Be the Sacrifice Chapter 7

The rustling sound of something being unwrapped woke Hee-sa, who had fallen into an exhausted sleep. 

 

Hong Yeomrang was opening a bundle that gave off a rich, savory aroma. 

 

The red durumagi suited his profile so strikingly well that she opened her eyes and simply stared at him without moving. 

 

Soon his gaze turned toward her. Her body felt heavy. 

 

That was what happened when she didn’t eat what she needed to eat. 

 

On days when the sun didn’t rise, her whole body would feel drained, listless, and achy. After nearly dying from touching that thing yesterday, Hee-sa had simply endured it.

 

She was used to enduring.

 

She was used to hunger, too.

 

Thud—

 

While she was looking at Hong Yeomrang, he moved and, before she realized, placed a small basket he had taken from the opened bundle at the edge of the sleeping mat.

 

“Eat.”

 

He was already chewing on a piece of dried jerky. 

 

Right in front of her sat fragrant, still-warm slices of pan-fried meat, rice cakes, various sweets and snacks—if she didn’t eat them soon, they would go to waste.

 

“I don’t need to eat.”

 

It had been a long time since she had seen food this close. 

 

During gut rituals, she would be up in the sacred tang tree, but even then, it was too far away, and once the ceremony ended, people quickly cleared everything away. 

 

More to the point, Hee-sa didn’t eat food in the first place. 

 

Baksu, knowing this, had never once offered her any. With an air of composure, Hee-sa pushed the basket away with her fingertips. 

 

Besides, this was human food—surely not meant for someone like Hong Yeomrang.

 

“Are you a yokai?”

 

“I don’t really know. I don’t need to eat either, but since you keep pushing it on me… fine, I’ll try some.”

 

She hadn’t exactly been pushing it, but at her words, Hong Yeomrang gave a short, amused huff of laughter as she subtly pulled the basket back toward herself.

 

“Bon appétit.”

 

“Do whatever you want.”

 

With the owner’s permission granted, Hee-sa reached first for the greasiest piece of yukjeon.

 

Human food couldn’t satisfy her hunger. She knew that perfectly well, yet she still brought it to her mouth. 

 

Even though it had cooled, it was fragrant and delicious. She devoured the contents of the basket with fierce concentration. 

 

It was fortunate he had set aside the jerky and nuts earlier—otherwise her withered body would have consumed an entire day’s worth of provisions in an instant.

 

Her pale lips glistened with oil.

 

At some point, Hong Yeomrang had simply been watching Hee-sa eat. Her fingers moved nimbly, deftly picking up the food. 

 

She popped a round rice cake into her mouth and chewed with her lips closed before swallowing. 

 

The moment she bit down, there was a soft pop as the honey and sesame inside burst out, and Hee-sa’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

It was chewy and sweetly delicious.

 

“What the hell. Baksu didn’t even feed you properly? He kept saying he took good care of you.”

 

“No… Now that I think about it, maybe he didn’t.”

 

To think she’d been eating something this good all by herself and never once offered him any.

 

What a mean little thing.

 

After swallowing the last of the honey rice cake, Hee-sa spoke.

 

“So. When did you meet Baksu?”

 

“Dunno. A long time ago.”

 

The soft red-bean rice cake melted gently in her mouth. 

 

It couldn’t satisfy her true hunger, but the taste was real enough that she gave Hong Yeomrang a short reply.

 

“How long ago?”

 

“When my mom died.”

 

“And when was that?”

 

“Dunno.”

 

“How old are you?”

 

She finished whatever was in her mouth before answering. Even while eating, she never parted her lips. That was why she never looked sloppy or greedy, even when picking food up with her fingers. 

 

Hong Yeomrang watched her closely. When he asked her age, she paused.

 

For the first time, she lifted her eyes from the food and stared straight at him.

 

“Older than you.”

 

She lightly bit her still-glistening lower lip with her upper teeth, sucking on it faintly. 

 

For a brief moment, a touch of color bloomed there. She shook the now-empty basket hard, but nothing more came out. 

 

It had been delicious, but with a small pang of regret, Hee-sa rose to her feet.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

She stood up as if she’d finished sleeping and eating and had nothing left to do here, heading toward the cave entrance. 

 

Hong Yeomrang called after her.

 

“Sad to see me go?”

 

“Who’s sad? You still haven’t told me what you are.”

 

“I told you—I’m Hee-sa.”

 

From the entrance, the sound of rain still poured steadily. 

 

Just where did she plan to go, cutting through that downpour?

 

Hong Yeomrang followed silently behind her bare feet as she walked without a sound. 

 

At the cave entrance, Hee-sa turned back to look at him. It was as if she were asking whether he intended to keep following her.

 

“Stay here quietly and wait. I’ll bring back enough food to make up for what I ate.”

 

“What?”

 

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

 

The way she said it—so earnestly, like a mother beast leaving her cub behind to go hunting—made Hong Yeomrang’s foot falter for a moment. 

 

And in that instant, Hee-sa dashed out into the rain. Her light body touched the ground so softly that in the blink of an eye, she vanished right in front of him. 

 

Suddenly, the rain-drenched forest filled Hong Yeomrang’s vision.

