The Child in the Vessel
Cha-mu usually walked around without his eyes fully open. "Half-lidded" was the more accurate way to put it. Whenever he opened them all the way, he saw far too much — and also…
"Seriously, why are you a crew member? You should be an actor."
It was because he had to hear that kind of inane remark at least once in a while.
He gave a curt, indifferent nod to one of the staff who was fussing over him, knowing nothing of his situation and judging only by his looks, then threw his gaze back into the corner of the set.
There, Yu-yeong stood.
More precisely, Yu-yeong who had become a six-year-old girl.
Cha-mu had no interest in Yu-yeong. The only reason his eyes kept drifting back to her was his worry that the malice cast by the owner of the black hat might, in the end, devour a living person.
In other words, even if the one who'd abandoned that hat hadn't been Yu-yeong but some sixty-year-old old man, Cha-mu would have watched just the same.
Keeping anyone's malice from turning toward the living. Making sure a vengeful spirit commits no further sins in the world of the living, and ascends as it should. Resolving the grudges of others as a way of working off the karma he himself was born carrying. All of this — everything happening now — was nothing more than a means for Cha-mu to erase his own karmic debt.
"…"
Today, too, he'd planned to simply do his job and leave.
Over the past few days he had crossed paths with Yu-yeong any number of times, yet he hadn't once acknowledged her, nor had he cleared away the stray spirits loitering in her vicinity.
Thoroughly indifferent. That was the plan for today as well.
But…
From the moment Yu-yeong walked onto the set, Cha-mu's gaze was fixed on her alone. More precisely, on the lollipop clamped in her mouth, and on that face — smiling more innocently than usual, innocence tipping over into something utterly harmless.
That was not Yu-yeong.
She was not the girl who had gazed up at the sky with a radiant smile. But neither was she the being that took over Yu-yeong's body to deliver performances touched by the divine.
It was something entirely different. Something entirely different had taken possession of Yu-yeong's body and was pulling the strings.
"A little one."
Cha-mu murmured the words to himself.
As his half-lowered eyelids slowly lifted, the thing dwelling inside Yu-yeong came into sharp focus.
A girl of no more than six, in pigtails and a yellow dress. The smell of hospital and the scent of candy clung to her, layered one over the other. She had died in a hospital room, become its earthbound spirit, and ridden Yu-yeong's body out of the hospital — that much was obvious.
Really, anything at all will crawl in there, won't it.
Cha-mu shook his head at the thought, and spent a moment wondering what to do about it. Then he decided it didn't matter — once filming began, the yeong-ga that normally claimed that body would emerge and drive the little brat out in a heartbeat.
After all, the yeong-ga coiled around that body looked far stronger than your average wandering spirit.
This young thing would be no match for that power.
Borrowers who slip in through the cracks can never overcome a soul that splits the flesh down the middle and uses it half and half.
"Watch out!"
Just then, a shout tore through the filming crew.
It was the lighting director, checking the rigs on the ceiling.
In the same instant, a heavy light plummeted to the floor and shattered to pieces.
"…"
Without a trace of alarm, Cha-mu watched the scene descend into chaos.
People were shouting up at the lighting director, asking if he was all right, but the light hadn't fallen from his rigging.
At the center of the splintered steel debris sat a red rubber ball. Something that belonged nowhere in this space. And something that belonged to no part of this world.
Cha-mu's gaze soon found Yu-yeong. Her eyes were wide and round, but what lived in her face was not shock — it was delight. Her eyes weren't on the fallen light or the frightened people; they had landed on the red ball perched up above.
The ball's owner had been playing a prank.
Refusing to let what was hers be taken away, the child had thrown the humans into disarray.
The younger they are, the more they think only of themselves.
"…"
"What the hell is this?!"
The director — already on edge — bellowed, and the air on the set froze in an instant.
The co-star beside Yu-yeong started saying she was scared, and murmurs began to spread that today's shoot might have to be canceled.
