The Dokkaebi Waiting for the Moon

Chapter 8

Eun-hwi stared at the large hand extended by Yeo Moon-beom for a moment. It was a meaningful gesture, like an invitation to the human world.

It was truly difficult for the young dokkaebi, curious about the outside world, to refuse this. The small, white hand that had been hesitating fidgeted before carefully grasping the thick, strong hand.

‘As long as I don’t give my heart, it should be fine, right?’

Because his desire to become human was greater than his longing to be friends with humans, Eun-hwi had no intention of disobeying Gabi’s words to never give his heart to anyone.

After all, Moon-beom was an outsider who would return to the mainland eventually. When Gabi returned and the hide-and-seek game ended, his connection with Moon-beom would naturally conclude.

Whether aware of Eun-hwi’s thoughts or not, Moon-beom smiled faintly and firmly grasped the hand he held. He was a very strange human who, despite being human, possessed the ability to enchant dokkaebis.

The still unfamiliar scent of mint tickled Eun-hwi’s nose. A warm sensation pooled in his palm.

It was the first time he had felt a human’s warmth and scent.

Two. The Rabbit and the Tiger

Crunch, crunch.

The white rice grains made a crisp sound as they hit the uneven surface.

Eun-hwi, crouching with his knees up, stared intently at Moon-beom’s hands as he washed the rice. Despite looking like someone who would never set foot in a kitchen, his hands stirring inside the bowl seemed quite skillful.

“Why are you pouring it in there?”

Eun-hwi asked as Moon-beom poured the cloudy rice water into the iron pot, as if he was about to do the dishes. He worried if something dirty had been on the pot, which he polished until it shone every day, hoping to receive praise from Gabi when he returned.

“For doenjjigae.”

“Doenjji…? What’s doenjji?”

“Doenjang jjigae.”

“…”

Tilt. His small, slender head slowly tilted to one side.

“Don’t you like doenjang jjigae?”

“…”

“Should I change it to kimchi jjigae? Though it might not taste good since the kimchi isn’t ripe.”

“…Ah! I got it! Doen, jji without the jang and gae!”

Just like calling the Korean Empire ‘Korea’ for short!

Finally understanding the ambiguous word ‘doenjji’, Eun-hwi clapped his hands together in admiration.

“How about doenjang jjigae? Is that okay?”

“Yes. I like doen, jji!”

Moon-beom chuckled as he watched Eun-hwi continuously clap his hands with a satisfied expression, as if he had realized something tremendous.

Getting so excited over mere abbreviations.

The boy, who had just become an adult, was like a white paper that one wanted to stain black with dirty dregs and ashes.

Should one say it evoked a base desire to show uncensored pornographic videos to a boy who believed babies were born when mom and dad held hands and prayed earnestly?

He wanted to torment him under the guise of teasing. He wanted to watch how he would change after facing the ugly reality and getting hurt, just as he had.

However, for now, he had to suppress the rising impulse. At present, confirming the boy’s usefulness was the priority.

Recalling the heat of the ghost fire that had burned his soul, Moon-beom raised one corner of his mouth crookedly and washed the rice once more.

“Eun-hwi.”

“Yes?”

“Hand me the ladle.”

“The ladle? Oh. Here.”

Eun-hwi quickly got up and handed Moon-beom the wooden ladle hanging on the hook. He turned the handle towards Moon-beom, as if politely handing it to an adult. However, instead of grasping the ladle’s handle, Moon-beom wrapped his hand around Eun-hwi’s.

“…Didn’t you ask for the ladle?”

The white hand inside the rough hand twitched as Moon-beom’s touch explored the back of his hand as if checking something. His large, round eyes rolled around, unable to hide his bewilderment.

After a long moment, Moon-beom finally let go and muttered to himself in a voice full of disappointment.

“It’s not.”

“Hm? What’s not?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s not what?”

“I forgot what it was. Really, it’s nothing.”

“What is it?”

Earlier, when they shook hands, Moon-beom had felt something strange. A tingling electricity had flowed into his palm, momentarily brightening his vision – a very bizarre feeling.

There was an inexplicable aspect that was difficult to explain as photopsia or dark adaptation. It was as if he had put on night vision goggles in pitch darkness.

No, it might be more appropriate to say he had briefly borrowed the eyes of a ghost.

…Was it an illusion?

The hand was small, delicate, and warm, making his recheck using the ladle as an excuse seem foolish.

Despite mastering all kinds of martial arts through blood-spitting pain, he couldn’t even kill a single white fox due to lack of spiritual power. He felt utterly ridiculous for being momentarily amazed, thinking he had gained ghostly powers.

