SATURDAY 51

Mr. Taeseon lay down carefully beside me and gazed at me for a long time. I was in a daze, not yet fully awake, but I could recognize that look in his eyes. He is terrified.

It was truly the first time I had ever seen a face like that on Mr. Taeseon…. I hugged Lili close, moved toward Mr. Taeseon—who was lying a little distance away from me—and snuggled into his arms.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t scared either. I was worried he might coldly push me away or shove me out of the bed. However, what returned to me were Mr. Taeseon’s warm and reliable arms. He hugged me tight and kissed the crown of my head.

“Kyang!”

“Ah, sorry.”

Lili, who was squeezed between the closely pressed Mr. Taeseon and me, let out a dissatisfied sound and wriggled her way out. She stepped firmly over my body and climbed up to my neck. It seemed that spot would become Lili’s designated seat when sleeping.

“Are you busy with work…?”

“It’s okay, it’s something that can be done later.”

“Then let’s sleep together.”

I spoke up, summoning my courage. A thought crossed my mind that perhaps Mr. Taeseon was only pretending to be nice to me as a way to torment me later, but considering Mr. Taeseon’s personality, that possibility wasn’t very high.

Anyway, I was too sleepy to think deeply. Following my usual habit, I gathered both hands and placed them near his chest, and as Mr. Taeseon held my body tightly, sleep came pouring in again. Before falling asleep, I looked at Mr. Taeseon; he was watching me with his eyes open.

‘Please don’t suffer too much.’

I wanted to tell him that, but I fell asleep without being able to say it.

∞ ∞ ∞

“A spiritual daughter…?”

“Yes. They’re called disciples too, but it usually refers to the person who received an initiation rite from them. After that, they say they help the Shaman with their work or learn the trade before setting up their own shrine and leaving.”

“I’ve never heard that the Shaman had someone like that.”

Mr. Taeseon shrugged at my words.

“I suppose so, since they cut ties fifteen years ago.”

“Fifteen years….”

That was when the Shaman was at our house. But back then, I was seven years old, and there was no way I would have known such a person existed for the Shaman. Did my parents know?

As I held my teacup and fell into thought for a moment, Mr. Taeseon gave me the answer.

“They probably hid it. The spiritual daughter is someone who was deceived by that fraud. In fact, it’s even ambiguous to call her a spiritual daughter.”

“A fraud?”

No matter what, the Shaman wasn’t a fraud. The Shaman had predicted every misfortune that would happen to our family, and sometimes performed great rites to avoid those misfortunes.

Once the rite was performed, things would pass as if nothing had happened, like magic. Though, embarrassingly, I was the cause of most of our family’s misfortunes.

Therefore, whenever a rite was performed, I generally had to suffer quite a bit. I hated performing the rites, but I once got into huge trouble for telling my mother I hated it, so after that, I just accepted it silently. It was better to endure a rough time during a rite than to be scolded by my mother.

“It might be hard to accept right away, but….”

“Yes…?”

“Shin Myeonghwa is a fraud; it’s just that nothing has been revealed until now.”

Shin Myeonghwa? I blinked at the unfamiliar name before soon realizing it referred to the Shaman. I had seen the Shaman use a real name a few times. It wasn’t a memory vivid enough to stick in my mind, but the moment Mr. Taeseon said it, it came back to me like a lie.

I had never told Mr. Taeseon even half—no, not even half of half—of the treatment I received at home. Yet, it seemed Mr. Taeseon had found the Shaman suspicious and had been investigating.

But it was a misunderstanding. The Shaman is not a fraud. Something was wrong with the investigation. The Shaman is….

“I think something is wrong, Mr. Taeseon. The Shaman is not a fraud.”

My tone was firm, even to my own ears, which was unlike me. The Shaman is not a fraud. The Shaman was spiritual, capable, and a good person. He was kind even to a beast like me.

Certainly, it was true that the Shaman had deceived me, but there must have been some reason for it. Surely….

“Slowly. Let’s talk slowly. It must be really hard to accept.”

“It’s not that it’s hard to accept…! He is a truly good person, one of the few people who was kind to me…!”

Mr. Taeseon’s mouth, which had opened as if to say something, closed, and his expression clouded over. It was the face of someone who had things to say but was holding back.

Even though Mr. Taeseon was someone I trusted and relied on so much, I couldn’t believe these words. Because, if Mr. Taeseon’s words were true, then I….

