Summoning the Past

“They’re coming.”

Horang opened his closed eyes.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Park Hak-soo, who had somehow managed to stay conscious, reacted quickly to the summons.

A small gust of wind stirred at Horang’s feet.

The wind, strong enough to rustle clothes, swirled, kicking up dust, and then dropped what he desired right before his eyes.

“Park Hak-soo.”

Theodore tilted his head towards the drawn-in soul.

Horang called the man, clad in a khaki work uniform that looked like something from World War II, with an unpatterned green steel helmet, “Park Hak-soo.”

Park Hak-soo slowly opened his eyes.

The moment his bewildered gaze confirmed his surroundings beyond Horang, his eyes turned blazing red.

‘You—!’

Park Hak-soo screamed.

Theodore saw the sharp claws flying towards him and activated his shadow.

The shadow, instantly growing in size, attempted to swallow the charging Park Hak-soo whole.

“These idiots, seriously.”

Horang, watching the sudden commotion before his eyes, twisted his lips.

And his body twisted.

Dark fur, the color of night poured out, whirled around.

Park Hak-soo, startled by the darkness filling his vision, felt his body lift into the air from a lightning-fast kick that landed before he could even collect himself.

It was the first sensation he had felt since leaving his physical body.

But something more important was happening.

Before his mind went blank and the world before his eyes closed, he saw a giant black tiger rushing towards his enemy.

A single leap closed the distance, and sharp, exposed fangs bit into the bird-like shadow.

The black bird and the black tiger mingled, leaving crimson afterimages.

“You goddamn! You goddamn! If I don’t say it! You won’t understand!”

The thrashing and flailing didn’t look too serious, but Park Hak-soo watched the shadow being thrashed like a rug and threw his head back.

The sky spun.

“Oh my! Customer!!”

Jeha quickly rushed towards the precious client who had been sent flying without a sound.

“Do you see this? Customer?”

Jeha waved his spread fingers before Park Hak-soo’s eyes and clicked his tongue. He turned his head.

Fur, scattered in the air by the blowing wind, settled on the ground.

“Are you alright?”

Horang, having revealed his true form, showed sharp teeth in his heavily wrinkled face.

Jeha nodded.

“Yes, well. He’s unconscious, but not annihilated. Fortunately, he was kicked away by your sole, so he’s not injured either.”

Hearing that, Horang dusted off his thick sole and cast his gaze downwards.

Theodore, his body tightly wrapped in a shadow as tall as himself, tilted his head back to look at them.

His attractively smooth and firm lips parted.

“Ha—!”

It was neither a laugh nor a sigh.

Horang did not avert his gaze from the storm cloud-like eyes.

“I felt spectral energy from the mountain god, so I thought perhaps he developed some illness after going through difficult times, but it was the opposite.”

Theodore gazed at the black fur, darker than the night’s gloom, that covered Horang’s body, the dull stripes across him, and his ghostly red eyes.

The colossal black tiger stood on all fours, ears flattened and nose wrinkled.

He didn’t look clumsy due to his size but rather agile and overwhelmingly imposing.

The spectral energy emanating from his body was so intense that it made the previous assumption of him being a mountain god seem ludicrous.

And the scent of blood, from devouring hundreds, thousands of humans, was equally intense.

Yet, it was an utterly captivating sight.

Theodore, watching as if mesmerized, voiced the first question that came to mind.

“Was a monster posing as a mountain god?”

“If you don’t like it, should I nullify the contract now?”

Horang snorted loudly and somersaulted through the air.

Returning to his human form, Horang leaned his body, letting out a series of cracking bone sounds.

Theodore let out a small laugh.

“I can’t do that, of course. Besides, whether it’s a monster or an immortal, I don’t care as long as I get my memories back.”

Horang’s face twisted at that.

He had planned to just take his client and leave if Theodore had said no.

He sighed and pointed with his chin at Park Hak-soo lying on the floor.

With years of experience, Jeha quickly reached out and asked.

“Should I take him?”

A clicking sound was heard.

Jeha swiftly picked up the soul with one hand.

“We’re going to the office.”

“Understood.”

Jeha, carrying Park Hak-soo as if he were a heavy shopping bag, blinked his eyes.

“I’ll put him in the car for now.”

Horang watched as Jeha left with the unconscious client out the main gate, then turned his gaze back to Theodore, who still had business with him.

“Let’s go together.”

Theodore replied before Horang could even open his mouth.

He shrugged, looking at the spot where Park Hak-soo had fallen.

“I’m curious why he attacked me the moment he saw me. And I have many questions about Kim Yeo-ryeong.”

“It’s a shame the probability of him just finding your face unlucky and attacking is rather low.”

Horang grumbled briefly and then put the tobacco pipe back in his mouth.

Bang! Tatatatatang!

The gun barrel, spewing flames, fired bullets like a machine gun.

