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chapter 01
A pitch-black, narrow passage. A body small enough to make the passage feel spacious. Foul-smelling water flowing beneath tiny feet. Cobwebs clinging to a face with even the slightest movement. The occasional echo of clanging metal. The child couldn’t recall how he ended up in such a place.
No, to be precise, he couldn’t remember anything at all—not just this place. All he could do was assume he was trapped in a sewer.
“Help me! Please, someone help me!”
The child cried out with all his might, but only echoes answered. The hollow reverberations left behind only fear of being alone and the terror of death.
“Mom… I’m scared…”
The child sobbed, calling for his mother. But strangely, he had no memories of his parents. Still, the only thing the child could do was call out to a mother he couldn’t even remember.
Choking back tears, the child pressed on through the stench and cobwebs, blindly moving forward. Unable to see in the darkness, he reached out to steady himself on the wall, only to feel something crawl across the back of his hand.
“Ah! No! I hate this! I really hate this!”
But stopping wasn’t an option. His will to survive outweighed his fear of the dark and the bugs. The passage was slippery with sewage and its width inconsistent.
When the path became too narrow for even the child’s small body to pass, his fear grew worse. But the child, desperate to survive, retraced his steps back the way he came. That’s when a faint light appeared.
“Sniff… Please, someone help me! Sniff, sob… There’s someone here!”
As hope began to overpower the fear instilled by the echoing emptiness, the child’s cries grew louder. Shouting all the while, the child finally reached the source of the light. As he had suspected, he was in a sewer. The rising sun cast beams of light through several manhole openings above.
“Help! Please, someone help me! I’m here!”
The light pouring through the manholes seemed to shine hope into the child’s heart as well. He desperately wanted to knock on the manhole cover, but it was far too high to reach.
“Please… someone… help…”
Time passed. The child, though sobbing, continued to cry out for help. Whenever he thought he heard someone pass by, he screamed until his voice gave out. But if anyone heard, they didn’t stop, and no footsteps lingered.
The light that shone through the manhole came and went repeatedly, and eventually, the child collapsed in exhaustion, quietly weeping.
***
In an alley lined with old single-story houses, one home stood out. A white flag fluttered in the breeze on the roof of the modest residence. A line of people stretched out in front of it as if they were waiting to enter a famous restaurant.
“Is this the place that gives such great readings?”
“It’s the best. Truly the best.”
“It looks a bit shabby, though. I’ve been to my share of fortune-tellers, and this one only has a single white flag. Doesn’t that mean she only does readings?”
“Exactly. She only reads fortunes—birth charts, face readings, and divination—but she’s amazing at it.”
“Isn’t that stuff usually for face readers? And don’t the truly gifted have multiple flags?”
“You don’t get it. Back in the ’80s, a house with a single white flag was considered the best. This place has been around since then. The original elder passed her gifts to her daughter, who’s even more skilled.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Oh, and you know Jung-Young Construction, right?”
“Of course!”
The two women exchanged excited claps, drawing the attention of others waiting in line.
“Jung-Young Construction used to be a small-time company, just building standalone apartments in the countryside.”
“Right. Then they started handling government projects and grew massively.”
“Exactly. The fortune-teller here advised them to ‘begin with the nation’s coffers to fill your own,’ and when they started bidding for government contracts, the company exploded in size.”
“Oh my, really?”
“It’s true. Even families of politicians come here to find out if they’ll win elections.”
Some in the line suddenly became bashful, looking away.
“Her predictions for elections are scarily accurate. That’s why people flock here. I’m here to see if my son’s future will be successful.”
“Is it really that accurate?”
“Absolutely. Do you have anything you’re worried about?”
“My husband. Since she’s so skilled, I want to ask if he’ll make chief judge this time.”
“That’s perfect timing. But the fee is a bit steep.”
“What does that matter?”
Just then, a man in traditional attire emerged from the house and addressed the waiting crowd.
“The shaman says no more readings will be done today!”
