If Silk Flowers Bloom by the Water’s Edge Chapter 33

A Jeongmusa’s ritual required Haenangs for the sake of any unforeseen circumstances. Although their role was to assist, if the performing musa were to collapse or be struck down by a Yogwi, one of the Haenangs would have to take over and lead the ritual.

Of course, there were cases where two or more people led a ritual. But for this one, it was decided that Chaehwa alone was sufficient. A long table laden with sacrificial food was placed on either side, and a cotton cloth was laid down the center path. Chaehwa took her place in the middle of the front row, where the moonlight gathered.

Behind her, the others sat in pairs, divided between the left and right sides. The empty path in the middle was for something non-human to pass through.

“Let’s have Jangsi strike the time-keeping janggu.”

Chaehwa, who had changed into white garments, said after a pause. It was common to lose track of time during a ritual, so someone was needed to strike the janggu drum once every 10 minutes. Yirok, the newcomer, and Jangsi, who was in charge of the drum, sat in the very back row. Behind them lay Ms. Baek Uiyeon, sedated with medicine.

As it was customary to perform rituals outdoors, Ms. Baek Uiyeon had been brought outside. She was dressed in bulky winter clothes and lying on a patient’s bed.

Yirok, participating in a formal ritual for the first time, etched the sight of Chaehwa’s small back into his eyes. It was as if Chaehwa were sitting on a flower petal, plump and white. Chaehwa’s small shoulders, kneaded by the moonlight, looked heavy.

“Um, it’s about to start….”

His partner, Jangsi, prompted him as his mind had wandered. To think he’d made the trembling Jangsi, who was clutching the drum, speak up for him. Lately, he was sick to death of his own inability to control his impulses.

“Then, I will light the incense.”

Shinwoo, sitting behind Chaehwa, struck a match. As he lit the incense burner carved with the Four Guardian Deities, a single wisp of smoke rose. It was an incense created by Old Lady Yomyung to help the Gaegeum Marks appear.

The ‘heaven’ characters drawn on the Haenangs’ bodies shimmered with the color of the moon. As the power sent from the heavens coated the characters, a pain similar to a burn came over them. Once the ritual began, movement was extremely restricted. Instead of rubbing his eyes, Yirok bit his molars to endure the pain.

After the Gaegeum Marks had settled on the Haenangs’ bodies, the incense took on its second role. The grass swaying in the autumn wind, the colors of the night sky, the scent of the mountains; one by one, the five human senses were encroached upon by the incense that blocked them. The moment came when the world closed its mouth, like a black tide rolling in.

Dung. The sound of the janggu announcing the first 10 minutes was dull, as if struck underwater. As proof that the ritual had successfully begun, the cotton cloth on the ground, the Haenangs, and Chaehwa’s outline glowed white.

The ritual of a musa, which involved throwing oneself into a bottomless abyss, was this silent. The only sound was the notification of the drum, imbued with a mysterious power. In a world completely black and quiet, the musa met gods and summoned Yogwi.

The Haenangs made eye contact with the partner sitting across from them. When it was determined that the breathing of all participants was steady, the performer of the ritual made a request to the heavens.

“When the mani stops, it means the Yogwi has answered my call. Do not act rashly, and do not answer before the Yogwi asks. If you do that, it will end safely.”

Through the eyes opened by the Gaegeum Mark, Yirok saw the color of the bead in Chaehwa’s hand, the ‘mani,’ turn as red as a camellia flower. The mani, hanging from a coral string, slowly descended and swung like a pendulum. It was when the mani, moving back and forth in a steady rhythm, was burning its brightest red.

“O confessor, lying in a stone coffin.”

Chaehwa’s voice, cutting through the silence, was low yet gentle. It was a voice that suited the solemn, memorial-like atmosphere, and it resonated in the listeners’ hearts. Dudung. The second janggu sounded, and the rhythmically moving mani shivered and stopped.

Afterward, a rain of gray pebbles fell upon the space of nothingness. As the mani turned a deep scarlet, the number of falling pebbles increased. At the sound of the third janggu, the pebbles stuck together like magnets and formed a stone pagoda.

The stone pagoda repeatedly collapsed and reassembled, eventually creating a single tomb. During the ritual to summon the Yogwi, there were moments when reality felt incredibly distant. A round stone tomb atop a black, empty space. The first Yogwi raised a blood-stained hand from that tomb.

