The Dance

“Well, that was... unexpected,” you declared, dusting off your hanbok.

“Did she say yes?,” Jennie ran over.

“Yeah! I didn't think it would work.”

You'd just gone to Juhyeon’s house to invite her for a divination. She was warm and receptive, smiling the whole time you were in conversation. And honestly, it took more effort to contain your giddiness in rushing home that it did to stamp down your mania while talking to her in the first place.

“When’s she coming over?”

“Day after tomorrow,” you replied, taking a seat and taking off your hat.

“Congrats! That’s one step closer. How you feelin’?”

“Honestly? Mostly excited, a little scared,” you rubbed your neck, raw from the sun. “Like, obviously I'm not actually just doing the divination, am I?”

“Good, you're not a hopeless case after all,” she teased.

“But... what am I actually supposed to do?”

“Bro, I’m not the one who knows this girl. That's all you.” Jennie took a seat right next to you. “Okay. Let’s go through it then. Any hobbies?”

“Pansori? I think,” you pondered. “I’m not sure.”

“Are you really in love with this girl?,” Jennie scoffed.

“You said I was.”

“No, I said you looked like you were in love. Something told me you weren't really ‘in love’, but I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt,” she poked.

“Really? You can tell that?”

Jennie shot you a dirty look. “Hello? Spirit? Of course I can. It's a gi thing.”

Right. Jennie being very real and very casual for nearly a week now blurred the line between this reality and hers. “Sorry.”

“Hey. If I was a dokkaebi, I'd totally love that you're forgetting I'm a spirit. So take me reminding you of this as proof I'm not one.” She pinched your cheek and pulled you closer. “I'm still a spirit. Don't get too close.”

“Ow, alright,” you rubbed the spot she pinched you.

“Don’t overthink it dude. Offer tea, strike up a conversation, and figure out if you love her,” she said.

“I do love her.”

“Sure,” she shrugged.

You paused. “I want to love her.”

Jennie nodded, more reverently this time. “There we go. Good on you for being honest to yourself.”

“She’s nice to me, you know? All these other girls in the village go head over heels for those bastards, but she actively rejects them.”

Jennie stared at you.

“And she said yes! To me! And not that son of a bitch Injeong.”

“Ooh, feisty,” Jennie cooed. “I thought you were entirely incapable of being vulgar. Spill.”

Injeong. Bastard son of the provincial governor, ringleader of those seoja boys, a “yangban clique” of their own delusion. No one could lay a finger on them, but it was Injeong who actively played that card on their behalf. All the women either feigned or foolishly believed in their love for him. But a bad heart always stains the best faces, your father used to say (paraphrasing, at least).

You sighed in exasperation. “No. It was an unnecessary outburst.”

“Sounded necessary to me,” she shrugged. “Fine. Maybe let's process more pragmatically: is he an actual threat to you and Juhyeon?”

“Yes,” you groaned. “He's been actively courting her too. And knowing him, he's just getting her to vaguely say yes so he can ask her parents already.”

“And to Juhyeon?”

“I... don’t know,” you rubbed your head. "I’m hoping she’s unconvinced.”

“Then perhaps day after tomorrow’s divination will be the answer to that,” she rubbed your shoulder.

“Alright.” You sighed. “Lunch?”

“Please,” Jennie groaned. “I'm starving.”

Speak of the devil, and he marches forth. You could hear Injeong and his posse laughing and stomping about from quite a ways away. Loud enough was their announced arrival that it disrupted your ritual preparations for the morning, and you quickly shooed your dropped client through a back door of your hut.

“Hey, if it isn’t the freakshow,” Injeong chuckled, tossing a stone in his hands. So too did the crowd of ten or twelve men around him, of varying shapes and sizes — both bodies and rocks.

“Taehyung? What’s happening?,” Jennie asked, though you ignored her to preserve her invisibility.

“What do you want, Injeong?”

“You know,” he laughed, “the magistrate still needs some servants. I’ll put in a good word for a bum like you.” He stepped into your gate, uninvited. “All you gotta do is renounce your practice.”

You gestured at the empty house. “I have everything I need. Your pity is not included. Piss off.”

A rock was hurled into your house from far back, destroying stack of porcelain bowls you used for divinations. Howls of celebration roared from behind Injeong, and he himself smirked in amusement.

“Really?,” he dared. “For how much longer?”

In an instant, the rocks were hurled into your common area, barreling into soft wood and dried earthenware. Some were for personal use; others were for rituals. Paintings, scrolls, and wooden panels fell. And you witnessed it all get destroyed from under your arms, curling yourself up to protect against the pelting of rocks against your back.

When the carnage stopped, you looked up again. A bigger crowd had materialized, whispering to themselves.

“The poor boy. Why won’t he just leave his mother to do the rituals instead?”

“How barbaric! What can we even do?”