Be the Sacrifice Chapter 13

Right now, the one doing the teasing was himself, yet Heesa couldn’t even lift her face, so Hong Yeomrang was utterly dumbfounded. His head was starting to hurt, too.

 

Just as she said, the dokkaebi showed absolutely no intention of making way. He had to think of another plan.

 

He dragged Heesa back inside the cave again.

 

The noisy chattering of the dokkaebi stopped ghost-like the moment the two of them disappeared.

 

As if they had lost all interest, the forest became quiet once more.

 

“I’m the one who got teased, so why is My Lady the one feeling embarrassed?”

 

Since she just stood there obediently wherever he left her, Hong Yeomrang once again guided Heesa onto the cushion.

 

He picked up the lantern he had set on the floor and placed it back on the small table.

 

“You can’t convince dokkaebi like that…”

 

“My Lady, why are you speaking politely to a lowly servant? Until the moment I leave this forest, I’m just a servant, remember.”

 

Was there ever such an uncomfortable servant in the world?

 

Heesa rolled her eyes. She looked around the cave; she could already navigate blindfolded.

 

Hong Yeomrang stared at her face as she pretended to be distracted.

 

Thanks to eating his ridiculously short, rat-dropping-like hair, a faint color had returned to her cheeks. He wouldn’t know the details until morning, but at least she no longer hunched over from hunger.

 

“Mmm.”

 

If the young master wanted to play the role of a lowly servant so badly, then fine.

 

Heesa answered in a subtly soft tone. She was certain that if she pushed back too hard, he would quickly lose his temper again and revert to the frightening young master wearing the mask of an angry servant.

 

So she simply sat down on the soft, plush cushion.

 

Once seated, she felt like lying down, so she lay down.

 

Hong Yeomrang stood there with his arms crossed, watching her.

 

If he would just sit instead of standing there with aching legs, it would be better for both of them.

 

It was fortunate that he had refused the wild ginseng.

 

If he had eaten it, Hong Yeomrang would have become even more hyper and uncontrollable, something Heesa definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle.

 

She would surely get hungry again soon, but still, feeling full was nice. Heesa rubbed her flat stomach over the top of her durumagi.

 

“My Lady is the only one who got what she wanted. Looks like you’re happy.”

 

Heesa, who had enough sense not to say out loud that she was happy, brought her finger back to her mouth again.

 

“Hand.”

 

Hong Yeomrang said shortly and thickly. Her hand stopped at the edge of her lips. She rolled her eyes upward to look at him, staring down at her. He was looking at her hand again. 

 

It must really bother him that much. She pulled the long sleeve of her durumagi down, completely covering her hand.

 

“From now on, the moment your hand goes near your mouth, I’m tying those useless hands up. Since all you need is a mouth to eat with anyway.”

 

Hong Yeomrang was the kind of man who would actually do it, so Heesa obediently nodded.

 

“When My Lady enters the forest, the forest opens up, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then starting tomorrow, you’ll have to go around with me for a bit. That’s fine, isn’t it?”

 

For a moment, the servant-turned-Hong Yeomrang was oppressing his master. She wanted to tell him he was doing something pointless, but then it felt like he might not give her his hair tomorrow. 

 

So Heesa simply nodded.

 

“Good. My Lady, go ahead and sleep now.”

 

Only after the servant graciously permitted Heesa to fall asleep did she finally close her eyes.

 

The moment her head touched down, she was out. 

 

And on top of the warm, soft cushion, it granted her an especially comfortable sleep. Heesa, who could sleep just fine gathering leaves anywhere, lying face-down on a cave floor, or even up in a tree, slept even better on the cushion. 

 

Today, with her stomach full, she could sleep without even remembering the scary Hong Yeomrang beside her. Her breathing became regular.

 

Hong Yeomrang stared expressionlessly at Heesa, who had fled so desperately earlier, tail between her legs, and was now sleeping completely defenseless.

 

She must have washed somewhere at least; though her clothes were in rags like a beggar’s, her face was clean and clear, without a trace of grime.

 

He took out from his bosom the dokkaebi sachet that Heesa had absentmindedly left behind.

 

He had thought the sachet carried that bitter yet deep, honey-jar-like scent, but no, it wasn’t that. He tossed the sachet high into the air and caught it with one hand.

 

Inside were nothing but dried chrysanthemum flowers mixed with musk powder.

 

And one very small silver dagger, about the size of a pinky finger.

 

Tap. Tap—

 

For the nearly two days since Heesa disappeared, this had become Hong Yeomrang’s new habit.

 

Tossing and catching this single sachet pouch she had left behind.

 

“Why are you so full of anger?”

 

He didn’t remember much else. But there was one question someone had asked him once that Hong Yeomrang often recalled.

 

In truth, whenever rage surged all the way to the top of his head, those words were the first to come to mind.

 

It wasn’t a memory from the capital.

 

Then it must have been from this village.