 

A strange unease made him take one step back.

 

There was nothing. Just a peaceful forest. Yet for some inexplicable reason, it felt as though the entire woods had abruptly erased Hee-sa’s presence. 

 

Irritated by her disappearance, Hong Yeomrang turned and went back deeper into the cave.

 

“…Am I bewitched?”

 

There was no other explanation for this eerie sensation.

 

He felt no trace of murderous intent or malice whatsoever. Hong Yeomrang glared at the sleeping mat where Hee-sa had lain. 

 

The rounded imprint of her curled-up body remained perfectly visible. 

 

The empty basket confirmed that she had devoured every last bit of food.

 

He slowly ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek where he had been chewing earlier.

 

If he really had been bewitched, then she must be some wicked thing that needed to be cut down. He didn’t believe in superstitions about mountain tigers or his own lion spirit or any of that nonsense.

 

But the memory of red blood flowing still bothered him. 

 

Yokai blood was different from human blood. Sometimes things that weren’t human would come and disturb the village.

 

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap—

 

The sound of feet stepping on stone rang out.

 

It hadn’t been long at all, yet here was Hee-sa returning—skirt hiked up to her thighs, soaked like a drowned rat. 

 

Holding the now-heavy, waterlogged hem of her skirt in one hand, she flashed him a wide, listless smile.

 

“I brought food! Food for you to eat!”

 

She was deliberately making noise with her footsteps. 

 

Because earlier, he had asked why she moved so silently.

 

Tap tap tap—

 

Hee-sa approached with quick steps and shook out her skirt over the now-empty basket he had eaten from. 

Along with droplets of water, several wild peaches, still-unripe jujubes, snakeberries, and a few root vegetables tumbled down with a patter. 

 

Somehow, she had also dug up fresh potatoes like a wild boar; they rolled in still covered in dirt.

 

“You…”

 

“Let’s eat the good-for-the-body stuff first. This is wild ginseng. One hundred and eighty years old.”

 

He had never once seen anyone who disliked wild ginseng. He had watched plenty of people go down the mountain clutching it in tears of gratitude and emotion after she secretly handed it to them. 

 

Confidently, she held up what Hong Yeomrang thought was just some random root and announced,

 

“Put it away.”

 

“There really are people who dislike wild ginseng. Then… want a wild peach instead?”

 

She put the ginseng back into the basket and held out a wild peach toward him. 

 

He was utterly dumbfounded. He genuinely hadn’t expected her to come back, and he certainly hadn’t thought she would bring food again so quickly.

 

A being that does not harm humans.

 

Hong Yeomrang had to admit—even if he didn’t know whether she was a yōkai or something else—that this was the kind of existence she was.

 

Raindrops slid down her face in streaks. Her clothes, little more than rags now, were thoroughly soaked and clinging to her body. 

 

They no longer seemed to serve any purpose as clothing. Yet Hee-sa kept smiling as if none of it mattered.

 

“Enough of that. Change your clothes first.”

 

“Baksu said clothes have no meaning for me.”

 

“What?”

 

“He said even if he makes them, I tear them apart and eat them in three days anyway, so I might as well not bother wearing any.”

 

That was the habitual grumbling Baksu threw at Hee-sa every time she showed up in tatters again just three days after he had made her new clothes. 

 

When Hong Yeomrang relayed those exact words to her, his gaze turned icy cold.

 

“That son of a bitch Baksu must be out of his mind.”

 

Telling a woman not to wear clothes at all.

 

That son of a bitch Baksu, dolling himself up like a woman, had clearly lost his mind. 

 

Otherwise, there was no way he’d tell her to go around without clothes. Instead of just breaking his fingers, he should have cut out that tongue of his for spouting such nonsense.

 

Hee-sa suddenly looked at him in bewilderment as his anger toward Baksu flared up.

 

Hong Yeomrang was a far angrier man than she had expected.

 

“Baksu is…”

 

Sensing she might have misspoken and wanting to defend him, Hee-sa opened her mouth. 

 

But all she got in return was a sharp glare, so she quickly shut it again. She knew her way of communicating was awkward—after all, she barely talked to anyone except Baksu.

 

A water droplet slid down her eyelashes and fell; Hee-sa rubbed the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.

 

“I’m not mad at you, so why are you crying?”

 

The murderous edge in Hong Yeomrang’s voice, which had been directed at Baksu, wavered slightly at the end. 

 

This was the first time a woman had looked straight at him while crying, and he had no idea how to handle it. 

 

In a rush, he took off his own red durumagi and draped it over her head.

 

“At least wear this for now.”

 

I’m not crying, though…

 

She could have said that, but Hee-sa had enough sense to read the room. 

 

Right now, Hong Yeomrang felt uncomfortable and awkward around her. Maybe even a little guilty. So she kept wiping at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand. 

 

A faint warmth spread over the top of her head.

 

It was from the lingering body heat of the man still trapped in the fabric. She hadn’t expected him to actually take off what he was wearing to give to her, but Hee-sa didn’t refuse. 

 

She quickly slipped into the trailing durumagi, and the shoulders immediately began soaking through with wet.