SFNFS Ch 9

Chapter 9

No!

No…

It couldn’t be him.

Bipa shook his head vigorously, erasing the voice that had surfaced in his mind. He forced out the false memories that were trying to bewitch him.

It seemed he had imagined and fabricated something that never happened, simply because he had been pushing himself too hard in his search for lost memories.

That man—there was no way he could have been there on that day, at that time.

The person who had come all the way to Seogyeong as the proxy for the absent Crown Prince to officiate the grand seasonal rite would not have been outside the palace mere hours before the main event of the tournament.

A rigid warrior who always abided by the proper way of things would never have committed such a deviation, especially on the eve of something so momentous.

…Even if, by some remote chance, he had stepped out briefly to soak in the festive atmosphere, he would never have wandered into such a desolate back alley. And even if, by some miracle, he had ended up there, there was no way the man who had glared so coldly at Bipa—whom he hadn’t seen in years—would have then helped a drunken Bipa to his feet.

The more vehemently he denied it, the more bitterness pooled in his mouth. Bipa twisted his lips into a sardonic smile.

It was truly a ridiculous notion… A possibility so implausible that it needed to be dismissed as swiftly as possible. Otherwise, it would give rise to false hopes, and false hopes inevitably returned as wounds.

“…Right! I really should stop fumbling after memories that have already flown away. They only lead to pointless thoughts, don’t they?”

Thus, Bipa ultimately decided to seek someone’s help.

“Your name was Bueon, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. I will serve you wholeheartedly so that you experience no inconvenience during your stay.”

He was the gentle-faced attendant who had rushed in to wake Bipa when he fainted upon seeing the frog face reflected in the bronze mirror two days ago.

Originally, he had been an employee at the guesthouse run by the Hongwoo Trading Company, located on Seogyeong’s main avenue. But because Bipa had arrived without any prior notice, the youth had been assigned to serve him for a while.

Calm, kind, quick on his feet, and seemingly capable—Bipa found himself thinking that this attendant, who was around his own age, was rather decent.

And right now, he seemed like the perfect person to assist him in this awkward situation.

“You said you were born and raised here in Seogyeong?”

“Yes, I am a native. I’ve never once left this city in my life.”

“You’re not an I-in (異人) either?”

“No, sir… My younger sibling is a Wol-in¹, but I am not. My apologies, sir.”

(¹Wol-in: Literally “moon person.” A group of beings distinct from ordinary humans; often linked to celestial or divine origins.)

Bueon hesitated as he answered, sneaking a glance at Bipa as if to gauge whether the question had been asked out of a desire for him to be an I-in.

But in truth, Bipa’s thoughts were quite the opposite.

He actually felt relieved that Bueon was just an ordinary human.

An I-in would have been much more sensitive to hyanghun—the soul’s pure fragrance unique to celestial beings. Though centuries had passed and their kind had become nearly indistinguishable from surface dwellers, remnants of heavenly traits still lingered in the I-in.

The most prominent four were: Seonja-okjil, Seonpung-dogol, Cheongbun, and Yeongryeok.²

(²These four refer respectively to: jade-like skin and refined appearance; ethereal grace and bone structure; a pure, elevated soul that radiates a unique fragrance; and the spiritual power used in celestial arts.)

These were what set them apart from mortals. Of these, hyanghun (soul-fragrance) was their pride, while yeongryeok (spiritual power) was what repelled malevolent spirits, illuminated lunar altars, and sustained the celestial spheres that replaced the vanished sun.

And now, having lost both his pure fragrance and beautiful visage, Bipa felt utterly deflated.

His spiritual power remained intact, so it couldn’t be said he was no longer an I-in. But neither could he feel proud or dignified as the descendant of celestial immortals. His aversion toward I-in at this moment bordered on instinctive.

This was because hyanghun, being so unique, was most sharply perceived by other I-in. With his own fragrance now grotesquely warped, it was better to stay away from their kind entirely.

Casting another pleased glance at his new attendant—who sat tensely upright—Bipa lowered his voice and made a highly suspicious request.

“Listen… there’s someone I want you to bring to my chambers. Quietly. Without anyone knowing.”

