"You should come inside. You can stay here."
Seo Reun stood still for a moment before stepping into the chogajip, the low wooden door creaking softly on its hinges as he pushed it open. The faint scent of old pine and dried mugwort greeted him, mixed with the coolness of packed earth beneath his feet.
The small room was dimly lit, the thatched roof filtering the sunlight into slender golden beams. Against one wall was a bamboo bed, its frame worn but sturdy, layered with fresh hay and an old woolen blanket folded with care. A simple wooden stool rested in the corner beside a small clay jar filled with clear water. No decorations, no clutter. Just the essence of a village home, functional, quiet, rooted in age-old simplicity.
The boy who had brought him in - taller, leaner, and smiling so brightly it felt out of place stepped in behind him. His eyes darted around the room, inspecting it quickly, before he knelt beside the bed and began dusting it off with the sleeve of his jeogori, even though it was already clean.
"There's really nothing to dust," Seo Reun murmured inwardly, but he said nothing aloud. He simply watched.
The boy looked up, still smiling. "You have to know that I support you," he said with disarming warmth. "What you did earlier, standing up to our Shaman like that.. that was brave. But… that doesn't mean he's a bad man. He's just looking out for the village in his own way. He's guided us since before I could walk."
He dusted off his hands and stood. "I'm Min Ho, by the way. What's your name?"
Seo Reun didn't answer. He walked quietly to the corner of the room, set down his box, and leaned his wrapped sword carefully against the wall, its silent weight as familiar to him as breath. Then he turned and looked directly at Min Ho. He held the gaze for a beat, just long enough to acknowledge the question, before turning his back in deliberate silence.
Min Ho didn't press. He merely chuckled and shrugged, the gesture casual but not mocking.
"That box you have… it's quite unusual.. unique, even. May I touch it?" Min Ho asked hopefully. When Seo Reun didn't respond, he cleared his throat.
"I'll get you some clothes," he said, walking toward the door. "We'll be heading out soon to hunt. There's a feast being prepared to welcome Tien, Dong Ha, and Ah Li back home. Tien passed his final trial. He'll be the next Supreme Guard. That means celebrations, and we want you to be part of it too."
He turned back slightly, his voice softening. "The village isn't large, and news travels fast. The adults… they're wary. You standing up for yourself like that.. it surprised them. That's why I want you to come along. If they see you among us, they'll open up. We're not unfriendly, just... cautious."
Seo Reun watched him quietly. There was no deception in Min Ho's words. No flattery. Just a boy trying to be a bridge. And maybe that should have moved him, but Seo Reun's heart was not so easily stirred. He understood what Min Ho was saying, if he wanted friendly environment, he would have to earn it.
But was that something he even desired?
Min Ho didn't wait for a reply. He gave a small nod, as if sensing the heaviness in Seo Reun's silence, then pushed open the door and stepped out.
Seo Reun followed a few moments later.
The afternoon sun had mellowed, slanting low across the narrow dirt path as they walked together through the village. Hens clucked softly near woven reed fences. Children ran barefoot across the yards, their laughter carried by the wind. The scent of wood smoke, fish broth, and wild garlic filled the air.
But not everyone was at ease.
As they passed, Seo Reun could feel it, the eyes of the adults on him. Glances that lingered too long. Mothers pausing mid-stir in their clay pots, fathers slowing their steps to look. They didn't speak to him, but he felt the words unspoken behind their silence. Some watched him like a shadow had walked beside Min Ho instead of a boy.
Min Ho noticed it too. He gave a few polite bows and greeted the elders as they passed, but the smiles were half-hearted, the nods stiff. One small boy ran up to Min Ho, whispered something in his ear while staring at Seo Reun, and then ran back behind his mother's skirts.
Min Ho offered a brief, reassuring smile toward Seo Reun, but it was thin now, not as wide as before.
They reached the village clearing, where the dirt was dry and the ground flattened by generations of footsteps. At the edge of the clearing stood an old pine stump, smooth and pale where the axe had cut it clean. Seo Reun stopped there and sat down slowly. The wood was cool beneath him.
Min Ho hesitated. "I'll go get the clothes," he said. "I'll be back."
Seo Reun didn't respond.
Min Ho turned, leaving him alone in the clearing as the wind moved gently through the tall grass. Somewhere nearby, a wooden chime rang faintly, followed by the low murmur of distant voices from the meeting hall.
Seo Reun sat still, elbows on his knees, gaze distant. The sun warmed one side of his face, and yet his thoughts were cold, drifting backward to places no wind could reach.
He didn't see either Dong Ha or Tien around, and since the villagers seemed wary of him, it felt safer to remain silent in the corner where Min Ho had left him than to wander about. From his spot, he noticed a group of men gathered nearby, preparing for the hunt Min Ho had mentioned. Some were sharpening wooden spears, while others secured hunting knives to their belts and they seemed to be in a hurry. He had never been surrounded by so many people before, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it, perhaps he wanted to join them, or perhaps not. So, he simply watched in silence.
The weight in the air shifted.
Footsteps approached, slow and firm. Not the hurried tread of a youth, nor the shuffling pace of an elder. But deliberate. Rooted. Like someone who had walked both this world and one just beyond it.
"I would like to speak with you," a voice said.
Seo Reun didn't need to look up to know who it was.
The voice was deep, calm, and carried the weight of a thousand ceremonies. Each word rolled out like smoke curling from a ritual fire.
