“Mother. Have we set a date for our departure?”
“We plan to leave within a month.”

They would soon report the move to the village head and get a travel permit. Then they would go to Dogok, a trading port, and take a ship to Arahan… However, her mother looked as though she had swallowed iron filings.

“Is there something wrong?”

“I’ve heard there’s a strange disease spreading in the village. They say medicine isn’t working.”

People were hushing it up, but the atmosphere was tense. Her mother shook her head with a face that could not hide her discomfort.

“This unlucky village, tsk. We should leave soon.”

In the summer of August, after the farming busy period, the villagers, with more leisure time, gathered around wells and streams to cool off.

“What on earth is happening to the world?”
Lying on a shaded bench and spitting out watermelon seeds, the old man, whom I and everyone else knew as Elder Jo—nicknamed ‘Peekaboo’ for his habit of prying into every village incident—spoke out.

“A lot of strange occurrences since that festival day. They say that demon nests are being found more often. They burn them as soon as they find them, but the number of eggs is increasing, and it’s getting hard to manage with just the local efforts.”

“Is it only Muritmaegol? The whole country is troubled by that issue. I heard the king is sending out local administrators.”

“If that’s the case, the problem should be resolved soon. But have you heard? The other day, the village head’s mother was found squatting in the backyard eating dirt. And two weeks ago, Jeong’s twelve-year-old son foamed at the mouth and passed out. When he regained consciousness, he couldn’t even recognise his own parents. And fifteen days earlier, Cha’s old man, you know…”

Cough, cough. The elders who were chatting loudly all started coughing conspicuously. The world is ending, they murmured, with deep sighs accompanying their words.

“It must be the end of the divine spirit of Soru River.”

“You. How can you speak such ill-considered words? The man who took five bags of rice to the great master. Do you not know by whose grace we manage to eat in these times of poor harvest?”

“Who wants to say such things? Since a demon appeared at the great master’s house, there have been three more cases of madness.”

Beodeul and the young master were seated far from the noisy crowd, by the ferry landing. These days, whenever the villagers gathered, they discussed the same topic.

She listened to the conversations of the elders carried by the wind. The strange disease spreading in the village, the increasing demon nests—all seemed unrelated to the young master, whose reaction was nonchalant, if not indifferent.

“Young master, you’re a native of Muritmaegol.”

She asked the young master, who was splashing water with his ankle.

Despite her wondering how to treat him, his attitude towards her remained unchanged, whether she was a woman or a man. Perhaps he was a naturally indifferent man. It was even something of a relief that he showed no curiosity about why she lived like this.

“But?”

“People usually name rivers after nearby landmarks, but do you know why this river is not called Muritmaegol River, but Soru River?”

“I heard it was named after a person from a long time ago.”

“If they named a river after him, he must have been a very great person.”

“Perhaps. But it’s been too long; no one remembers anymore.”

“But you remember, young master.”

“I heard it from my teacher.”

Again, that teacher.

“Who was this teacher? I only heard that he didn’t teach for long and left.”

“My teacher was…”

He frowned slightly, looking down at the river. He gently caressed a piece of grass with the hand by his knee.

“He knew too much.”

“…”

“And he was a bright man who could see things others could not.”

He quietly swept the torn grass with his thumb. He ignored the drops of blood that formed roundly on the skin grazed by the rough grass leaves.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✦ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

“She has met a good person,” Beodeul remarked.
“The only flaw might be his recklessness. I still vividly remember the words he left behind.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I was pitiable and lamentable.”
“Why did he stop teaching the young master?”
“It must have been something my father disapproved of.”
“Hmm, is that so.”
Beodeul responded lightly and lay down on the grass. Having gone to the back mountain with the young master since early morning to pick herbs as a part of her livelihood, her whole body was drenched in sweat as if she had been in a steam bath.