V1S1C2

“This is my first time traveling this path as well, so…”

How on earth would I know that? Furthermore, even if you found a waterlogged shoe, you could never wear it again.

As Kang-soe entertained these thoughts, his stiff body finally relaxed. Rolling his neck produced a loud series of cracks. Perhaps due to spending so much time outdoors, his entire body felt like it was screaming in protest.

I need to reach a village soon and scorch my back on a heated floor for three or four days to feel better.

The mere thought amplified his exhaustion. Blinking his weary eyes at the man awaiting an answer, he shook his head to signal his ignorance and excused himself to continue his journey. The man called out to stop him.

“Do you truly not know?”

The question felt vaguely accusatory, as if Kang-soe were actively hiding the shoe. He shook his head vigorously.

“I truly do not know.”

Kang-soe turned on his heel the moment he replied. The man didn’t call him again, merely standing still, his gaze now fixed on Kang-soe instead of the river. Feeling a prickle of discomfort from the intense stare, Kang-soe shook his head and hurried his pace. The ground was wet today; reaching the village before nightfall would be ideal.

Watching the sun slowly stretch toward the horizon, Kang-soe hurried his steps. After cresting a hill and climbing a small rise, he saw the winding, babbling river below, glittering as if shattered sunlight had dusted it with gold.

If that were real gold, I’d scrape it all up and sell it.

Chuckling inwardly, he hoisted his pack higher. In the distance, plumes of white smoke from cooking fires drifted upward. Just down this slope lay the village. Tearing his eyes away from the distant river to cross the ridge, he noticed a pair of prominent, rounded twin boulders.

Where have I seen those before?

They felt incredibly familiar.

Being a first-time traveler on this road, he shouldn’t have recognized them, yet he felt certain he had seen them before. Where could it have been? After a moment of deep thought, the memory surfaced.

In my dream.

He had glided across the surface, plunged underwater, and spun in circles. When he drifted near those massive twin boulders, he had continued to sink. The man searching for his shoe suddenly came to mind—Kang-soe couldn’t recall his face, only his stark black clothes and the pheasant feather ornament.

Descending the hill and approaching the twin boulders, Kang-soe temporarily set his pack down and rolled up his trousers and sleeves. Removing his ruined, mud-caked socks and straw shoes, he gently washed the grime away in the flowing stream. Placing them on a flat rock, he waded into the water. Having just rained, it was bitterly cold. The edge of the river remained shallow, but the area near the boulders looked deceptively deep. Refusing to get completely soaked on such a chilly day, he hesitated before walking back to his pack to retrieve his wooden staff. Leaning forward to test the depth, he felt the bottom drop out; it was deep enough to drown in.

Doing all this nonsense over a stupid dream.

He had wasted his time.

Fool.

Kang-soe lightly smacked his own head.

The slowly sinking sun was already turning crimson. As he hurried to exit the water, his foot repeatedly snagged on something clunky.

He yanked his foot up. Water cascaded down, revealing a single shoe caught on his toes.

“What in the world is this?”

When had he ever worn something like this?

Letting out a dry, disbelieving laugh, he carefully removed the shoe and placed it upside down on a rock. Retrieving a towel from his pack, he dried off and slipped on his spare socks and straw shoes.

Clutching the dripping wet socks, his ruined shoes, and the mysterious single shoe, he resumed his journey.

◇ ◇ ◇

Upon entering the village and finding a tavern, it was already packed with people. With the market opening tomorrow, traveling peddlers had swarmed the place, throwing a raucous drinking party. The tavern owner, clearly scheming to get them all dead drunk and stack them like firewood in the sleeping quarters, was diligently scrubbing the floors.

So much for scorching my back on a heated floor. How could anyone endure the stench of drunken peddlers stacked atop one another?

It wouldn’t just be the smell of cheap liquor. The reek of unwashed feet and rotting breath would feel like physical blades. After polishing off one bowl of soup and rice, ordering a second, and washing it down with a bowl of unrefined rice wine, Kang-soe rolled his eyes around the room, desperate to find alternative lodging.

