Honbul: Flame of the Soul

It was one fresh spring day.

With a creaking sound, a torn paper door swung wide open. The mountain birds busily preening themselves atop the old thatched roof scattered in a flurry. The child who came out through the doorway looked around the yard, then ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) plopped down on the wooden porch. Sleep still clung to his small face. He blinked his hazy eyes a few times, chasing away the lingering dregs of it.

His shoes, which he had taken off, sat neatly on the stone step below. The child slipped them on and stepped out into the yard. Looking around as if searching for someone, he finally spotted a great pine tree with a trunk thick as a house pillar and stopped in front of it. Then he spread both arms wide and hugged the massive tree as tightly as he could.

“I’m hungry.”

The child muttered with his cheek pressed to the bark.

“I said I’m hungry.”

No answer came, no matter how long he waited. His brows twitched, and then, still hugging the tree, he shook it with all his might. A pinecone dropped onto the crown of his head with a light tock.

“Damn it!”

As he rubbed the top of his head, a gentle voice drifted down from the tree.

“That’s what you get. You shouldn’t bully trees.”

“You dropped it!”

“Oh? Calling your teacher ‘you’? How impertinent.”

“Oh? Calling your teacher ‘you’? How impertinent.”

The man had spoken in a stern tone on purpose, but the child rolled back his eyes and mimicked him word for word. He made himself sound ridiculous on purpose, full of mischief. Sitting upright on a branch as thick as a beam, the man let out a snorting laugh.

“What a foul-tempered child.”

The child knew him well. The man had never once truly scolded him. Even when the child spoke carelessly or snapped in irritation, the man only laughed. He called himself a teacher, but he always treated the child as an equal. Sometimes it felt less like teacher and disciple and more like they were friends.

“What would you like to eat?”

At the man’s affectionate question, the child’s eyes rolled thoughtfully.

“Meat.”

The man leaped soundlessly down from the tree. Though he had jumped from quite high up, not so much as a speck of dust rose from the ground.

“Meat the moment you open your eyes?”

“Yeah. Meat soup and white rice.”

Ever since he started traveling with the man, the child had filled out quite a bit. Unlike when he used to live in the village like a stray dog, he had shot up quickly. Back then he had simply been a little child. Now he looked halfway between child and boy, depending on how you looked at him.

The man traveled with the child and taught him, one by one, the things he needed to know to live. Their life was unstable, since they were always moving from place to place, but as long as he was with the man, it was all right. He always slept under a roof now, and he no longer went without meals.

The child and the man wandered through all eight provinces. This time they had settled in an old thatched house halfway up a mountain, unpacking there the night before. The place had been abandoned untouched for so long that it was thick with dust. Because of that, they had spent half the night sweeping and scrubbing every corner of the house before finally going to bed. Now that they had a place to stay for a while, the next problem was their empty stomachs.

“Then let us go out to the market. We can buy fresh paper for the windows while we’re there.”

The man and the child walked side by side down the mountain path toward the village. After being shut away in a lonely house deep in the mountains, stepping into a bustling marketplace full of people made the energy of human life feel palpable. The child’s eyes sparkled as he looked around at the stalls. The sounds of haggling, the cries of vendors trying to stop passersby with promises of good goods, the drunken songs of men flushed with drink... It was a market in every sense.

The man was weaving lazily through the crowd when he suddenly stopped. The child, who should have been beside him, was nowhere to be seen. He looked around. Fortunately, the child was not far away. He was standing in front of a stall hung with strips of well-dried jerky, his mouth slightly open. So he has grown, but he is still a child. Smiling, the man called out to him. In the middle of all the noise, the child somehow heard his voice and turned his head.

That was when it happened.

The child suddenly toppled backward and landed hard.

“My, are you hurt anywhere?”

The man hurried over and helped him back up. Grimacing, the child brushed off his palms. The skin was scraped a little, but thankfully it was not bleeding.

“Something pulled me from behind.”

“Pulled you?”

The child nodded. Just as he tried to step forward, some unknown force from behind had tugged at the bundle slung over his shoulder. He glanced back at it, but it looked perfectly normal to the eye. The man held out his palm.

“Give it here.”

“What?”

“The bundle.”

The child slipped it off his shoulder and handed it over. Without a word, the man took it, loosened the tie, and reached inside. He rummaged around as though searching for something, then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Well now...”

“What?”

The child asked, puzzled by his peculiar expression. The man said nothing and drew out a money pouch from inside the bundle.

“Uh...?”

The pouch, which should have been full of coins, was visibly flatter at a glance. The child’s eyes flew wide, and he snatched it up at once. Just as he thought. No matter how much he squeezed and kneaded it, the contents were pitifully scant.

“What the hell! Where did it all go?!”

The shocked child burst out shouting. No way. That human I brushed against earlier... He rolled up his sleeves and began glaring around. Anger spilled from his sharply slanted eyes.

“What kind of fucking bastard was that?”

“......”

