Episode 11. Rumors Have Wings
by God of Music · 2026-08-31
It was a six-day journey to the volcano.
If it were Mu-hyeonâs pace, it could be shortened to three days, and if he ran day and night, he could reach it in just one day. However, Mu-hyeon decided to take the six-day journey in six days. The faster he went, the more noticeable he became, and if he became noticeable, stories of deserting soldiers could arise. And to be honest, he enjoyed walking. It was a return to the mundane after thirty years. He was glad to see the plowing oxen, the noisy peddlers, and even the dog droppings by the roadside.
The first two days passed without incident. No, it was nothing by Mu-hyeonâs standards.
He had helped lift a cow cart that had fallen into a field ridge. He had rescued a laundry basket floating down a stream. He had caught a child who couldnât get down from a tree. He thought of these as the duties of a passerby, but people kept whispering behind him. They said the cart was lifted with the cow still in it, that it walked on water. The cow wasnât lifted; it just walked quickly by the water, but rumors were always diligent wherever they came from.
The problem was food.
The two nyang of travel money ran out in two days. It was due to his changed body. After passing through the station, his body, which usually was quiet like a fresh breeze, could devour enough food for three men once hunger struck. The rice ball bundle was finished by the first dayâs lunch. From the second dayâs dinner onward, his steps automatically slowed whenever he passed by a soup restaurant on the roadside. Just by smelling, he developed the skill to guess the type of soup. Bone broth with dried radish greens. Thatâs chicken broth. That place adds blood pudding. As he used the senses he had gained from thirty years of training in such ways, he missed the cane of Okheonomo.
On the evening of the third day, Mu-hyeon stopped in front of an inn in a marketplace.
The smell of soup was wafting over the wall.
He had only a few coins in his pocket. It was nowhere near enough for a bowl of soup. Swallowing his saliva, Mu-hyeon peeked inside the inn and discovered some elderly men gathered around a board set up for Go in a corner.
There were about six or seven onlookers gathered around the board. Next to the board, a pile of coins was stacked up.
It was a betting game of Go.
Mu-hyeon thought of Master Wi-gi. It was Master Wi-gi himself who said one could earn their meal by playing Go at an inn. The eye that reads the flow will always find a way to eat.
"Excuse me, elders. May I learn a move?"
"Whatâs this? This young man. Itâs a betting game. We donât take money from someone with a nose full of snot."
"This is all the money I have."
When he put down a few coins, the elderly men scoffed.
"Thatâs not even enough for a bowl of soup."
"Then how about this? If I lose, I will fetch water and chop firewood for this money. If I win, please just buy me one bowl of soup."
"Ha, youâve got some guts. Fine. Sit down."
In the first game, Mu-hyeon realized a difficult truth.
He couldnât afford to lose.
He had intended to play a game of hospitality. He planned to lose a few points at the start and then win the second game to just get the soup. However, his hands wouldnât obey. After playing thirty thousand games, his body rejected placing stones in losing positions. The more he tried to play casually, the better the game became.
The first opponent was Jo Cheom-ji, who had dominated this marketplace Go board for ten years. Jo Cheom-ji stopped humming after the first ten moves, stopped fanning himself after twenty moves, and got angry at the onlookers to be quiet after thirty moves. The onlookers were already silent. This was because no one knew what to say.
"W-what was that move just now?"
"I thought it would hurt here."
"Hurt? Is the stone in pain?"
"Yes. The stones over here have been groaning since a while ago."
The onlookers leaned in to listen to the Go board. Of course, there was no sound at all.
"...Young man."
After fifty moves, Jo Cheom-ji threw down a stone and asked.
"What do you do?"
"I am just a passerby."
"Where did you learn to play Go?"
"In the mountains, over the shoulder of an elder."
"Who is that elder?"
"He really enjoys playing betting Go and is someone who allows for a redo in lost games."
The elders burst into laughter. It was as if they had insulted a sage, but if it were Teacher Wi-gi, he would have laughed heartily and brushed it off. Perhaps. Maybe he would have asked to correct only the redo part. It was not a redo but rather a correction of the placement.
He had two bowls of gukbap. From the second game onward, he developed a strategy, learning how to win by a narrow margin of one or two points. This way, the losing side felt less bad about losing their stake, and the spectators found it entertaining. If Teacher Wi-gi had seen it, he would have called it the move of a great coward.