That afternoon.

Bueon appeared at Bipa’s chambers, escorting an unfamiliar man.

His face was concealed beneath a ragged, soot-black mat draped over his head, but his exposed hands and wrists were enough to reveal him as a shriveled old man.

As always, Baekbong—lying hidden on the roof of Bipa’s chambers—cocked his head and let out a low hum upon seeing the suspicious figure.

Just what was his young master thinking now?

Ever since the night they’d arrived in Seogyeong—when Bipa had gotten utterly drunk and passed out—the young master hadn’t stepped outside for three straight days. Baekbong had assumed it was because he was sulking over being spurned by his former lover. He hadn’t expected this to be the first visitor to come calling.

Could there be something else going on?

Baekbong furrowed his brow in uncharacteristic concern.

Normally indifferent and blunt toward others, Baekbong found the soft, bubbly Bipa extraordinarily difficult to serve.

Had it not been for Manpa—the young master of the Hongwoo Trading Company—personally asking him, Baekbong would have simply followed orders to guard Bipa without ever bothering to worry like this.

“Please take good care of my younger brother.”

Recalling Manpa’s words before they left Seoha, Baekbong reconsidered what it meant to “take care” and wondered if he should interfere more directly.

But before he could decide, the attendant who had entered with the rag-clad old man emerged alone.

“Damn it, what do I do…”

Muttering under his breath, the youth bit his nails, scratched his head, and fretted just as anxiously as Baekbong had been moments earlier. He glanced nervously around before pressing his ear to the closed door.

For a while he listened with one ear, then switched to the other, mumbling:

“Can’t make out a word of it.”

Seeing this, Baekbong could no longer stay perched on the roof.

He dropped lightly to the ground behind Bueon and, after a moment’s hesitation, tapped the youth’s shoulder.

The boy nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Waaah—mmph!”

With just that light touch, he screamed as though ambushed, only for Baekbong to swiftly clap a hand over his mouth.

“Shh.”

Meeting his gaze with a stern look, Baekbong silently warned him to be quiet. Bueon, quick on the uptake, nodded rapidly. The fact that he visibly relaxed after the initial shock was because he already recognized Baekbong from the tavern a few days ago—knew he was Bipa’s chief guard.

“Are you going to stay quiet?”

Bueon nodded again and again, and only then did Baekbong remove his hand. Without a word, he took the youth’s place by the door, leaning in to listen just as he had done.

From within came muted voices.

“Finding the cause is less important than resolving it. This energy must not be allowed to linger for long.”

The clandestine conversation between two people drifted through the door.

The sound was too faint for mortal Bueon to catch, but Baekbong—whose spiritual power was exceptional even among I-in—heard every word with perfect clarity.

The elderly bangsa³ whom Bueon had brought claimed that Bipa was afflicted by mugo (巫蠱)—a curse born of sorcery. In plain terms, someone had hexed him.

(³Bangsa: A practitioner of Taoist or shamanic arts, often dealing with talismans, exorcisms, and celestial rituals.)

Ordinarily, Bipa might have scoffed at such talk. He was usually too grounded to believe in things like that.

But when one had transformed into a frog monster, reality itself was already far removed from normality. What reason was there now to reject notions of curses or sorcery?

Even more compelling was that, unlike the physicians who had failed to notice anything, this bangsa had gasped and clicked his tongue in astonishment the instant he and Bipa were alone:

“Oh dear. The evening primrose has lost its fragrance—how pitiful. You must have called me here to drive out the fishy stench of the frog.”

How could Bipa not believe him after that?

When he had first asked Bueon to track down a skilled bangsa in the common quarters, Bipa hadn’t held out much hope. Asking a mortal—let alone one reliant on folk superstition (sokshin,俗信)—to solve such a bizarre affliction seemed absurd.

But with no way to approach the Grand Astrologer’s Bureau, he had been desperate enough to cling to even the flimsiest straw.

Could a street sorcerer possibly diagnose what neither he himself—a celestial being—nor trained physicians could? He had doubted it.

But after speaking with this man, every shred of skepticism in Bipa’s heart had vanished.