Chapter 64

“Did I not instruct you through your mother to cleanse your body before the gut?” the shaman demanded, his voice trembling with fury. “Yet on the verge of such a grave rite, you engaged in unholy filth! Do you have any idea how wrathful the gods became? To keep that divine punishment from striking you down, I had to tumble down the stairs all night, begging for mercy through my tears!”

Choi Sijin’s eyes wavered uncertainly. What had gone wrong? Eating beef tartare for lunch the day before yesterday? Guzzling down a whole bottle of wine that night? Or perhaps the background of the person he went to a hotel with after finishing that wine… or maybe stepping foot into the hotel itself?

The taboos and commandments Yang Ui-ju preached were needlessly meticulous, making it impossible to even count which one had been broken. Ordinarily, Choi Sijin had merely regarded his nagging as a nuisance. After all, even without observing a single precept, he had thrived without a hitch.

Faced with a disaster like this, however, sudden terror seized him. As Choi Sijin shrank his neck into his shoulders, Kim Jeong-seon threw her arms tightly around her son.

Kim Jeong-seon pulled her son forward in desperation. “Master, please forgive us! Sijin, hurry and tell the Master you were wrong. Quickly!”

Trembling violently, Choi Sijin dropped to his knees under the weight of her pressing hands. Yet Yang Ui-ju’s eyes shifted toward Kim Jeong-seon with a grim scowl.

“Sijin isn’t the only one at fault here,” Yang Ui-ju rasped with venom. “You are just as guilty, Jeong-seon.”

Kim Jeong-seon’s face drained of all color. “Pardon? Me?” she stammered, her voice shaking. “Is it because of the white dog, or perhaps that tree? I am so sorry. But other than that, I have never once disobeyed your words, Master. You know better than anyone how much devotion I’ve poured out for the Chairman and Sijin…”

Yang Ui-ju cut her off with a vicious glare. “Have you already forgotten what sort of greed you indulged in?”

Cutting Kim Jeong-seon off, Yang Ui-ju leveled a trembling, furious finger at her.

“No matter how much devotion you offer, giving in to greed even once ruins everything!” he shouted, venom dripping from every syllable. “Did I not clearly warn you back then to back off? Because you wept and clung to me so desperately, I had no choice but to work a remedy for you. But look at what is happening now! A deep, festering grudge can never be easily unraveled, and in the end, it only brings down catastrophe!”

Kim Jeong-seon’s eyes flew wide. Dropping to her knees beside Choi Sijin, she bowed profusely with tear-filled eyes.

She pressed her forehead against the floorboards. “Forgive me, Master! Please forgive me. What should we do? Should we bring another dog? Do we need to hold an even larger gut? What must I do for the gods to relent their wrath?”

“Forget the dog,” Yang Ui-ju snapped.

Yang Ui-ju turned his head sharply away with a grimace.

He glared sideways at the pair. “Since it looks like I won’t even be able to get out of bed for the time being, you must come here and demonstrate your devotion yourself, Jeong-seon. Cook the meals, set the tables, and don’t shy away from hard labor. And as for you, Sijin, stop acting out and watch your every step. You need to rein in that tongue of yours first! That mouth! That loose mouth of yours that blabbers without caution is what will ruin you!”

Choi Sijin pouted sullenly. Anyone hearing this would think he had gotten plastered and gone around bragging about the stolen name. If the shaman wanted to scold someone, he should scold his mother more; why take his anger out on him when Sijin had barely said anything out of turn?

Choi Sijin straightened his hunched posture, his gaze turning petulant. Kim Jeong-seon, on the other hand, clasped her hands together in supplication and bowed deeply to Yang Ui-ju.

Kim Jeong-seon clasped her hands together in frantic prayer. “Yes, Master. Just say the word. If it’s for my Sijin, I can truly do anything. What would you like me to do first? Shall we take you to the hospital right away? You must have suffered so much all through the night.”

“Indeed, it was hardly an easy trial for me either,” Yang Ui-ju groaned, shifting his bruised limbs. “Since it’s difficult for me to move, Sijin, you will have to carry me on your back.”

Yang Ui-ju tapped the bed with his palm. Reluctantly stepping toward him, Choi Sijin felt a surge of irritation at the sight of the bed frame and mattress. It happened to be a high-end designer model he had wanted to buy for himself but couldn’t.

Singing the same old chants and dancing what barely passed for a dance, just how much money was this man squeezing out of them? Perhaps because Sijin worked in entertainment himself, the sheer unfairness of it struck him anew. Had the shaman performed yesterday’s gut properly, he wouldn’t even be having such thoughts.

Choi Sijin begrudgingly hoisted Yang Ui-ju onto his back. He had taken only a few steps, yet his lower back ached as though it might snap in two. An unpleasant trickle of sweat slid down his spine.

If he had known this would happen, he would have brought his brother along too. Choi Sijin glanced down at Yang Ui-ju’s feet dangling in midair. Despite it being the height of summer, the man was wearing thick, fuzzy black socks meant for sleep.

Did he suffer from poor circulation in his extremities? As Choi Sijin tilted his head in confusion, a wave of dizziness washed over him the moment he saw the flight of stairs stretching below.

“Ah, fuck…” Choi Sijin muttered under his breath.

The instant he muttered the curse under his breath, a searing, ear-splitting pain flared up. Yang Ui-ju was violently yanking on Choi Sijin’s ear. He twisted his grip even harder. “You little bastard, did I not just warn you to guard that tongue of yours? I cautioned you to your very face moments ago, and you let my words go in one ear and out the other!”

“Aargh, I get it, so let go of me!” Sijin screamed in agony. “At this rate, I’m going to tumble down the stairs too!”