The Shaman.
"What do you want?" Seo Reun asked without looking up. He guessed the Shaman had come to apologize for his earlier insult.
When he finally raised his head, he saw the Shaman standing stiffly, lips twitching in irritation, as though he'd rather be anywhere else.
"I do not like you," the Shaman muttered, his voice low but sharp.
Seo Reun heard him clearly. "The feeling is mutual," he replied coolly, gaze drifting away as if the man's presence didn't matter.
The Shaman's eyes flared, as if the very idea of being dismissed stung like a slap.
"I am the closest person to the heavens," the Shaman snapped. "I speak with them. I carry their words. People travel from distant lands just to seek my counsel. I will never apologize to someone like you."
Seo Reun remembered telling the Chief that the Shaman should apologize. Now, the message was clear - he would not.
He also remembered what Tien had once told him - that their tribe was small, tucked away, and only occasionally stumbled upon by chance. Yet the Shaman had just claimed that people traveled from distant lands to seek him out. A clear lie.
The Shaman stepped forward, his voice rising. "I know your kind. You walk like you're above me, but you're not. I know history, I know politics, I know bloodlines and I can say with certainty, you are not of any royal descent. Not from our nation, not from anywhere nearby. Your eyes alone tell me you're nothing… and that's all you'll ever be."
Seo Reun studied him. No one had likely ever defied this man, let alone questioned his authority. He was used to being revered, feared, obeyed. But now, confronted by someone who didn't kneel to his status, his voice cracked and his need for control became bare.
Seo Reun rose slowly to his feet, gaze steady and quiet. He met the Shaman's eyes and saw it uncertainty. A flicker of doubt. And something very close to fear.
He took a step forward.
The Shaman, without meaning to, took a step back.
So he was afraid.
Seo Reun's lips curved into a slight smile. He watched the Shaman straighten his back, trying to salvage his dignity.
"The villagers listen to me," the Shaman said, but his voice wavered. "With one word, they will turn from you."
"Do I make you uncomfortable?" Seo Reun raised a brow. "You spoke of the Chief as though he were sacred in that council room, yet you now defy his order so easily."
He leaned in, his voice low and intimate, but unmistakably firm. "If you truly speak for the heavens… then you should already know who I am."
He stepped back and watched as the color drained from the Shaman's face, horror tightening his features. Seo Reun couldn't help the faint curl of satisfaction on his lips, he hadn't expected much, only to rattle him a little, but it seemed he'd struck the exact nerve. Then, without a word, the Shaman spun around and bolted across the open ground, stumbling over his own feet like a man fleeing from a ghost.
"Ah ah ah ahhhh!" A hoarse, wheezing laugh rang out behind him.
Seo Reun turned and saw Old Man Choi, his thin shoulders shaking with mirth as he watched the Shaman vanish around the corner.
"He's probably heading straight for his divination room," the old man chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. "You know, I was planning to go hunting these days, thought maybe I'd die out there, wouldn't have minded but I think I've changed my mind. You're far too entertaining to leave behind."
Seo Reun lowered himself back to his seat. Choi sat beside him without asking.
"You don't seem to like him very much," Seo Reun said.
"Oh, I don't dislike him," Choi replied with a small sigh. "His divinations are sometimes right. But he takes himself too seriously. I'm just glad someone finally managed to rattle his ego. I've tried for years with little success."
He paused, then added more quietly, "I was friends with his father, the previous Shaman, before he passed. To me, he's like a son. Proud, yes but I still care for him. I just wish he'd stop looking down on people. And now you show up, shaking him to his core. You're doing a better job than I ever could."
Seo Reun glanced sideways at the old man. "What was he like?"
"Who?"
"The former Shaman. Your friend - his father?" Seo Reun gestured vaguely in the direction the Shaman fled.
He'd read about friendship in books but had never experienced it firsthand. If Dong Ha and Tien truly considered him a friend as the Chief had said then he wanted to understand what that meant.
Old Man Choi's expression softened, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening.
"He was… loved. Truly. The kindest man I've ever known. Always laughing, always curious. We talked about everything. He made this village better just by being in it." He smiled wistfully. "He didn't have the gift, you know, not the divine sense his son inherited. But he made up for it with learning. He could diagnose an illness just by looking at someone, or predict rain from a cloud's shape. People trusted him. No one ever knew he didn't have the gift."
Choi chuckled lightly. "When I traveled to the capital, I brought back books just for him. He devoured them. But when he passed in his sleep, well… his son had no choice but to take up the mantle."
Seo Reun turned to him, studying his face carefully. "Should you be telling me all this?"
His voice wasn't accusing, just curious. Measured.
Old Man Choi blinked, then tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Telling you what?"
Seo Reun let the silence stretch for a moment before answering, his gaze drifting toward the spot where the Shaman had vanished.
"That your friend - the previous Shaman never had the gift."
A beat passed. Then Choi chuckled, a dry, wheezing sound that scratched at his throat.
"Ah, well. I suppose I did let that slip." His eyes crinkled with amusement, but there was a flicker of something deeper behind them, something fond and quietly mournful. "But you won't tell anyone, will you?"
Seo Reun's expression remained unreadable. He gave a slow shrug.
"I can keep a promise."
Choi looked at him for a moment longer, as if weighing something invisible. Then he smiled not the mischievous grin he wore earlier, but something gentler, almost paternal.
"Very good, Cheon Sa," he said softly. "Very good indeed."