The finger on the trigger clicked repeatedly, as if unaware of what it was doing.

The man, who had been lying prone, chuckled, the empty magazine forgotten. It wasn’t out of joy or excitement.

There was no way he could be happy when bullets were still raining down and embedding themselves in the wretched pile of dirt that shielded him.

Thwack, thwack, with every splash of dirt, Park Hak-soo flinched, clutching the rifle in his hand tightly.

The man right next to him lifted his head.

Park Hak-soo quickly reached out and slapped the dazed face.

‘Do you want to get shot and die!’

Despite his outburst, the vacant pupils still wavered, refusing to regain focus.

Park Hak-soo relaxed his grip and leaned his body against the dirt.

He didn’t want to die here. Dying somewhere else wouldn’t be better, but at least not here.

He didn’t want to die practically buried alive in some mountain valley behind a neighborhood he didn’t even know existed.

Park Hak-soo steadied his breath.

The relentless sound of bullets ceased. But sticking his head out immediately would mean death.

‘I have to go home.’

He moved his lips out of habit.

His wife, who had called him her husband after a simple bow over a bowl of well water, even though she couldn’t wear the fine wedding dress that others did, was waiting for him.

At the house they had struggled to secure in the place where the Japanese, who had entered another country with guns and swords, crying that they didn’t know why they had to turn their backs on their homeland and leave, had departed.

Thwack!

Park Hak-soo’s eyes rolled.

Someone had stepped on a branch not far away. His pupils darted quickly, flowing in the darkness.

His finger pulled the trigger.

Even as flesh and blood spurted, splattering into his mouth, he couldn’t bring himself to spit it out.

He didn’t care if what covered his eyes was his own tears or another’s life.

He pulled the trigger repeatedly.

If I buy that land, I can come back.

He didn’t know why those words came to mind now, of all times.

Even so, Park Hak-soo instinctively prayed.

Bang! Bang!

His back burned. It felt as if something had pierced his side and chest.

His breathing was instantly choked, and he felt so overwhelmed he didn’t know what he was experiencing.

His body tilted.

It felt like flames were searing his flesh. But his heart hurt even more.

Another gunshot rang out at him, whose eyes had not yet closed, and something splattered thud-thud onto him.

Whoosh—.

Please, anyone. Send me back. To my wife, who is waiting for me.

“—Customer. Customer?”

Park Hak-soo’s eyes snapped open.

A fierce-eyed man, no, a ghost, was smiling at him.

“You’ve come to your senses.”

Park Hak-soo’s face was bewildered as his eyes rolled.

A ghost like him… come to his senses… where…

His neck snapped around.

A known face, with ash-covered hair and yellow eyes, though dressed differently, was watching him.

‘Whether dead or alive, he’ll come.’

The low, calm voice echoed in his mind.

Park Hak-soo opened his mouth and squeezed out whatever was inside, as if he had forgotten he was a being who could no longer inhale or exhale.

It felt like if the accumulated emotions, whether lingering attachments or resentment, didn’t dissipate even a little, the voice suppressed beneath wouldn’t come out properly.

After a long while, Park Hak-soo finally called out earnestly, just as he desired.

‘…My Lord.’

“Why?”

A god answered his call.

The moment Horang opened his eyes, he saw Park Hak-soo, shedding tears like pearls, and gestured to the side.

Jeha brought out a roll of toilet paper from the utility room and placed it beside Park Hak-soo. Park Hak-soo reached for it without hesitation.

Ahem—sniff.

Watching him alternate between crying, stopping, and then crying again, suppressing the welling tears, Horang waited patiently.

When a spirit released pent-up emotions, it was best to just let them be.

He slowly smoked his tobacco until Park Hak-soo calmed down.

“Hic! I apologize.”

Once Park Hak-soo had finally calmed down, Jeha presented him with a mug of light Americano.

“Drink.”

Park Hak-soo looked at the steaming cup, then hesitated before reaching out.

Seeing his worry about whether he could reach it, Jeha also placed a plate full of snacks on the table.

After several hesitations, Park Hak-soo grasped the cup and opened his trembling lips, his face contorted.

‘…It’s hot.’

“Drink slowly. I’ll give you more if you need it.”

Park Hak-soo, dressed like a young gangster with his chest puffed out, bowed his head to the very gentle ghost.

Horang sighed.

“First.”

He put the mouthpiece to his lips, inhaled the smoke, and exhaled.

The smoke that dispersed into the air spread thinly and touched the empty space next to Park Hak-soo.

Then, a clear, transparent membrane shattered like glass, falling thud-thud to the ground.

As Theodore, who had been sitting within it, appeared, Park Hak-soo’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘You!’

“Shall we begin the story?”

Before he could even hear Horang’s suggestion, Park Hak-soo sprang to his feet.

Coffee sloshed and overflowed from the cup in his hand.