Just then, one of the peddlers slammed his fist on a table and let out a sleazy chuckle.

“Have any of you lot heard of the Shoe Ghost?”

“The Shoe Ghost?”

Unable to contain the gossip burning a hole in his tongue, the peddler unleashed the tale he had heard.

“They say there’s a man standing a full eight feet tall, waiting silently by the river. His face is deathly pale, but his mouth is dripping with fresh blood, bright red as if he just devoured someone raw. And you know why? His lips are slit all the way to his ears! It’s horrifying. If a terrified traveler tries to sneak past, the ghost chases them down in a flash, pins them, and asks a single question.”

“What does he ask?”

“He asks, ‘Have you seen a single shoe?'”

“A shoe?”

The peddler nodded emphatically. “He asks if you’ve seen a single shoe washing down the river.”

“And what happens if you don’t answer?”

“He just stands there, staring at you until you do. But the terrifying part is, your body freezes completely. A buddy of mine, Kim, ran into this creature. He stood paralyzed from broad daylight until the sun came up the next morning!”

A ghost in broad daylight?

As murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd, the storyteller slapped his knee. “Exactly, you fools! That’s what makes it so terrifying!” Snickering, he continued, “So, Kim finally blurted out that it washed down the estuary, just to say something. The ghost let him go. Thinking he’d barely survived, Kim started walking again, but his body felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. His vision kept flashing bright, then pitch black, then bright again. Desperate to get home, he dragged himself forward. But before he could get far, the man who had vanished suddenly chased him down again.”

Why had the man returned?

Because he hadn’t found his shoe.

Kang-soe, who had previously considered brushing the man off with a vague answer, flinched violently at the peddler’s dramatic yell of, “Give me my shoe!”

“So what happened to Kim?” someone asked.

The heavily intoxicated storyteller swayed and slurred his reply. “What do you think? He was so bewitched by the ghost he crapped his pants right then and there. And after that…”

What happened after that?

Kang-soe strained his ears, but he never heard the ending.

The drunken peddler had face-planted straight onto the table. The other merchants burst into uproarious laughter at the pathetic sight and resumed passing their cups. The loud, boisterous noise seemed to soothe Kang-soe’s startled heart, returning it to its rightful place.

Scraping the last grains of rice from his bowl and draining the final drops of wine left him pleasantly full and lethargic. If only he could just wash his feet and sleep. Groaning as if in pain, he called the tavern owner over to settle his tab. When he asked if there was another place to sleep nearby, she grumbled about why he was taking his business elsewhere instead of staying at her establishment.

“Look, you’re going to tell me anyway, so just spit it out. Why make a fuss?”

Her sharp retort stung his ears.

Digging a pinky into his ear, he trudged off in the direction she had pointed. His bundle felt exceptionally heavy tonight. The place she recommended was another tavern situated on the outskirts of the village—isolated in a quiet area, he never would have guessed it was an inn had it not been for the lantern hanging outside.

“Is anyone there?” he called out, stepping through the open twig gate. “Hello?” he called again, which prompted hurried footsteps. A man with a blunt nose emerged from somewhere to greet him.

“I’m looking to stay the night. Do you have a room?”

“Of course, of course. Have you eaten? Would you like some liquor? I’d like to tidy up the room while you drink.”

“I’m fine on food…”

Having already consumed two bowls of rice soup and a large bowl of wine, he wasn’t particularly hungry. Gently rubbing his belly, he requested just one bowl of liquor. It felt impolite to simply rent a room and immediately fall asleep, so he sat on the wooden bench, tapping his foot. While the owner prepared his drink, Kang-soe noticed a tiny girl, barely reaching his waist, hurrying into a room with a rag. When their eyes met, she offered a quick bow and scurried inside like a frightened mouse, causing him to chuckle softly.

The owner presented his drink—just a bowl of unrefined wine and a handful of young radish kimchi, but better than nothing. He poured a cup and swallowed; it was surprisingly decent.

Good liquor, but no customers.

