I Do Not Accept a God

That day in his dream, Cha-mu sat face to face with the General God. The deity who had been the first to appear on the day his grandfather died — the one who had stared long and hard at the face of the dead before turning his gaze to Cha-mu.

He was the one who, ever since Cha-mu was very young, had told him to accept a god.

Cha-mu had always tried to ignore him. But whenever even the smallest crack opened in Cha-mu's heart, the god would appear without fail, murmuring in his ear that it was time to serve.

A wretched god.

You should have helped her.

That was what the General God said.

At the words, Cha-mu's half-lidded eyes snapped open, and he fixed the god with a hard stare.

Helping pitiful humans is your duty, is it not?

At that lecturing voice, Cha-mu furrowed his brow as if cringing at something sour, then let the corner of his mouth curl up.

Just who do you think you're commanding?

Is everyone born a God's Vessel fated to live that way? I've decided to live by my own rules — and I've decided that this family's line ends with me.

"If she's so precious to you, why don't you go help her yourself."

At Cha-mu's insolent retort, the god clicked his tongue. The sound lashed across Cha-mu's ears like a bolt of lightning, driving a spike of agony through his skull.

So this is what it feels like when lightning strikes the crown of your head.

It was a dream, but Cha-mu felt the pain with perfect clarity.

Did you not vow to repay your ancestors' karma by helping others?

"I said I'd repay it by helping others. I never said those others would be human. Do you take me for a fool?"

Cha-mu's voice was cold as ice.

The gods wanted, by any means necessary, for Cha-mu to form a bond with a human. As far as Cha-mu knew, his father, his grandfather, and every ancestor before them had all been bound that way — tied to a human first, then forced to accept a god.

Which was exactly why Cha-mu had resolved never to form a bond with a human. Especially not a woman.

He knew all too well what the gods might do if they could use his act of helping Yu-yeong as bait.

Draw out his compassion, push him into a bond at last, leave him with lingering attachments to the human world — and then make him accept a god.

That was what they wanted from him.

"I will not accept a god."

The moment the words left his mouth, a violent pain tore through his abdomen, as if he'd been run through with a blade.

"Ugh."

Cha-mu collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach. The agony was dizzying enough to make his vision strobe white.

You dare talk back.

The god shouted as if the punishment he'd dealt were perfectly just. The voice was agonizing enough to split his ears open, and Cha-mu bit his lips bloody, desperately clinging to consciousness. Fainting now was not an option.

"Haaah."

This pain was familiar to Cha-mu.

It had plagued him steadily ever since his grandfather passed into heaven and he resolved to end the family line.

The crushing pain, violent enough to make him want to vomit blood, was the trial the gods inflicted upon him. And so it was pain he had to endure entirely alone.

If he broke here, he could never sever everything within his own generation. If someone had to feel this pain, it might as well be him.

Cha-mu had that much confidence in himself.

All you need to do is say one word — that you'll accept a god.

Whenever Cha-mu writhed in agony, the god would always whisper at his ear like a tempter.

You don't even need a ritual descent. One word — accept the god — and every bit of this pain goes away. Accept a god, take a bride, have children, live out your days, and die comfortably. We'll let you live a life so ordinary that your current one can't even compare.

"Save the bullshit. Haaah... you're really something else..."

Gritting his teeth, Cha-mu endured every ounce of the pain that crashed over him.

He would never accept a god. The curse this family had carried for generations — he would be the one to end it. Absolutely.

...

Cha-mu opened his eyes just past five in the morning.

Beyond the window that opened onto the courtyard, he could hear the sound of a ball bouncing, over and over.

"Go on in and sleep."

At his low murmur, small footsteps soon pattered away.

'Mister, you're awake?'

...

'Mister!'

Cha-mu didn't answer the child's nagging voice. He simply closed his eyes quietly, feeling the chill creep into his body, which was soaked through with cold sweat.

It was cold enough that his teeth chattered, but Cha-mu didn't run.

Not anywhere.

There was nowhere for him to run.

Cha-mu simply faced it.

His fate — the destiny he was born to overcome.

"A bell?"

At Seul-a's question, Yu-yeong lifted her head to look at her. Dangling from Yu-yeong's phone was a single brass bell, bound tightly with a red thread. It swayed with a faint chime whenever she moved — an object Seul-a had never seen her carry before.

The sound of the bell wasn't particularly grating, but since Yu-yeong had never been the type to hang something like this on her things, Seul-a eyed it with suspicion.