Kim Jeong-seon lunged forward in a frantic panic. “Heavens, Master! You’ll hurt Sijin! Grab my ear instead! Here, take mine!”

The three of them stumbled and thrashed in utter chaos before the bloodstained stairs, resembling a bird thrown off balance in a gale. Pristine white short-sleeved knits, suit shirts, and fine blouses were drenched in sweat and dirt, marred by unsightly smudges.

Meanwhile, sunlight filtering through the chiffon curtains crept vivid and yellow across the living room floor—a vibrant, silent invasion.

***

That evening, Choi Yook was summoned to the family estate. It was an unexpected call, breaking away from their set routine. Choi Yook had little difficulty deducing the reason behind it.

They were likely unsettled after yesterday’s gut had ended in shambles. That was all for the best. If Yang Ui-ju began to falter, it would become all the easier to shake Choi Hak-gyun, Kim Jeong-seon, and Choi Sijin. An unexpected opportunity had presented itself.

Yet that alone could not entirely wash away the sour distaste surging inside him. Choi Yook recalled Seo Mu-yeong, who had been left all alone in the studio apartment yesterday. Smiling bashfully under the warm yellow lamplight, Mu-yeong had clung to him, wrapping his arms around him when he was about to leave.

Right up until the phone call from Choi Sijin had interrupted them.

Choi Yook’s grip tightened. The edge of the cardboard box tucked against his hip crumpled beneath his fingers, releasing a faint, sugary-sweet fragrance.

Smoothing the box as best he could, Choi Yook stepped inside the family residence. In the corridor leading toward the kitchen, he came face-to-face with Kim Jeong-seon.

“Yook-ah.”

Kim Jeong-seon called his name with an awkward smile. In this house, no one uttered Choi Yook’s name as properly and as frequently as she did.

It was an affectionate-sounding name, but in her own mind, it was undoubtedly a curse intended for the sake of her biological son. Calling his name once was tantamount to driving a nail into a straw effigy. Choi Yook held up the box to her.

“I brought some grapes,” Choi Yook said evenly. “Where should I set them?”

“Oh my, they’re so fresh. You really didn’t need to buy such things,” Kim Jeong-seon demurred, shrinking back slightly.

Stepping back hesitantly, she glanced toward the kitchen.

Raising her voice toward the entryway, Kim Jeong-seon shouted, “Ms. Yeong-hee, please take the grapes Yook brought.”

“Yes, Madam! I’ll be right there!” the housekeeper called from the kitchen.

Choi Yook stepped forward with the box. “I’ll take them in myself. She must be busy preparing the meal.”

Bearing the box of grapes, Choi Yook headed toward the kitchen. Park Yeong-hee, the live-in housekeeper, stood there alone, tasting the seasoned broth of a stew.

Atop the six-burner gas range, cast-iron pots and frying pans laden with braised dishes and stir-fries were packed tightly alongside the stew. Red pepper flake-laced froth bubbled noisily over the rims. Choi Yook drew near to Park Yeong-hee.

“Should I put this in the refrigerator?” Choi Yook asked quietly.

Park Yeong-hee didn’t even look up from the stove. “Give it here. I’ll put it away. Keep an eye on that braised cutlassfish and turn down the flame.”

She assigned him chores in a flat, dry tone. Without a word of complaint, Choi Yook walked over to the gas stove, just as they had divided household chores in a businesslike manner when he was a child.

Park Yeong-hee had worked in this household as a domestic helper for over thirty years, recognized for her extraordinary culinary touch and entrusted exclusively with the kitchen. She was also the person who had looked after Choi Yook back when Lee Yeon-jae was still alive. Even so, the relationship between her and Choi Yook had never been particularly warm or intimate.

That, in fact, was the primary reason Choi Hak-gyun had assigned her to Choi Yook. Park Yeong-hee never fawned over children, treating them with aloof distance. Among the domestic helpers, there had been those who took pity on young Choi Yook and tried to secretly slip him a snack, only to be promptly dismissed; yet Park Yeong-hee had never shown him any special compassion.

At present, however, she and Choi Yook were partners in a quiet alliance. Watching the bubbling seasoning, Choi Yook lowered the gas flame before turning slightly toward her.

“Was it very loud here yesterday?” Choi Yook asked in an undertone.

“Of course,” Park Yeong-hee murmured dryly. “Madam spent the entire night out on the mountain. The Chairman managed to sleep well enough, but his temper was thoroughly unsettled. Still, yesterday wasn’t the only issue.”

Park Yeong-hee carefully set the paper-wrapped bunches of grapes into the refrigerator’s vegetable crisper.

Shutting the refrigerator door, the housekeeper continued, “This morning, Madam and the young master went to the shaman’s place, and when the young master complained of a sore back, I brought him a hot pack. He must have suddenly lifted something heavy. He’s hardly the type to ever do rough manual labor, so it’s quite peculiar.”

“Since the male shaman injured his arm, he might have had to carry something heavy in his place,” Choi Yook remarked thoughtfully. “But did they say there won’t be another gut anytime soon?”

Park Yeong-hee shrugged her shoulders. “For now, it doesn’t look like it. Instead, Madam will likely be commuting there for the time being to wait hand and foot on that shaman. She told others she was going to volunteer at a nursing home, but well, the chores she’ll be doing are probably much the same.” She spoke casually. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about it, given that Kim Jeong-seon had always revered Yang Ui-ju as though attending to heaven itself.

Yet to Choi Yook, Yang Ui-ju’s behavior was deeply suspicious. He knew all too well just how obsessed with money the shaman was.

If it were the man Choi Yook knew, using yesterday’s setback as a pretext to stage an even larger, more clamorous gut and extort double or triple the sum would have been his natural course. And yet, despite not having broken his legs, he was resting without holding another ritual.

Wait. His legs?