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Too close.

Way too close.

Thick, viscous slime dripped from the owner’s eyes.

Drip.

Onto the floor between his legs.

Drip.

Onto the floor beside his thigh.

Panting heavily, on the verge of fainting at the sight of the trailing slime, he felt Yeom-gon’s hand gently stroke his lower abdomen. Scolding Kang-soe for his stubbornness when he could have simply answered truthfully, Yeom-gon whispered with infuriating elegance.

“Do you truly believe I walked into this den blindly? I came because I had a reason. Where else could we find shelter in this downpour? Risking becoming snail food is a far easier wager than freezing to death from a chill.”

What is he talking about? Can you not see she is literally trying to eat us?

Kang-soe shot back, but Yeom-gon shook his head.

“How could a pathetic creature like that dare to consume the living? She failed to become a true leech, and failed to become a true snail; at best, she scavenges the dead. However, they can transform you. That is why I warned you never to eat anything they offer.”

“Failed to become a leech or a snail? What does that mean?”

“Leeches and snails share similarities but are fundamentally different beasts. Here, you have leeches carrying shells on their backs, and mud snails that suck blood like leeches. They are abominations—neither fully leech nor fully snail.”

Because of these cursed half-breeds, the entire village had been overrun by mutant snails. Yeom-gon clicked his tongue in mock pity, but his face remained stone-cold. Glancing at that chilling expression, Kang-soe asked a cautious question.

“Then what is your plan? You said you had a way out.”

Was he going to draw that massive sword and hack her to pieces?

Yeom-gon shook his head. “One swing would end it, but why resort to senseless slaughter?”

“We’re about to be eaten! What are you talking about?!”

“I told you, they do not eat the living. There is a specific reason they mutated into these forms. If we solve the root cause, they will revert to humans. Surely saving them is better than butchering them. Furthermore…”

Why is he speaking so slowly? Stop stalling!

“Hyung-nim! Hyung-nim!” Kang-soe called out nervously.

Yeom-gon resumed his gentle stroking of Kang-soe’s lower abdomen. The firm grip lower down loosened ever so slightly.

“Ugh…”

“We merely need to survive this one night. Since we need to drive this creature away, I need you, little brother, to exert a little effort.”

I’m about to die of fright, what effort do you want from me?!

Just as Kang-soe poured out curses in his mind, Yeom-gon leaned close, blowing a soft, coaxing breath against the shell of his ear. It trailed down his neck, and Kang-soe’s entire body shuddered. The slow, rhythmic stroking made it horrifyingly clear what the man had intended from the beginning.

Oh, you absolute fool.

Kang-soe mentally kicked himself, vowing that the second the sun rose, he would run as far from this lunatic as humanly possible.

“Focus.”

I need to run. I need to run away.

While his mind raced with escape plans, he failed to produce anything, earning him a stern reprimand. It was the first time in his life he had ever been scolded for not peeing. But he genuinely couldn’t. Perhaps he had held it too long—the urge was so overwhelming his lower belly throbbed with sharp pain, yet his bladder refused to release.

“I’ve held it too long. I don’t think it’ll come out.”

When Kang-soe whimpered the excuse, Yeom-gon clicked his tongue.

“I suppose I have no choice.”

Instead of letting him go, the hand that had been gripping him firmly began to move in a slow, rhythmic motion. As Yeom-gon softly whispered shhh, shhh into his ear, Kang-soe wanted nothing more than to curl up and die in a hole.

Oh, heavens. If anyone ever died of pure, unadulterated shame, their name would be Kim Kang-soe.

Yet amidst the absolute mortification, the man’s coaxing worked. The dam broke. A small trickle leaked out, quickly building into a strong, arching stream that splashed directly onto the snail owner’s grotesque head.

Splatter.

The moment the urine hit her flesh, the massive creature violently recoiled, instantly shrinking back into her large, round shell. The body that had breached the porch vanished inside. The shell lost its balance, rolled backward, crashed into the twig gate, and tumbled out into the muddy yard.

Yet even after the threat was neutralized, the stream didn’t stop. Having held it in for so agonizingly long, the flow seemed endless. Yeom-gon gently guided Kang-soe’s aim, spraying the remaining urine across the rattling door and the wooden porch to create a barrier.

“Hah… ah…”

Drip. Drop.

