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三
Hunt
C.E. 1433, mid-August
Near midday, Jinhwan stopped at the town sprawled near the base of the mountain he planned to cross. The town was like most other smaller settlements—shivering with movement, the cries of shopkeepers and children’s play and the raucous shrill of cicadas chiming naturally, and covered with a shroud of peacefulness that was absent in the more urban areas.
Jinhwan idly wandered through the bright and lively streets, and entered the first jumak(1) he spotted. Upon ordering his meal, Jinhwan automatically opened his ears to whatever conversations that might be held around him. It was always entertaining to listen to people and their stories.
“Did you hear?” a man approached the group of men sitting at the table ahead of Jinhwan’s.
“Ah, this ought to be good,” one man commented with a grin.
“It may be. Taesung-nim(2) goes on a hunt tomorrow.”
A pretty hostess, subtly trying to get her attractive young guest to notice her, did not make Jinhwan’s attention wander from the dialogue.
“Like he does every other day?”
“No… This is different. It will be a grand hunt,” the man’s voice was lowered and he trailed off for a moment, as if he was trying to organize his thoughts into words. “He is bored,” the man continued, somewhat dramatically. “His spirit of adventure is unsatisfied, and his recklessness compels him.” He looked at each man in the eye before he finished. “The nari will pursue the gumiho.”
The group of men immediately erupted into noise, just as the hostess’s curved eyebrows went up and she turned, distracted from Jinhwan. Jinhwan nearly choked on his rice and soup, which attracted the hostess’s attention again.
What nonsense is this? Many noblemen lacked in wisdom…but this was utterly ridiculous. Chasing a myth? A dangerous one, at that… Jinhwan snorted, once he quelled the coughs. He drank the last of the soup and dropped a few coppers on the table.
“Why are you in such disbelief, dear?” the hostess asked as she swept up the coins, seating herself across from him. “Such doubts about Taesung-nim’s plan, it seems.”
Jinhwan glanced at the woman’s eyes before lowering them with a small crooked smile. “I apologize, lady. I find it difficult to believe that this…Taesung person will hunt a…gumiho.”
“…Do you not believe in them?”
“I have always believed them to be myths.”
“How does a child like you not believe?” The man who had announced Taesung’s hunt had approached the table, looking incredulous. “You are very foreign to this town, boy, and very strange,” he murmured, sitting down next to the hostess. “Allow me,” he said, leaning forward, “and I will tell you a tale…”
The town was as normal as any that Jinhwan had visited, but this town was also unlike most, for it was a mountain town, and the center of a deep-rooted legend spanning two generations—one that the townspeople truly believed.
-
There was nothing for Jinhwan to do after he had eaten; he would spend tonight at a tavern somewhere in the town and head out in the morning. So he wandered to the edge of the settlement, toward the base of the mountain.
A wide, shallow stream cut off the town from the mountain, and with a bit of walking upstream, Jinhwan found a bridge. He took in the sunlit clearing at the end of the bridge, the dappled wilderness that gathered around a beaten path, the lonely oldness of the wooden bridge, the song of the river and the birds and the warm breeze. The forest was not truly uninviting, and Jinhwan’s mind drifted back to the story of the town.
A few tales had reached his ears before, but they were nothing but myths, frightening stories. Fit only to be told on a too-warm summer night under the darkness of the new moon—or under the ethereal face of the full moon—and to bring the chill of gooseflesh.
He had lived by the sea all his life, with flat land and soft rolling hills surrounding the coast. The highest mountains were only half the size of these mountains far north to his home, and they mostly formed cliffs and overhangs against the sea. Gumiho apparently resided in larger, higher, more thickly-foliaged mountains, where travelers could easily get lost or spend at least a week navigating and walking from one side to the other. Jinhwan knew little of the true fear of people such as those here.
Although legends may have a basis, and its evidence enticingly convincing, it did not make the stories absolutely true…
There was a soft rustle from behind. Jinhwan tightened his grip on the handle of this sword.
“It all looks completely normal, does it not?” A man came to stand a few feet beside Jinhwan, looking toward the mountain forest. There were three other men behind him.
“Yes…” Jinhwan tilted his head to acknowledge and brusquely run his eyes over the young man—a young yangban(3), actually. From the rather luxurious white-and-black attire, posture, the tone of his voice, and his soldiers (or bodyguards, possibly), nearly every visible thing about him was aristocratic. All he needed was to gather his bangs and braid under a black hat to have that stuffily refined, dignified look.
“And yet within the forest dwells the foul, evil gumiho. This mountain has been haunted for over half a century. Many who were expected to have not returned.”
“There is…talk of a foolish man who will hunt that myth.”
“…Indeed.” Gravel crunched underfoot as the nobleman turned to face Jinhwan. “What is your name?”
Jinhwan reluctantly shifted and looked up into the aristocrat’s sharp eyes before lowering his gaze and slightly ducking his head. There was a severity in that expression, and the soldiers were all but bristling. Jinhwan felt a momentary tingle of apprehension. It was best to avoid any cause for trouble, but he couldn’t resist. “My name certainly could not matter to you.”
“You are foreign to this region,” the nobleman commented after a short silence. “Perhaps you will be more willing to tell me your name if I were to tell you mine. I am Kim Taesung.”
Well, he’d had his suspicions, but it was an unwanted surprise nonetheless. Taesung, for all the absurdity surrounding him, looked as normal and proper-looking as other young members of the high class. Only his convictions seemed a bit silly.
