Osratida - Chapter 6

Shinhee’s face stiffened, his expression cold and unyielding. Facing an 800-year-old serpent was terrifying enough, but now a wraith? The mere existence of such a thing was almost unbelievable.

“It’s not a matter of ten years or even fifty—this ghost has roamed the earth for 800 years. And you think you can just catch it? It wasn’t out of ignorance that I couldn’t exorcise the spirit clinging to that man. When their eyes burn red, you know it’s not a spirit to be taken lightly. If you don’t want to meet a grisly end, drained of your blood by that ghost wearing your face, you have no choice but to face it. But let’s be clear, Go Shinhee—no matter how gifted you are, you’re nowhere near ready to deal with something like that. That’s why I’m telling you, train under me, and do it properly.”

Shinhee could exorcise spirits, yes, but becoming a shaman? That was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. Yet, his master’s offer was tempting, not beyond his abilities. Like anyone standing at the crossroads between talent and interest, Shinhee found himself burdened by the weight of a decision that could shape his future.

If he were to officially take up exorcism, Shinhee feared he might never again be able to pursue his true passion—painting. Dealing with ghosts was no longer frightening or even particularly taxing, but it remained a dangerous occupation. It was a job that, at times, required staking more than just one’s life, and Shinhee valued himself too much to risk his well-being on something he didn’t even enjoy. However, the fact that a dangerous, ancient spirit was roaming the world wearing his exact face was a different matter entirely.

As the great shaman had warned, if he let this ghost continue to wander unchecked, it could very well overtake him, much like the doppelgängers in folktales that eventually consume their hosts. And if that were to happen… Shinhee’s heart pounded with unease. While he could handle most ghosts without much trouble, there was no way he could capture a spirit so dangerous that even his master, who had spent a lifetime as a shaman, couldn’t bring it down.

Charging in recklessly could leave him crippled for life, or worse, if another disaster like today struck, the consequences could be far more dire than he could afford.

This time, he’d been lucky enough to avoid disaster, but next time, the blade thrown by the ghost could very well pierce his throat. If he truly wanted to live out a long life, he knew the right thing to do was to heed his master’s advice, begin serious training, and quickly gather the skills needed to capture that ancient ghost and send it to the afterlife. But the thought of fully committing to this path meant he might have to give up painting for good—a fear that held him back.

His passion for art had run far too deep for him to leave it behind as a mere hobby like others might. In every vision of his future, he saw himself painting. He wanted to capture the faint traces of the most pitiful and fragile souls he had exorcised—spirits no longer able to cling to this world—and immortalize them in his artwork. He longed to leave behind something tangible, a testament to their existence, through the strokes of his brush.

For Shinhee, painting was his way of performing a ritual for the wandering souls, those whose bodies had faded away and left only their spirits behind, aimlessly roaming the world. To him, there was no task more valuable or meaningful.

Exorcism may have been his calling, but his heart lays in painting, and despite the clarity of the path he should choose, he hesitated.

“What’s got you so indecisive? Is it because of you love painting?”
his master asked.

“…”

Shinhee couldn’t respond. He wasn’t sure if the choice before him would be a blessing or a curse, and that uncertainty kept him from taking his master’s hand. His teacher, who had raised him from the start, seemed to understand this deep hesitation and waited silently.

The quiet in the shrine stretched on. Outside, a childlike spirit grew restless, wandering near the doorway. Soon, other spirits from the Golden Shrine gathered behind the child, their curiosity piqued. Even the household deities and the guardian spirits peeked in, their faces appearing at the edge of the doorframe, watching with interest.

The great shaman waved her hand dismissively, signaling the spirits to clear out and let her work, but the ghosts, driven more by curiosity than by the scolding of a mere mortal shaman, had no intention of leaving. As the silent scuffle continued between the spirits and his master, Shinhee, who had been stubbornly holding his tongue, finally spoke.

“Then just until I help that ghost find peace. I’ll only do it until then. Once I’ve captured that spirit, I want to go back to doing what I love. Besides, I don’t even have the money to keep going to school right now.”

Though Shinhee hadn’t voiced the biggest reason behind his decision, the great shaman’s eyes narrowed knowingly. Her expression seemed to challenge him, as if daring him to go ahead and try. Stung by the unspoken provocation, Shinhee, without realizing, snapped and added,
“I mean it!”

“I’ll still handle the occasional wandering spirit… just like I do now,”
Shinhee mumbled, though he didn’t dare raise his voice too much.

Just then, a faint breeze slipped through the crack in the door, brushing past the shrine. As the gust swept through, it seemed to carry with it the breath of the guardian deity. The master of the Golden Shrine closed his piercing eyes and took a few deep breaths before finally continuing.

