INV 92

Park Seongjun was not a difficult person to deal with.

He had received the divine call at a young age and worked as a male shaman—a child shaman. If one were to look into it deeply, becoming a shaman is categorized into types like gangsinmu (charismatic shamans) or seseopmu (hereditary shamans), but in South Korea—unlike the North—most shamans are hereditary. This means the divine line descends according to bloodline.

Park Seongjun’s family had worked in the shamanic profession for generations as a family business. If one were to trace their lineage upward, they were a family with such a long history that a shamanic biography of the eight provinces of Joseon ought to appear. If a talented member of a collateral line emerged, they were adopted into the direct line and entered into the family register. That is exactly how Park Seongjun became a “Young Master.” Being a Young Master pushed by his family, he even had media exposure. It was only natural that he drew every bit of attention possible, as a seven-year-old child shaman performing the yeoldugeori (twelve-part ritual) appeared in a documentary about Korean shamanism and showed off his spiritual powers. It was a good thing. The number of clients leaving reservation calls to have their fortunes told increased, and since he had gained professional recognition from such a young age, he wouldn’t have to worry about making a living in the future.

However, fame comes with a price.

“Hey, I heard you’re a shaman?”

“Tell my fortune for tomorrow.”

“Whatever. That’s hilarious.”

As soon as he entered elementary school, he saw all sorts of wretched behavior.

The kids seemed to regard him as a toy or a clown. What did children know? Their parents must have passed down those perspectives.

Calling him a cultist, a scammer who rips people off to make money…

Their parents probably didn’t tell them to say those things right to his face. It’s just that children can be more blunt and cruel than one might think. The parents likely overlooked that. Even if one were to overlook the trivial mockery, the insults that occurred quite openly…

He understood. People do not see the same things Park Seongjun does. Even if they are in the same space, what they see is different. Therefore, they cannot understand. To all the “normals” of this world, he was an incomprehensible existence.

From the moment he accepted that, Park Seongjun became a person who was not difficult to deal with. He worked hard to be perceived that way.

It would be quite difficult to stay that way in the face of various insults, but Park Seongjun revered a normal life.

Park Seongjun could have looked down on and ignored humans as much as he wanted. Fitting for a body that had received a god, he could have despised the world and held it in contempt as if he himself were a god. More shamans than one might think did exactly that. There were even people who looked down on and ripped off the very clients who came to see them.

So, he could have accepted that as natural and nurtured a hatred for the world in response to all the eyes that slandered and ridiculed him…

However, his humanity held the reins.

“Shamanism is quite warm, isn’t it? It loves the world. It doesn’t treat the dead carelessly; it soothes the spirit, resolves their grudges, and sends them back to the natural order. This is respecting humans. We know dignity.”

“…Young Master.”

“I don’t want homeschooling. I am a shaman, and because of that, I revere the normal. Is someone pathetic just because they can’t see a god or hear their words? That’s not true. Everyone supports their own lives wonderfully. I really like that… Please let me catch a glimpse of it.”

“…”

“Please let me enjoy being normal. Since I know it wasn’t permitted to me, I won’t be greedy beyond this…”

Even when his family stepped up to try and settle things through illegal means, he stopped them. Nor did he wish for a school violence committee to be held. He refused to drop out.

Park Seongjun simply chose to continue being gentle.

So that he wouldn’t be difficult to deal with, and so he could remain in that place and be regarded as an everyday existence.

Did that effort bear fruit?

As time passed and he aged to a certain degree, the direct bullying disappeared. The act of openly feigning ignorance or treating him like a transparent person also vanished. It might also be because he avoided media exposure from then on.

Since the passage of time makes memories fade.

The hatred of students was the same. He survived school with a bland presence, like water mixed with wine. Without meeting hatred with hatred, he returned smiles and desperately secured a place where he was allowed to be. Even if hospitality was difficult, at least to avoid ostracization.

Park Seongjun hoped to imitate a normal life at least through high school, and at most through university. For that, he studied hard during class hours, and after school, he told fortunes at the shrine and practiced under his god-parents. He performed Zen meditation prayers, made candle offerings, and changed the ritual water.

It could be called a sort of double life.

It was hard, but it was just as rewarding. It was likely because he longed for a normal life that much.

If someone heard his story, the question would arise as to whether he ever thought about wanting to become “normal” himself. However, Park Seongjun found such a question baffling. To Park Seongjun, shamanism was the default. For instance, like a very basic setting such as the existence of mana in a fantasy world.

It might be because there were things he had seen and felt since birth. To him, a god naturally existed; that was all. Gravity exists. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. It is a difficult thing to deny something so self-evident.

Park Seongjun decided not to take the difficult path. But at the same time, because he revered, loved, and felt a deep affection for the normal, he decided to linger by its side and observe.

That was all, and he was satisfied with his life.

One day, while living with that observer’s perspective, when he entered middle school.

That was when he met him. That guy, Kwon Yihyeon.

⋆˙⟡

“Do you know how appalled I was when I first saw you?”

“…”

“Even a male shaman who received a divine call lives a normal school life, so why are you—who can’t see or hear a thing—getting bullied as if you’re the representative of shamans?”

