When I opened my eyes, there was grass.
It took three seconds to realize that what was touching my face wasn't a pillow but grass. It took another two to realize it wasn't just the smell of grass—the grass itself was up my nose. Kang Yoon-seul spat out the blade caught in her mouth.
She could see the sky. It was blue. So blue that it seemed strange.
The sky over Seoul wasn't this blue. The sky over Gangnam even less so. Not even the sky she'd seen from her father's rooftop had been this blue. This looked like a sky with the color saturation cranked way up.
Yoon-seul abruptly sat up.
She was in a field. A field in every direction. She was lying alone in the middle of a grassland with no visible end. Still wearing pajamas. A short-sleeved shirt and shorts with teddy bears printed on them. She didn't even have slippers on.
"...What the hell?"
She searched her memory. Last night. She'd finished praying, come home, showered, and climbed into bed. She was sure of that much. And then she'd had a dream.
A dream.
That dream was the problem.
It had been the third time. The third time she'd met the god.
The first had been a month ago. She'd fallen asleep while praying, and in her dream, she'd found herself standing somewhere strange. In empty space, with nothing around her. And yet something was there. It had no form, but its presence was overwhelmingly huge. It looked at Yoon-seul. Yoon-seul looked back. They stared at each other for a long time.
The second time had been two weeks ago. This time, it spoke first. It wasn't exactly speech. It felt like emotions had entered her mind directly. Curiosity. Wonder. A question—What are you?—had been conveyed without words.
Yoon-seul had answered out loud.
"I'm a shaman."
It laughed. The emotion of laughter shook the entire space.
And then the third time. Last night.
It had been overflowing with certainty. Elation. Joy. Emotions had poured into her like those of a child who had finally found a toy they'd been searching for forever.
"Come with me."
This time, it had been actual words. A clear voice.
"Come to my world and let's play together. It'll be fun."
Yoon-seul had thought, It's a dream. It doesn't matter what I do in a dream. Sounds fun, though.
"Okay."
The ground vanished beneath her feet.
And now she was here. A field. Grass. Teddy bear pajamas.
"...That was real?"
Yoon-seul looked around. She could see a forest beyond the field. Beyond the forest, something tiny that looked like buildings. A village, maybe. A city. Anyway, somewhere people lived.
She searched her pockets. Of course, there was nothing in them. No phone, no wallet, no shoes.
Penniless.
Kang Yoon-seul, chaebol heiress, had nothing for the first time in her life.
"Hey."
Yoon-seul looked up at the sky as she spoke. She was talking to the god.
"You brought me here and then took off?"
There was no answer. Instead, the wind blew. The grass swept to one side. Carried on the wind was a feeling so faint—so incredibly faint—she almost missed it.
Playfulness.
And one sentence.
"Once you grow, you can call me."
That was it. The emotion and the presence both disappeared completely. The sky was still an insane shade of blue, and Yoon-seul stood barefoot in the middle of the field.
"...This is crazy."
She started laughing. It was the kind of laugh that came out because the whole thing was so absurd. She felt like she ought to cry, but no tears came. She felt like she ought to get angry, but there was no one to be angry at. It was just funny. The situation itself.
She walked. Barefoot. The grass tickled her soles. Every time she stepped on a pebble, she let out an "Ow!" The soles of a chaebol heiress's feet had never been toughened by walking on rocks.
She passed through the forest and found a dirt road. As she followed it, she began to see people. But the people were strange. Their clothes were strange. They wore the sort of thing she'd only ever seen in movies—clothes like medieval Europe. Leather vests and linen shirts. Some even had swords strapped to their waists.
Yoon-seul didn't stop walking. She was afraid she'd get scared if she did.
The village came into view. Buildings made of stone. Wooden signs. Horses pulling carts.
It really was another world.
Yoon-seul stood at the entrance to the village and stared for a long time. People came and went, children ran around, and somewhere nearby, the smell of grilling meat drifted through the air. She was hungry. She hadn't even eaten breakfast.
That was when she saw him.
A man walking out from inside the village. He looked to be in his thirties, with a thick, shaggy beard. Something was clinging to his right shoulder.
Ordinary people couldn't see it. Yoon-seul could.
It was a ghost.
A small ghost, about the size of a child, with a twisted face, clung tightly to the man's shoulder. The man had no idea. But his face was pale, and he staggered as he walked. The ghost was draining his vitality.
Yoon-seul's eyes changed.
They were no longer the absent-minded, unfocused eyes she'd had a moment ago. This was the ghost-seeing gaze. Eerie, cold, and sharp.
"Excuse me."
The man stopped. An oddly dressed Eastern woman was speaking to him. Teddy bear pajamas. Bare feet. And yet he could understand her. He looked at Yoon-seul in surprise.
"Do you know there's something attached to your shoulder?"
The man looked at his shoulder. He couldn't see anything. But the moment he met Yoon-seul's eyes, he felt a chill run down his spine. Her eyes were fixed precisely on a point in the empty air above his shoulder.
"You've been feeling unwell lately, haven't you? You're tired even after sleeping, and you have no energy even after eating."
The man's eyes widened.
"How..."
Yoon-seul raised her right hand and aimed her palm at the ghost. A low sound slipped from her lips. It was Korean—a low, drawn-out sound like an incantation, impossible for someone from another world to understand.
The ghost writhed. Something shot out from Yoon-seul's palm. An invisible force. The ghost tore away from the man's shoulder and scattered through the air with a shriek.
The man staggered. Then he stopped. He felt the weight leave his shoulder. For the first time in months, his body felt like it belonged to him again.
"W-What did you do?"
Yoon-seul lowered her hand. Her eyes returned to normal. Absent-minded, with a slightly dazed look.
"I banished the ghost. It was a small one, so that was quick."
The man stared at Yoon-seul for a long time. Teddy bear pajamas. Bare feet. And yet what she'd just done was something none of the priests in the village could do.
"You... What in the world do you do?"
Yoon-seul thought for a moment. Would they understand if she said she was a shaman in another world? She had no idea. For now, she decided to tell the truth.
"I'm a shaman."
The man didn't seem to know the word. But he understood what had just happened right in front of him. This woman had saved him.
"...Do you have a place to stay?"
Yoon-seul shook her head.
The man hesitated for a long while, then nodded.
"Come with me. I have an empty room."
Yoon-seul followed the man. Barefoot. The stone pavement was cold. She was hungry. She had nothing.
And yet, strangely enough, she wasn't scared.
As long as she could see ghosts, there was something she could do.