Moon-beom felt a throbbing pain in his jaw as he used the received ladle to dissolve doenjang in the rice water.

“Mr. Kim is good at cooking.”

Eun-hwi found it fascinating to watch Moon-beom prepare vegetables while the rice was set in the small iron pot and the stew broth was boiling. His skill in diagonally slicing the long green onions at regular intervals and deftly trimming vegetables seemed both out of place and strangely natural for him.

As Eun-hwi was grinning, imagining a tiger losing its dignity while mincing garlic with thick front paws, Moon-beom suddenly put down the knife and said,

“I’m not Mr. Kim. Looks like you’ve forgotten my name again.”

“Ah, I haven’t forgotten.”

“Say it then. What’s my name?”

“…Huh?”

Being asked so suddenly, he couldn’t remember. His mind went blank.

What was it again? It was Yeo something…

The only things he clearly remembered were the unusual surname ‘Yeo’ and the word ‘beom’ meaning tiger. The middle character just wouldn’t come to him no matter how hard he tried.

“See? You’ve forgotten.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“If you lie… You know what happens, right?”

Moon-beom curled up the corner of his mouth as if to say ‘just you wait’. Left with no choice, Eun-hwi mumbled in a small voice, glossing over the forgotten first character of the name.

“Yeo… beom.”

“I can’t hear you at all. Say it again, louder.”

However, the tiger-like threatening man showed no mercy. His glaring eyes were fierce, as if he would call the grim reaper right away. Eun-hwi’s nape instinctively shrank and his body shriveled.

The intimidated half-dokkaebi opened his mouth hesitantly, looking at the black eyes burning brightly in the reflection of the firewood in the hearth.

“Yeo Ung-beom.”

“…”

“Yeo Mung-beom?”

Haah.

An ambiguous breath, whether a sigh or laughter, flowed out between his thick lips.

Did I get it wrong?

Somehow, his lower abdomen hurt. He seriously considered whether he should prostrate himself and beg not to be reported to the grim reaper, to be forgiven just this once. Eun-hwi anxiously rolled his round eyes, watching for Moon-beom’s reaction.

“If you got it wrong, I was going to eat all the food myself…”

His upturned eyes curved gently. Warmth filled his gaze that had been cold until now. Confused by this inexplicable change, Eun-hwi swallowed dry saliva, waiting for the next words.

“You got two out of three characters right, so I’ll give you half.”

“Wow! I got two right!”

He raised both hands that had been holding his knees and shouted hurray. He was relieved that he wouldn’t be dragged away by the grim reaper and could even eat delicious food.

Moon-beom gently patted Eun-hwi’s head as he rejoiced as if he had gotten the final answer right on a quiz show. He found it endearing that Eun-hwi remembered his name somewhat similarly, if not perfectly, when he thought it had been completely forgotten.

“Repeat after me. Yeo Moon-beom.”

“Okay. Yeo, Moon, beom.”

“Remember it. My name.”

“Got it. Moon-beom.”

Moon-beom patted the dokkaebi’s head once more as he grinned widely, then swept the prepared vegetables into the now boiling pot. The rich smell of doenjang jjigae and cooking rice filled the kitchen.

The gourd made from a real gourd cut in half, the wooden utensils coated with lacquer, the fire in the hearth, the iron pot, and…

The dokkaebi.

Was it because of the surrealism that made him forget even the deeply rooted hatred within? Although it should have been inconvenient without modern conveniences, cooking for the first time in a long while was somehow enjoyable.

Moon-beom recalled his childhood when he and his mother cooked meals on a single gas burner borrowed from the aunt next door in a musty, moldy single room. It was a time when they were happy at heart even though they had nothing.

Because he hadn’t been contaminated by all the filth of the world, like this dokkaebi now.

Hating the beings that made him look back on those times, he used to pour the dirty water of reality over innocent guys who had never tasted the bitterness of life whenever he saw them.

Nevertheless, he had no thought of damaging the dokkaebi he had received as the prize for the bet. It was because of a small expectation that maybe, not being human, he might be different from himself.

“Oh? There’s no water. I’ll go draw some.”

Eun-hwi sprang up from his seat after checking that the water in the jar was almost gone.

“It’s too heavy. I’ll go.”

“No, I’m strong! Moon-beom, you sit here.”

After calling his name with accurate pronunciation, Eun-hwi raised both arms to show off, then dashed off to the well.

Moon-beom gazed long at the hair that sparkled even in the distant darkness and the fluttering white hanbok skirt, and muttered softly.

“Don’t forget. My name. The name of the human who beat your great father and won the bet.”