Looking around, he noticed a man sitting on the opposite bench. The night had grown dark, and the single dim lantern made it impossible to see his face. Kang-soe figured he was just another peddler arriving early for tomorrow’s market.

One cup turned into two, and soon his head was spinning delightfully. The buzz crept in, causing his body to tilt. Just as he was about to lay his head on the bench using his pack as a pillow, he felt the owner gently pushing his back, urging him into his room.

“Right, I rented a room. Gotta sleep in the room.”

He hummed a tune, making the act of walking to his room sound like a grand celebration. His legs tangled clumsily. The darkness made it hard to see, and as he blindly reached out, the owner stepped in to support his weight. Like any true drunkard, Kang-soe insisted he was perfectly fine and didn’t need help, but after nearly face-planting on the wooden porch, he meekly accepted the assistance.

As he kicked off his shoes and reached for the door handle, the owner asked a question, ”Sir. Would you mind sharing the room with another guest?”

“The room?”

Kang-soe blew a puff of air upward to clear the hair falling into his face. His breath reeked of stale liquor. Flashing a goofy grin, he asked if the guest was the peddler sitting outside earlier.

The owner chuckled, “He’s not a peddler, sir. He just couldn’t find lodging anywhere else nearby. Would it be alright?”

The owner offered to cut the room fee in half, but Kang-soe wasn’t particularly thrilled by the idea. Letting out a long, groaning sigh, he yanked off his socks and gave them a vigorous shake over the edge of the porch; a gritty shower of sand and dirt rained down. When Kang-soe failed to answer, the anxious owner stamped his feet.

“Is it not possible, sir?”

In the pitch-black night, with his vision swimming from the alcohol, Kang-soe felt as if he locked eyes with someone. He almost called out, “Hey, buddy!” but let his hand drop limply. It was a tiny tavern, clearly lacking spare rooms, so he finally nodded.

Shouldn’t be so cold-hearted to a fellow traveler.

Muttering to no one in particular, he stumbled inside. The owner had already laid out two fluffy sleeping mats.

He planned on cramming someone else in here from the start.

Blinking slowly, Kang-soe crawled into the bedding pressed against the wall.

He placed his pack beside him, finally feeling the sweet relief of rest. Resting his head on the pillow, he shifted twice more before exhaling deeply. As he pulled the blanket up and closed his eyes, he heard the owner talking to someone outside. He couldn’t make out the words. The muffled, watery hum eventually stopped, followed by the sound of the door opening. With that, Kang-soe fell into a deep, unconscious sleep. In his dark dreams, he spun in endless circles.

Whether it was the alcohol’s doing or not, he couldn’t say.

◇ ◇ ◇

Normally, Kang-soe was second to none when it came to diligence, always the first to wake up and start bustling about. But this morning, peeling his eyes open felt like an impossible task. Bright sunlight danced near his head, and a cool, refreshing breeze washed over him. His body felt warm, his feet cool, and the heavy blanket tangled around his legs felt wonderful.

Did tavern blankets always feel this good?

It was as soft and smooth as human skin.

So soft.

Kang-soe absentmindedly kneaded whatever was touching his hand as if kneading dough. It felt magnificent. Seeking out the radiating warmth, he nuzzled his face forward and rubbed against the solid mass between his legs.

Hot breath brushed against his ear.

It feels like someone is lying next to me.

He shot upright, saw a body lying beside him, and scrambled backward so fast he practically somersaulted.

“Wh-wh-wh-who are you?!”

The person lying down calmly sat up. Scratching his neck, the stranger stared at him—a face he didn’t recognize. Fumbling to check his clothes, Kang-soe locked eyes with the man. As Kang-soe panted heavily, the man reached out and lightly tapped him. “You’re in my spot.”

“Ah…”

Only then did he understand. The fuzzy memories of last night slowly coalesced. He remembered the owner asking to share the room, and his own slurred agreement.

I swear I went to sleep glued to the wall.

He shouldn’t have drunk that extra cup. But regret was useless over spilled wine. Crawling awkwardly back to his side, he bowed repeatedly, profusely apologizing. He explained that he normally wasn’t a restless sleeper and blamed the alcohol.