“The General has decreed that you pack your things and move in by the end of this week.”

And so began Shinhee’s long, arduous struggle.

—

[1. On the outside, everything seemed fine, but…]

2. There are all kinds of people in this world. <A Record from May 2021>

Ha Gyo-jin was a man anyone would envy—born into a wealthy family, with good looks, a sharp mind, and an extraordinary business acumen. He naturally possessed everything that people in a capitalist society deem important. His slightly aloof and cynical personality could be considered a flaw, but it was a minor one, easily overlooked when compared to his many strengths.

However, Ha Gyo-jin had one fatal weakness that overshadowed all of his other qualities—his inborn “condition.”

Ha Gyo-jin’s thirty-one years of life had been a constant balancing act on the edge of life and death. Before he underwent a shamanic ritual at the famous Golden Shrine at the age of seven, he was constantly plagued by severe illnesses or found himself caught in accidents and mishaps. In a way, he hadn’t been living—he had merely survived.

Dragged by his mother to the shrine, desperate to understand whether it was a shamanic calling or the influence of a wandering spirit, they sought answers. The shaman spoke of a murderous spirit from his past life and handed him talismans to ward off malevolent forces. His mother, Mrs. Kim, was convinced that if he hadn’t carried these talismans—said to suppress the presence of spirits—every day, Ha Gyo-jin would either be dead or living a wretched life as a cripple.

Ha Gyo-jin himself was indifferent to such beliefs, though he couldn’t completely ignore them either. Whenever he started to regain even the slightest sense of peace, something would inevitably happen, hitting him out of nowhere like a blow to the back of the head.

The “big incidents” in Ha Gyo-jin’s life occurred every three years like clockwork. According to the great shaman of the Golden Shrine, these events were caused by forces so powerful that even the talismans couldn’t hold them back. While these major disruptions were rare, they shaped a life that was far too tumultuous to simply laugh off as bad luck.

Yet, Ha Gyo-jin’s life, put kindly, was a series of unfortunate coincidences, and more bluntly, a streak of relentless misfortune. Today was just another one of those unlucky days. No—today was particularly bad, even for him.

He often wondered if a person’s total fortune was pre-set from birth. If that were the case, he figured he must have burned through all his luck early on, born into wealth and privilege, leaving him with not even 1% of luck to rely on for the rest of his life.

Despite all the talk of ghosts and spiritual forces, Ha Gyo-jin was at his core a rational man. He believed only in what he could see, his mind far more inclined towards reason than emotion.

As usual, Ha Gyo-jin woke up at 5:30 AM, refreshed after a jog. However, when he returned home, he found the door lock had mysteriously broken. It had been working just fine the day before, and now he was left wondering what had gone wrong. This little mishap forced him to wait outside for an hour and a half for a repairman to arrive.

At least, he thought, there was a silver lining. If such bad luck had struck him so early in the morning, surely the rest of the day would be calm. But reality seemed intent on mocking his optimism; today, misfortune struck him every four hours.

During an important meeting, he encountered a buyer who just so happened to be the father of a woman he had briefly dated and had a very unpleasant breakup with—thanks to her terrible drinking habits. Later, dressed in his freshly tailored suit, he was unexpectedly doused by a group of rowdy elementary school kids armed with water guns.

After hurriedly changing into dry clothes, he finally made it to a matchmaking meeting, only to find that it was going just as poorly as the rest of his day.

“How could you do this to me?”

The scene unfolding before Ha Gyo-jin felt like something out of a second-rate morning drama—completely implausible.

He maintained a deadpan expression, refusing to respond. This only seemed to heighten the anxiety of the stranger who had just called him “babe.”
The man shouted again, his face tense.
“We were supposed to go to the Netherlands together and have a wedding! And now you’re on a date with another woman?”

“Who are you?”
Ha Gyo-jin replied flatly, utterly bewildered. The man was talking about a trip to the Netherlands, yet here he was, someone who, by nature, never even approached the airport.

A rare commotion broke out in the quiet, upscale restaurant known for being a popular dating spot—according to Secretary Park—drawing the attention of all the other patrons.

“Oh wow, looks like a live gay love triangle is happening! I’ve never seen anything like this,”
people whispered among themselves, glancing over at Ha Gyo-jin. The whole situation was absurd. He didn’t know this man, had no inclination towards being called “babe” by anyone, and, most importantly, this wasn’t just a casual meal; he was on a matchmaking date with the youngest daughter of Hwangsae Chemical, representing two prominent families.

Everything about the scenario was utterly ridiculous, yet strangely, he couldn’t muster a laugh. Instead of expressing any specific emotion, Ha Gyo-jin slowly alternated his gaze between the agitated stranger and the young woman from Hwangsae Chemical sitting across from him.