1. The Half-Moon Eyes
A rustling sound came from the cramped corner of the low-ceilinged room. It came from right beside her, yet Song Hyeon could not make out what it was. No—she did not even think to try. Her mind was adrift somewhere in a hazy fog.
"Ah... ugh... hnnn..."
A man was pressed tight against her body. His hands roamed, stroking her soft flesh, pressing down, over and over. Then—with a 'tsuup'—he sucked. Heat rose, tension coiled tight, then released in a rush. Fluid welled up from her core and seeped out. The man noticed, and his fingers traced the cloth covering her lower half.
"You're unusually wet tonight."
His voice was low, but plainly laced with amusement. His pale, cool hand slipped beneath the band of her undergarments, just below her navel. Two fingers pushed into the cleft and stirred—a wet, squelching sound escaping. There was no penetration, yet Hyeon's small opening clenched and released, clenched and released, over and over. Her fevered body, heedless of reason, responded instinctively to its owner's primal urges.
"Ah—!"
Long, thick fingers invaded her bumpy, slick flesh. They spread the passage as though familiar with the path, fingers wriggling. He did not forget to scratch at the spot Hyeon liked best, drawing out a crisp click-click sound.
"Miss."
"Haa... ahhn..."
"Do tell me how you're feeling."
He asked as though coaxing a child. It was the same scene he showed her every night. But the woman's face was as unfamiliar as if everything were new to her. Her flushed countenance reflected nothing but pleasure.
"Won't you answer me?"
His movements grew more insistent, demanding a reply. Hyeon's mind began to stir in frantic circles.
How do I feel?
Flailing within the flood of sensation, she rolled her hazy eyes.
Good. Warm. Not lonely.
"Hngh... good... ah..."
As the woman murmured, the man smiled softly. Along with his smile, his hand quickened its pace, ravaging her tender flesh. The wet sounds grew louder, and Hyeon's back arched into a curve. A languid wave of pleasure spread to her very toes. The man gazed down at her trembling body, then pulled her into an embrace.
The lips that touched her forehead felt familiar—she rolled her eyes trying to focus—but all before her was pale white. At the same time, something hard nudged her belly and pressed against it. Soon, a long, thick shaft slid between her thighs. Her buttocks clenched tight.
"Nngh..."
"Will you permit me tonight?"
He asked, lapping at her pale nipples. His hips moved in subtle thrusts, eyes curling seductively. The rigid tip, cleft at the end, touched her jade gate and pressed—Hyeon shuddered violently. An instinctive flinch, a recoil. The man was silent for a moment, then withdrew his ominous arousal.
"Then I shall only clean you thoroughly."
"Clean...?"
Hyeon echoed his words slowly. The man did not hesitate—he lowered his face and buried it between her legs. A thick tongue flicked her ¢lit, then lapped at the tiny opening spilling her nectar. Her slender thighs tried to close at the unfamiliar sensation, but his firm grip on her groin would not allow it. He swept from bottom to top, top to bottom, then drew her flesh into his mouth and sucked. She felt a gush of fluid surge forth.
"You keep dripping even as I clean you."
The man said, peering into her opening with amusement. She could almost hear him muttering that it was too small. Hyeon felt the world slowly spinning, yet her body would not stop trembling.
"Ah..."
She remembered. This man.
Hyeon recalled the name she always remembered toward the end of this act.
"Hwan... Yi-hwan..."
The man raised his head. Hearing his name slip faintly from Hyeon's lips, his face lit with satisfaction, and he smiled serenely.
"Knowing full well you will forget everything by morning, I am endlessly pleased nonetheless."
He kissed her, as though proud of her. His tongue touched her lower lip, still swollen from his sucking—and it tasted salty and sharp.
"What color ribbon do you prefer?"
"Ehn...?"
It was an abrupt question. But the man, unruffled, explained carefully.
"You just told me your hair ribbon broke and that it upset you."
Ah. Did I? Perhaps she had. Yi-hwan stroked her hair and asked again. Hyeon slowly closed her eyes, then opened them, and answered.
"Crimson..."
"I shall procure a new one for you. Since you once gave me one as well."
Yi-hwan smiled, delighted.
The man's smile was beautiful.
Even as her body and mind melted, unable to hold themselves upright, that impression struck her clearly. The curve of his eyes was just like the moon before it swelled to fullness. Yet there was no time to leisurely admire that beauty.
"Hnn— haaah...!"
Sensation surged again between her thighs. The blunt tip of his fingers had pulled her opening wide, teasing it. Her mind went white.
It was one of the countless nights Hyeon would not remember.
---
The nation of Wolryeon had, from ancient times, maintained the custom of establishing shrines across every province to enshrine various gods. It was a country where the authority of the shrines was so great that even the shamans who served the gods were classified as lower-ranking officials and received state stipends.
The people regarded offering devotions to the gods as a part of daily life, and when misfortune befell them, they whispered that it was due to insufficient piety—that an evil spirit had latched on. It was a nation where even those who had never actually seen a spirit believed such things.
