Chapter 13
The Bitter Cold and Murky Sea.
‘Could it be…… the 1.4 Retreat?’
Jeongjikhan silently pondered as he listened to Sookhee’s story.
“It must have been around the transition from December to January. We realized it as we descended the mountains—that we’d fled all the way to North Hamgyong Province to avoid the North Korean troops.”
From Kaesong to North Hamgyong Province.
A distance comparable to walking from Busan to Seoul.
Not on flat roads, but over mountains.
Given the timeline, Jeongjikhan’s assumption about the 1.4 Retreat period seemed accurate.
Sookhee recounted the tragedy of that day.
“News spread that there were ships at Hungnam Port for refugees. As soon as word got out, people swarmed from every direction like cockroaches crawling from under rocks.”
“…….”
“I never imagined so many had survived. I’d assumed everyone had already starved or frozen to death.”
“…….”
“The air was frigid. Each breath as I ran toward the port felt like ice forming in my lungs. Still, I prayed. Let there be space for us to sit. Let there be space for us to board.”
“…….”
“Bombers circled above. Explosions echoed nonstop from distant ridges. Gunpowder choked the air, and the screams of people fighting to board nearly ruptured my eardrums.”
Jeongjikhan dry-swallowed, visualizing Sookhee’s ordeal.
Sookhee, as if reliving the memory, washed down her grief with coffee and continued.
“But…… we were too late.”
“Too late……?”
“Our turn came—the ship left just as we reached the front of the crowd.”
“…….”
“I begged through tears. Come back. Don’t go. The sea was freezing, but I didn’t feel it when I jumped in, shouting.”
“…….”
“The explosions drew closer. Gunfire sharpened. People scattered like panicked ants. Pure chaos.”
“…….”
“Then…… my husband gave me his jade ring. I’ll return. Keep this safe.”
No way……
Jeongjikhan’s gaze faltered.
Sookhee continued calmly, resigned.
“He said he’d delay the North Korean advance—even briefly—and told me to flee with my sibling……”
“Was that…… your final memory of him?”
“Yes. I pleaded for him to stay, but…… he insisted he’d survive in Primorsky Krai. Left without looking back.”
“…….”
“The cruel irony? After he left, the ship returned. They dumped military supplies into the sea and took us stranded refugees aboard.”
How could timing twist so cruelly?
Just as Sookhee reached Primorsky Krai, her husband arrived in Kaesong. Their final moments slipped past each other.
Heaven showed no mercy.
Sookhee’s bitter smile deepened.
“And that port…… became my end too.”
“What happened to you and your sibling……?”
“My sibling boarded first. I grabbed a rope to climb up…… and fell. Died hitting the rocks below.”
“…….”
“Know what’s strangest?”
When Jeongjikhan tilted his head, Sookhee grimaced.
“I didn’t realize I’d died.”
“……What?”
“For two years, I believed I’d boarded alive. Thought I was living.”
“But people couldn’t hear you—how didn’t you notice?”
“We were refugees. Settled folk had no patience for our stories. When they ignored me, I assumed it was normal.”
Jeongjikhan nodded instead of arguing. Sookhee smiled faintly.
“Know what’s funnier?”
“Nothing about this is funny……”
“My sibling could see me.”
“What?!”
A living person seeing the dead?
Jeongjikhan gaped. Sookhee shrugged, as baffled as him.
“Maybe their weak spiritual energy let them hear and see me.”
“How……”
“I told you I thought I was alive? Since my sibling interacted with me normally, I never questioned it.”
“…….”
“And…… my sibling was the one who told me I’d died.”
“How?”
“One day they said…… I can’t see your feet anymore.”
A visceral thud struck Jeongjikhan’s heart.
Sookhee’s shock must have dwarfed his. When he stayed silent, she continued.
“So…… time passed. Here we are.”
“You haven’t seen your sibling since?”
“The underworld guide warned me—staying near them would shorten their life.”
The dead drain the living’s yanggi, they’d said.
Steal all that vital energy, and the living die.
After a pause, Jeongjikhan cautiously asked:
“Why not move on with that guide back then?”
“They refused. Said unresolved resentment bars passage.”
"Ah……."
"The problem is…… I don’t even know what kind of resentment I hold."
"Do you have any guesses?"
"There are too many possibilities. I don’t know how to resolve any of them."