As the final drops fell, all the strength vanished from Kang-soe’s body. His vision momentarily blacked out before slowly returning. He watched hazily as Yeom-gon wiped his hand on the blanket. Kang-soe sprawled out lethargically, lacking even the energy to pull his trousers back up. Covering his burning face with his hands, panting as if he might actually die from the humiliation, Yeom-gon patted his shoulder, praising him for a job well done.

Kang-soe, however, felt as though he were about to burst into tears.

◇ ◇ ◇

Life is fleeting.

Old Man Choi from across the way used to say exactly that, sitting in the cool shade of a tree while Kang-soe frantically weeded the fields under the scorching sun.

Whenever anyone asked what kept him in such a perpetual rush, Kang-soe could list a hundred reasons. Was there ever a moment’s rest in farming? Even a plot the size of a palm couldn’t be left idle. You had to plant with meticulous care and pour your soul into the soil just to see a sturdy harvest. And the fieldwork was only the beginning. Roofs needed mending, fences fixing. Cattle feed had to be boiled, the yard swept, the rooms tidied, the sweat-soaked blankets scrubbed. Whether his fingernails and toenails cracked and split, Kang-soe was always, endlessly busy.

“What are your older brothers doing? What about your mother, or Scholar Kim? What about your younger siblings?”

“What does it matter who does it? It just brings me peace of mind to do it myself.”

The old man would exhale a long plume of tobacco smoke and shake his head. Life is fleeting. There’s an order to coming into this world, but no order to leaving it. What good is working yourself to the bone if you drop dead tomorrow?

To that question, Kang-soe had merely wiped his dripping sweat and replied, “If I go today, I weed today’s share. If I go tomorrow, I weed tomorrow’s share too. What’s so special about living?”

What had the old man said in return? Had he laughed at his foolishness? Had he lightly smacked him for mocking an elder? Kang-soe couldn’t recall.

Opening his eyes, Kang-soe shivered, perhaps chilled by the wind sweeping through the room. He curled into a ball, his hands blindly searching for a blanket, but grasped nothing but empty air. With a strained groan, he pushed himself up, his surroundings entirely unfamiliar.

“Where is—”

He swallowed the question and scanned the room.

Sleeping on the cold, hard floor had left his body stiff and aching; his bones popped and cracked the moment he moved, drawing an involuntary moan. Clutching his lower back, he rubbed his bleary eyes. As his vision cleared, a sudden panic about his bundle seized him. He fumbled around in alarm, only to find it resting neatly by his head. A quick inspection revealed nothing missing, save for his bamboo salt container, which had rolled down to his feet. He scooped it up and stuffed it back into his pack.

His mind was still groggy.

Rubbing his dry face, Kang-soe wiggled his toes, pondering his existential coordinates—Where am I, and who am I?—when the heavily perforated, practically useless paper door slid open and a familiar figure stepped inside.

Instantly, the memories he had momentarily forgotten came rushing back. The events of the previous night felt like a fever dream, yet the vivid recollection of urinating haunted him fiercely. Only after the echo of that voice—hurry up and piss—faded did the human-sized snails surface in his mind. The moment that thought hit him, Kang-soe whipped around. Hoisting his pack, he turned his back, concealing himself behind the bulky bundle.

“Little brother. Are you awake?”

Kang-soe didn’t even pretend to hear. He picked at a loose piece of skin on the sole of his foot. He had made a firm resolution not to listen, his lips jutting out in a deep pout.

If I knew this was going to happen, I would have bolted the second I woke up.

Sitting around in a half-asleep daze had been his downfall. Just as Kang-soe was mentally berating his own thick skull for not strapping on his pack and fleeing immediately, he heard the sound of something being set down behind him.

“Are you in a bad mood?”

Do I really need to say it out loud?

Kang-soe kept his mouth shut, his eyes darting back and forth.

“Are you not going to answer me?”

In case our words mix?

“Are you refusing to speak because you don’t want to converse with me?”

If you know, why keep talking to me? Why?

There was no way his thoughts could be heard, yet Yeom-gon seemed to understand them perfectly.

“Are you truly not going to say a word?”

“I have nothing to say.”

Stop talking to me. You should take a hint by now.

Kang-soe was about to snap, but swallowed his words. Yeom-gon had thrust his face right next to his. The gaze was so piercing it felt as though something were prodding Kang-soe directly in the gut.

Kang-soe averted his eyes and whipped his head away. Simply making eye contact with Yeom-gon made cold sweat race down his spine.

“You have to use your words for me to understand why you’re upset. If you just clamp your mouth shut, how am I supposed to know?”

How could you not know when you’re the one who caused it?