The man merely shook his head.

“Alcohol can do that to a man.”

He added a dry warning, however, that had he been a woman instead of a man, it would have caused a massive scandal, advising him to be more careful. Burdened by guilt, Kang-soe couldn’t lift his head.

The man cleared his throat and changed his clothes.

Still keeping his head low, Kang-soe followed suit, organizing his own attire.

Living as a wanderer meant he had nothing special to change into. Had he been in his right mind the night before, he would have washed his socks. Today, he had no choice but to wear his spares. He rolled up the foul-smelling dirty socks, stuffed them into his pack, and slipped on the clean ones. Tying back his messy hair and wiping the sleep from his eyes, he suddenly felt an intense, unblinking stare.

The man’s lips parted slightly, as if harboring a question, before he meticulously folded his bedding into a perfect square. His neat, aristocratic appearance made him look like someone who normally ordered servants around, making his self-sufficiency seem oddly impressive.

What am I doing?

Shaking off the absurd thought and lightly tapping his own head, Kang-soe folded his bedding too. It was a sloppy, haphazard fold compared to the stranger’s, but at least he tried. Checking his pack for missing items, he stepped outside.

“Owner! Do you have water to wash with?”

“Drew it fresh at dawn! There’s a large water vat out back, filled to the brim. Use as much as you like.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you be taking breakfast before you go?”

The scent of fresh butterbur leaves and boiling soybean paste soup made his stomach rumble violently. Confirming he would eat, Kang-soe headed to the vat. The pooled water was crystal clear, carrying the faint scent of fresh grass—drawn from a mountain spring. Muttering a quick thanks for the owner’s early-morning labor, he poured water into a basin. He washed his face and neck, rolled up his sleeves, and scrubbed deep up his forearms before viciously scrubbing his feet until they squeaked. The clear water quickly turned murky.

“Yikes. Filthy.”

Whose feet were those to create such a mess?

Tossing the dirty water toward the vegetable patch outside the gate, he drew fresh water and scrubbed again. Squeak, squeak. As he enjoyed the cleansing ritual, a soft cough interrupted him. Looking up, he saw the man from his room standing with his hands clasped behind his back, watching him.

Must want to wash up.

Kang-soe wanted to wash his face one more time, but he emptied the basin, rinsed it out, and pushed it toward the man.

“This lowly one is finished.”

The man hesitated slightly before drawing water from the vat, mirroring Kang-soe’s actions. His hands were incredibly pale. His face, too. Earlier, in the chaotic panic of waking up, Kang-soe had dismissed him as a stranger, but looking now, the face felt remarkably familiar.

Where have I seen him?

Drying off with his towel, Kang-soe retrieved his bamboo salt container. Chewing the end of a twig to create a brush, he scooped up the finely roasted salt to scrub his teeth. It was an extravagant luxury for a wandering traveler, but Kang-soe didn’t care.

They say the King wipes his teeth with silk. And wipes his rear with it too, or so the rumors went.

Lost in these useless thoughts, he locked eyes with the man again. Feeling inexplicably self-conscious, Kang-soe crab-walked two steps backward, yet the stare persisted. Wondering what the man wanted, his eyes went wide. He offered his towel, which the man accepted with a polite thanks.

Ah, he just needed a towel.

Just as Kang-soe turned away, the man called out to him again. What now? Turning back, Kang-soe looked at the man’s pale face, and suddenly the memory of yesterday’s downpour rushed back. The torrential rain. The black robes with blue trim. The man with the pheasant feather.

Was this not him?!

Gasping in shock, Kang-soe accidentally swallowed a mouthful of salty water.

Ugh. Salty! So salty!

As he grimaced in agony, the man finally spoke, “By any chance, have we met before?”

The question triggered a violent coughing fit. Bending over, Kang-soe hacked as if he were vomiting, causing the man to blush with embarrassment. He quickly grabbed a gourd of water and offered it. Kang-soe took it, splashing water over his mouth and nose to recover.