Indeed, Sook-hee’s story was riddled with unresolved pain.
Her parents, executed before her eyes.
A lover reunited after years of longing, only to part without a final goodbye.
A younger sibling abandoned alone.
Her heart bore too many wounds to know where to begin.
As Jeong-hyeok stayed silent, Sook-hee cleared her throat.
"Anyway… do you think you might know?"
"Your resentment, Sook-hee?"
"Yeah. I want to move on… but I don’t know how."
A soul yearning for peace yet trapped.
It would’ve been convenient if the karma store sold items to force resolution, but no such tools existed.
After a long pause, Jeong-hyeok spoke.
"Could you share your sibling’s and husband’s names?"
"My brother is Kim Deok-bae. My husband was Lee Dong-wook."
"I’ll investigate."
"The previous manager here also tried… but found nothing."
Wait—no.
Cha Seung-pyo had told him:
Her brother died five years ago. Her husband fell in the war.
Did the manager know but withhold their deaths?
Why?
Perhaps…
After 70 years of waiting, revealing their deaths felt too cruel.
Fear that grief might twist her into a vengeful spirit.
A coward’s thought.
Slap!
Jeong-hyeok struck his own cheeks.
Sook-hee flinched.
"Why—why did you—?"
"To clear my head."
"…Huh?"
He knew little about the previous manager, only that he’d listened to the dead without helping them pass on.
Jeong-hyeok refused to become that kind of person.
If I do nothing… Sook-hee remains trapped in endless waiting.
Forever adrift, ignorant of her loved ones’ fates.
Performing good deeds for the living.
Haunting the café to stave off bitterness.
Drowning nightly longing in vanilla lattes.
So…
"Sook-hee."
"Yeah?"
"This is just my opinion, but I’ll be frank."
"Go ahead."
"Much time has passed."
"…True."
"Would you be alright… if they’re no longer in this world?"
Honesty was best here. Evasion would backfire.
Sook-hee twisted her jade ring, then smiled bitterly.
"If alive, my husband would be nearing 100. My brother in his 90s. I don’t seek their living faces."
"Then what do you seek? Clarity will help my search."
"I just…"
Her fingers fidgeted as tears pooled in her eyes.
"I want to know how they lived. Any trace of their lives."
"…"
"Were they happy? In pain? Did they build families? Did they… miss me as I’ve missed them?"
Her voice broke. Tears fell like fat raindrops as her lip trembled.
Jeong-hyeok understood now.
News.
The key to her resentment—70 years of unanswered questions.
Her husband’s fate after their parting at Heungnam Port.
Guilt over abandoning her frail sibling.
All crystallized into unresolved anguish.
Merely confirming their deaths wouldn’t suffice. She needed their stories—how they lived without her, whether they found happiness.
Jeong-hyeok offered a tissue.
"You once said…"
"…?"
"People listened, but none tried to help."
"…Yes."
"I’ll help. For your peace."
"R-really? But it’s been decades—"
"Should difficulty stop us? We’ll try until we can’t."
His warm smile made her lip quiver anew.
She composed herself, throat bobbing.
"If I move on… you’ll gain blessings. I’m a nuisance in the afterlife. Resolving me brings fortune…"
Her discomfort was palpable. Good people hated receiving help; trash exploited it. Regardless of rewards, her sincerity made this worth doing.
"I’ll miss my regular customer."
"Tch… you…"
She crumpled the tissue, hiding her pleased flush.
I won’t fail her.
Jeong-hyeok clenched his fist.
Flicker—
A will-o’-wisp danced above his head before vanishing.
Ding!
[Listened to deceased Kim Sook-hee’s story. 10 blessings granted.]
[Deceased’s Tale #2]
Nahan’s message hovered. He’d check it later—reading messages during a consultation was rude.
At the Hour of the Ox, nine customers filed in.
Jeong-hyeok worked briskly. With Kim Jin-seong and Sook-hee gone, none engaged him first.
He murmured during a lull:
"Nahan."
[Speak.]
"Listening to stories shows a tally. Do numbers grant benefits?"
[Listen to 100 tales: reduce 10-year contract to 5.]
So Cha Seung-pyo’s “performance” meant story counts.
Not peace-making, just listening?
But dead souls must open up to speak—that counted.
"Other benefits?"
[Spend 10 stories: force a soul to move on.]
