On the day when the tagger goes blind - Chapter 2

The deer leapt toward the valley stream, guiding its fawn. Birds flew high to seek refuge in neighboring mountains, and the tiger, a great protector, helped smaller animals flee along the mountain trails. For the first time in its history, a fire broke out on Mount Okryeong, a place that had known peace for centuries.

Until now, the worst incidents involved a tiger from another mountain picking a fight with the tigers of Mount Okryeong, or humans cutting down trees that had stood for ages, or even wars between people spilling blood on the mountain.

When humans died on the mountain, the divine spirits would fall gravely ill, which is why the mountain deity feared war the most. Sometimes, sparrows were sent to nearby villages to gather news for this reason. If a war were to break out, small animals would become prey, and there would be more humans clamoring to skin the tigers. And what of the voiceless trees of the mountain? They would be cut down one after another, their screams echoing in the mountain deity’s ears, robbing them of sleep.

“What… what is happening here…?”

The mountain deity, Sanyeong, collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. The base of the mountain was scorched black as if deliberately burned. Even pouring water from the stream couldn’t extinguish the flames quickly enough. Young animals suffocated in the thick smoke, and just days ago, a baby squirrel who had proudly brought freshly ripened acorns was now coughing and dying as if from asthma.

Cradling the lifeless baby squirrel in her arms, Sanyeong cried bitterly, surrounded by restless animals. They feared that Sanyeong, consumed by rage, might succumb to malice and corrupt the mountain. If that happened, Mount Okryeong would lose its lush greenery and turn black and desolate. The tiger, terrified, bit the hem of Sanyeong’s robe, as if to hold her back.

But Sanyeong was not as foolish as a greedy woodcutter. She was filled with indignation but knew better than to harm humans in retaliation.

“Wretched creature.”

Wiping her tears with a soot-stained sleeve, she muttered under her breath. According to the nocturnal animals, the culprit was a woodcutter who had demanded a golden axe. His greed was beyond reason, and while her fury was justified, there was no action she could take.

Sanyeong understood well that distinguishing right from wrong among humans was not a matter for the earth. Judging and punishing humans was a task for the heavens. Occasionally, extraordinarily wicked individuals were judged by the heavens, but setting a mountain ablaze was hardly cause for divine intervention.

Thus, the woodcutter Dolswe’s sins would only be punished after his death. It was not within the domain of Mount Okryeong’s deity. Unfair as it seemed, the laws of the higher beings who created all things were immutable.

“I need to pull myself together.”

After wiping the tears rolling down her cheeks, Sanyeong used a tree to steady herself and stood up. Rabbits reached out with their little paws to brush away the soot from her tear-streaked face. She couldn’t just sit idly like a beggar. Sanyeong trudged along, placing her hands on the ashes of the burned trees.

The screams of the trees, heard as they burned, echoed faintly in Sanyeong’s ears. The boundless greed of humans was truly terrifying. She struggled to lift her disheartened spirit, regretting only that she hadn’t noticed the woodcutter’s covetous eyes sooner. If only she had paid more attention, these precious trees might not have been reduced to mere ashes.

But the crime had already been committed, and the mountain was now steeped in a grim atmosphere. The heavens often ignored individual calamities but never tolerated actions that offended their dignity. If Sanyeong allowed her rage to fester and grudges to grow, the heavens’ ire would not fall upon the woodcutter but upon Sanyeong herself.

They say the heavens are unyielding to a fault, and such a notion wasn’t wrong. The heavenly ruler created all things, and as long as that ruler resided in the heavens, everything on this earth had no choice but to submit.

Though the woodcutter would eventually face punishment in the afterlife, the frustration of knowing this wicked man could not be touched while alive was unbearable. Cradling the unconscious baby squirrel, Sanyeong walked through the grief-stricken Mount Okryeong.

Of course, Mount Okryeong could enact its own form of retribution. The mountain could stop yielding herbs and firewood for decades, or Sanyeong could let terrifying rumors spread by not restraining the tigers.

But Sanyeong was not a deity who harbored hatred for humans. Formed from the purest morning dew, she was a deity who understood human virtues. She provided shade to those seeking refuge, built small huts for wanderers, and fed the tigers to prevent them from harming people. Though it was merely a mountain used as a shortcut to the neighboring village, Mount Okryeong was known among the people as a blessed mountain.