“Stop talking about when we were kids. My ears are dying from hearing it.”

“I’m going to keep talking until the day I die.”

Park Seongjun knocked back a shot of soju and made a “Kweeeh” sound while scratching his throat like a middle-aged mister. Kwon Yihyeon, with an extremely dissatisfied expression, picked up the tongs and flipped the meat.

They were at a charcoal-grilled pork rib restaurant. It wasn’t that same shop they used to frequent with Park Seongjun… the one they stopped by even when he was telling him the nitty-gritty details about how he had gotten hopelessly tangled up with Jae Angshin. That shop had collapsed, building and all. It wasn’t a big deal; just a monster running amok… The restaurant owner and his wife didn’t die. Still, saying it would be hard to do business in this state of affairs, they reportedly combined their compensation money with the assets they had saved up and bought real estate. This shop was it.

The restaurant owner, who had now become a landlord, generously passed on his know-how to a restaurant employee. That employee has now become a wonderful restaurant owner and is said to be repaying the favor to the landlord… This was the history of the shop that Park Seongjun had told Kwon Yihyeon. While listening, he had wondered why the taste felt strangely familiar, but he also wondered how this guy had found out about all this. Then again, Park Seongjun had always gotten along well with people, so he might have heard it one way or another.

It’s not that Kwon Yihyeon is bad at getting along with people. No, rather, Kwon Yihyeon holds an overwhelming advantage in terms of social skills. Park Seongjun talks well with people he doesn’t know—that is, someone he just brushes past on the street. However, he keeps his distance from people who know him. He’s a peculiar fellow. While he accepts the fact that he is a shaman very comfortably, he hasn’t the slightest thought that others would do the same.

‘Maybe the reason he approached me so boldly was because I was a person from Keunsan…’

Kwon Yihyeon wasn’t a shaman, but he loved his family nonetheless.

From that sight, did the young Park Seongjun pin his hopes on the idea that he might accept him?

Well, that is actually how it turned out. Ridiculously enough, Kwon Yihyeon of Keunsan didn’t believe in shamanism, but he found his family more lovely than anyone. Because of that, he didn’t particularly look down on Park Seongjun or treat him with prejudice. Not only did he think there was no need to, but the thought of someone treating his family that way made his anger flare up… so he didn’t want to do that.

So Kwon Yihyeon became friends with Park Seongjun. Ordinarily.

Between the marginalized kids.

“‘In any case, we’re all the same people, right?'”

“…”

“You jerk. You said that to me, but you treated yourself so carelessly. You crazy bastard. Has that habit flared up again? Is that why you’re living so recklessly now? To the point where I’m hearing stories about you?”

Kwon Yihyeon was impressed by Park Seongjun’s buildup. This bastard set a trap to corner me. And here I was wondering why he was suddenly rattling on about childhood stories. I guess he hasn’t gotten dementia yet?

The jokes he wants to throw come pouring out just by facing Park Seongjun. However, none of them are words that should be said.

He filled his glass with soju and drained it.

“Aren’t you going to speak?”

“I have nothing to say.”

His mouth felt bitter. He downed it all at once and was about to tilt the green bottle again when his hand was caught on the bottle.

An unusually straight gaze knocks at him.

Park Seongjun was always like this. Even from the days when he didn’t believe in shamanism, this bastard’s eyes were always piercing…

“I have something I need to hear.”

“Hear all you want.”

“From you, you son of a bitch.”

“What do you want to hear.”

“Why you’re being like this.”

“I guess overworking is just my calling.”

Dismissing the serious words as if they were nothing, he handed the soju bottle over to Park Seongjun. Then he received a new bottle of soju from a passing employee. He popped the cap and was about to tilt the neck of the bottle to pour the transparent contents into his glass when words he couldn’t ignore pierced Kwon Yihyeon’s heart.

“Are you still in love?”

Kwon Yihyeon began to glare at Park Seongjun with a terrifyingly expressionless face.

“Don’t speak carelessly. You don’t know what I’m trying to atone for. You don’t know with what heart I endure each day…”

“…”

“Everyone says it. That it’s not my responsibility. Do you really think so? Is that even possible? That bastard caused all of this! Fuck, it’s all my responsibility. I have to… I have to do something to atone. Even if I can’t wipe anything away for the rest of my life… even if the sin can’t disappear… But you think I’d do something like love? Do I look like I could do that? Do I look that overflowing with leisure? I guess my atonement was still lacking. I should have suffered more. Right?”

His bloodshot eyes shimmered with a ghostly aura. He was suffering as if it would be better to just die.

So Park Seongjun nodded.

“Nice acting. But it won’t work on me.”

“Fuck, bullshit…”

“Yihyeon, do I not know you? Since when were you such a romantic guy?”

At those words, Kwon Yihyeon wiped the expression from his face.

With a bleached gaze that felt terrifyingly devoid of any emotion, he looks straight at Park Seongjun.

“…!”

Park Seongjun faltered for the first time.

He could not tell at all what this bastard, who had been his friend for a long time, was thinking right now. That fact was making Park Seongjun afraid.

⋆˙⟡

At the moment Park Seongjun was seized with terror, Kwon Yihyeon was thinking this:

‘It didn’t work. Too bad…’