Kang-soe despised Yeom-gon’s feigned ignorance. Hate was an understatement—if he could, he would have rapped his knuckles against the man’s skull.

“Is this about what happened at dawn?”

Yeom-gon brushed it off as if wondering why such a trivial matter would ruin his mood, but Kang-soe felt differently. He felt as though something profoundly precious had been stolen from him. Remaining stubbornly turned toward the corner of the room, Kang-soe suddenly felt a pale hand shoot out and grip his chin. The hand forced his head around with such monstrous strength that Kang-soe’s neck yielded despite his resistance. Pride as a man known for his robust strength be damned; he held out as long as he could, but eventually threw his hands up as his head was forcibly turned.

“Don’t do this. Ah, come on.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding my eyes?”

“Can’t I even look where I please with my own eyeballs?!”

Ultimately, his head was turned exactly as Yeom-gon desired. He had resisted with such force that his shoulder muscles felt knotted. Seething, Kang-soe kept his face toward the man but stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. A soft sigh escaped Yeom-gon’s lips.

“The situation was dire, wasn’t it? Thanks to you, the snail retreated instead of entering the room.”

Kang-soe shook his head aggressively. That wasn’t what infuriated him.

“If you knew those things hated urine, you should have told me beforehand! Or at least warned me what kind of place this was before we stepped foot inside! Why did you have to let me suffer such an indignity?! That’s what I’m saying!”

Lacking eloquence and possessing a somewhat dull mind, Kang-soe didn’t know how else to articulate his frustration. His anger boiled, but his limited vocabulary kept the rage trapped inside, causing a throbbing headache. The more he thought about it, the more his suspicion mounted. It galled him that the man knew exactly what kind of village this was and exactly how to ward off the creatures, yet hadn’t breathed a single word.

If the man knew the snails abhorred human urine, he could have simply told Kang-soe to piss in a chamber pot before going to sleep. His earlier calculations seemed deliberate, too. Yeom-gon had undoubtedly orchestrated it so Kang-soe would make a noise when the creature approached in the dead of night.

Maybe… just maybe.

Even being chased by a god and running all day without a moment to drink water—what if that, too, had been the man’s design?

The thought made a full-body shudder ripple through him. At his accusation, Yeom-gon’s pale face hardened—an expression Kang-soe found genuinely terrifying.

“Just who exactly are you, Hyung-nim? What were you plotting when you asked me to travel with you?”

Silence.

“Are you even human?”

After persistently initiating the conversation, Yeom-gon fell silent. He stared quietly at Kang-soe before suddenly bursting into laughter. “So, what do you think I look like now? Are you afraid I’ve become a snail that devoured the real Yeom-gon and stolen his skin?”

“Well…”

“Or perhaps a river ghost wandering the banks?”

“Hyung-nim.”

“I apologize for not telling you earlier that urinating in front of the door before the snail arrived would have kept us safe. However, even though I had already relieved myself outside earlier, the creature still approached. I had no other choice.”

When Kang-soe had stepped out into the drizzling rain—concerned that the man’s fine leather shoes might get soaked—and run into him, Yeom-gon had stated he was returning from relieving himself. Was that what he meant? Kang-soe let out a pained breath, feeling as though his head might split open. Yeom-gon’s explanation seemed plausible, but it didn’t quite sit right. If Yeom-gon’s urine had been ineffective, why had his own worked so well? Licking his dry lips, Kang-soe cast a nervous glance toward the door.

What happened to that snail?

Reading his mind, Yeom-gon continued smoothly.

“Because you, little brother, held it in for so long, yours must have been exceptionally potent. Once dawn broke and the rain stopped, the innkeeper screamed and bolted.”

Yeom-gon explained that because the innkeeper still retained half of his snail form, he wasn’t particularly fast, but the sight was too grotesque to witness. He then called out in a remarkably tender voice.

“Little brother.”

“…”

“Little brother. Have I not apologized? I promise to inform you beforehand next time.”

Next time, my foot. I’m leaving this village the second I can.

Unable to voice his true thoughts, Kang-soe merely hung his head.

“We ate nothing yesterday, so shouldn’t we at least have a bite to break our fast?”

The suggestion that they needed to eat, even if they couldn’t wash, immediately caught Kang-soe’s attention. How could he have forgotten his hunger? Realizing that surviving was the whole point of this miserable ordeal, saliva pooled in his mouth.

“A bite?”