Some left immediately without protest, but others, frustrated by the long wait, hesitated.
“Sis, we waited two hours, and now we have to leave?”
“There’s no helping it.”
“Can’t we make a reservation or something? This is ridiculous!”
“Shh! Don’t say things like that. It’ll bring bad luck. Even the vice president’s wife of Ho-Jung Electronics just left without a word.”
“Really?”
The man at the door stood silently, smiling as the crowd dispersed on its own. Soon, the once-long line disappeared entirely. The man then returned inside and announced,
“Master, the guests have all left.”
“Alright. Good work. Now, let’s go check something out.”
The shaman, after changing out of her ritual attire into casual clothing, stood up. Her assistant, a man named Chang-su, followed closely behind.
“Is something wrong?”
“Chang-su, don’t you hear it?”
“Hear what? Are you talking about the gods?”
“No, not that.”
“Then… the voice of the dead? That shouldn’t be possible! Not when the Celestial King resides here. Hearing the voices of wandering spirits is impossible…”
The shaman, who served the Celestial King—revered as the highest among the gods—shouldn’t have been able to hear the words of mere wandering spirits.
“I wondered if it was the voice of the dead, but it doesn’t seem like that. I need to confirm it.”
“Ah…”
“It seems to be coming from somewhere back there.”
The shaman stepped out of her home and began walking slowly through the surrounding alleyways. An hour passed as they circled the area.
Despite their continued search, the shaman, Cheong-wol, kept pacing the vicinity, and worry crept onto Chang-su’s face.
Hearing uninvited voices—especially those of spirits—could only mean one thing for a shaman: the loss of their divine connection.
Having worked with several shamans before, Chang-su knew some were genuine, while others were obvious frauds. But this shaman was the real deal.
Moreover, Cheong-wol treated her assistant with respect and paid a salary rivaling that of major corporations. Naturally, Chang-su began to fret over the security of his job.
“Master, are you alright?”
“Yes. Chang-su, you can leave if you want. It seems to be around here, but the sound is faint.”
“What kind of sound are you hearing?”
“A child’s voice. Hmm… Oh?”
“A child? I don’t hear anything.”
“Wait, be quiet for a moment.”
The shaman paused, listening intently, and then came to a stop.
“Help me…”
The voice was faint, almost a whisper. But locating its source was proving difficult. Eventually, the shaman began ringing doorbells at nearby houses.
“Who’s there?”
“Is there a child here?”
“What? Who are you?”
“I’m from Cheong-wol Dang at the end of the alley.”
“No, there are no children here.”
The voice was unmistakable. It was the weak cry of a child begging for help. The shaman looked around the alley briefly and then took a deep breath.
“If you can hear me, speak louder!”
Chang-su, who couldn’t hear anything, watched the shaman anxiously. Suddenly, the shaman knelt and pressed her face to the ground.
“Master! What are you doing?”
“Chang-su! Open this, quickly!”
“What?”
“This manhole cover! Hurry!”
“This? It’s not something you can just open… Hold on!”
Chang-su retrieved a metal lever and pried open the manhole cover.
“Master, could it be a cat? Their cries sound like a baby’s sometimes. Ugh… There, it’s open.”
The shaman shook her head.
“It’s not a cat. It’s a person’s voice.”
“Judging by how hard this was to open, it hasn’t been touched in years. There’s no way a person could be down there. Look, it’s empty.”
Chang-su gestured toward the open manhole. The shaman peered into the sewer and then looked back at Chang-su with an odd expression.
“Don’t you see the child?”
“What? Where’s the child?”
The shaman turned on her phone flashlight and shone it into the darkness. There, a child was visible—not a spirit, but a living, breathing child.
The shaman quickly assessed the depth, realizing it was slightly deeper than her height, and climbed down without hesitation, ladder or not.
“Ugh…”
Ignoring the stench, the shaman moved straight to the child.
“Hey, are you alright?”
“Master! Are you oka—what…!”