Her gaze sharpened at the sudden thought — what if it was a couple's keepsake, split between her and some man? But then she relaxed, reasoning that knowing Yu-yeong's personality, even if she did match couple items with someone, it would never be something as old-fashioned as a shaman's bell.

"Ah, it's just... it's pretty."

"That thing?"

Seul-a's face plainly read, wow, what a unique taste. Yu-yeong gave an awkward smile and tucked the phone into her clutch.

"Did you visit a temple or something?"

At Seul-a's words, Yu-yeong flinched, eyes going wide, then broke into a sheepish grin.

It hadn't been a temple — it had been a Taoist priest — but if she told the truth, Seul-a would raise hell about her meeting yet another strange man.

"It's not that."

As she said it, Yu-yeong gently closed her fingers around the bell hanging from her phone. Somehow, just holding it made her heart feel at ease.

"Then let's head to Cheongdam-dong first. Everyone's waiting."

"Okay."

There was no filming today — instead, it was the day of the opening event for the cosmetics brand Yu-yeong served as ambassador. The schedule was simple: take photos at the photowall of the newly opened department store, give a short interview, and that was it.

Yu-yeong wore the outfit her stylist had picked out, made up to full effect.

Her bare, unadorned face was lovely enough, but the more she was made up, the more her face drew every eye in the room. She hadn't risen from first-tier idol to flawless actress for nothing.

"By the way, you look stunning today."

"...Really?"

"Yeah. You're a total princess."

Seul-a gazed at Yu-yeong across the mirror with the fond eyes of someone admiring her most cherished doll. Watching the face that was always so pale bloom with color today, she broke into a bright smile.

Naturally waved hair, a designer dress, and a clutch from the same brand to match.

Yu-yeong looked flawless, without a single flaw to pick at.

Even the staff at the shop where she'd been styled murmured among themselves that with a face that pretty, no wonder she dragged scandals around wherever she went.

"This wraps up in an hour, right?"

"Yep. Take photos, hold up some products inside the store and take a few more, and you're done."

Yu-yeong nodded at Seul-a's words.

On any other day, she would have worried that before she even stepped in front of the cameras, something else would take over her body — cause trouble, act out of character, do something bizarre. But not today. Somehow, the bell Cha-mu had left behind felt like it was protecting her. It might have been nonsense, but ever since she'd started carrying that bell on her phone, Yu-yeong's mind had been astonishingly clear.

The serene quiet inside her head felt wonderful.

Looked at charitably, there's nothing bad about the human world, is there.

Over the past few days, only when she was acting had the presence inside her seemed to surface — otherwise, nothing.

For the first time since she was fifteen, Yu-yeong was able to live entirely as her complete, unbroken self.

She hadn't blurted out strange, uncanny words to the people around her, and no scandal had erupted.

In front of the camera, the presence dwelling in her body emerged and acted; the rest of the time, she savored peace.

She went for drives now and then, came home and read to her heart's content, soaked in half-baths — passing her days in more tranquility than she'd ever known.

Untangled from unnecessary people, unable to see ghosts, Yu-yeong's daily life was ordinary and perfect.

It really did seem that the saying was true — looked at charitably, there was nothing bad about the human world.

If only she could live like this, Yu-yeong felt she could smile through every single day.

Only one thing nagged at her: since that day, she hadn't seen Cha-mu.

If they ever crossed paths again, she wanted to tell him thank you...

The tall frame, the strange, unreadable aura — Yu-yeong found herself wondering if perhaps Cha-mu was an angel heaven had sent just for her.

"Let's go."

"Okay."

Lost in thoughts of Cha-mu, Yu-yeong rose from her seat at Seul-a's words.

She got into the van, and everything was fine all the way to the department store. It was fine, truly.

But when the car door opened at the department store's main entrance, a huge crowd of fans had already swarmed in to catch a glimpse of her, cheering at the top of their lungs. Several other actors seemed to be attending as well. Yu-yeong smiled radiantly and stepped inside, taking her place before the lavishly installed photowall.

"Yu-yeong-ssi! Give us a heart, just once!"

"Yu-yeong-ssi, to your right!"

"Wave for us, please!"

Bathed in a deluge of flashes from every direction, Yu-yeong did her best to oblige the reporters' demands.

But malice hidden within a crowd rarely announces itself.

A dank, murky energy was creeping toward Yu-yeong.