Mudoo - Chapter 58

Dressed in a shabby leather jacket, Yeomra had a checkered shirt tied tightly around her waist. Her faded, ripped jeans and long, wavy hair hanging limply over her shoulders made her look like some kind of human junk dealer. It was as if she’d just picked up random, mismatched clothes off the street and thrown them on.

That woman… was Yeomra?

Kang Tae-shin didn’t know whether to believe it or not. He narrowed his eyes at her, and Gangnim cut in.

“Hard to believe, I know… but sometimes she comes down to the living world to enjoy a bit of fun.”

Having polished off her bowl of gukbap, Yeomra wiped her mouth with a tissue, then stepped down from the wooden platform and stopped in front of Kang Tae-shin.

“You’ve eaten the peach of immortality.”

Her tone carried a hint of intrigue.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a human with an undying fate.” She studied his face closely, her gaze like someone examining a rare specimen. Tae-shin found her stubborn, unblinking stare more than a little unpleasant.

As if that wasn’t enough, Yeomra circled him once, like she was inspecting a piece of art. Even when his expression made it clear he didn’t appreciate it, she didn’t care.

“Not a bad face you’ve got there. With looks and a frame like that, I can see why you’d want to live a long time.”

“Never thought that way.”

Tae-shin’s reply was firm. The sudden informality in his voice seemed to catch her off guard for a moment, but she quickly recovered her composure.

“Then why? Why eat the peach?”

“To save my family. To push it past the throat of someone who was dying, I had to bite into it first.”

“I suppose the one you wanted to save still ended up on the road to the afterlife?”

“……”

“Well, judging from the fact that you’re standing here alone.”

There was no trace of pity or sympathy on Yeomra’s face. After judging so many humans, she’d grown used to wearing an expression of bored detachment.

“I’ll never understand why humans are so twisted,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “You gobble up the fruit of immortality without permission, and now you’re begging to die because you’ve had enough?”

She’d nailed it. Yeomra had put into words exactly what Tae-shin wanted to say.

He had lived for an unbearably long time, long enough to see and experience things no one should have to. Staying alive felt like a curse. But after Seula was gone, living became even more like hell. No… maybe hell would’ve been easier.

“I don’t want to live anymore.”

If Yeomra wouldn’t take him to the afterlife, he looked ready to swim across the Samdocheon River himself.

Yeomra burst out laughing. Then, stroking her chin, she seemed to think for a moment before carefully choosing her words.

“How about becoming a reaper? One of the keepers of the death records?”

Gangnim, who was standing nearby, jerked his head toward her in shock.

“What? How can a mere human become a reaper?”

“Every reaper, every messenger of death, was once human. Even you, Gangnim.”

Leaning slightly against Tae-shin’s shoulder, Yeomra went on.

“Those who take their own lives all become reapers or messengers. They spend hundreds, maybe thousands of years serving me, settling their karma. Forgetting their original names, their memories, everything.”

Kang Tae-shin clenched his limp-hanging fist tight. He’d seen reapers and Gangnim himself spend countless years hunting down the dead. That kind of life was nothing worth living for.

“I don’t want to live like that.”

Gangnim, who was living exactly like that, shot him a look as if to say, How dare you? But Tae-shin didn’t even bother to turn his head toward him.

“You hate this, you hate that… humans really are greedy, sinful creatures.” Yeomra sighed deeply, arms crossed.

“Whether you ate the peach to save someone, or just because you craved immortality, your reason doesn’t matter. Every fate is the result of your own choices.”

Since letting Yeo-ok go, Tae-shin hadn’t aged a single day. But his face bore the deep, weary marks of countless battles with life and death. The loneliness and pain of immortality lingered in his eyes.

“Cut the talk. Take me to the afterlife. I just want to sleep forever now.”

“If you’re going to be that stubborn, why don’t you become the Lord of the Underworld instead?” Yeomra narrowed her eyes, her tone sharp with sarcasm. But Tae-shin stood firm, unshaken.

A fierce tension sparked between them, silent, but it felt like flames snapping in the air.

Yeomra was the one to turn away first.

“There is one thing I’d like, though.”

