A Kick from King Yama
Sowol looked down at the baby in his arms.
The little thing was so impossibly small and soft that he was afraid of hurting it if he applied even the slightest pressure. And yet he couldn't exactly keep holding it covered in filth, either.
“This is a problem. It needs a bath, but…….”
How did one bathe a baby, anyway? Could he just wash it gently, the way one would a dog or a cat? But then, he had never washed a dog or a cat either.
The closest thing Sowol had ever scrubbed clean was a radish of roughly similar size.
“Waaahh……!”
“All right, all right. Just hold on a moment.”
After some deliberation, Sowol unpinned the baby's swaddling clothes, then hastily wrapped them back up. The stench hit him like a wall, and his face scrunched up of its own accord.
“Ugh.”
Pinching his nose shut, he set a pot of water over the brazier and dug out whatever clean cloths he could find. He picked the softest one among them, soaked it in the lukewarm water, and began carefully wiping the baby down.
But once the grime came away, something strange caught his eye.
There were bluish patches on the baby's bottom.
Startled, Sowol gingerly rubbed at one of the marks. It didn't come off. If anything, the color deepened, darkening like a bruise.
Had someone been striking it? Where would one even hit something the size of a palm?
Sowol tossed the cloth aside, flipped the baby over, and examined it closely. Spots the kind he'd only ever seen on the corpses of the poisoned were spread thick across its lower back.
The color drained from his face.
Poison.
Someone had poisoned the baby.
“Hah, hah……!”
Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Sowol stumbled through the village. A distance he could once have covered in a single breath now made his qi-drained body creak and groan with every step. But there was no time to lose. Who knew how long the baby's tiny body could hold out?
His footprints dotted the pristine white snow. At last, the physician's signboard came into view in the distance, and Sowol squeezed out the last of his strength, sprinting the final stretch and hammering on the gate.
Boom boom boom!
Boom boom boom!
He pounded until the door seemed ready to split from its frame, and at last a gruff voice called out from within.
“Who in blazes is that at this hour of the night?”
“It's me, old man! Open the door!”
“Yeon? What's the matter?”
“It's terrible! The baby's been poisoned!” Sowol cried desperately.
A moment later came the scrape of the bar being drawn back, and the gate swung open. Physician Heo, looking as though he'd just rolled out of bed, waved him inside.
“What baby? In with you, first things first.”
Physician Heo ushered Sowol in and sat him down beside the warmly glowing brazier, then took the baby and examined it with painstaking care. Sowol watched, hardly daring to breathe.
“Well? How is it?”
“Quiet, now.”
“Was I too late? Could it be…….”
“Quiet.”
Silencing Sowol with a word, the physician furrowed his brow and turned the baby over. In the lamplight, the bluish patches across its lower back stood out in vivid relief.
“Hmm……”
Physician Heo let out a low hum and withdrew his hand. He handed the baby back to Sowol and set a pot of water over the brazier.
Sowol could bear it no longer.
“If you use medicine, will it live?”
“No need for any medicine.”
“What is that supposed to— are you saying it's already too late?”
Physician Heo shook his head and took out two teacups.
“That's no poison, my boy. That's the mark of a good hard kick from King Yama.”
Sowol blinked blankly.
A kick from King Yama? He understood each word on its own, but strung together they made no sense at all.
“What did you say?”
“Haven't you heard the old saying? When children dawdle on their way into this world, King Yama gives them a swift kick in the backside to send them on their way.”
“What in the world is that supposed to mean?”
“It means the child was born with it. All newborns have these. They fade as the child grows, so there's nothing to worry yourself over.”
Sowol's mouth opened and closed a few times before he tried again.
“So you're telling me babies are just… born with bluish marks on them?”
“That's exactly what I'm telling you. For all your years, Yeon, I don't suppose you've ever actually laid eyes on a newborn?”
Physician Heo laughed heartily, poured the tea, and set a cup before him.
“Have a drink before you go. Nothing settles a frightened heart like a warm cup of tea.”
Sowol stared down at the baby with a foolish look on his face, and only picked up the cup once the tea had gone completely cold. It tasted of nothing at all.
On the walk back to the inn, Sowol carried the baby and moved slowly.
It was a tremendous relief that the child was perfectly fine, but no sooner had he let himself breathe than fresh worries came crowding in.
“This is a real problem. What am I supposed to do with this one…….”