“Good lord. I thought I was going to die.”

“What surprised you so much?”

“The, the salt… it’s too salty.”

Would salt be sweet, then? The man’s deadpan look clearly conveyed the thought.

Kang-soe shook his head; he could hardly confess the man himself was the cause. Blowing his nose once more made him feel a bit better. Wiping away a stray tear, he stood. Having crouched for so long, his legs had fallen asleep.

Leaning against the wall to turn around, the man pressed the issue, ”Are you absolutely certain we haven’t crossed paths?”

“Well… I may not be a peddler, but I do wander all over the place…”

It would make my head explode to remember every face I pass while spinning through life.

Despite Kang-soe’s nervous chuckling, the man remained unsmiling. Finishing drying off, he handed the towel back. Feigning ignorance and tilting his head as if he truly couldn’t remember, the man finally nodded in acceptance.

Phew. Shaved ten years off my life.

While Kang-soe stood behind the man, patting his racing heart, the tavern owner popped his head out to announce breakfast was ready.

Eager to eat, Kang-soe hurried over, only to find a single small dining table prepared. He sneakily glanced at the man, who was undoubtedly having the exact same thought upon seeing the two heaping bowls of rice squeezed onto it.

“Owner, I’ll eat later. Serve the noble gentleman first.”

How could he force them to share a table? As Kang-soe barked in mock outrage, the owner scratched his head. We only have one table. The excuse brought back the nightmare of sharing the room. Suppressing his rising temper, Kang-soe scolded him for being so careless. Using his fingertips, he pointed toward the sword dangling at the man’s waist.

Wait, was that the sword he had yesterday? Wasn’t it a massive blade radiating a terrifying, cold blue aura?

While Kang-soe tilted his head in confusion, the owner finally caught his drift and rushed to clear away a bowl and spoon. The frantic movement prompted the man to wave his hand.

“Leave it be.”

“Pardon…?”

“I do not wish to cause a fuss this early in the morning. I shall simply share the table with him.”

“But still…”

The owner mumbled about propriety while shooting nervous glances at Kang-soe, who vehemently shook his head. No. Absolutely not. He made a swift slicing motion across his neck. The owner’s grumbling was giving him a headache. To avoid any further awkwardness, Kang-soe turned to retreat to his room, but the man stopped him.

“Please, sit and eat with me.”

“How could I possibly dare.”

“What is so difficult about sharing a meal? Please, sit. Don’t you need to eat quickly to attend the market?”

“That is true, but…” He intended to say he didn’t necessarily have to go, but his mouth betrayed him again.

Seeing this, the man offered a soft smile. When his long eyes curved into crescents, he suddenly didn’t seem so intimidating. He wasn’t eight feet tall, nor were his lips slit to his ears. Aside from being a bit pale, he was just a normal person.

Glancing up at the fierce sun already blazing in the sky, Kang-soe took a deep breath. Come to think of it, he does seem a bit different from the man I saw yesterday.

As Kang-soe hesitated, unable to step forward, the man closed the distance and gently pulled him by the sleeve. Sitting before the table, Kang-soe could only sigh. He had a million things to say, but his mind was a chaotic mess, keeping his mouth shut tight. Waiting for the man to lift his spoon first, Kang-soe finally took a bite.

It wasn’t pure white rice, but it was generously mixed with a variety of grains. As he took a spoonful of the firm mixed-grain rice, followed by a sip of the hot soup, the grains effortlessly broke apart in his mouth, releasing a delightful crunch. He then picked up some crunchy, bitter herb kimchi, followed by savory roasted pumpkin namul. Despite the lingering chalkiness in his mouth from the hangover, his hearty appetite quickly devoured the entire bowl. He scraped the last spoonful into his mouth and savored a massive bite of crisp radish. The intense crunch was incredibly satisfying, and he couldn’t resist the urge for another bowl.

As he turned his head to call the owner, the man asked if he wanted more. When Kang-soe nodded, the man neatly scooped the untouched portion of his own rice and transferred it to Kang-soe’s bowl. He had barely taken a few bites; most of it remained.

