“Was it called a lonely island? Dokdo—an island secluded and filled with desolation. Due to its harsh environment, it was not easy for people to live there, nor did it have enough attractions for travelers to stay for long. However, many people knew of Dokdo’s existence and visited, but only briefly. Like a bird flying by and folding its wings to rest just for a moment before flying off again, the island could only provide brief relief from its loneliness.”
Jinseong began to speak slowly.
“However, that day was different. Yes, it truly was different. Even though the island was supposed to be lonely, it was full of signs of life. These signs, which concealed their true form, were spread across the island and revealed their presence. It was truly a paradoxical tale.”
“Hmm, this story is giving me chills.”
“Haha, it should. The story I’m referring to is about what’s called ‘ghost energy,’ referring to the eerie presence one feels emanating from a ghost.”
Jinseong smiled as he looked at Kim Cheolsu.
“Have you ever heard a story like this? The one about how ghosts can be perceived through the five senses?”
“It’s a new story to me.”
“Haha, it should be. Only those who enjoy urban legends or have interest in spiritual beings know about this.”
Jinseong paused briefly after saying this, as if to let the silence of the broken conversation sink in, or as if to make his listener become aware of the darkness lurking outside the faint light.
“A ghost can be detected through the five senses.”
“You mean evil ghosts or evil spirits?”
“No. Even without taking the form that can be seen by people without any particular spiritual sensitivity, ghosts can still be felt through the five senses.”
“Of course, the degree to which one can sense it depends on one’s spiritual sensitivity.”
Jinseong added with that remark.
“While staring at the choppy ocean at night, the story goes that one might experience visual illusions. When these illusions become intense, the wave movements can appear almost human-like. The splashing foam may resemble fingers, and the undulating waves can seem like a pale arm beckoning you. Of course, most of the time it’s just an illusion, but sometimes you can get mesmerized by it as if under a spell. This is how they are perceived visually.”
“A chilling story indeed.”
“The same applies to other senses. Ghosts often carry scents related to the way they died. For example, a ghost that hanged itself might smell of urine, a ghost that burned to death might smell of smoke, and a water ghost emits a briny scent.”
“Then….”
Kim Cheolsu interjected and continued Jinseong’s narrative.
“When you visited Dokdo, you must have noticed the strong brine smell.”
“That’s correct.”
The brine smell, which was almost overwhelming despite the sea air, was unusually prominent, stimulating human senses and making them distinctly aware of what was out of place.
This was the mark and the scent of a Water Ghost.
“Not only that, but there were also unusual signs—like the gaze of water ghosts obsessively luring people into the water to transform them into the same kind of being, the evil intent emanating from various malicious spirits. None of it was ordinary.”
“Apparently, the stories from those capable who fought on Dokdo say the creatures there were truly horrifying, the types you’d only see beyond the 38th parallel.”
“Hahaha, yes, they were indeed horrifying. Starting from the water ghosts, their grotesque forms, and the powers they wielded were truly exceptional.”
Jinseong paused briefly before continuing.
“A creature far beyond what could be imagined to occur naturally—truly exceptional.”
After a brief silence, his words carried surprising weight.
“Something that occurs naturally…”
Even Kim Cheolsu unconsciously reacted to this.
“Could it be… Mr. Park Jinseong, the shaman, are you saying that these ghosts were brought to Dokdo because of someone’s manipulation?”
Jinseong’s face hardened as he responded to Kim Cheolsu’s question.
“They were far too extreme to have occurred naturally. While North Korea is nearby, no matter how you look at it, the sudden emergence of these ghostly creatures on Dokdo is hard to understand. Even though coincidences can be scary, the fact that not just one but many of them appeared in a group, nesting on the island, cannot be easily overlooked.”
“Hmm…”
Kim Cheolsu furrowed his brow.
‘Artificial manipulation…?’
The government was divided on the issue. One theory was that a Japanese destroyer had been infiltrated by water ghosts, while another suggested that Japan had attempted to transport ghosts to Dokdo for a terror attack, only to be annihilated accidentally. Although the latter theory was more prevalent, the former was also gaining traction after Korea and Japan failed in their joint operation to eradicate the evil spirits of Dokdo.