As the shaman cradled the child, Chang-su jumped back in shock.
“M-Master, I think I need a spiritual awakening or something… I swear I just saw a spirit!”
“Stop babbling about spirits! It’s a person! Go fetch a ladder or something!”
“A… a person? Hold on! I’ll call emergency services first!”
At that moment, the child seemed to relax, as if reassured he was safe, and suddenly went limp. The shaman held the child tightly.
The stench and grime didn’t matter. All that filled her mind was the thought that she had to save this child, even if she didn’t understand why.
“Tell them to hurry! Quickly!”
Shaman Cheong-wol had always kept a distance, merely observing others’ lives and offering advice without becoming too involved in their choices. She had no further interest in their outcomes. But with the child she had just rescued, things were different. Normally, saving a child she didn’t know would have been the end of her involvement. Yet, for some reason, she couldn’t let go.
Now, instead of walking away, she had accompanied the child in the ambulance and found herself at the hospital, acting as a guardian.
“Excuse me… is this child someone you know?”
“No.”
“Then why did you come all the way to the hospital… and why do you look so anxious? Did the Celestial Spirit say something to you?”
“No… nothing like that.”
“How strange. If someone saw you, they’d think this child was your own.”
At that moment, Cheong-wol began to understand her feelings. The worry of a parent for their child. The restless, impatient heart that couldn’t bear to wait.
‘Is this… what it feels like to be a parent?’
Unable to sit still any longer, Cheong-wol entered the emergency room.
“Hmm?”
Something was off. Despite it being some time since the child had been brought in and laid on a bed, no doctors or nurses were attending to them. Even if there was no guardian present, it was unacceptable to leave an unconscious child unattended.
Anger began to well up. She walked over to the child’s bed, intending to give the medical staff a stern word.
Just then, her phone rang—it was Chang-su.
“Why are you calling?”
“Only one guardian is allowed inside, so I couldn’t come in. I wanted to ask if you’d like me to bring some clothes for you. Yours got dirty.”
“Oh… thank you.”
“Try to stay calm, okay?”
The timely call helped cool some of Cheong-wol’s frustration. She approached the child.
Despite having been in the emergency room for a while, the child remained in the same state he had been brought in—completely covered in grime from head to toe. Just then, a nurse passed by, and Cheong-wol immediately stopped her.
“Excuse me, Nurse. When will you check on this child?”
“Pardon? What child?”
“This child right here!”
The nurse’s eyes widened in shock when she turned to where Cheong-wol was pointing. She was visibly startled, then hurriedly called for the medical staff.
“How can you not know a patient was brought in…?”
Just as her anger was about to erupt, she froze. For the first time, she got a proper look at the child’s face.
Her chest tightened. She had no children of her own, yet she felt an inexplicable connection to this child. It was as though they were bound by an unseen thread.
The feeling passed quickly, but it brought clarity—she understood why neither Chang-su nor the doctors had noticed the child.
“What in the world…”
The child was undoubtedly alive, yet he lacked the vitality of the living. Though there was life within them, their presence was faint, like that of the dead.
Now, she understood why no one in the hospital had noticed the child despite their arrival. An ordinary person would struggle to sense this child’s presence.
Without realizing it, the shaman reached out and took the child’s dirty hand, gently brushing his hair back to see his face more clearly.
“Such a brilliant face… destined to be loved by all. A love so profound that it defines the purpose of life itself… And yet…”
It was an extraordinary destiny, marked by a unique aura.
“Why, then, do you bear the presence of the dead?”
Cheong-wol had never felt so unsettled. She had occasionally foreseen the deaths of clients during readings, but this was different. This was deeper, more personal.
No, it wasn’t just unsettling—it was painful. Her chest felt tight, as though she couldn’t breathe.
Pressing her hand to her heart, she studied the child more closely. Without realizing it, her eyes filled with tears.
“Why… Why does one destined to be so loved… also bear the mark of a short life?”
