On the day when the tagger goes blind - Chapter 3

“When people come, Tiger, you go out and scare them. Roe deer, you cry to create an ominous atmosphere. Just in case, throw the acorns we’ve been saving for winter to warn them not to come any closer.”

San-yeong had so much to say as she left, it was as though she had saved up a bundle of words for this very moment. Counting each instruction on her fingers, she still had the look of someone uneasy, as if they hadn’t relieved themselves properly. Yet, even without the roe deer’s cries, the dark entrance to Okryeong Mountain already served as a natural deterrent to human footsteps. The cunning leaders of the animal groups had long since moved on to other mountains, leaving only the loyal ones and the bothersome stragglers behind.

But they were everything to San-yeong. She held back tears as she dragged out the bucket that would take her to the heavens. It was hidden deep in a cave, far from human eyes, only retrieved when necessary, like now. While there were many ways for a spirit to ascend to the heavens, the bucket was the most favored among the spirits of the Okryeong Mountain region.

The mountains surrounding Okryeong Mountain were all small and insignificant, most of them nameless to humans. The spirits protecting such humble mountains avoided grand, attention-grabbing methods for ascension. After all, there was no one to impress, and leaving their territory unattended was an open invitation for trouble.

The bucket, given by the heavens to spirits, was connected to the Sky Goblin. Sitting firmly in the bucket and pulling the rope three times was a signal to ascend, while pulling it twice meant a request to descend.

The Sky Goblin was enormous, as big as a small star. No matter how far San-yeong craned her neck, she couldn’t make out its features. The goblin managed the bucket tied to the clouds, pulling spirits or esteemed guests from sacred grounds up to the heavens.

Spirits, strictly speaking, belonged to the heavens more than the earth. If the heavenly energy was cloudy, spirits would lose their strength; when it was clear, they would feel as invigorated as if they had consumed a rare ginseng root.

Heavenly energy was generally the domain of beings far above San-yeong’s station. However, since the Celestial Emperor fell asleep, even lower beings could predict its mood by observing the daily weather.

Dark storm clouds gathering meant the higher beings were displeased. A radiant, seven-colored celestial rainbow signified a heavenly festival. If the sun’s rays were particularly harsh, it meant the higher beings had turned their gaze to a specific place.

With a resolute determination, San-yeong pulled the bucket rope three times. At the first pull, nothing happened. At the second, there was a faint response. By the third pull, the bucket began to ascend. Quickly sitting down, San-yeong looked back at the gathered creatures of Okryeong Mountain and waved her hand.

“Don’t linger outside. Hurry back in.”

As she glanced down at the animals seeing her off, her face filled with worry. It wasn’t just the woodcutter; she feared hunters might seize this opportunity to come. Singing a jaunty tune, they’d skin that carefree rabbit sitting there without a second thought. Even with the tiger standing guard, there was only one tiger, while the creatures needing protection numbered in the hundreds. Unlike her, the tiger couldn’t fuss over each one individually.

Even as the hem of San-yeong’s white robe fluttered in the wind, the farewell from the Okryeong Mountain creatures didn’t end. A swallow, barely recovered from the flames, flew up carrying a bundle in its beak. The villagers often left behind rice cakes or pancakes, hoping for a bountiful harvest, and the swallow had brought them knowing San-yeong liked to snack on them when bored.

“Oh my, how heavy it must be!”

By the time the yellow moon hanging over the mountain grew closer, San-yeong had taken the bundle from the weary swallow. Looking at her devoted companions, her earlier fears about the fire seemed trivial. She felt a surge of courage, the kind that could pull Okryeong Mountain from even the depths of a salty sea.

Holding the bucket rope tightly in one hand, San-yeong shouted, “Just a month! That’s all I need, a month!”

The guardians of renowned mountains derived their strength from the heavens. Even feeble spirits returned bursting with energy after ascending to the heavens. San-yeong had always known this, but her reluctance to go stemmed from loneliness.

San-yeong had been alone since birth. Even when spirits gathered to socialize, she had avoided attending for decades. They mocked her for being overly devoted to Okryeong Mountain, calling her nosy and ridiculing her origins. They claimed she must have been nothing more than a raindrop before becoming a spirit.

While San-yeong hadn’t spent her days on Okryeong Mountain entirely unaware of the passing years, she had no desire to endure ridicule just to fit in. She knew the heavens were filled with such spirits and took pride in how she had tended to Okryeong Mountain, deciding never to ascend.