“I ought to tear his arms and legs off, skin him alive, chop his head right—”

“That is enough...”

Startled passersby stole glances at him. As the string of vicious words poured out like rapid fire, the man quickly reached up and tugged on the child’s nose. The neat bridge of it crumpled in an instant. Grinding his teeth, the child glared up at him.

“You should not blame some random human. If a human had done it, the entire pouch would have vanished.”

“Ah.”

The child shut his mouth. Come to think of it, that was true. The man shook out the pouch and checked what remained. Two measly coins. That was all. He clicked his tongue.

“It seems a money ghost attached itself to the pouch.”

“A money ghost?”

“Yes. It is a stray ghost that likes old coins. It sleeps among them in the pouch, and when it smells money all around, it wakes and seizes the chance.”

“So what do we do?”

Money ghosts liked pretending to be coins and sleeping tucked in among the real ones. The older the coins, the more likely they were to draw one in. Then, if the ghost caught the scent of even older coins elsewhere, it grew excited and moved houses. It did not especially harm humans, but when it migrated, it departed loaded down with all the coins it liked best, so people would sometimes wake one day to find their money stolen out from under their noses. Of course, the owner of the coins it moved into would instead discover their pouch mysteriously swollen and think themselves blessed with unexpected luck.

“It is my own failing for not checking first. There is nothing to be done. Money ghosts leave little trace, so they are hard to catch.”

The child looked down gloomily at the two coins left in hand. By contrast, the man remained perfectly calm. To the despondent child, he began listing various admonitions.

“That is why you should keep a pouch of clean salt in any jar where you store money. Stray ghosts all recoil from salt, so naturally a money ghost would also stay away. Or else you can pour all the coins out onto a straw mat and strike them with a supple branch of castor aralia. If you whip the coins evenly, the money ghost hiding among them will be beaten awake from its sleep.”

“So?”

“Hmm?”

“So what about the meat soup?”

“......”

The man stroked his chin with an awkward look.

“It seems today is not our day. Two coins will not be nearly enough.”

Though they wandered the eight provinces, they had usually not lacked for money. As they moved from village to village, the man took commissions from common people and earned well in return. Those commissions were matters only the gifted could resolve.

The man wore his conical hat and went from house to house, knocking on gates. Then he would begin recounting, one by one, details of that house that no one but its owner ought to know. Usually it was about a run of sudden misfortunes, or mysterious dreams that kept repeating, or a family whose health had worsened since moving to a new site. Once he resolved the matter, word naturally spread. Rumors of a remarkable man in a black robe. And when, one day, those same rumors reached the man’s own ears, that was when he left the village without regret.

That was how they had earned their money. And now it had all been wiped out in an instant by a paltry stray ghost.

“What are we to do?”

The man’s eyes shifted as he thought. Where was he supposed to find a commission right away? And with only two coins...

“Never mind meat soup. We may not even be able to eat our fill for a single meal...”

At those words, the child’s shoulders drooped. The man studied the two coins in his palm for a moment, clearly weighing something, and then smiled slightly. It was the look of someone who had thought of an idea. He raised his head and looked around, as though searching for something, then suddenly gripped the child by the shoulder.

“Wait here a moment.”

Leaving behind the child, whose eyes had gone round, the man straightened his crooked hat and strode off somewhere, his black robe fluttering behind him. A little while later, he returned carrying a large pouch in his hand. Apparently he had left to buy it. Food? What had he brought? Curious, the child rose onto his toes, and the tall man bent one knee to show him the contents.

“What is that?”

“With this, I intend to buy my disciple some meat soup.”

He held out four smoothly carved wooden sticks.

“This is called a yut stick.”

At the child’s baffled expression, the man smiled gently.

“In the first month of the year, people throw these and play games. Have you ever done it?”

“Would I have? I’ve been too busy begging and getting beaten half to death all over the place.”

“......”

Fair enough. The man rubbed his chin awkwardly.

“You bought this with the last two coins?”

“Yes. I intend to make up the money with this.”

“How? You’re going to gamble with it and win money?”

The child blinked.

“Alas, I have no talent for that. But I do have talent in another area, do I not?”

“What area?”

“When the sticks are thrown, I read the fortune according to the result.”

“You tell fortunes with this?”

“Indeed.”

Smiling, the man looked around.

“We set up somewhere with good traffic and tell the fortunes of those passing by. To read yut fortunes, you throw the sticks three times and interpret the result. The reading is based on the sixty-four hexagrams of the I Ching. And so there are sixty-four possible outcomes in yut divination as well.”

“Sixty-four? You know all of them?”

“Of course. I have read the I Ching until it wore thin.”

The child’s eyes widened. The man always enjoyed reading books and had quite a gift with words, so the child had known he was learned. But to have memorized all sixty-four patterns? As the child stared in admiration, the man smiled with his eyes and then whispered in a low voice,

“To tell the truth, I only know about fifteen.”

“......”

Are you kidding me.

