V1S2C11

Kang-soe dreamed of drifting.

Carried endlessly by an unseen current, his body grew heavy and lethargic while his vision swayed. Brilliant sunlight shattered across the surface of the water on a piercingly clear day, blinding him. As he raised the back of his hand to shield his eyes, something suddenly yanked his foot downward. He thrashed in panic, screaming for help, but time seemed to freeze as he sank beneath the surface, his eyes locking with someone else’s.

Who was it?

A stranger, yet not entirely unfamiliar.

Watching the figure drift through the water with long, dark brown hair trailing like seaweed, Kang-soe felt a strange sense of recognition. She was a beautiful woman. Through the murky, sand-clouded water, she offered a gentle, serene smile. Neither her shredded clothes nor her brutally severed arm and leg brought her any shame now.

She simply smiled, drifting aimlessly through the watery depths. Though no sound escaped her lips, she mouthed something at him. What are you saying? Only the muffled roar of the current filled his ears, yet she persistently tried to speak. Through lips sliced open by a blade, she desperately communicated some silent message before abruptly bursting into flames.

She burned brightly beneath the water, her form disintegrating into black ash that scattered like grains of sand until nothing remained. At that exact moment, a torrential flood crashed down from the ceiling above.

“Aaaagh!”

Swept away by the cascading water, he sank into the abyss and jolted awake.

“Aaaagh!”

He screamed aloud, mirroring his nightmare, his eyes snapping open to absolute blackness. The pitch-dark void consumed everything. Swallowing hard, Kang-soe listened to the loud, echoing drip and flow of water. He anxiously patted his own neck, needing to confirm that his head and limbs were still properly attached.

After frantically checking his skull, ankles, and waist, he pushed himself up, only for something to slip off his shoulders and hit the ground with a soft thud. In the dark, he couldn’t see a thing. Blindly groping the floor, he retrieved what felt like another person’s garment. A quick sniff confirmed it certainly didn’t belong to him.

Then whose is it?

The answer didn’t take long to surface, bringing a very specific, unseen face to mind.

“…Hyung-nim? Are you there?”

His voice echoed off the unseen walls, met only with silence. Unsure of what lurked in the oppressive dark, Kang-soe crouched back down. Sweeping his hands across the stone floor, he felt a layer of fabric laid out like a makeshift bed. He let out a hollow, bewildered chuckle at the unexpected comfort, but the sound died in his throat as approaching footsteps broke the silence.

“Are you awake?”

The voice sounded different from usual. Yeom-gon was never particularly warm, but now he sounded undeniably furious.

Is it just my imagination?

He prayed it was, but as the deliberate footsteps drew closer, Kang-soe knew his instincts were dead on. He usually prided himself on his sharp intuition, but today he cursed it. His insides twisted into tight knots. He considered curling up and feigning sleep, but the man was already standing so close their feet were practically touching. And in that terrifying moment, the memories of what had transpired right before he passed out came rushing back.

I completely forgot because of that damn dream.

You idiot. You absolute, colossal idiot.

Kang-soe ruthlessly berated himself. But cursing his own stupidity wouldn’t change reality. The foot touching his own suddenly shifted. Yeom-gon lifted his boot and brought it down hard, deliberately crushing Kang-soe’s toes.

“Gah!”

A scream tore from his throat. The shriek echoed sharply throughout the cavern. Terrified by the noise he’d made, Kang-soe clamped a hand over his mouth, waiting as Yeom-gon addressed him once more.

“Are you awake?”

“Ugh…”

“Answer me.”

His crushed toes throbbed fiercely. When Kang-soe squeezed his eyes shut and remained silent, a low, dangerous sigh drifted through the dark.

“Answer me, before I snap your foot in half.”

“Wh-what are you doing?!”

Realizing it wasn’t an idle threat and the man fully intended to shatter his bones, Kang-soe hastily cried out. His ragged, trembling breaths sounded deafening in the enclosed space. Instead of answering, Yeom-gon exhaled another heavy sigh and placed a large, heavy hand atop Kang-soe’s head.

“Why did you disobey my explicit instructions?”