Tae-shin’s expression hardened. “What is it?”

“Your memories. Hand them over to me.”

Yeomra’s face was dead serious now, more than he’d ever seen before. Her eyes even glimmered.

“If you give me your memories, I can’t take you straight to the afterlife… but I can make you age naturally and die in your own time.”

Tae-shin’s eyes drifted down to Dong-gil. Memories of the old master, of Yeo-ok, of Dong-gil, and of Seula flashed through his mind like a lantern reel.

“Yes, yes… those exact memories you’re thinking about right now. Those are what I want.”

Dong-gil looked up at him and let out a low whine.

“Kang Tae-shin… Kang Tae-shin…”

Watching their tender exchange, Yeomra smirked faintly.

“Don’t worry about the spirit beast. They can choose to stay in the living world forever, or cross the Samdocheon anytime they wish to follow their master. That’s why they’re spirit beasts.”

Dong-gil didn’t want Tae-shin to hand over his memories. If those memories vanished, there’d be no one left who remembered their shared past, no one to reminisce about the old master or talk about Yeo-ok. And Seula… what then?

Tae-shin lowered his hand to stroke Dong-gil’s chin. His eyes were clouded with conflict and worry.

“There’s only one way. If you don’t want even this… then there’s nothing I can do for you. Maybe we’ll never see each other again, because you won’t be able to reach the afterlife.”

Yeomra started to make preparations as if she was about to leave. Whether it was to hurry his decision or simply to make him sweat, it worked.

Looking quietly at Dong-gil, Tae-shin let a faint smile slip across his lips. Then he turned to Yeomra and spoke dryly, almost carelessly.

“Do it.”

“…What?”

“Take my memories. And return my body to how it was before I ate the peach of immortality.”

“Don’t come crying to me later if you regret it. It’ll be too late then.”

If he was going to lose his memories anyway, there’d be nothing left to regret. Kang Tae-shin gave a short nod toward Yeomra, who was practically glowing with excitement.

Then he bent down on one knee to meet Dong-gil’s eyes.

“From now on, you take care of me. I’ve been the one looking after you all this time, time for you to earn your keep.”

“When have I ever just taken and never given? When have I ever…?”

Dong-gil couldn’t really grasp what it meant for someone to lose all their memories. He couldn’t guess what kind of future this choice might lead to. But one thing was certain, Tae-shin couldn’t keep going like this.

Living with the end called “death” was one thing. Living forever with no end in sight was something else entirely. He had no will, no reason to keep going. He just wanted it all to stop.

After a farewell that wasn’t quite a farewell, Tae-shin stepped up to Yeomra and raised his eyebrows.

“So what do I do now?”

Yeomra’s lips curled slowly into a smile.

“You don’t need to do anything. Just stand there.”

She raised both hands and began to stir the air. With every sweep of her fingers, fragments of Tae-shin’s memories were drawn out of his head. Scenes from the past flickered before his eyes, surfacing, scattering, and then being swallowed back into darkness.

A pain like his heart being torn apart surged through him. Countless emotions faded along with the disappearing memories.

***

At the annex of Pungwol-gak, Tae-shin lay on the bedding while Gangnim and Dong-gil kept watch over him.

“So… he can really grow old and die now, like a normal human? Like a normal human?”

“Well… if Yeomra said so, then I suppose it’s true, isn’t it?”

“So Kang Tae-shin… is finally just a regular human? A regular human?”

Dong-gil stared down at the sleeping Tae-shin. On the outside, nothing seemed different at all.

Then Tae-shin’s eyelids twitched.

“You awake? You’re awake?”

Dong-gil lifted a paw and shook him gently. Tae-shin woke with a groan, pressing his fingers hard against his temples as if his head hurt.

He let out a deep sigh, then frowned at Dong-gil, whose paw was still on him.

“Since when does a mutt talk?”

Dong-gil’s mouth dropped open.

“Did you just call me a mutt? A mutt?!”

Even without his memories, maybe some parts of Tae-shin’s nature would never change. Dong-gil stood there, shuffling his paws in a panic, unsure how to deal with a Kang Tae-shin who didn’t remember him at all.