 

Asking someone who was already furious to the brim, “Why are you so angry?” was never going to get a proper answer anyway.

 

Hong Yeomrang casually buried the words back into his memory once more.

 

The only person who could ever say something like that to him was his dead mother, so until now, he had simply chalked it up to something his mother once said.

 

Even when his temper flared, recalling those words let him catch his breath for a moment.

 

“Tigers, dokkaebi, demons, what the hell is this mess?”

 

Everything that could possibly gather on this mountain had gathered here.

 

And yet the village remained peaceful and was growing more prosperous day by day. When something like this exists, of course, superstition runs rampant.

 

Having seen Heesa with his own eyes, heard the dokkaebi’s voices, and witnessed the forest closing, he could no longer call it mere superstition.

 

It was absurd.

 

They kept saying “mountain lord, mountain lord,” and at this rate, it felt like the mountain lord itself would show up any day now.

 

And how could he be sure that wasn’t some kind of demon too?

 

He never should have come back to this place.

 

He should have turned away the moment he saw his father’s displeased face, the father who had expected him to become a royal son-in-law, only for his top-scoring son to return home like this.

 

Swish—

 

Heesa rolled over in her sleep.

 

As she did, her sleeve slid up, revealing a hand covered in blisters to his line of sight. She was sleeping soundly, as if they didn’t even hurt. 

 

Hong Yeomrang stared quietly at that ugly hand. 

 

The thin skin of her slender fingers had peeled back in places. The blisters were plump and full. For a moment, an urge surged in him to just reach out and pop them all right then and there.

 

Even if he didn’t do it now, it was obvious that tomorrow, when Heesa woke up, she would ignore his warnings and bite at her hand again. 

 

Hong Yeomrang let out a short sigh. 

 

He rummaged through the sachet pouch in one hand and took out the small knife. He opened the lantern and briefly held the blade over the flame; the tip quickly turned red-hot.

 

Moving even more silently than when Heesa shifted, the large man knelt down in front of her.

 

He took her hand, but she didn’t stir at all. It was still that thin wrist that his grip could easily swallow whole. With the sharp tip of the heated knife, he indifferently popped the blisters one by one. 

 

Tap, tap— 

 

Clear fluid trickled down. Without hesitation, he tore off the cord from the clothes he had changed into today and wrapped each of Heesa’s fingers completely.

The blue cord was wound around every finger.

 

A hand that had never done any real work. 

 

Even though she had bitten and mangled it, if it weren’t so excessively thin and if it were intact, it would surely have been a pretty hand.

 

Hong Yeomrang stopped thinking any further. 

 

Was there any question more foolish than asking a demon, “What were you to me?” 

 

The only reason he had wrapped her hand was that he didn’t want to look at it. If he had to watch her stupidly bite and burst those blisters with her mouth again, it would definitely grate on his nerves.

 

Hong Yeomrang withdrew again.

 

Unconsciously, Heesa brought her fingers toward her mouth.

 

“…Phew.”

 

It wasn’t soft fingers but cloth she was chewing on, so in her sleep she spat her fingers out.

 

And without waking, she went right back to sleep. Once she decided it wasn’t right, she didn’t bring them to her mouth again; instead, she gradually curled her body into a round ball as she slept. 

 

One cheek was pressed flat against the cushion, making her lips pout. She breathed in short, childish huffs.

 

When he had held her wrist, he could feel her pulse.

 

A faint warmth. Undeniably something alive. 

 

That was why Hong Yeomrang still left himself the slightest room for doubt, why he couldn’t bring himself to cut it off.

 

What a damn cursed forest. He never should have come in. If he had known he wouldn’t be able to leave, he never would have entered.

 

All this time, no sacrifice had ever tried to leave, so the rumors never spread. 

 

They must have all come here of their own free will to obtain wealth.

 

A demon that gives wealth if you offer your hair.

 

If word got out, people might line up outside the cave, begging to become sacrifices.

 

So they must have secretly nibbled away while the person slept. Hong Yeomrang recalled the stealthy way Heesa had approached him. 

 

The moment he woke up, and she, even more startled, fell flat on her back.

 

“Why do you live like this?”

 

In the end, Hong Yeomrang threw the unanswerable question at the sleeping Heesa.

 

What lingering attachment to this world could make her eat people’s hair just to stay alive?

 

Of course, no answer came.

 

She was far too shabby to be the tiger god’s messenger, and she couldn’t even control the dokkaebi. On the contrary, the dokkaebi were teasing both him and the Heesa beside him. 

 

The more her head drooped in shame, the cruder their mockery became.

 

It almost seemed like she had somehow ended up living in this forest and become the local punching bag for all the demons.

 

Thinking of how Heesa must have been ridiculed and toyed with by strange demons and dokkaebi from all directions suddenly made his mood sour.

 

Oblivious to all that, Heesa stayed firmly on the cushion and slept soundly. 

 

For her, it was a full, honey-sweet sleep.