“Well…”

“I told you to run up the mountain. Who told you to run down?”

“I… slipped.”

I slipped.

It was a pathetic excuse even to his own ears, but it happened to be the absolute truth. If his foot hadn’t given way on the wet mud, he never would have seen the burning hut. He must have been temporarily bewitched by the horrifying sight while scrambling to regain his footing. Proud of this perfectly logical justification, Kang-soe eagerly rattled it off, but Yeom-gon remained utterly unresponsive, clearly not buying a word of it.

The silence grew suffocatingly heavy. Right before passing out, Kang-soe had felt completely fearless, yet now he couldn’t fathom why he was so petrified. Sitting in the pitch black, his legs trembled uncontrollably. He hadn’t even been struck, but the paralyzing dread refused to fade. As Kang-soe flinched at the slightest sound, Yeom-gon’s weighty sigh filled the air once more.

“Little brother. You have meddled in affairs that did not concern you.”

“Excuse me? What? What did you say?”

“Answer me only once. When I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes!”

A single misplaced word felt like it would cost him his head. Instinctively dropping to his knees and shrinking his neck, Kang-soe listened as Yeom-gon continued. He spoke a sentence, then sighed. Spoke another, then sighed again. The constant, heavy exhales felt like physical weights threatening to crush Kang-soe flat.

“I fully intended to cut that creature down.”

“…”

“When you fished it from the well, I assumed you witnessed its suffering. I sliced its mouth open merely to grant it one final chance to spew its pent-up rage.”

But that hadn’t been the end of it. That small mercy hadn’t been enough. Yeom-gon’s voice dripped with raw irritation.

“To think its han (resentment) was anchored to that very jar.”

When the creature’s mouth was freed and it rushed the hut to unleash its fury, Yeom-gon had planned to send Kang-soe up the mountain and slaughter it instantly. The sheer magnitude of the rage the entity carried from the depths of the well was so intense that its release ignited a raging inferno. Amidst the roaring flames, Yeom-gon had swung his long sword, neatly severing an arm and a leg in a single, devastating strike. Just as he spotted the faintly glowing fragment within the severed flesh and prepared to strike again, the foolish husband—miraculously unburnt by the vengeful fire—had bolted from the hut, desperately trying to crawl back into the kimchi jar.

That was when Kang-soe had intervened. He had snatched the jar, hurled it down the steep slope, and shattered it against the earth. The exact moment the earthenware smashed to pieces and the sorrowful wail erupted from within, Yeom-gon finally understood what the Snail Bride truly desired.

“If her mother-in-law had simply chopped her to pieces, buried her in that jar, and left her rot, this village would likely have remained untouched. The bride intended to end her existence right there in the dark. However, the jar was broken, and its contents scattered. Her profound resentment—everything festering inside her womb—spilled out into the village, seeking out those responsible.”

The fragmented curses latched onto the culprits. But to everyone’s horror, the guilty parties weren’t just one or two men.

“The entire village was complicit, leaving scarcely a single household untouched by her wrath. Though punished by being forced into the bodies of lowly beasts, they remained blind to their sins, repeating their atrocities until her resentment breached the heavens, bringing down divine punishment.”

A catastrophic flood would descend, wiping the village from the face of the earth.

Inexplicably, Yeom-gon added that such a method was the most efficient way to cleanse the area, speaking with the nonchalance of a man who had done this countless times before. Mulling over those terrifying words, Kang-soe swallowed hard, finally realizing exactly what the echoing drips and rushing water around him signified.

Yeom-gon explained that the second the rain began to fall, he had hauled Kang-soe up the mountain. With a devastating flood imminent, staying in the valley guaranteed a watery grave. He had carried him to higher ground, found a dry cave for shelter, and watched over him until he regained consciousness. Yet upon waking, Kang-soe had stubbornly refused to answer his questions, igniting Yeom-gon’s temper.

Hearing the full story made Kang-soe feel like an utterly ungrateful wretch. Thoroughly ashamed, he rubbed his hands together, profusely begging for forgiveness. The frantic groveling seemed to appease Yeom-gon slightly, as he finally began answering Kang-soe’s questions without threatening bodily harm. Kang-soe was so relieved he could have wept.