As I stood there dazed for a moment, Mr. Taeseon grabbed both of my shoulders. Startled, I looked up at him. He looked at me with a complex and difficult expression, then gave a quiet smile.

“Let’s stop thinking about this. Wouldn’t you like to go out tomorrow?”

“Go out…?”

“In the afternoon. It’s not that far.”

“The afternoon is fine, but where to?”

Mr. Taeseon only smiled at my question. And the next day, arriving at the place in the car he was driving, I was so flustered I even forgot to unfasten my seatbelt.

∞ ∞ ∞

“….”

A large banner was hanging on the exterior wall of a large, elegant, and beautifully shaped building.

[The Painter Swimming in Light, Yoon Chaein]

It was my uncle’s solo exhibition being held at a famous gallery. It was crowded with people everywhere you looked.

It was only like this because today was the first day of a private exhibition for invited guests only; otherwise, the ticketing booth would have been swarming with a sea of people.

“Um, Mr. Taeseon. Why are we here?”

I barely managed to gather the courage to ask. My voice was barely a crawl. Mr. Taeseon casually shrugged his shoulders and answered.

“Because I received an invitation.”

As he spoke, Mr. Taeseon pulled an elegant invitation, looking just like a wedding invitation, from his inner pocket.

“It’s for the holder plus one guest.”

“….”

It was an invitation I used to receive as well. I didn’t receive one this time. Because my uncle still thinks I am Inha.

That was why this place felt as uncomfortable as standing on a bed of thorns. I was terrified that someone who knew my uncle might recognize me and try to make conversation.

Wrapping his arm around my restless shoulders, Mr. Taeseon whispered.

“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.”

“But….”

“It’s okay.”

“….”

The voice was so full of certainty that I found myself wanting to believe him. The last time I met my uncle was that day in the annex. The way he had treated me coldly, thinking I was Inha, intentionally refusing to give medicine to me while I was having a panic attack.

To be honest, I was afraid of meeting my uncle.

But since Mr. Taeseon was by my side, it would be a little bit okay. I took a deep breath and grabbed Mr. Taeseon’s arm. Mr. Taeseon, who smiled slightly at me, lowered his arm so it was easy for me to hold and headed toward the entrance for staff and related personnel.

As we entered the spacious exhibition hall, I saw flower arrangements everywhere, neatly prepared food, and several high tables arranged so people could stand and talk. People who had arrived early were talking while eating or drinking the prepared champagne.

And about ten steps away, I saw my uncle standing in front of a large painting that appeared to be the representative work of this exhibition, talking with the gallery owners.

Unlike usual, my uncle had his hair neatly styled and was wearing a semi-formal suit. His earrings, necklace, and watch—which were a bit flashy to match his outfit—sparkled.

The accessories and the watch must have been quite expensive, but the paintings in this gallery were at a level where one or two more zeros would be added to the price of even the most expensive watch. My uncle, who was talking with a smile, suddenly turned his head.

And the moment he saw me with Mr. Taeseon, his expression stiffened slightly and contempt appeared on his face. Naturally, I couldn’t help but flinch. It was to the extent that I felt like hiding behind Mr. Taeseon.

But that would be too foolish. Instead, I held Mr. Taeseon’s arm tightly and waited. My uncle asked for understanding from his conversation partners, put his glass down on a table, and strode toward me.

“What is this?”

“U-Uncle.”

“I asked what this is. Mr. Lee Taeseon. Why did you bring him here?”

He completely ignored the sound of me calling him. I lost my strength and lowered my head. I was used to being ignored, but it wasn’t as if it didn’t affect me. After all, people’s disregard was intended to discourage me.

“I have something to say. Please listen. Could you give us some time?”

“What kind of ‘something to say’?”

My uncle’s attitude was sharp. Mr. Taeseon looked around. Gazes were slowly gathering. He gestured with his eyes toward the direction where most of the stares were coming from and spoke. Over there was a group of people close to my mother.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

“….”

My uncle also glanced that way and then led us to the office. Perhaps everyone from the office had gone out to the exhibition hall, as no one was there. Once we entered the conference room and lowered the blinds, the surroundings became dark.

“Mr. Chaein.”

“…Yes.”

Leaning against the desk with his arms crossed, my uncle answered in a reluctant voice. Mr. Taeseon placed his hand on my shoulder.

“Haven’t you ever thought something was strange?”

“….”

Instead of asking ‘what,’ my uncle just stared at Mr. Taeseon.

“I’ll just say it directly. This person is Inyoung. The one who died is Yoon Inha.”