Osratida - Chapter 9

These days, Gyojin had been overly sensitive, to the point where even he could recognize it. This year was one of those “years” that came once every three years, so he couldn’t help but be sharp about everything surrounding him. Cold water battered his bare body, but he kept his eyes closed, enduring the icy stream.

Having finished his shower, Gyojin opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of beer. Just then, his phone, casually tossed on the sofa, began vibrating noisily. He picked it up and checked the caller ID.

“Yes,” he answered.
“I heard everything from Director Jeong.”

As expected, the purpose of the call was so predictable that he didn’t even feel like scoffing.

“So, Gyojin, are you really not going?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to; I simply can’t.”
“What about the matchmaking meeting with the Hwang family’s daughter?”
“Haven’t you heard from Mother? It’s completely over.”

A small sigh was heard from the other side of the line.

“… Is there really no way?”
“For what? The business trip or the matchmaking meeting?”

Twirling the beer can in his hand, Gyojin replied indifferently.

“Both.”
“Then I’ll have to say neither is possible.”
“Why not the matchmaking meeting?”
“I’m not the one rejecting it; they are. They probably think I’m a homosexual trying to stage a sham marriage.”
“A homo-what?”

Hearing his father’s incredulous response, Gyojin opened the can and drank deeply. The sound of the beer being gulped down echoed through the quiet living room.

“What on earth happened?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. I don’t know who’s behind it, but if someone wanted to block my path to marriage, they’ve succeeded brilliantly.”
“It’s just a baseless rumor that’ll die down soon.”
“Who knows? Rumors spread fast in this industry.”
“Once that absurd rumor fades, they won’t want to let you go.”

Gyojin couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“Not that I particularly care.”
“Gyojin.”

His father’s stern tone made Gyojin shrug nonchalantly. Neither side seemed particularly eager. Just as he hadn’t liked the other party, Hwang Sunjeong didn’t seem to fancy him much either. He could tell that from the brief glances they exchanged. There was no chance they’d meet again as anything other than business partners.

His father let out a few more low sighs before deciding to change the subject.

“Gyojin, at least reconsider the business trip.”
“You know this, Father: I don’t leave South Korea.”
“But there are still months left!”

Just the thought of being on a plane made Gyojin shudder. Whether it was a bird strike, a crash, or hijacking, he felt like he was cursed to attract misfortune. Some might call it paranoia, but Gyojin firmly believed his “fate” increased the likelihood of such “bad luck.”

“Then perhaps you should go, Father.”
“I’m in my bad-luck year.”
“This is my last bad-luck year, too.”

“… Regardless, I’m absolutely not going overseas unless I bring a shaman with me.”

“Get some rest. You’ll be busy tomorrow,” Gyojin ended the father-son back-and-forth with a “good night.” Just as he was about to press the end-call button, a faint voice came through the phone.

“So, all I need is to bring a shaman?”

Gyojin dismissed the comment without giving it much thought and ended the call.

At just thirty years old, he lacked the experience to outwit his father. He had completely forgotten that where Director Ha raced on the ground, Chairman Ha soared above in a helicopter.

—

Unbinding a bound spirit required a form of ritual. Though Shinhee was more of a “freelance exorcist” than an official shaman, years of working under a master had made him skilled enough to perform minor rituals.

He had brought her to the National Museum of Korea. It was open for evening hours, but there were fewer people than expected, which worked in their favor.

Who would’ve thought a passing glance while chasing a ghost in this area would come in handy? Leading her past displays of lacquerware inlaid with mother-of-pearl, Shinhee guided her to a large exhibition hall. Her wide, curious eyes sparkled, and he found the sight quite endearing.

Caught up in her delight, Shinhee suddenly froze at a realization. I’m doomed.

The day had come when he found a ghost with her head severed and bleeding tears… cute. This new self-awareness brought on a wave of crushing shame. If no one had been around, he might have banged his head against the glass walls.

While Shinhee was grappling with his feelings, Okja was thoroughly enjoying herself. Having spent seventy years in one place, she wandered with childlike excitement, forgetting her own circumstances. She darted between people, entered glass displays, and admired tiny models. She even laughed out loud at the sight of a rustic young farmhand doll tying straw sandals. Her cheerful demeanor truly made her seem like the eighteen-year-old she claimed to be.

Their steps stopped in front of a glass case containing a necklace of glass beads unearthed in Cheonan. Shinhee’s heart raced. Would it work? Please, let it work.

As if responding to his silent plea, Okja couldn’t take her eyes off the vividly colored necklace. After a long while, she finally looked at Shinhee, her gaze trembling slightly beyond her now calmer expression.

“I don’t think I’ll ever find what my husband gave me.”

“Ah…” Shinhee thought to himself, Of course it wouldn’t work.

“But I’m thankful.”

Her expression was more at ease now. Her voice, which had been trembling with sobs, sounded clearer and brighter than he had imagined.

“I was stuck in that place for so long, unable to leave or find what he gave me. But seeing this necklace, something similar, has eased my resentment. I’m so glad I met you, sir.”

“What he gave me is buried in the ground, untouched by others, lying with my bones. I’ll be content with that.”

She gave the necklace one last glance before closing her eyes and smiling softly, letting go of her lingering regrets. After a brief hesitation, Shinhee spoke up.

“Why don’t you take one last look? I’ll wait for you outside.”

Beneath the bright streetlights, Shinhee opened his sketchbook. It was already filled with dozens of pages, each sketch both a remedy and a toxin for him.

His pencil moved across the page, bringing to life Okja’s face adorned with the glass necklace. Just as he was shading her neatly braided hair, she appeared before him as if on cue.

“It’s time for me to go. I think I’m ready now.”

Shinhee carefully closed his sketchbook and placed it in his bag. The mala bracelet around his wrist quivered slightly.

“Not being able to tell my husband I loved him before I died is my greatest regret. In heaven, I’ll be able to tell him, won’t I?”

“You’ll definitely meet him in your next life.”

“Thank you.”

Okja slowly closed her eyes. Shinhee began reciting the prayer he had uttered hundreds, perhaps thousands of times before.

“May the deceased return to their realm, the living remain in theirs, and may no order or command be violated. Return peacefully to the origin.”

Okja’s form gradually dissolved and disappeared. Shinhee glanced at the spot where she had stood, then collapsed onto a bench, exhausted.

Even after over a decade of sending spirits off, each farewell brought a wave of deep regret. Still, he had become better at shaking it off compared to before—progress, if nothing else.

Stretching his arms, he thought about inviting Minam to a nearby restaurant famous for grilled intestines. Just as he was about to text him, his phone rang, the familiar number making him pause.

Should he ignore it?

But with twenty years of experience, Shinhee knew better. Ignoring the call would only make things worse. After ten seconds of hesitation, he answered. The call had ended but began ringing again immediately. Startled, Shinhee picked up, forcing a cheerful voice.

“Yes, Master! I just finished taking care of it!”

“Don’t drag your feet. Come straight here.”

Click.

The head shaman of Geumja Temple was as authoritative, fearsome, and perceptive as ever.