The village of Soro, in the south, was no exception. And so the people called the woman who lived in the mountain behind the village—Song Hyeon—a woman possessed by demons.
It had been five years since Song Hyeon was abandoned by the villagers and retreated into seclusion in the rear mountains. And on this day, Song Hyeon and Yi-hwan met for the first time.
"Please help me."
"Gah—!"
The man approached Hyeon, pleading earnestly for his life. It was deep in the mountains. Hyeon, who had been crouched down gathering medicinal herbs, lost her balance and fell backward. He was that unexpected a guest.
"Who—"
Hyeon quickly braced herself with her hands and rose. Her eyes as she scanned the stranger were sharp.
The man was tall and fair-skinned. Though his clothes were somewhat damaged, they were of fine quality—smooth fabric adorned with lavish embroidery. Yet one could not judge a person by appearance alone. There were those who made a living by using their handsome faces to deceive the innocent.
Hyeon's head, which had been throbbing even before, began to ache worse.
"I am being pursued."
"..."
Now that she looked, blood was trickling from his right side. He clearly needed a place to hide and tend to his wounds. But that did not mean her circumstances were lenient enough to take in a stranger. Acting out of compassion was a luxury for those who could afford it.
Hyeon let out a small sigh.
"Find someone else. I am in no position to help."
"I will surely repay your kindness."
"Did I not say I cannot afford to give any?"
Hyeon said coldly, then hoisted her simple bundle onto her shoulder. She did not want to get tangled in troublesome affairs. Her fate was wretched enough without her twisting it further herself.
"I am not being pursued for a crime. I merely encountered ruffians while crossing the mountain with a cargo of cursed goods. They are chasing me—that is why I ask."
As Hyeon tried to leave, the man pleaded his innocence. She halted when she heard that he was a merchant. Her lover, too, had been a trader. An ordinary man who would fret endlessly whenever he crossed the mountains with heavy loads, fearing bandits.
The thought of the one she had loved made Hyeon's heart grow heavier.
"I am sorry."
But what was the use of that? That lover, too, had already died. Hyeon believed that anyone entangled with her would attract evil spirits far more terrifying than any band of thieves. It would be better for the man to seek help from someone else.
More than anything—if this man died, the weight of guilt she would have to carry would only grow heavier. She clenched her jaw and was about to pass him by. Then, a large hand seized her wrist.
"I will do what you need, miss."
"I am not someone of value... and I need nothing."
Hyeon twisted her hand, trying to free herself from the man's grip. But he only tightened his hold. Was he going to draw a blade and threaten her? Her body stiffened with tension.
But he did not threaten her.
"Do you not wish to be free from the evil spirits?"
Instead, he offered a most sweet fruit.
Hyeon whipped her head around. How? She looked up at the man, who spoke as though he knew everything. He was at ease—as if he had never lowered himself at all just moments ago.
"They swarm so thickly around you—how could your surroundings ever be peaceful? It is a miracle you are even alive and well, miss."
"What are you talking about?"
Hyeon tried to answer calmly. She prayed that the tremble in her voice would not reach him.
"I will make them stop clinging to you forever. I will teach you the way. So... please, take care of me."
"How can I trust you?"
Her heart pounded. She was not the first to have her affliction recognized at a glance—her father, too, had been a man who saw spirits. Yet no one had ever made her such an offer. Even the most desperate for coin, once they caught the scent of misfortune that clung to Hyeon, would scramble away on all fours.
But the man before her was different.
He released her hand and carefully gripped both her shoulders. In that instant, a cool breeze brushed the back of her neck. Her hair floated briefly in the air, then settled.
"Ah..."
"The dead do not lie."
The pallid, clammy spirits that had writhed at Hyeon's side for years—vanished without a trace. The headache and the nausea that had followed her like shadows for so long also subsided in an instant.
Even strong talismans had only reduced their numbers. How had he cleansed them so thoroughly?
Hyeon stared blankly up at the man, who no longer pleaded.
"I say again—I will surely repay your kindness."
"Are you an exorcist?"
"Something similar. As you can see, my abilities are not poor."
The man tilted his head slightly. His sly smile was bewitching. He seemed to be teasingly boasting that their positions had now reversed. Would it be foolish to say that very demeanor inspired trust?
Hyeon hesitated for a few seconds, then spoke in a somber voice.
"Everyone who has passed through my life has met a violent end."
"I will be different."
"...Do whatever you must to survive. Even if you face danger, it is not my fault."
Hyeon tried to lay down a firm warning, hoping to secure that promise in advance—but the man answered with flexible grace.
"Just shelter me until my wounds heal. After that, I will teach you the way."
And then the man studied Hyeon's face closely. His dark, deep eyes traced slowly over her pale features—it was embarrassing. She turned her head to avoid his gaze. He paid her no mind and extended his hand.
"I look forward to working with you. My name is Yi-hwan."
"Miss". Yi-hwan concluded with that word, curving his eyes. Hyeon admired how his eyes were just like half-moons, and nodded her head. And so began their strange life under one roof.
***
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