“Ah.”

As the startled Haenang Miyeong let out a small gasp, Chaehwa clicked her tongue coldly. The ghost-white hand was pushing its way out, demolishing the stone tomb.

The Yogwi’s hand, as it pulled its body out of the tomb, was the size of Chaehwa’s entire body. It was a hand that looked as if it had been dipped in and pulled out of red paint. The Yogwi that crawled out of the tomb was a tall, one-armed being. It was covering its eyes with its huge hand. It was a Yogwi with no lips and a pale body. Its gray hair fell to its waist. It was utterly grotesque how drops of blood were left behind with every footprint. Even after reaching Chaehwa, it remained wordless, only breathing heavily.

“Thank you for coming out into this chaotic world again. There is one reason I called you. I want to know the name of that thing.”

The fourth janggu sounded over the confessor’s breathing. The sluggish confessor’s gaze lingered on the edge of the cotton cloth, as if remembering Chaehwa’s command. The white Yogwi, having set its target, stepped onto the center path of the cotton cloth.

The cotton cloth, so carefully laid by the Haenangs, was soaked in blood. They breathed shallowly, taking in as little air as possible so as not to provoke the Yogwi passing in front of them. Even the strong incense couldn’t mask the Yogwi’s unique fishy stench.

However, the Yogwi, which should have been moving forward, stopped in front of Haenang Miyeong. It didn’t make it to Baek Uiyeon, Chaehwa’s target, but instead eerily twisted its neck to glare at Miyeong.

“My child made a mistake. I will pay the price for it. As we promised before.”

The Yogwi, which had been extending a foot toward Miyeong, returned to its original path at the words ‘pay the price.’ Miyeong, covering her mouth and nose with her hand, silently let a tear fall. The small gasp she’d made earlier had nearly provoked the Yogwi’s grudge.

If divided into black and white, good and evil, the Yogwi belonged to evil. Moreover, they didn’t work for free. They provided help in exchange for the price stated in their contract with the musa; they didn’t descend out of a good heart. Thus, they tended to be a bit mischievous towards those who lacked courtesy. The degree of that mischief, however, varied depending on the Yogwi.

The Yogwi, recalling the contractor’s request, stopped in front of Baek Uiyeon. In that gap, Yirok looked up at the Yogwi and understood the meaning of one’s heart turning cold.

It was on a different level. It was a monster, worlds apart from the harmless, playful Yogwi he sometimes encountered at Chukjangji. Just looking at it made his knees weak and his throat dry. When he imagined being hit by the Yogwi’s enormous hand, he could smell the wind of the underworld from somewhere.

But a part of him acknowledged it. So it was true, we live in the same world as things that are not human. The things I had desperately tried to ignore were truly things that could not be ignored. As he gave up the struggle, there was a part of him that accepted it.

The Yogwi, looking down at the client Baek Uiyeon, let out a faint groan. It rubbed the area where its eyes were with its hand, then turned to face Chaehwa. The Haenangs were now deeply immersed in the moment of the ritual from which they could no longer escape. The lipless Yogwi spoke.

[This is a blind ghost that enters and exits through human eyes.]

Answering in a high-pitched tone that seemed to scratch the eardrums, the Yogwi crumbled into a handful of stones. The rain of pebbles ascending into the black sky soon erased even the traces of stone dust.

A blind ghost. Having learned its name, Chaehwa didn’t hesitate and once again raised the mani high. Answering its master’s call, the mani‘s dazzling dance began.

“Moonkeeper of the old town. And my Wolhyeonggeom.”

As she called two names, the mani shook enough to cause motion sickness. The fifth janggu sounded over the silent ground. This time, the Yogwi announced its arrival with a tremor in the earth. Chaehwa, with a cold expression, warned the Haenangs not to make a mistake.

“Maintain your composure, and do not scream under any circumstances. Because I cannot protect you from this mistake.”

There was no hint of sneering in Chaehwa’s warning. It was the truth. Not a single one of them had a heart of steel that could dismiss it as a joke. The case of the first summoned Yogwi had passed without incident because it was contracted to Chaehwa. But now that they knew the name of the Yogwi possessing the client’s body, from this point on, it was the real deal.

Any mistake made from carelessness was now solely one’s own responsibility. Yirok silently bit his finger, drawing a little blood. When it came to sharpening one’s mind, there was no better friend than pain.