Deities were chosen by the heavens. Among the rivers, wildflowers, and mountains, only the purest spirits were selected to become deities. The human world was harsh, unforgiving, and heartless—a place where spirits could be easily tarnished before forming connections. To protect the heavens’ creations, one needed an extraordinary disposition.

Even in such a treacherous world, Sanyeong remained an unusual deity who believed in human bonds. Once a mere raindrop longing to experience human life, she had marveled at how humans, despite bickering and hurting one another, could reconcile with just a few words and grow closer. Even during droughts or famines, their spirits would fracture, only to renew their bonds when rain returned, fostering solidarity and love.

Why the heavens chose her, a lowly raindrop, to become a deity, she did not know. But it took an incredibly long time for Sanyeong to ascend to the position of Mount Okryeong’s guardian spirit. She spent her days tending to the mountain, neglecting interactions with other deities.

While others boasted about commanding three or four tigers, she spent her time cultivating hardy wild plants to withstand famines.

“This is mostly my fault.”

Sanyeong let raindrop-like tears fall from her eyes. The baby squirrel that once promised to bring her an acorn had breathed its last in her arms. Sanyeong often encouraged creatures to reincarnate as humans in their next life, but today, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

In the distance, a mother squirrel was wailing in grief, clutching at her chest. The fire had robbed them of their nests, their homes, their children, and their parents.

Wiping away her useless tears, Sanyeong acknowledged her own weakness. She couldn’t even protect a small squirrel, so what good were her tears? They wouldn’t solve anything. Blowing her nose, she looked up at the indifferent heavens.

It would take months of effort to restore Mount Okryeong to its former state. But during that time, the woodcutter might seize another opportunity. If he had dared to harm the mountain in front of the deity, what would stop him from doing it again?

Would he persist until his rusty axe became golden? Or until the rumors about the mountain spirit becoming his wife came true? Surely, a man who had already marked his target wouldn’t give up so easily.

This wasn’t the time to sit and cry.

As Sanyeong gazed silently at the heavens, a frightened deer approached, nuzzling its nose against her knees. Realizing her expression must have been twisted with despair, Sanyeong softened her face, but the shadow of gloom did not completely fade.

“I suppose I must go.”

Her voice sounded reluctant, like someone forced to eat an unripe persimmon. After all, raindrops were meant to fall from the heavens, not ascend to them. Rain falls down; it does not rise.

***

As a spirit’s power grew, the mountain terrain became more rugged, the rivers deeper, and the number of animals under their control multiplied. Although San-yeong was the guardian of Okryeong Mountain, she was merely one among the countless spirits crowding the heavens. There were spirits who boasted of controlling multiple mountain peaks, rivers as vast as seas, or commanding tigers that could overpower grown men and eagles with piercing eyes numbering three or four.

Okryeong Mountain had only one tiger, and even it lacked hunting skills, relying entirely on the food San-yeong brought for it. Unlike other spirits, it had grown tame. Spirits did not consider mountains easily accessible to humans as worthy of respect. A place where humans could live comfortably was inherently unsuitable for spirits, as their nature thrived in the untamed and untouched. To maintain their dignity, spirits had to remain unseen and evoke fear. If they couldn’t instill awe and terror, the best course was to stay hidden entirely.

After all, humans would only revere a spirit if they rarely saw one. If spirits were as common as stray dogs wandering the streets, what fool would revere mountains, rivers, or even the heavens?

Such was the case now. Some foolish spirit, perhaps impressed by a woodcutter, must have granted him a golden axe. But the greed it sparked in humans had caused havoc, and poor Okryeong Mountain was the one to suffer the consequences. No doubt other mountain spirits, seething with anger, were determined to confront the one responsible if they ever discovered who it was.

“Tiger, no matter what, you mustn’t bite a human, do you understand?”

San-yeong’s heart felt uneasy. It was true that her negligence in cultivating her powers had led to Okryeong Mountain being underestimated, but it was also clear that the woodcutter’s evil deeds bore the larger share of the blame. Okryeong Mountain was so peaceful that it had never suffered a single wildfire, earning a reputation among the animals as a safe haven.

As a result, various creatures had packed their belongings and migrated to Okryeong Mountain. Leaving now, with nothing but an aging tiger for protection, weighed heavily on her heart, as though the burden was as immense as the mountain itself.