creature is living in Seoul under a false identity?"

He smiled. "There you go, you've finally understood. It takes a while for you to grasp things, but you catch on fairly quickly in the end."

"And what's in it for me?" I asked.

In response, he offered a cryptic smile.

"Do you understand that I'm not volunteering here?" I insisted. "I have bills to pay, and with the festival and everything, I'm a bit strapped for time."

Once again, his gaze swept over my apartment.

"You don't seem very 'festive'," he commented. "I don't see any lanterns ready and you don't appear to be preparing any songpyeon."

"Hey! Not everyone is as obsessive about tradition."

He looked scandalized. "But it's a sacred festival!"

I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"Okay," he said, meeting my gaze head-on. "Here's what I propose."