Wandering Through – Vol. 2 Chapter 52 – Capture, Oblivion

Author: Nikss

At the foot of Mount Songak stood an old shrine, so worn it seemed it could collapse at any moment.

In the desolate mountainside where no one lived, the shrine stood alone, slowly crumbling with time.

No colorful banners hung here anymore, no incense rose into the air.

This place was both the shaman’s hometown and her grave.

🦋

The dust-covered shrine was truly empty.

Anything of use must have been stolen long ago—not even a single chair remained. The roof tiles had all fallen and shattered, the pillars cracked and bent.

It was a little more than a ruin.

The only reason this dilapidated place hadn’t completely vanished was that no one saw a reason to tear it down.

Suyeong, carrying Yiseo on his back, glanced nervously around the shrine, which looked like it might collapse with just one strong cough.

“Is this really the place you wanted to come to?”

“Yes. Please let me down here.”

“But your legs are unwell. There’s nowhere to sit.”

“It’s fine.”

At Yiseo’s firm tone, Suyeong used one hand to keep her steady on his back while brushing off a flat piece of a broken stone statue with the other. Then he carefully set her down on it.

Yiseo sat quietly, staring intently at Suyeong as he dusted himself off.

Sunlight streamed into the shrine, whose walls nearly collapsed. The young man standing in the middle of it was unlike anyone she had ever known.

Yiseo asked softly, “Aren’t you going to ask why I wanted to come here?”

Unlike Huishan or the Minister, Suyeong didn’t know why Yiseo had come.

He had carried her without knowing where they were going or why, and even now, faced with this empty shrine, he hadn’t questioned her.

When she pointed it out, Suyeong finally asked, “Why did you want to come here?”

Instead of answering, Yiseo replied with another question.

“Don’t you think it’s too late to ask now?”

“If it was something I needed to know, you would have told me. Not telling me means you thought it better I didn’t know…”

“Isn’t that too carefree of a thought?”

“Perhaps. But I believe there are times when not knowing is better than knowing. Knowing too much can also bring misery.”

It was the same as what the younger sibling Yiseo had saved in her first life, once said. While everyone avoided the shaman, that boy alone pitied her.

“And no matter what reason you had for coming here, I would have helped you in the end. So there was no need to hear the reason.”

“Is it because of your past-life memories?”

“Perhaps. But it’s not to atone for sins from that life. More than that… it’s just my heart, I suppose.”

“…”

“Even though I know this isn’t truly my own heart, I still often feel deeply for you.”

Suyeong murmured that he wanted to grant her every wish. Yet his face as he said it didn’t seem troubled at all.

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“But isn’t this my karma? If I can’t change it, I have no choice but to accept it.”

“Isn’t it unfair for a scholar like you, a different person from your past life, to carry that karma?”

“I’m not the only one living like this, am I?”

“…”

“I just thought about it. Everyone carries their own karma, big or small—they just don’t know it. I happened to find out.”

Suyeong looked at Yiseo and smiled.

“If it’s already happened, shouldn’t we find the good in it? Like the fact that I got to know you.”

“I’d say that’s more troublesome than good. You came all this way without even knowing why.”

“It wasn’t troublesome at all. I enjoyed coming here with you. And honestly… even without my memories, I think I would’ve given you my heart. Right now, it’s just friendship, but who knows? Without the memories, I might have kidnapped you for real.”

It was a joke that felt almost sincere.

For a moment, Yiseo imagined what might have happened if it were true and laughed inwardly.

It was an amusing thought.

Even so, Suyeong would never have fallen for her.

Yiseo responded with a joke of her own, “If you had no memory, would you have even glanced at a body like mine? A promising scholar like you, looking at a cripple like me?”

“Of course. I would have looked. Even without my memories, I definitely would have.”

Yiseo didn’t quite agree with Suyeong’s words, but she didn’t bother arguing.

Fond memories had a way of beautifying things beyond reality. His words were pleasant to hear, but untrue all the same.

Still, she was glad to hear them one last time.

Yiseo gazed at this fleeting connection from her past, someone she would never meet again.

Countless things had happened in their previous lives, but she had no desire to speak of them. She simply replied to the companion of these few days.

“I’m glad I met you, too, Scholar.”

In this lifetime, that much is enough.

‘You said you were glad to meet me, and I was glad to meet you too.’

After an unawkward silence, Yiseo made a request.

“…Could you call my nanny here for me? If you tell her I’m waiting, she’ll come.”

“Then you’ll have to wait alone for quite a while. Wouldn’t it be better if we went together to fetch her?”

“What’s so hard about sitting quietly here? And while you’re at it, could you stop by Madam and ask her to arrange a palanquin for me to ride back? I’d appreciate it.”

“But…”

“I forgot to mention it earlier when I left Madam’s side. It’s not like I can ask for a palanquin to be prepared the same day I need it tomorrow. It’s only right to request it a little in advance.”

Suyeong hesitated, but at Yiseo’s insistence, he eventually left the crumbling shrine, looking back several times. She had told him repeatedly to stay seated and not get up, promising she would return soon.

Yiseo sat quietly, smiling as she saw him off.

And finally, she was alone.

Yiseo slowly looked around the dilapidated shrine before rising to her feet. Her ankle, still braced, couldn’t bear weight, but she didn’t need to stand anyway.

She knelt on the floor, not caring that her skirt was getting dirty, and ran her hands along the ground.

Soon, dust and grime smeared her jacket as well.

Yet she kept searching until her fingers stopped at a particular spot. She hooked her fingers into a groove in the floor and pulled.

The floor opened, revealing a stone coffin inside.

“Tombstone…?”

Yiseo froze. She remembered it being a wooden coffin.

The shrine maiden of her first life had known she, as the daughter of a traitor, could not have a proper grave.

So she had prepared her own coffin in the shrine and ended her life there.

This shrine itself was the shrine maiden’s tomb.

She was born here, and she died here.

The maiden’s mother had given birth to her here and offered her to the Dragon God, who made her his shrine maiden.

Unlike other shamans, she had no ritual tools. Her body itself was the tool. She needed no instrument to connect with the god she served.

The Dragon God answered whenever she called.

So when she died, her lifeless body must have become the Dragon God’s tool.

The Crown Prince likely used her corpse as a medium to bargain with the Dragon God.

If her body, the link, was destroyed, the bond the Prince had forged in exchange for his next life’s lifespan would inevitably break.

And so would all the misfortunes caused by that twisted fate.

Even the memories of past lives… everything.

Yiseo pushed the stone coffin’s lid with all her might. She regretted not bringing any tools, thinking it was made of wood. She used every ounce of strength she had, as if summoning the force she had when she was a suckling baby.

Finally, with a heavy thud, the lid slid off.

The cover fell with a dull thump.

Only then did Yiseo see the wooden coffin she had expected—or rather, a wooden coffin tightly wrapped in pitch-black silk, something she had never seen before.

“…!”

For a moment, Yiseo was speechless.

It wasn’t black silk. Tiny characters, written in pitch-black ink, densely covered the white silk from top to bottom.

Again, again, again, again…

All the same character, over and over.

Yiseo stared blankly into the stone coffin. It was the chant used in a summoning ritual—calling back the dead.

‘Come back…’

‘Come back, come back…’ Hundreds, thousands of the same characters wrapped around the shaman’s coffin.

Despite the centuries that had passed, the obsessive clinging of those words sent chills down her spine. She didn’t need to ask who had done this.

Yiseo lifted her head.

Her gaze fixed on the ruined altar, now unrecognizable.

The portrait of the Dragon God that once stood there was gone, but Yiseo felt the dragon watching her.