“I was foolish.”

Even if she couldn’t command a dozen tigers, she should at least have the power to control two or three. Perhaps it was excessive devotion to Okryeong Mountain, but San-yeong was born thanks to the mountain. She couldn’t let the judgment of unseen fingers drive her away.

***

The Sky Goblin, it was said, wore a serene azure robe by day, changed into a red-striped outfit at sunset, and donned a deep ebony-black garment at night. Its massive hands, which pulled the bucket, sometimes obscured the moon, leading people below to assume someone was ascending to the heavens.

Goblins were a shy race, rarely showing themselves to humans. In the heavens, daytime workers and nighttime workers were strictly divided. Star keepers polished the stars with dry cloths, and the Moon Gatekeeper lit the center of the moon, gradually adorning the dark sky.

The Moon Gatekeeper and star keepers, yawning as they worked, were clearly nighttime laborers. Though they thought the people below marveled at their efforts, San-yeong had observed otherwise. To humans, they were little more than the rabbits pounding rice cakes on the moon.

The bucket creaked as it ascended. Though weathered over time, it was made from heavenly wood, capable of lasting a thousand years. Glancing down at the ink-black abyss, San-yeong quickly shut her eyes. Falling from the bucket meant not just death, but utter destruction, even for a mountain spirit. Clutching the rope tightly, she steadied herself.

Star keepers, noticing San-yeong’s old-fashioned appearance, burst into laughter. Only spirits wore plain white garments like hers, and they mocked her as a rustic spirit ascending to the heavens. San-yeong couldn’t hear their laughter. Instead, she waved back to the gleaming figures atop the stars, matching their gestures.

“Am I that beautiful?”

She’d once heard a story about a spirit ascending in a bucket, only to be kidnapped by a notorious philanderer—the lord of Moon Castle—who spotted her beauty during a night stroll.

After hearing that tale, San-yeong had grown even more reluctant to ascend. If not for the woodcutter’s mischief, she might have remained on Okryeong Mountain until her eventual return to raindrop form.

But now she had resolved to enter the tumultuous realm of the heavens. While she couldn’t transform Okryeong Mountain into a fearsome place, she wasn’t about to let herself be deceived by humans twice. Clenching her fists, she vowed to see this through.

The heavens knew no day or night. The sun’s energy resided on one side, and the moon’s on the other. Between them, a soft pink expanse stretched across the sky, blending the crimson of sunset with the oceanic blue of the night. Below, snowy peaks and lush forests blanketed the landscape.

The heavens were a world apart from the earth. Unlike the mortal realm, there was no power struggle to determine the ruler here. In both heaven and earth, there was only one sovereign—the Celestial Emperor—and denying that fact meant banishment to the underworld. The heavens served as a refuge for earthly spirits, the homeland of goblins, and the dwelling place of heavenly deities perched on celestial mountains.

When the bucket stopped at the edge of the clouds, there was only one destination for the mountain spirit, San-yeong. The higher-ups had thoughtfully prepared a rejuvenating spot for hardworking spirits. A silver river stretched out like a long thread where weary bodies could soak as if in a hot spring, and trees laden with fruits that could reportedly make the blind see with just one bite grew in abundance.

The area designated for spirits was easy to identify at a glance. By following the river and casually stepping into the area where other spirit-like beings were gathered, one could discreetly join in. The river, imbued with the energy of the heavens, would cleanse exhausted bodies, and solid fruits would fill any emptiness within.

Claiming to train oneself while lounging and snacking on delicacies was, in essence, the life of a spirit. Who wouldn’t envy such a destiny? What people on earth referred to as the Milky Way was, in truth, nothing more than a celestial bathing spot for spirits.

Yet, to San-yeong, who had just arrived in the heavens, the reality appeared quite different. Though it was said that all spirits could use the facilities, in practice, that wasn’t the case. The prime spots—with the most picturesque views, where luscious fruits hung within arm’s reach and the river’s depth reached comfortably to the shoulders—were already claimed by veteran spirits. After all, there was a reason why certain mountains and rivers on earth were so renowned.

The spirits who frequented the heavens would siphon off all the celestial energy they could and bring it back to the mortal realm. It was no wonder they gained the strength to uphold their legendary names for a thousand years.