He cast a sidelong glance, wondering what sort of food was on offer. Yeom-gon—who had maintained a chilly demeanor moments before—smiled brightly. Agreeing they indeed needed to eat, the pale man reached out, gently wiped the sleep from Kang-soe’s eyes, brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear, and slipped the pack strap off Kang-soe’s shoulder.

“Don’t think this means I’m not mad anymore.”

“Of course I know.”

Provoking the man further would yield no benefit. Even though Yeom-gon hadn’t struck him, Kang-soe couldn’t understand why he felt so thoroughly intimidated whenever the man’s expression darkened. Deciding to accept the olive branch, he reluctantly turned around, spotting a small woven basket filled with something neatly piled inside. Lifting the cotton cloth revealed several round, snow-white objects.

What is this?

Something he had never seen before in his life. He gave it a sniff; a subtle, sweet fragrance wafted up.

“What is this?”

“Our meal.”

Knowing Yeom-gon wouldn’t feed him poison. Kang-soe grabbed one and took a tentative bite at the man’s urging. The moment his teeth sank in, golden honey oozed from the center. Wondering if it was some kind of rice cake, he asked again, to which Yeom-gon briefly furrowed his brow before clarifying that it was a confection—a sweet pastry.

“A pastry?”

“Does it not suit your palate?”

“No, it’s not that.”

It was simply fascinating. Kang-soe popped the rest into his mouth. He craved real food—a hearty bowl of mixed grains with a handful of pickled vegetables would disappear down his throat in the blink of an eye.

Once I escape this village and reach the next town, I’ll go to a tavern and order a hot bowl of meat soup.

Still, this wasn’t half bad. Without the honey center, he wouldn’t have known he was eating anything at all. The white dough melted on his tongue, giving way to rich sweetness. How many had he eaten? Staring at the single remaining pastry, Kang-soe swallowed hard, the honey-sweetened saliva sliding down his throat.

“I am fine, so you finish it, little brother. You must be starving.”

“Even so. How can I?”

“Please, eat.”

Kang-soe found it incredibly strange that a man would yield his food. Who had ever given up their share for him? Brief memories of his family members, always busy stuffing their own faces, flashed through his mind and vanished. Despicable as they were, they were all mouths to feed. Kang-soe split the pastry in half and offered a piece to Yeom-gon.

“You eat it all, little brother.”

“The honey is dripping. Here, take it.”

Urging him before the filling spilled, Yeom-gon finally accepted. After polishing off the remaining half and licking the sticky residue from his fingers, Kang-soe felt strangely satisfied, as if he had feasted at a lavish banquet despite the small portion. With his stomach full, it was time to move. Kang-soe secured his pack, tidied their sleeping area, and urged Yeom-gon to hurry so they could leave this accursed place.

Yeom-gon slowly nodded.

Stepping out of the room, the air was oppressive and damp. The sun struggled to pierce the heavy clouds, making for a dreary morning. Recalling his desperate urination from the night before, Kang-soe tiptoed across the wooden porch and stepped down, finding the ground transformed into a muddy quagmire. The wind shook the trees, but instead of carrying the refreshing scent of nature, it bore a foul, putrid stench.

“Ugh…”

A violent shudder wracked his body. Having arrived after nightfall, he hadn’t fully grasped the village’s condition, but the state of the houses was deplorable—like wandering into an abandoned ruin where no human drew breath.

Let’s get out of here.

Gripped by terror, Kang-soe quickened his pace. However, the man who usually walked three paces ahead was now trailing behind at a sluggish shuffle.

“Did a snail actually eat you and steal your skin?! Why are you walking so slowly?!”

It was enough to make a man’s chest burst. Kang-soe marched behind the leisurely Yeom-gon and shoved his back, which finally increased the man’s pace slightly. The moment he stopped pushing, Yeom-gon slowed down again, requiring constant prodding to maintain a normal walking speed. Glaring at him in sheer exasperation, Kang-soe flinched as Yeom-gon reached out and began massaging the back of his neck. Having tensed his muscles all morning, Kang-soe’s neck and shoulders were stiff, and while the massage felt heavenly, he remained on high alert, suspicious of the sudden affection.

“Little brother…”

See? There’s an ulterior motive.

Just as Kang-soe narrowed his eyes in suspicion, the loud clatter of shattered pottery echoed through the air. Something metallic hit the ground with a sharp ring. Startled, Kang-soe whipped his head toward the noise. Standing there was an old man with blackened, rotting teeth, clutching a terrifyingly sharp, blue-tinged sickle, screaming at them.

“Who goes there?!”