GOBLIN [TAEGYU]

twenty-two ; taehyun

“Are we there yet?” Yeonjun asked for perhaps the fifteenth time. It was just as annoying now as it was the last fourteen times.

“When we get there,” I said through gritted teeth, “I will tell you.”

“How much farther is it?” Yeonjun asked, his voice becoming nasally with whining.

I finally stopped to stare at my pitiful companion. Yeonjun looked like a wilted flower. His shirt clung to him and sweat saturated his hair under the blazing sun.

I realized that maybe insisting we hike immediately up the mountainside instead of waiting until the sun wasn’t directly above us had been a callous decision. I wasn’t used to the limitations of a human body.

I searched the area and spotted a shady area under an overhang. “Come on,” I said. “We can take a rest here.”

Yeonjun let out a noise halfway between a moan and a wheeze as he followed. “I guess I really shouldn’t have slacked off so much in gym class.”

“Yeah, or you shouldn’t have given up that fox bead.” I took out a bottle of water and handed it to Yeonjun, who drank it gratefully.

“Oh yeah, you mean the thing that was slowly draining my life force and giving me seizures? So much fun. Highly recommend, you should definitely try it.”

I laughed. “I’ll pass. But I do always wonder, if you’d have known you had it, if you could have harnessed the energy.”

Yeonjun eyed me. “You’re making that up.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Guess we’ll never know now. Though if I were you, I’d want to know exactly what side effects come from being a glorified safety deposit box for a gumiho bead.”

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of curiosity in them, and perhaps a bit of fear.

I wanted to poke at Yeonjun again, to see if I could get the boy to believe more tall tales, but I heard the shuffling of approaching footsteps and I turned to face the new person.

It was an ajumma. Her steps slow and labored.

“I see you’ve found a nice spot. Any shade to share?”

“Of course,” I said, shoving Yeonjun aside to offer her a prime spot in the center of the shade.

“You’re sweet,” she said, patting me on the arm. Her hand froze a second, her fingers tightened a tad on my wrist. Then she smiled as she leaned back and let out a long, grateful breath.

“I’m reminded I’m not as young as I used to be. Every time I come up here, it gets harder and harder.”

“Do you like hiking?” Yeonjun asked, starting to hold out his water bottle before realizing it was empty.

I pulled another bottle from my pack and offered it.

She shook her head with a pursed smile. “I’m not one for hiking for pleasure. But when there’s a purpose, I can do it.”

Something about how she spoke struck a nerve in me. My voice was measured as I asked, “And what purpose is that?”

“Oh, I think you already know. A creature such as yourself. You’re good at observing others.”

“Are you a ghost or a demon?” I asked.

“Do I strike you as either one?” she asked, her smile becoming sharper as she watched me.

“No,” I said slowly. “Shaman, then.”

That made Yeonjun’s eyes widen, and he took a small step away. I wondered if he even realized he did it. Not that I blamed him. The last time Yeonjun had come up against a shaman, he nearly died.

“It’s odd to see a dokkaebi and a human traveling together. And as you’re on my mountain, it seems like something I should take seriously.”

“Is your god the sansin of this mountain?” I asked, glancing up at the craggy peaks.

“He is.” She nodded. “And if you’re here to cause mischief or make problems, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“We’re not here to disturb your god,” I assured her. “In fact, we weren’t planning on letting him know we were here at all.” I didn’t add that the last time I’d been on this mountain, the sansin had banned me.

The shaman turned to Yeonjun again, who gave a weak smile. Then she nodded. “Make sure your business is done before nightfall.”

“We will,” I promised.

With that, the shaman turned to make her way up the path again. She stopped and turned back, looking intently at Yeonjun.

“There’s a strange energy in you,” she said. “Like you’ve held more than one soul.”

Yeonjun seemed at a loss for words. He looked imploringly at me for help.

“He’s a very generous boy,” I said. “Some might say his heart is two times the normal size.”

The shaman’s eyes narrowed; then she let out a dry laugh. “You know, I never did like you chonggak dokkaebi. Too smooth for my liking.” She turned to go and shouted a reminder over her shoulder. “Done before nightfall.”