The next morning, he encountered a checkpoint at the pass.
Four soldiers were stopping passersby at a barricade on the street. Cold sweat broke out on Mu-hyeonâs back. The rumor about capturing the defeated soldiers in the valley came to mind. What if they check the roster? I still didn't know how the name Jin Mu-hyeon was listed on any roster.
"Hey, you there. Where are you coming from?"
"From the cliff⊠no, I'm coming from down there."
He almost mentioned the cliff again. His habitual speech was frightening.
"What do you do?"
"I'm a laborer. I'm looking for work towards the volcano."
The soldier scanned Mu-hyeonâs appearance from top to bottom. Worn-out blue-gray uniform. A gentle face. Empty hands. The soldier's eyes briefly paused at the faded stains on the uniform. Mu-hyeon's heart skipped a beat.
"...A laborer in this situation. The young man has no fear. Family?"
"None. I'm alone."
"...Well, well. In this day and age. You must be having a hard time."
The soldier clicked his tongue and then asked in a softer voice.
"If you came from down there, have you heard the rumors? About the cliff traveler or whatever?"
"...Yes. A little."
"Is it true? That they took down forty bandits?"
"I heard it was thirty."
"See! I told you it was thirty!"
The soldier shouted to his companion, who insisted it was forty, and the area in front of the barricade quickly turned into a debate over whether it was thirty or forty. In the midst of that, Mu-hyeon bowed and quietly passed through the barricade. When he looked back after passing, the soldiers were still arguing. The inspection had turned into a rumor verification. He didn't even get to see the roster.
While eating rice soup, he could hear the merchants' conversations from the bench behind him.
"Have you heard the story? They say a celestial being has come down to the village near Aratgol."
Muhyeonâs spoon stopped moving.
"What celestial being?"
"Iâm telling you itâs true. Forty bandits came to raid the village, but some traveler took down all forty with just one chopstick."
'It was thirty, though.'
"They say it was a sickle, not a chopstick."
'It was a digging tool.'
"Not only did he take them down, but he also tied them up with a rope and dragged them to the government office."
'He just tied them up.'
"And instead of accepting a thousand nyang as a reward, he only took one pair of straw shoes."
'He received two nyang, two pairs of straw shoes, and rice balls.'
Muhyeon felt the urge to correct the statements rise up to his throat but swallowed it down with his soup. Rumors have a way of turning thirty into forty and turning a digging tool into a chopstick. Perhaps it sounds better that way.
"Where did that traveler come from?"
"Thatâs the amazing part. They said he came from below the cliff."
"Below the cliff?"
"The cliff of Nak-ae Valley, you know. They say the spirit of a dead person from the valley returned as a celestial being."
"Oh, come on."
"Iâm serious. Thatâs why he refused the reward. What use does a dead person have for money?"
Muhyeon almost spat out his soup.
"Then why is that spirit catching bandits?"
"Do you really need to ask? Itâs because heâs wronged. Heâs a spirit who was dragged away and died unjustly, so he canât just stand by while those who bully powerless commoners are around."
"Thinking about it, that makes sense. Oh, how scary."
"What's so scary? It's a kind spirit. For merchants like us, it's a blessing. They say there's no bandit on the path that elder took."
"Well, should we take that path tomorrow?"
I never thought I would hear rumors about my own spirit with my own ears. It was even more troubling that it wasn't entirely false. Since I was listed as a missing person, I was indeed dead on paper. Moreover, I was at a loss for words when the merchants said they would deliberately take that path tomorrow. It seemed my spirit would have to play the role of both a guide and a ferryman.
'If my brother heard this, he would have clutched his belly in laughter.'
Suddenly, that thought crossed my mind, and the end of my laughter turned a bit bitter.
On the fourth day, I encountered some ruffians.
It was at the ferry dock where the main road curves along the river. Among the waiting pedestrians, five or six ruffians were extorting a toll, claiming it was the fare for the ferry. It was five times the fare set by the government.
Muhyeon quietly stood in line.
'Be patient. If you make a big deal out of it, you'll attract attention. If you attract attention, it will delay your journey to Hwasan.'
It was my turn. The ruffian extended his hand.
"Half a penny."
"I heard the fare is one penny."
"The water has risen. When the water rises, the boat struggles, so it's half a penny."
Muhyeon looked at the river. The water had actually receded.
