"Mom, I'm really not sick."
"I know, son. But what's wrong with getting a checkup every now and then?" Mom said gently.
"The checkup I get. But why do we have to come all the way to Cheonliang? There are plenty of hospitals in Seoul. This place is in the middle of nowhere." I frowned.
Mom smiled and reached over to ruffle my dark red hair. "Baki, your case is special. We've seen doctor after doctor in Seoul and not one of them could give us an answer."
"But Mom, I don't have a 'case.'"
"Yes, yes, I know you're not sick. But since we're already here, what's the harm in seeing the shaman? I've heard he's very good."
I gave up and nodded.
I couldn't explain it, but ever since I'd set foot in Cheonliang, something had been sitting wrong with me. The people here were strange.
---
With the help of a villager, it took nearly an hour to find the shaman's house. The villagers had been cold at first, but the moment Mom mentioned the shaman, their whole attitude flipped. They warmed up immediately and walked us right to the door.
Two Japanese men were standing outside. I could tell they were Japanese at a glance — because I'm Japanese myself. We'd only moved to Korea recently. One wore glasses and had a calm, mild-looking face. The other had a scar running across his face that made him hard to look at.
The villager who had guided us walked up and said something to them in a low voice. The man with glasses opened the door and stepped inside. The villager turned back to us and said, "Please wait here. Lord Shaman will call you in shortly."
Then he left, and there we were, standing in the courtyard.
I looked around. A large tree stood at the center, its branches draped with colorful ribbons — the kind you always see at shamanistic rituals. Beneath it sat a small shrine. I was still taking it all in when the man who had gone inside came back out and waved us over.
Mom took my hand and led me in.
The first thing I noticed inside was the rows of dolls hanging from the ceiling. I was still staring up at them when a man stepped into view. He was seated in front of those rows of dolls, a goat cradled in his lap.
"Welcome, ma'am. I am the village shaman, Shinmyung Cheon."
He gestured for us to sit across from him as he spoke.
Mom sat down and pulled me into the seat beside her.
Shinmyung smiled. "What brings you all the way here?"
"We've been to every kind of hospital in Seoul," Mom said, "and nothing came of it. When we heard about you in Cheonliang, we came straight away."
"Ma'am, the deity I serve can cure illnesses that modern medicine cannot."
"Then my son can really be cured?" Mom leaned forward. "His name is Baki Hanma. After his father passed, we moved here from Japan."
When I was young, I had suffered a brain injury. A CT scan had shown that my brain had naturally folded itself into the shape of a demon's face. Ever since then, Mom had never stopped worrying about me. I had never seen the problem with it myself.
Shinmyung listened to all of this and nodded slowly. "Something very bad has latched itself onto your son. We will need to perform several exorcisms."
Mom didn't say a word. She reached into her bag, pulled out a pouch stuffed with money, and held it out to him.
"I'm counting on you."
Shinmyung took it with a grin that spread all the way across his face. "With sincerity like this, the deity will surely take notice." He paused, then grinned again. "We'll begin right away."
"What?!" The word jumped out of Mom's mouth.
The door behind us swung open before the echo even faded. The two Japanese men stood in the doorway, waiting.
Shinmyung looked at them. "Get them ready."
What happened next moved too fast for me to process. Within minutes, we had been changed into ceremonial robes and brought out to the shrine in the courtyard.
"We beseech thee! We beseech thee! We beseech thee, hear our call!" Shinmyung's voice rang out across the whole yard.
"Take pity on this child who has been possessed! Remove the evil that clings to him! Heal this child!"
The words were still coming when he suddenly brought his blade down and severed the goat's head clean off.
"What —"
Mom stumbled backward. Without either of us noticing, the villagers had gathered all around us, moving in strange, swaying circles.
Shinmyung lunged close to Mom's ear and dropped his voice to a hiss. "Show your sincerity, you stupid bitch."
Mom, frightened, started chanting along with him.
Then Shinmyung threw his head back and shouted, "The offering has been made! Deity, take away this evil!"
I stood frozen and watched as a child about my age, bound in iron shackles, walked naked toward the shrine.
A sacrifice. The sacrifice he had been talking about was a kid my age.
Something was wrong with him — he had six fingers on each hand, six toes on each foot.
Shinmyung scooped up a rock and hurled it straight at the boy's face. "The demon has been transferred to the sacrifice! Cast your spirit stones and drive out the evil!"
The other villagers followed without hesitation.
"Cast your stones! Drive out the evil! Heal the child!"
The boy crumpled to the ground and threw his arms over his head, trying to shield himself.
Mom couldn't hold back anymore. "Stop it! What are you doing to a child?!"
The villagers turned toward her all at once, wearing the same unreadable smiles.
"Don't worry. Your son's curse will be lifted soon."
Something was wrong. Something here had been wrong from the moment we arrived.
The villagers closed in. Mom kept backing away. Then, all together, they spoke:
"Welcome to Cheonliang. Our shaman is all-powerful. Whatever troubles you, bring it to him."
A group of women moved in behind her. One of them said flatly, "Trash. You should have stayed in Seoul. What did you come to Cheonliang for? Trying to take advantage of our shaman?"
Another one added, "Look at her. I'll bet she was selling herself back wherever she came from too."
Every single one of them was out of their mind.
---
A few hours later, Mom shook me out of sleep. The luggage was already packed. A cab was waiting outside. We scrambled in.
"To Seoul, please!" Mom said the moment the door closed.
The driver glanced back at us. "Seoul? This late at night?"
"It doesn't have to be Seoul. Just get us out of the village!"
"What?"
"Please," Mom said.
The driver pressed the gas and the car pulled away.
We drove for a long time before the car slowed to a stop. The driver looked back at us.
"This is it. Go ahead and get out."
Mom thanked him and got out, pulling me with her.
Then we saw it — the same house we had left at the very beginning.
Villagers were standing outside. And in the middle of them was Shinmyung.
He walked toward us and smiled. "Out for a late-night stroll? The deity has been worried about you."
From that day on, our every move was watched. Every small thing we did, monitored. Our lives were entirely in Shinmyung's hands.
---
And so the days passed.
One morning, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and wandered through the house looking for Mom.
"Mom? Mom, are you still up?"
When my vision finally cleared, my mind went completely blank.
Mom had hanged herself.
The door was thrown open. Two Japanese men walked in — the same two who were always at Shinmyung's side.
The one with glasses looked around the room, let out a short sigh, and said, "She did it herself. Less trouble for us."
I hadn't even registered what I was seeing when his knee slammed into my stomach.
Everything went black.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in hell.
A hell called Cheonliang.