They said it was an empty room, and it really was empty.
Walls, floor, ceiling. That was it. There was no bed, no blanket, not even a window curtain. The wooden floor creaked, and dust had gathered in the corners.
“...Thank you.”
Yoon-seul meant it sincerely. Having a floor was enough. For someone who had walked across a field barefoot, a roof was a luxury.
The man's name was Roen. He was a carpenter who lived alone on the outskirts of the village. His wife had died of an illness three years ago, and they had no children. The ghost clinging to his shoulder had probably latched on after his wife's death. Roen said he had started to feel unwell around then.
“What you did... even the priests can't do that.”
Roen kept his guard up around Yoon-seul, but he also watched her with fascinated eyes. An Asian woman in teddy-bear pajamas and barefoot had banished a ghost with a single wave of her hand. Of course he was wary.
“Priests?”
“The priests of the temple. Chasing away evil spirits is their job, but it costs a fortune. Not money a carpenter like me can afford.”
Yoon-seul nodded. So they had something like exorcism in another world, too. And it was expensive.
“I don't have any money.”
“...I know.”
“I don't have any food, either.”
“...I know that, too.”
Roen sighed and went into the kitchen. A little while later, he returned with a hunk of hard bread and a glass of water. The bread was like a rock. Yoon-seul tore into it. It had no flavor. But she was hungry, so it tasted good.
“You can stay here for a few days, if you like.”
“Yes. Thank you. Really.”
“But don't do anything strange in the village. It's a quiet place.”
Yoon-seul nodded. Anything strange. She didn't know what counted as strange, but walking around in teddy-bear pajamas probably qualified already.
After Roen left, Yoon-seul sat in the middle of the empty room.
It was quiet.
It was a kind of quiet she could never feel in Seoul. No cars, no air conditioners, no phone notifications. There was only the sound of the wind. Wind blowing through the trees. Wind brushing against the grass.
Yoon-seul closed her eyes.
It was a habit. Ever since she had become a shaman, whenever she was alone in a quiet place, she naturally closed her eyes and slipped into a prayer posture. In the mountains, in the fields, by the river, by the sea. When she prayed, her mind cleared, and she felt something filling her body. Her shaman mentor had called it “your spiritual vessel growing larger.”
Would it work here, too?
She tried.
She breathed in deeply, then out. She settled her consciousness.
It worked. No, saying it worked didn't even begin to cover it. It was far clearer than when she prayed in Korea. The air itself was different. Something was dissolved into it. A kind of vitality she didn't have a name for. Every time she breathed, it flowed into her body.
Yoon-seul opened her eyes.
“...What is this?”
She spread out her hands and looked at them. Nothing had changed. And yet, the sensation was different. Her body felt light. Her head was clear. In Korea, she had to climb to the top of a mountain and pray for three hours to feel this way. Here, it had come in five minutes.
Was the air in another world different? Or had the god of another world done something for her?
She didn't know. It was a good thing, so that was good enough for now.
Yoon-seul closed her eyes again. This time, she went deeper. She settled her consciousness further and followed the sensations inside her body.
That was when she felt it.
There was something outside.
It wasn't human. It wasn't a ghost, either. It was something much larger, something far older. Beyond the forest behind the village, she sensed a massive presence from very far away. A presence that felt like nature itself. Like a mountain breathing, like a river with a will of its own.
Yoon-seul's eyes flew open.
“...What is that?”
There was no answer. Naturally. But the presence seemed to know that Yoon-seul had sensed it. A faint impression reached her, as if it had turned its head and looked this way.
Goodwill. Curiosity. And a little amusement.
It felt similar to the emotions the god of another world had sent her. But the texture was different. If the god of another world felt like a mischievous child, this felt like an ancient tree stretching in the sunlight.
Yoon-seul stared in that direction for a long while. Then she turned away.
Not now. For now, surviving came first.
The next morning, Yoon-seul walked around the village.
She was wearing clothes Roen had lent her. He said they had belonged to his deceased wife. They were the wrong size and kept slipping off her shoulders, but they were better than teddy-bear pajamas.
The village was called Belton. It was small. Stone houses lined the dirt roads, and there was a small square in the center. There was a well on one side of the square and a temple on the other. Calling it a temple was generous; it was just a stone building with something resembling a cross carved into it.
People looked at Yoon-seul. They had the look of people seeing an Asian person for the first time. She could hear them whispering. Yoon-seul didn't care. Even in Korea, she had heard people whispering, “The chaebol heiress is a shaman,” until she was sick of it.
Something else mattered more.
She could see them.
There were ghosts scattered among the villagers.
An old-man ghost crouched in a corner of the square. A child ghost peered into the water beside the well. A ghost in armor sat astride the temple roof.
They looked different from Korean ghosts. Their clothes were different, and so was their atmosphere. But a ghost was a ghost. A being that had died and couldn't move on. A being still clinging to this world.
Yoon-seul's eyes changed.
Eerie, cold, and crystal clear.
Her eyes met those of the ghost on the temple roof. It wore armor. Had it been a knight in life? A soldier? There was a slash across its face. It looked like it had died in battle.
The ghost looked at Yoon-seul. Its eyes were startled. It couldn't believe there was a human who could see it.
Yoon-seul looked at the ghost, too.
And she thought:
If she let that ghost possess her, she could use the swordsmanship it had practiced in life.
But she would have to feel the ghost's death in return. The sensation of being cut down by a sword. Every bit of it.
Yoon-seul bit her lip.
Not yet. Her spiritual vessel was still too small. Banishing a petty ghost was one thing, but possessing a ghost of that caliber would require more prayer.
But now she knew what she could do in this world.
Yoon-seul gave the ghost on the temple roof a slight bow. It was a greeting. The ghost stared at her with a bewildered expression.
“I'll come back later.”
Yoon-seul turned away. She hitched up the clothes slipping off her shoulders and walked down the dirt road.
She was barefoot. She had no shoes. Every time she stepped on a pebble, she let out a little “Ow.”
The chaebol heiress's soles still weren't tough enough to handle rocks.
And yet, strangely, she was less afraid than yesterday.
She could see ghosts, she could pray, and something massive far away had acknowledged her.
It wasn't that she had nothing. She had never truly had nothing from the beginning.
Kang Yoon-seul had a god, ghosts, and prayer.
And on the temple roof sat the first soldier who would one day be on her side.