“But what was it she truly desired?”

“…Are you speaking of the Snail Bride?”

“Yes.”

“You fulfilled it yourself, yet you still do not know?”

He clearly hadn’t forgiven him completely; his tone remained razor-sharp. His voice was so menacing it sounded ready to slice through bone, making Kang-soe’s bladder clench in fear.

“You listened to her agony, and you wept for her. Furthermore, you shattered the house that kept her bound to this earth. It is exceedingly difficult for women these days to break free once they are trapped.”

The horrifying image of the men tangled together flashed through his mind again. Realizing the true, vile nature of those wet, slapping sounds made his stomach churn violently. As his face contorted in pure disgust and sorrow, Yeom-gon—who had been standing the entire time—settled down beside him and asked quietly.

“Did the woman’s fate grieve you so deeply?”

“…To me, it was horrifying. I can’t even fathom how she endured such an existence.”

How did she keep all that agony buried inside her? Just speaking the words made a heavy, suffocating lump rise in his throat. As he held his breath to suppress the rising emotion, Yeom-gon tapped his fingertips rhythmically against the stone floor.

“Did I not tell you I am searching for my bride?”

“Yes.”

It was freezing in the cave, yet his eyes kept sweating. As Kang-soe discreetly wiped away the stubborn tears and replied, Yeom-gon clicked his tongue. He muttered something about Kang-soe possessing a ‘pure spirit,’ but Kang-soe ignored it completely. Remembering the threat of having his bones broken if he didn’t respond, he simply nodded aggressively. Returning to the main issue, Yeom-gon finally addressed Kang-soe’s reckless meddling.

“When the woman approached you in the fire, did you not see a gleaming white pearl?”

Kang-soe immediately recalled the glowing white stone that had vanished with the lightning strike. Was that a pearl? Now that he mentioned it, it did resemble one. In truth, Kang-soe had never seen a real pearl in his life, but the description seemed close enough.

“I believe I saw it.”

“And what, exactly, did you do with it?”

“I had a feeling it was the very thing you were looking for, Hyung-nim, so I reached out to grab it, but it vanished into thin air the second the lightning struck!”

It was enough to make ghosts wail in frustration. Hearing Kang-soe’s bewildered recount, Yeom-gon burst into laughter. He laughed—yet the sound carried no genuine amusement, sending a deep chill down Kang-soe’s spine. When Yeom-gon asked if he knew where the object had gone, Kang-soe could only shake his head in utter confusion.

“That was a fragment of my bride’s floral palanquin. As it is not an object of this earthly realm, it assumed that form after being shattered. I must collect every single piece.”

“Wait…”

“Because those fragments are, in essence, my bride herself.”

Outside, the tempest raged, roaring with deafening thunderclaps. Yet to Kang-soe, the thunder sounded exactly like the terrifying crack of wooden paddles being readied at the magistrate’s office.

“I wander the realms searching for my bride, who was torn to pieces before she could even cross the threshold of my home. No matter where those fragments may be.”

Yeom-gon’s hand fell heavily upon Kang-soe’s shoulder, tapping a terrifying rhythm. Kang-soe’s breath hitched. A profound dread washed over him as he realized he had made a catastrophic error.

“The one who bestowed a single shoe upon me claimed my karmic debt was too great to receive a bride. To cleanse this karma, I must personally resolve the chaos caused by her scattered fragments. If I fail to do so, my own hands can never piece her back together. However, this cosmic bureaucracy is irrelevant to you, little brother, so let us pretend I said nothing. The crux of the matter is…”

“…”

“While I did not resolve the entity’s grudge entirely on my own, the matter was settled. Yet, I failed to secure the fragment.”

He had lost it while his eyes were wide open. The sheer absurdity of the situation made Yeom-gon chuckle darkly, but Kang-soe found nothing amusing.

“Because that fragment is currently. Right. Here. Inside you.”

Yeom-gon’s long finger poked Kang-soe firmly in the center of his chest.