“Then what about the rest?”

“I told you. I do not know them.”

“Then how are you going to tell fortunes?”

“I told you. I will simply make use of my talent.”

The man led the child to the corner of an empty stall. He spread their bundle out on the ground, then handed him the yut sticks. When the child just stood there blankly, the man gestured.

“Throw them.”

The child tossed the sticks onto the bundle. They rolled with a crisp clattering sound, more pleasant to hear than he had expected. What exactly am I doing here? The man gazed down at the result, then gestured again. The child threw them two more times.

“Let me see. Do, Do, Gae. So it is Do-Do-Gae. And Do-Do-Gae means...”

“Do-Do-Gae. You know this one?”

After thinking a moment, the man nodded.

“A mouse enters the granary. It means wealth slips away.”

“......”

“Sadly, it is correct.”

A money ghost had entered the pouch. The child, who had briefly forgotten it, immediately looked bitter again. If only I had known this earlier... As he sank into gloom, the man laughed, picked up the sticks again, and handed them back over. The child took them and lightly tossed them onto the bundle once more.

“Now then. Do, Geol, Gae. This is Do-Geol-Gae.”

“You know this one too?”

“The starving are fed. It means a hungry person obtains food. Hmm, there is no need to say much about that. It seems we may indeed end up eating meat soup after all.”

At those words, the child’s eyes lit up. At first he had been skeptical, but before he knew it he was thoroughly absorbed in the yut fortune. When a gifted person cast the sticks, perhaps the results really did come true exactly. The man picked them up once again, handed them back, and gestured for him to throw.

“Do, Mo, Geol.”

“Do-Mo-Geol, Do-Mo-Geol, Do-Mo-Geol...”

Something felt off. The child looked up at the man.

“Is it normally like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do they all start with Do?”

“Well now. Is that not simply chance resting in your hand?”

“And what does this mean?”

The man spoke while barely suppressing a smile.

“The cold receive clothing. It means one overcomes hardship through the aid of a noble person. Hmm, and since the only precious connection in my disciple’s life is me, I suppose it means his teacher will earn money and solve his disciple’s next meal.”

“......”

Without a word, the child picked up the yut sticks scattered across the bundle. Then he stood there holding them with his eyes closed, as if savoring something. A moment later, he opened his eyes and hurled them straight onto the ground. Until now the sticks had always passed through the man’s hand first, but this time the child had picked them up and thrown them himself. The result did not begin with Do. It began with Mo.

“Fraud.”

“Fraud? Did I not tell you earlier? I was merely making use of my talent.”

“You said you only knew about fifteen, but you knew the meaning all three times.”

The child shot him a sidelong glare.

Chuckling, the man bent and picked up the sticks the child had thrown. The child was clever and quick to catch on; he never disappointed him. In truth, the man only knew the hexagrams that began with Do. So, after some thought, each time he handed the sticks to the child, he had quietly infused them with a trace of ghostly force. Each time the child threw them, the sticks had turned on their own, just as the man had arranged beforehand.

“Are you upset?”

“Of course I am. I thought all those fortunes were real, and I got my hopes up.”

“Hmm. You do not know that.”

The child turned sharply away and began stuffing their things back into the bundle. His eyes, already sharp enough to look ill-tempered even at rest, had grown positively dangerous. Seeing the expression on his face, the man adjusted his hat and smiled awkwardly.

“I will use my talent to make all those fortunes come true.”

The child slung the bundle over his shoulder and started off ahead of him.

“And you shall most certainly eat meat soup as well.”

The child acted as though he had not heard a thing and strode away from the stall. The marketplace was full of both people and stray ghosts, and the man did not like the idea of letting him go off alone like that. Why is he so angry? It was only a little joke. Knowing nothing of the child’s heart, he followed after him on long, easy steps.

“Cold-hearted disciple.”

The man called after him, laughter in his voice.

“Gyeom!”

‘Gyeom!’

‘Jaegyeom!’

“Jaegyeom!”

Startled, Jaegyeom swayed and jerked his head up.

“Huh?”

“Your homeroom teacher wants you in the Faculty Office.”

The face standing in front of him was unfamiliar.

“Ah. Ah. Uh...”

The boy who had finished speaking left the classroom with his bag over one shoulder. Jaegyeom looked around with a dazed expression. Was seventh period geography? He was sure he had been listening to class... He had been propping up his chin and must have drifted off for a moment. Apparently class and homeroom were already over. The room was a mess of after-school noise—students staying behind for self-study, students cleaning the classroom, students heading home.

After sitting there blankly for a while, Jaegyeom rubbed his wrist. Maybe because he had been leaning on it so long, it throbbed. Getting to his feet after a long pause, he happened to glance at one empty chair.

It was Jo Youngwoo’s seat. Looks like he went home first. Well, I did snap at him for no reason...

“......”

So... in the end, did we ever eat the meat soup?

Jaegyeom staggered out into the hallway, pushing his way through the flood of people.