Or…did many of the nobility of the mountains also believe in these myths…? Jinhwan frankly thought nothing much of them, but it was unsettling that some of the most intellectual members of society might fear the stories. That might convert him, someday…unless, he thought dryly, he saw the gumiho in person first. He did not bet on it.
A tiny smirk graced the aristocrat’s features. “You have heard of this ‘foolish man’ somewhere in town.”
“I…yes…” Jinhwan said, this time his voice carefully submissive. “Forgive me for the thoughtless comment.”
Taesung’s drawn-out ‘hm’ and his expression were unreadable as he watched Jinhwan. “You have yet to tell me your name.”
It didn’t matter to Jinhwan whether or not he would be forgiven, but he relented, lifting his head to meet the aristocrat’s eyes. “If it will satisfy you, my name is Jinhwan.”
“You are very bold, Jinhwan,” he smirked, an eyebrow raised. “But I suppose one with a sword like yours”—he pointedly glanced at the weapon at Jinhwan’s side—“would have a right to some self-assurance.”
Jinhwan valiantly kept his relatively blank expression from breaking into utter amusement.
“May I make a proposition? Join me and my men during the hunt until we must go our separate ways. You will have no express duties, you would not serve me, you have nothing really to fear as you deem the gumiho a myth…and human company may well be something of a relief.”
Jinhwan pushed aside his wariness. There must be an ulterior motive… But, as aristocratic as he was, Taesung did not seem like a petty, vindictive, backstabbing man. Besides, Jinhwan did long for company during his travel—even for a while, even if it was unlikely he would speak very much with Taesung’s men, even if he was being used. If it meant that he would have to push back his vague schedule…so be it. There was no need for express hurry. A moment’s hesitation, and then he sketched a bow, smiling lightly. “I will gladly accompany you on your ‘hunt.’”
“Then it is settled. I invite you to spend the night at my father’s estate, if you are in need of lodging.”
It was as if he had forgotten he had been insulted by a mere commoner. And that he had overlooked the fact that he had so readily invited a stranger to his hunt, and his home.
“We head out here tomorrow morning.”
Jinhwan had his doubts; truly, Taesung was nothing if not strange.
-
The small hunting party was met with general awe, as early-risen peasants and merchants alike stopped what they were doing to watch. Ripples of whispers added to the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the cicadas’ songs.
Jinhwan had not ridden a horse in weeks, and he relished the feeling now. He, Taesung, and ten experienced hunters were briskly riding through the wide main path north to where the bridge was located.
It had been a mystery to Jinhwan how Taesung was actually going to find the gumiho. Not only was it supposed to be a very mysterious and cunning creature, it was also a myth. All of yesterday evening, he had been doubtful of how the hunt would be conducted, and he had been amused at the proposed plan.
“The gumiho is a very elusive beast. It is nigh impossible to find it unless it wishes to be found. But it is somewhat predictable. It lets out its accursed wailing song on the night of the full moon and the dark moon, and the popular belief is that it is probably a ritual before it makes its kills…” Taesung had trailed off, strolling languidly across the yard of his father’s estate with Jinhwan in tow. “Essentially, we are throwing ourselves in as bait, and anticipating that it will lead us straight to it.”
Jinhwan had lifted an eyebrow at the nonchalance that the nobleman displayed. “Forgive me for saying this…but it seems as though you and your hunters are unsure of where exactly this gumiho resides and what exactly is to be expected.”
“You are right… We know very little of the behavior and abilities of the gumiho. This hunt is foolish, in a sense, but the gumiho is a threat that does no good for anyone…”
Jinhwan had seen the shuttered expression on Taesung’s face, and had wondered if, perhaps, Taesung had a personal vendetta against the gumiho. Or perhaps it was yet again a yangban boy’s thing, of pride and glory and thrill.
-
“It seems to me that this event should have been…grander than this,” Jinhwan hesitantly said. He had taken in the trickle of people lining both sides of the street and talking amongst themselves, but that was all—no grand feast, no ruckus…nothing. In his limited experience, nobles generally enjoyed flaunting their greatness.
“I did not want this hunt to be publicized. It is, as you have said, something only a foolish man would do”—there appeared a resigned but patronizing quirk of his lips—“and though the idea has been lingering for a while, it is merely on a whim that I finally decided to take action. It is only because the estate hands deem it absolutely fine to gossip that the people know.”
The party had crossed the deceptively sturdy bridge and now stopped at the small clearing just before it led into the path. All the hunters had stopped their talking and smiles and had become uncomfortably solemn. The horses, sensing the hesitation of their riders, fidgeted and danced lightly, nickering and snorting.
Jinhwan thought the abrupt graveness a bit ridiculous, but the suffocating emotions had started to engulf him, and he could not help but pull up his guard and stay wary—even here, at the clearing, where he could hear perfectly the natural music of the birds and insects.
Taesung truly did not know what would happen. Would he kill the gumiho? Would he even see it? Survival was uncertain; this mountain just may be his grave… But, the thrill was present. Frankly, he needed some of that. And Jinhwan, the silly boy…thinking the gumiho a mere myth? He calmed himself, breathing in and out deeply and staring into the forest for a long moment.
There was a brief lull among the group as a bird flapped away from the trees. “Let us ride,” Taesung murmured then, as if to himself, urging his horse to a canter.
