Mudoo - Chapter 33

The event was going smoothly. A seasoned announcer, currently popular from a variety show, was hosting, and between the award ceremony and celebratory performances, there was no shortage of entertainment.

Seula kept her focus on the food laid out on the table. It was a full-course spread, and while it was mildly uncomfortable having to share dishes with Cheonwol-mansin and a few nameless shamans, the food itself was excellent.

“You’d think I’d been starving you or something,” Tae-shin muttered, glancing at her as she ate. Embarrassed, Seula wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“You should eat well too, Kang Tae-shin. You need energy if you’re going to work.”

She reached toward the fruit basket to grab an orange for dessert, but her hand barely missed it, falling just short.

“I guess there’s nothing you can do about being short,” Tae-shin said with a smirk, grabbing an orange himself. He peeled it and tore it into segments, then pushed a piece into her mouth as she glared at him.

It had only been a few hours since she told him to stop being confusing, and clearly, Tae-shin had zero ability—or interest—in learning. Either that, or he never planned to listen in the first place.

Seula bit down—hard—on his finger as he fed her the orange. Startled for a second, Tae-shin met her eyes before returning to his usual unbothered expression.

“Even Dong-gil doesn’t bite. But here you are.”

“You shouldn’t go around feeding people you have no feelings for. What if I misinterpret and do something dangerous?”

“Like what? Stalking? Kidnapping? Getting me drunk and doing unspeakable things?”

“That’s the kind of thing those crazy guys who follow Hobun around would do, not me. And you really think I’d go that far?”

She rolled her eyes. She hadn’t said she would—but he was already treating her like she had.

“If you really want to try, be my guest. I’ll cooperate.”

“Why would I cooperate with something like that…?”

“Because it’d be a refreshing little twist in an otherwise boring life?”

Tae-shin smiled softly, his eyes crinkling. Then he slipped a piece of pineapple into her mouth this time.

Seula gave up on having any kind of normal conversation with him and let her gaze wander around the banquet hall again, still curious. She leaned in close to Tae-shin and whispered,

“Hey, I’ve got a question.”

“What is it?”

“When we visited Cheonwol-mansin, the room was full of spirits. But here, I don’t see a single one.”

“They probably left them back in their shrines.”

“You can do that? Just detach and reattach like Velcro?”

Tae-shin chuckled quietly, covering his mouth with a hand as he leaned toward her ear.

“Even most shamans can’t see the spirits they serve. You just have your spiritual sight wide open. That’s all. Still, it’s better to pretend you don’t see them—even when you do. You never know when something will pop out. So stay alert.”

What was this? Some kind of summoning system where spirits come running as soon as a shaman rings a bell or opens a fan? Seula had way too many questions—and zero desire to dig deeper into this world. So she let it go.

***

She had eaten quite a bit, after all.

The event dragged on longer than expected. At one point, Seula slipped out of the banquet hall for a bathroom break.

As she finished washing her hands and was about to leave, she noticed a woman blocking the exit.

Dressed in a black hanbok with her hair tightly pinned up, the woman was clearly another shaman attending the event.

Assuming she’d move out of the way on her own, Seula walked toward the door. But as the distance between them shrank, something felt… off.

The woman’s gaze stung like thorns brushing against her skin. The air around her felt freezing cold, and a chill ran through her entire body.

“So it was you. No wonder I smelled something delicious.”

There were a few things Seula had always been curious about—like why shamans wore such heavy makeup, or why they talked so rudely to people they’d never met. She could let the first slide, but the second always irked her.

“Who teaches you to talk like that? Is there some kind of shaman school for speaking in a rude casual?”

The woman stepped forward, stopping just shy of touching Seula’s toes. Then, with the back of her hand, she lifted Seula’s chin and ran her eyes slowly and piercingly over her face.

“You’re pretending to be a shaman, huh? When you’re clearly not one. So who are you, really?”

She had struck Seula right where she was most vulnerable—her identity. That question always left her speechless. So this time, she went with the tried-and-true method. Answer a question with a question.

“And who are you?”

“Geumhwa.”

The name flew out instantly, like a ping-pong ball smacked back. Seula blinked. That wasn’t what she meant to ask.

“Okay, sure. Miss Geumhwa. Could you step aside a little? I need to get back to my seat.”

This whole situation was starting to feel annoying—and frankly, exhausting. Normally, she might have been more curious, maybe even amused. But all she felt now was unease.

Everything about this woman rubbed her the wrong way. Even the air felt murky and oppressive. All she wanted was to get far, far away from her.

“Go? Where? I need to know what this delicious smell coming off of you is.”

“What smells? There’s plenty of good food in the hall. If you’re hungry, go eat.”

“You having a mudoo, aren’t you?”

“…!”

Seula stared at Geumhwa, startled.

Her skin had long since cleared. The mudoo had disappeared—no traces remained. Well, according to Tae-shin, maybe not entirely.

“The mudoo might be gone, but the scent’s still there.”

“It’s not something people can smell. Only wandering spirits can.”

It had been a long time since she remembered that conversation.

Apparently, the scent left behind was enough to attract not just ghosts… but even the shamans who serve the gods.

The symptoms were gone. Her body was clean. Yet this woman had seen through her instantly. She really must’ve been a real shaman.

“But why?” Geumhwa muttered to herself, peering intently at Seula’s face. “You’re not a shaman. Not even a spiritual vessel. So why do you have the mudoo’s mark?”

Her eyes scanned every inch of Seula’s face like she was inspecting something rare. And with that, Seula’s patience finally snapped.

She felt sick to her stomach, a wave of disgust rising to her throat.

“Ugh, would you move already?! Why are you blocking the way?”

Her voice came out sharper and louder than she expected. She’d never spoken to anyone with this much open hostility before.

Even she was shocked at herself—but right now, she didn’t care. She just wanted fresh air.

Rushing up the stairs, only one thought filled her head. The rooftop. I need the rooftop.

She caught sight of a sign labeled Sky Garden and followed its arrow, bursting through a heavy metal door.

“Haah… haah…”

Finally, she could breathe. She clutched at her chest, taking in deep gulps of air.

What the hell just happened?

That woman wasn’t a ghost—definitely human—but she kept going on about some ‘delicious smell.’ And the way she approached… it wasn’t just creepy, it felt outright dangerous.

Seula rolled up her sleeve and rubbed her arm to check if the goosebumps were gone. For a second, it felt like maybe she’d imagined the whole thing.

Then—BANG!

The metal door slammed open.

Geumhwa, in that black hanbok and heavy makeup, had followed her all the way up. She smiled—a long, twisted smile—and started dancing toward her like it was the most fun she’d had all day.

“Thought you could run away?”

Her voice dripped with amusement. Seula swallowed hard. Something about the air changed—a silent warning before a storm.

Geumhwa suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Seula’s throat with both hands. Seula staggered back, her spine hitting the railing. Geumhwa’s eyes gleamed with malice.

“My holy spirit desires your body,” she hissed.

Her grip tightened. Seula struggled to breathe. Desperately, she fought to pry Geumhwa’s hands off her neck.