"Has the water risen?"
"If it had risen, it would be angry."
"I see. Then, one penny goes to the ferryman, and the other four pennies are for you gentlemen?"
"Talking too much? Where are you from?"
"I came from below the cliff."
Muhyeon answered without much thought. It was a response that had stuck in his mouth from answering the children over the past few days.
However, the ruffians' expressions changed.
"...Below the cliff?"
"Yes. Below the cliff."
The ruffians huddled together and whispered, then the one who seemed to be the leader stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Excuse me, customer. There have been so many con artists coming from the cliffs these days. If you have a token, please show it."
"When you say token."
"I heard that gentleman only accepts straw sandals as a reward."
Mu-hyeon thought for a moment and lifted his foot. The new straw sandals he received from the family were damp with the morning dew.
"Y-yes, it's a straw sandal."
"It's a real straw sandal."
"It's a new straw sandal!"
There was no token as flimsy as this. Where in the world would there be a traveler without straw sandals? However, the ruffians were already prepared to believe, so one straw sandal was enough. For those who wanted to believe, even a straw sandal could become a token. The rumors of the spirit of Nak-ae-gok had already reached the ferry terminal. The pace of the rumors was at least half a day faster than Mu-hyeon's. Moreover, the man before him looked exactly as the rumors described. In a faded blue-gray robe stained with blood, wearing new straw sandals, and with a gentle face that seemed to refuse any reward.
"Um, um. Customer, just one penny."
"No, just get on. The fare is on us."
"Huh?"
"Oh dear, the boat is leaving! Hurry up!"
Mu-hyeon, caught off guard, boarded the free boat. When he looked back from the boat, the ruffians were bowing down at the ferry terminal. As if that wasn't enough, it seemed they were also refunding the tolls of the pedestrians lined up behind them. The bewildered pedestrians, having received their ripped-off money back, bowed toward the cliffs as well. The cliffs had done nothing wrong, yet they received quite a lot of bows today.
The pedestrians next to him whispered.
"What is that person? Who is he?"
"Don't you know? He's the rumored cliff traveler these days."
"Oh dear, then I should greet him too."
"Um, I'm not that kind of personâŠ."
By the time he got off the boat, Mu-hyeon had received bows from twelve passersby, patted the heads of two children, and had forcibly accepted three boiled eggs from an old lady. When he declined, the grandmother insisted that there was no room for refusal when it came to the spirit of the dead, and shoved them into his sleeve. Whether the spirit of the dead eats boiled eggs was secondary; the issue was the title of 'spirit of the dead.' Cold sweat soaked his back. The rumor was scarier than thirty thieves.
'Is this how fame is born.'
But strangely, it wasn't bad.
The ruffians became kind after collecting tolls, and the passersby boarded the boat comfortably. I didn't throw a single punch. The rumor did the work instead. If Teacher Wi-ki had been there, he would have said this: a well-placed stone replaces a hundred unplaced ones.
'If a rumor is a stone, where is this stone placed.'
That night, Mu-hyeon borrowed a barn to sleep in and thought deeply.
Two days to the volcano. At this rate, he would arrive later than the rumor. The rumor had wings, and those wings were faster than Mu-hyeon's feet.
However, there was still no one in the world who could connect the traveler in the rumor with the gatekeeper Jin Mu-hyeon. The rumor was a spirit or a ghost using chopsticks, while I was a gatekeeper with empty hands who had even abandoned my spade.
'Then it's settled. Let the rumor go its own way. I will go my own way.'
He concluded comfortably and closed his eyes.
Before falling asleep, he suddenly thought of Jin-gon. He was someone who loved rumors. He would gather all the rumors from the marketplace and share them in a lowered voice. 'According to the rumor, you know,' was his habitual phrase.
'Brother. These days, according to the rumor, a kind spirit has appeared in Nak-ae-gok.'
If only I could have told you, I would have held my stomach. I fell asleep thinking about that.
Of course, the affairs of the world would not resolve themselves so easily.
The next morning, Mu-hyeon encountered a line of carts in the middle of the street. The procession was stopped, and men dressed as merchants were glaring at the forest ahead with stern faces.
And from that forest, a familiar kind of malice was seeping out.
Mu-hyeon looked up at the sky once.
'They say the heavens decide.'
It seemed that the heavens had no intention of sending him off gently to the volcano.