“Oh my. It’s alright, sir. You should eat.”

“I eat very little in the mornings. It upsets my stomach. Rather than bothering the owner, why don’t you finish this?”

Having already transferred the rice, the man left him no room to refuse.

What a strange, stubborn aristocrat.

Pouting slightly, Kang-soe offered a polite bow of thanks, prompting another light smile from the man. The extra rice disappeared into Kang-soe’s stomach in record time. When he was down to his last few spoonfuls, the man, sipping on hot scorched-rice water, finally spoke.

“My name is Yeom-gon. May I ask your name, sir?”

“Sir? Please, no such titles. Just call me however you like.”

Startled, Kang-soe waved his hands frantically, causing the man’s eyebrows to arch high in amusement. What’s so funny? Heat rushed to Kang-soe’s face. Staring back at the expectant gaze, he lowered his head and answered.

“My name is Kim Kang-soe.”

Kang-soe. Kang-soe.

The man seemed fascinated by the name, rolling it over his tongue a few times before smiling again. When Kang-soe grumpily asked why he was laughing, the man merely shook his head, offering no explanation.

What an eccentric nobleman. Or perhaps he wasn’t a noble at all.

Amidst these thoughts, their eyes locked again. The quiet, intense stare made Kang-soe’s skin prickle. His insides felt like they were doing flips, and his mouth went completely dry. Deciding it was best to part ways quickly, he slapped his coins on the table and practically fled the tavern.

Thanks to the market, even this remote area felt bustling and alive. Having sold off all the medicinal herbs he’d gathered in the previous town, he had nothing left to sell, only a few things to buy and questions to ask.

How long to the next village?

Calculating his route, he paused before an older woman selling snacks from a street stall. Picking up a few appetizing treats, he paid and asked his question, “Excuse me, ma’am. Do you happen to know where to find the Five-Foot Tail, Five-Foot Beak?”

The woman shook her head. “How would I know something even the King doesn’t know?” She just laughed, treating his question as an absurd joke.

Undeterred, Kang-soe bought straw shoes, more provisions, and thick socks, asking the same question at every stop.

Excuse me. Do you happen to know where to find the Five-Foot Tail, Five-Foot Beak?

Every time he asked, people shook their heads. Why ask a lowly peasant something even the King doesn’t know? He was treated like a madman and openly mocked. The passing guards didn’t know; the stern-looking clerk stroking his goat-beard didn’t know.

He had bought what he needed, but his questions remained utterly unfulfilled.

His heart felt heavy, and his steps dragged.

Leaving the village behind, he walked along the babbling riverbank. Near the river’s edge, the water was shallow and fast. Following the path, he saw the streams converge into a broader, deeper river. The raging waters nourished a dense thicket of trees and tall grass. Tapping the brush with his staff to avoid grass stains, a sudden gust of wind blew past. The rustling leaves, shaking branches, and the sound of the wind whipping the willow trees against the water tickled his ears.

His loose hair whipped across his face. Dust blew into his eyes, forcing him to squeeze them shut. Rubbing them vigorously, he finally cleared his vision, only to spot a figure standing about a hundred paces ahead.

A man wearing a jade-green overcoat and a gat.

Is he fishing?

Kang-soe thought nothing of the man’s sudden appearance. He assumed the stranger had simply been sitting hidden in the tall grass and had just stood up. The flowing river made his mind feel sluggish and relaxed. Still, he needed to hurry. Since he had learned nothing in the previous village, he needed to keep moving.

Despite this resolve, a sense of futility made his steps lag.

As he was about to walk past the man by the river, a very familiar pheasant feather caught his eye.

I must be seeing things.

Pretending to rub his eyes, he casually turned his head away.

Shuffling sideways like a crab to quietly bypass the figure, a sudden, distinct chuckle reached his ears.

A terrifyingly familiar sound.

Gripping his pack straps tight, Kang-soe prepared to bolt, but the tall grass rustled violently. A pale hand shot out, snatching him by the scruff of the neck in a flash.