Ballad of the Mountain Fox

제 35 장: Arirang Part 2

After Han Yuri and Jimin had completed the uncomfortable task of introducing the shaman and explaining why Jimin had been to visit her, the four of us finally set off for the Oh Estate. Young Min had not been happy to meet the woman who had cursed him, or to have been reminded of Jimin's ill-intentions towards him, but he had taken the news better than most humans would have. He merely remained in a stony silence for the entire trip, always glaring at something in the distance while his horse plodded along beside us. It wasn't until we had reached the Oh household and he had dismounted that he finally seemed to rouse himself from his dark musings and focus more on the task at hand.

The smell of death is unusual. Unlike other scents, this one is not always the same. Cinnamon, for instance, always smells like cinnamon, and fire, like fire. But death changes. Dying from old age, for instance, has a different odor from that of famine, or war.

It was this last scent that permeated the air as we slipped off our shoes and padded down the dark wooden hallway of the Oh household. This scent was not as strong as war, but something similar—sweat and blood mingled with fear and desperation. It was raw and acerbic, tinged with the promise of decay.

The door to the guest room slid open, revealing the prone form of the servant, pale and shivering on a bedroll. Fever had broken out in a light sweat across his forehead, and the blanket had been pushed aside to reveal the crimson stain seeping through the bandage around his waist. From the looks of it, he had been stabbed in the liver. He would not have survived the next hour.

"Heavens above," the shaman muttered, swiftly moving forward and crouching beside the man to perform the ritual.

The ceremony was simple and short. A few muttered words of nonsense, a few rhyming words of Korean, and then Han Yuri pressed the two halves of Jimin's stone above the injured servant's wound, where they dissolved through the fabric of the bandage and the man responded with a sudden intake of breath. His eyes were still closed, but it already looked as though he was breathing easier.

"He should recover in the next few days," Han Yuri said, standing up. "Still, it would be best to not move him until he completely regains his health."

"Thank goodness," Young Min breathed. Jimin remained silent, gaze directed at the floor.

I heaved a sigh. "Well, I'd best be off, then," I announced to no one in particular. The room was far too gloomy for my tastes, and I had dinner to catch.

I had made it outside and down the front path when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Moon Sun! Wait!"

I shifted the gayageum under my arm and turned around to face the nobleman.

"You're not limping as much anymore," I commented. "That's good." His aura had also lost a bit of that sickly green that had clung to it for so long.

"I—yes," Young Min replied. "I wanted to ask—have you seen Nara? I lost track of her in the crowds at the marketplace after your performance."

My instinct was to snarl and tell him it was none of my concern—after all, hadn't I fulfilled the promise I had made? I didn't have to worry about breaking curses or talking to anyone anymore. But for some reason, my ire didn't arise to the inquiry.

"I'll keep an eye out," was all I said. "Have a good life, Park Young Min."

"Wait!" he interjected before I could turn away. "Thank you—for all you've done. For helping me, and helping Won Soo. I didn't trust you at first—I thought I could live my life just from lessons and schooling alone, and I realize now that there are just some things that can't be explained by reason or logic. Thank you for not leaving me to my fate as a cripple."