The childish tantrum of a little girl unwilling to give up Yu-yeong's body had, in the end, landed.
"Ah, dammit — hey! Assistant director! Wrap today's shoot!"
The moment the director's roar came down, Cha-mu could see, with perfect clarity, the corners of Yu-yeong's mouth curling upward.
"Oh nooo, what a shame…"
The voice trailing off at the end of each word was unmistakably Yu-yeong's, and yet it was not Yu-yeong.
This was why he hated keeping his eyes properly open.
"Big trouble, isn't it?"
She was calling it big trouble, but Yu-yeong's expression said nothing of the sort. It was the look of someone utterly failing to hide her excitement that the shoot had been canceled.
Yu-yeong picked up one of the macarons resting on her knee and popped it into her mouth.
The achingly sweet flavor flooding her mouth sent a thrill of rapture through her entire body.
Whether it was all the sugar, or the fact that she didn't have to leave this body, the mood of the child wearing Yu-yeong's skin climbed higher and higher.
"You're in a good mood today, Yu-yeong."
"Ah, a li'l bit."
When Yu-yeong — usually bright but composed — grinned and lapsed into a child's slurred lisp as if she'd actually become a little kid, the people around her exchanged glances.
It meant: something's a little off.
But Yu-yeong, in her childlike obliviousness, failed to catch what their looks meant.
She was simply content — content that her mouth was full of sweets right now, and that there were wondrous things to look at.
"Looks like today's shoot is done, so why don't we head back?"
The moment Seul-a spoke, the co-star seated near Yu-yeong rose to her feet first. She was a veteran senior actress, and on any ordinary day Yu-yeong would have sprung up from her seat and bowed deeply — but now she only waved a hand at her senior in a casual little greeting.
At the sight, Seul-a's face stiffened faintly with embarrassment, but the senior actress just smiled as if it was nothing and drifted away.
"Yu-yeong."
"Mm?"
"Never mind. Let's get ready to go."
Seul-a knew Yu-yeong's peculiar mood swings well. This was the woman who could bawl her way through a crying scene, then cut the tears off the instant an "Okay" was called and break into a radiant smile. Or who could smile sweetly from start to finish, only to look as though she might collapse from exhaustion the moment the camera stopped.
Even her own manager, watching from the sidelines, sometimes couldn't predict her behavior — but one thing was certain: she was not the kind of actress who let her moods leak into her work. She got angry if it interfered with a shoot, but otherwise she was simply a quiet performer whose energy ran a little low.
It had been a long, long time since Yu-yeong had worn such a delighted face as she did today.
There was nothing scheduled after this shoot. And tomorrow was an off day anyway, so for the first time in ages Yu-yeong would get two full days of rest.
Though there was no telling whom she might meet in between.
Thinking that, Seul-a looked at her.
"Shall we head home?"
"Home?"
"Yeah, you must be tired. Want to go home early and rest up? You've got time until the day after — two whole days to relax…"
"I'm having fun here."
"Sorry?"
"It's so neat, and fun."
With that, Yu-yeong lifted her head again and gazed up at the studio ceiling, a lattice of towering steel beams. As if she could actually see something.
"What is it? Is there something on the ceiling?"
Shake, shake.
At Seul-a's question, Yu-yeong wagged her head side to side, then picked up another macaron and put it in her mouth.
She'd already polished off more than five. This wasn't a girl who even liked sweets that much…
"I need the bathroom."
With that, Yu-yeong slipped out of the set. But once she left the Paju studio complex, her footsteps led not to the restroom but to the other soundstages. Only a few were in active use; the vast majority stood empty, nothing left inside but abandoned equipment and props.
"Ooh."
Her footsteps, light as air, began to wander through the empty sets.
"This is so, so cool…"
From a child's standpoint, everything was a first — of course it would all seem wondrous.
This one looked like a set for a horror film, empty of people. Yu-yeong stepped into the shabby, dangerous-looking soundstage and rummaged through it to her heart's content.