What on earth is he talking about now?

As Kang-soe stared back with massive, bewildered eyes, Yeom-gon gritted his teeth and clarified.

“I am saying a piece of my bride has entered your body, little brother.”

Damn it to hell.

The venomous tack-on made Kang-soe shrink back so violently he practically tucked his head into his own ribcage. He couldn’t comprehend a word of what the man was saying.

Hold on. Let me get this straight. Hyung-nim is searching for his shattered bride. These pieces have strange powers and cause disasters. To get them back, he has to personally resolve the mess they cause… but this time, I went ahead and solved it, so the piece went inside me? Is that it?

While frantically trying to piece the puzzle together, a sudden, horrifying realization struck him.

Wait. Then does that mean Hyung-nim isn’t human?

Every time he had asked if the man was human, Yeom-gon had dodged the question, proving he was something else entirely.

Oh god. Heaven help me.

Panicking internally over the fact that he had been calling a non-human entity “Hyung-nim,” a stray drop of water fell onto his head. Startled out of his wits, he flailed backward. Bracing for the sickening crack of his skull against stone, he felt a strong hand catch his head—Yeom-gon protecting his little brother from injury.

“A-Ahem. Th-thank you.”

No response. Kang-soe nervously bit his lip.

Oh god, what do I do now?

He barely understood the cosmic mechanics, but he knew one thing for certain: he had screwed up monumentally. He should have followed instructions, sprinted up the mountain, and let Yeom-gon handle the monster. Instead, he just had to play the hero.

I meddled. I meddled for no good reason. Who was I trying to help? What an absolute idiot.

Violently smacking his own forehead in profound regret, Kang-soe drew a deep, shaky breath. Beating his skull yielded no brilliant solutions. Realizing his dull mind was utterly useless here, he timidly asked the silent, brooding figure beside him.

“Then… what do we do now?”

Are you going to slice my belly open?

Unable to voice the terrifying question, he swallowed it down—only for Yeom-gon to unleash another soul-crushing sigh. The heavy exhale felt as though it carried the weight of a mountain.

“The original fragment you harbor can likely be retrieved once we find that wretched beast with the Five-Foot Tail, Five-Foot Beak and sever the lump on its leg. However, this second fragment, born from the grudge you just resolved, has deeply embedded itself within you. It must be forcibly extracted, and doing so is an extraordinarily agonizing ordeal.”

He really is going to slice my belly open.

Clutching his stomach protectively, Kang-soe’s eyes darted wildly in sheer panic. Consumed by the horrifying mental image of being gutted like a fish, he completely missed the massive revelation about the first fragment hidden within him. Reading Kang-soe’s terrified posture perfectly, Yeom-gon slowly shook his head.

“If slicing your belly open would solve this, why would I call it an agonizing ordeal?”

“…Then what exactly is it?”

What on earth could be worse than being gutted like a fish?

His voice trembled as he dared to ask. In the absolute darkness, the corners of Yeom-gon’s mouth quirked into a sly smirk.

“To extract the fragment from your core, I must steadily draw its energy out, day by day. This process will require at least a hundred days. But more importantly, it is the method of extraction that poses the true challenge.”

“W-what is it?”

When Yeom-gon paused dramatically, refusing to answer right away, Kang-soe burned with agonizing suspense. Honestly, anything was better than being sliced open. If it took a hundred days, it surely didn’t involve drawing blood. If it required shedding blood daily, he’d be dead before the week was out. For once in his life, Kang-soe’s dull mind raced with alarming speed.

“I must gently pry it loose by breathing my spiritual energy directly into your core. Which means, whether I like it or not, I am forced to kiss you, little brother, every single day for the next hundred days.”

Can you see why I am so utterly furious?

Hearing the impossible words, Kang-soe craned his neck forward, his eyes bulging to comical proportions.

I must have heard that wrong.

As Kang-soe stood frozen, opening and closing his mouth like a suffocating carp, unable to produce a single syllable, Yeom-gon leaned in close and whispered the horrific truth directly into his ear.

“For that very reason, you and I must lock lips every single day for the next hundred days.”