His expression darkened. If he carried the baby back to Beopgong, he had no confidence it would survive the trip. And if he tried to hand it off to someone else, there was no one to hand it to. Which left one conclusion: Sowol would have to care for it himself.
There was nothing for it. He would simply have to charge ahead and figure things out as he went.
The moment he made up his mind, the small body in his arms squirmed. He looked down to find the baby's eyes half open. He couldn't tell whether they were truly focusing, but it seemed to be gazing right at his face.
“What are you looking at so hard?”
Instead of answering, the baby smacked its lips. Sowol found himself smiling without meaning to. It was nothing short of fascinating — so wrinkled from head to toe, and yet moving about like it was a person, same as him.
Even so, his steps grew more careful. He skirted the stones underfoot and steadied his arms so the baby wouldn't jostle, and somewhere along the way, the child drifted off to sleep.
Sowol gazed down at that sleeping face for a moment, then pushed open the inn's door.
From his hiding place in the corner of the inn, the white-haired youth — Baekya — poked his head out.
“Bad monk gone?”
Sowol chuckled. “Yes. He's gone.”
Only then did Baekya's hunched shoulders relax.
It had been well over a decade since Baekya came to live with Sowol, and though he'd laid eyes on Beopgong more than once or twice in that time, he still feared the man terribly. It was because his insides were far younger than his outsides — a boy who had stopped growing of his own accord and looked all the world like a youth of sixteen.
Heartened, Baekya came shuffling over — then stopped short at the sight of the baby in Sowol's arms, his eyes going wide and round.
“Big Brother, you had a baby?”
“Hardly. The bad monk dumped it on me and left.”
“Can Baekya touch the baby?”
“Not right now. When it wakes up later.”
Having said his piece, Sowol lowered the sleeping baby into a basket. Baekya leaned over the rim, his eyes sparkling. Somehow, he looked absolutely delighted.
Sowol studied him. Could Baekya really look after the baby in his stead?
“Big Brother, give the baby candy too.”
“Baekya, you mustn't give the baby candy. It doesn't have any teeth, so it can't chew.”
“Rice cake?”
“Can't eat rice cakes either. A baby can only have milk.”
Sowol abandoned the idea at once. Left in Baekya's care, he suspected the baby wouldn't last three days.
Letting out a sigh, he sank back into thought. Once the baby woke, he'd have to feed it something… but where in the world was he supposed to get milk? Come to think of it, there might be a bit of goat's milk left over in the kitchen.
“Baekya, watch the baby well. Call me if it wakes up.”
“Okay.”
Leaving the basket with Baekya, Sowol headed for the kitchen. Sure enough, about half a jar of goat's milk remained in the corner. He drew it out and brought it to his nose — thankfully, it hadn't soured.
He set a small pot on the brazier and poured the milk in, and while it warmed, he fetched out a clean cloth.
In the meantime, the baby woke and burst into wailing.
“Waaaah!”
“Big Brother, baby crying!”
Baekya yelped in alarm and called for Sowol in a panic. Sowol came out carrying the pot to the main hall where guests took their meals. The baby was sobbing with both tiny fists clenched tight.
“Hungry, are you? Here, eat up.”
He quickly soaked the cloth with the warmed goat's milk and popped it into the baby's mouth, and it suckled away, mouthing contentedly. Sowol watched the sight for a long while, utterly fascinated.
Before long, the baby, having eaten its fill, yawned. Sowol set the damp cloth aside and picked the baby up.
According to Physician Heo, one was supposed to burp a baby after feeding. So Sowol began to gently pat its back.
Pat. Pat.
But the baby showed no reaction at all. Sowol furrowed his brow.
Did it need a firmer hand? He upped the pressure a little.
Pat. Pat.
Still nothing. Then, just a little harder—
“Urp!”
…That was not the way.
The goat's milk the baby had just brought back up ran down over Sowol's shoulder. He swallowed a strangled laugh. Baekya, who had been hovering anxiously nearby, swiftly held out a clean cloth, and Sowol gingerly wiped the baby's mouth first, then stroked its back in slow, gentle sweeps. The baby smacked its lips once and quietly drifted back to sleep.
Baekya stared at the sleeping baby for a long moment, then asked:
“Babies sleep right after eating?”
“Your big brother doesn't really know either, but I suppose so.”
With that, Sowol let himself relax. If that was all it took, then he just had to feed it well and put it to sleep well. A month would pass in no time.
That was what Sowol believed.
He would soon learn how naive that was.