Given that even capable individuals sent to Dokdo could barely escape with their lives, it seemed plausible that the ghosts were powerful enough to attack a destroyer, steal the ship, and ram it into Dokdo.
‘Ironically, thanks to these terrifying spirits, Korea and Japan have entered into a peacebuilding phase.’
This was paradoxical: thanks to the horrific creatures occupying Dokdo, the tensions between Korea and Japan had diminished, leading to an uneasy but forced truce, as if the spirits themselves had brought peace to both nations.
“Having heard your explanation, Mr. Park Jinseong, I understand. Then, does that mean Mr. Saigo, the Shinto priest…?”
“Yes. He said we needed to check around the island outside the shrine grounds. Because of this, we both ventured outside.”
“Since both of you agreed… did you find anything?”
Kim Cheolsu looked intently at Jinseong’s face, aware of the seriousness of his words, but Jinseong realized this expression, though appearing genuine, was merely an act.
Though it appeared real, it was riddled with falsity. If one were to mistakenly think it real for a single moment, they’d risk letting the false narrative take precedence in the conversation.
Thus, Jinseong opted to speak the truth. After all, isn’t truth what always overpowers falsehood?
This statement carried weight.
Words spoken with conviction can stir emotions and instill belief.
“I didn’t find anything.”
Jinseong delivered this truth.
“Nothing at all.”
Although they sensed something amiss, they couldn’t discern anything.
Kim Cheolsu did not doubt these words, as doubting them would have been unwise.
After all, the spirits on Dokdo were terrifying. Self-preservation alone likely occupied them entirely.
‘Given the severe burns covering his body while barely surviving… how could there have been time to investigate?’
Kim Cheolsu pieced this together in his mind, constructing a puzzle whose pieces fit within the framework of common sense.
This common sense whispered in Kim Cheolsu’s ear:
“There’s no need to be wary of Jinseong. Doesn’t this all make sense?”
There was no contradiction in the shaman’s words, nor the hint of deception. His words carried the subtle strength of truth, and no signs of deception usually seen in body language were evident.
Thus, there was no need to lower his guard unduly nor overly act to scrutinize.
The common sense kept whispering such thoughts to Kim Cheolsu.
“Should I lay aside my suspicions?”
This thought grew stronger as Jinseong continued:
“However, even though we found nothing, my suspicions didn’t vanish. Though it doesn’t amount to strong evidence, my suspicions were directed toward a direction.”
“Direction…?”
“North and West.”
“North and West…”
Behold.
Look at the shaman.
Observe the confident posture of the shaman who speaks as if his intuition is infallible.
Isn’t this typical of fortune-tellers, who often display such baseless certainty?
“Hmm, it’s certainly an intriguing story.”
Of course, though lacking direct evidence, the shaman’s intuition wasn’t entirely baseless since such intuitions often align eerily with the truth.
‘This is everything I need to hear for now.’
Deciding he had heard everything necessary, Kim Cheolsu glanced at Jinseong as if preparing to wind down the conversation. He then appeared uncomfortable upon noticing Jinseong’s red skin under the desk light and opened his mouth.
“But this story being related to Mr. Jinseong’s injuries gives it more gravity. It’s more than just intriguing…”
Kim Cheolsu acted as if acknowledging an uncomfortable aspect, performing empathy perfectly in both expression and gesture.
“Ah, I apologize for being inconsiderate. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
Kim Cheolsu expressed a genuinely apologetic tone for the perceived inconsideration and skillfully created an awkward moment before smoothly transitioning back to normal.
“I apologize for disturbing you so late. Please take care of yourself…”
With that, Kim Cheolsu fulfilled his mission:
To investigate why Jinseong suddenly left the shrine grounds only to be discovered the next morning.
As the building returned to silence once he left, it seemed to close itself off from the outside world.
In this way, the building radiated an eerie and somber atmosphere.
Inside the building, one person remained.
And…
*
Meanwhile, at the same moment.
Anastasia was speaking to the girls.
“Hey, I heard something’s coming out…”
“What? A ghost?”
“No, me!”
