“No, no, no.  She said it was ‘crossing over the mountain,’ not ‘going over the mountain’…”

There was a twang, and then the hollow thud of a drum.  “Stop being so nitpicky.  It still gets the same idea across anyway.”

“Well, what about the first part?  Isn’t there something we can substitute in for the gibberish?”

Upon hearing this suggestion, I cracked open an eye and looked over at the huddle of musicians.  “The ‘gibberish’ stays.  You want it to rhyme, don’t you?”

The drummer who had spoken looked startled that I had overheard him.  “Uh…of course, Moon Sun!  You’re version is very good.  But, if I may ask—why arirang and arariyo?”

“Arirang is another name for this mountain road, didn’t you know?” I replied lazily.  “Arariyo is just, uh, the next thing that rhymes.”

“Is it really?  I always thought the mountain road was just Saeje, like the village.”

“Yes.”  No.  I had made it up on the spur of the moment, so as not to draw suspicion that it was a spell word.  But the old mountain shaman had insisted that the word be used to break the curse, and so I had no other choice.  Anyway, it was a nice-sounding name, better than Bird Pass.

“Oh.  You must forgive us, we’re not from here—”

“Obviously,” I muttered.

“—my companions and I were born in Gwangju.”

“Is that so?” I said without the slightest bit of interest.  “How remarkable.”  It had barely been a day, and already I was growing weary of the company of these fools.  At least we were finished walking now that we had reached the village.  Humans moved so slowly.

At first, the group had been hesitant to accept me when I had accosted them on the mountain pass earlier that morning after visiting the shaman.  After hearing my singing and witnessing my prowess on the gayageum, however, they were easily swayed, and I became the first and only female in the group—traveling performers back in those days were typically men.

Now, if only I could get the proper words of the counter-curse through their thick heads!  The shaman had told me the key words that needed to be used, and I had written them down for the slow-thinking performers to better comprehend.

The shaman had taken a long time to trace the curse with the nobleman’s hair that I had given him.  Eventually, though, he had been able to figure out what most of the spell consisted of.  As he had surmised, it was a sort of lover’s revenge, which accused the yangban of leaving his lover.  Ironically, the spell then compelled the nobleman to literally leave and travel over the mountain, and become increasingly crippled in the process.  The problem was, though, that if he didn’t manage to free himself of the curse by springtime, he would remain cursed forever.  I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t take until spring to fix the matter—I didn’t want to be stuck in this agreement for so long, trying to break the curse brought about by a whiny jilted woman.

The self-centered brat.  Who compared their beauty to that of a blooming flower in the winter?  In my opinion, the nobleman was smart to have left such vanity.

One thing about the curse was still a mystery to me, though.  Why offer an escape from the curse at all?  And by coming to my mountain, of all places?  Was there something more that the old shaman had missed in his assessment?

I was interrupted from my musings once the musicians began to bicker again.  Sighing, I stood up and moved closer to the huddle of actors and dancers.  They each were wearing painted wooden masks—some with women’s faces, others with men’s—and going through their different acts.

“What story is this?” I asked the group.

“The Woodcutter’s Daughter and the Phantom,” one of them replied.  He was a scrawny fellow with a round, weather-beaten face, and his breath stank of liquor—surely the sign of an unhealthy liver.  “All of our audiences love it.”

“Ah.”

“But,” he continued in a lowered voice as a smug little grin snuck upon his face, “just as you’ve introduced a new song to the singers, we have a new performance as well.”

“About?”

“I don’t want to give too much away,” he explained.  The grin, much to my irritation, remained on his face, and I had the most difficult time resisting the urge to snap at him.  “But I’ll tell you one thing—it’s a ghost story.”

“Hm,” I replied, unimpressed.  “That seems to be the only genre in your repertoire.  First the woodcutter’s daughter, and now this one.  Does the performance have a title?”

“Well, we’re still debating on it.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Well, have you even decided on what type of ghost story?  There’s more than one type of ghost, you realize.  Malicious ghosts, trickster ghosts, ugly ghosts, water ghosts…”  And if you annoy me enough, I might just introduce you to a few of them!

“It’s a virgin ghost who haunts this mountain.  What’s even better—it’s a true story.”

I raised an eyebrow at this new information, forcing myself to remain calm.  “And where did this ridiculous notion come from, exactly?”  I wasn’t too fond of my mountain’s reputation being tarnished for the sake of entertainment.  There were no ghosts in this place—of that, I was absolutely certain.  But his tone caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise in foreboding.  I didn’t like how this was starting to sound.

But the actor merely shook his head.  “You’ll be able to ask questions later tonight, after we’ve performed for the villagers.  We want it to be a surprise!”  Upon seeing my annoyance, he decided to continue—unwisely, I might add—with, “What’s the matter—are you afraid of ghosts?”  The teasing whine in his voice was unmistakable.

I clenched my jaw.  “Either you answer my questions this instant, or you will come to sorely regret it.”  I spat out the threat similar to the way a venomous snake spits poison, and I was satisfied to see that it had the intended effect.  The human looked absolutely petrified.  Even the other actors nearby who had overheard our conversation were now stopped and staring at me with a mix of fear and astonishment.

“W-well, I—”

“Tell me this,” I interrupted.  “Is the ghost from Miryang?”

“M-Miryang?  N-n-no.”  He paused, took a deep breath to calm himself, and continued.  “W-why?”

My temper dimmed, leaving a cold, empty feeling behind.  “Oh,” I said.  “Well, that’s good.  The Miryang ghost story is old and quite boring.”

“I-I’m not sure I’ve heard of—”

I turned on my heel and left him standing there and stuttering like the brainless dolt that he was.  Now that both the musicians and actors had worn my patience thin, I needed to find a distraction until we put on our performances for the village.  After all, it wouldn’t do if I lost control of my appearance in a moment of anger and suddenly sprouted tails and fangs in front of the humans.

As if on cue, a familiar voice caught my attention at that moment.

“I am not a thief!”

Ah.  It was the cry of the stubborn cross-dressing girl.  And here I had been hoping to go without seeing her for another few hours, at least.

“That remains to be seen!  I’m sure this nobleman here wouldn’t have arrested you without justifiable suspicion!  Just wait—I’m sure someone here will recognize your lawless face soon enough.  Come on!”

I found the source of the commotion two streets over, just in time to see the magistrate leading away his quarry.  As soon as they turned the corner, the nobleman’s servant rushed over to…whatever his name was—the cursed one.

“Young master, what was all that talk about magic and spells?” I overheard the servant ask.

“It’s nothing, Won Soo,” the young scholar replied, struggling to his feet.  “Just some silly nonsense.”  He finally managed to stand, if only for a few seconds, before he stumbled and barely avoided crashing into a nearby table.

I calmly watched the exchange from behind a wooden support beam of a nearby fabric shop.  So, that Kim Nara had tried to tell him the truth about his illness?  It was a foolish thing to have done, but perhaps she had panicked.  After all, the wealthy human seemed worse than the previous day, and I noted that the sickly green color to his aura had only become more pronounced.  How inconvenient.

“Young master!”  The servant, Won Soo, rushed over to support the crippled nobleman.  What was his name?

“How long have you known about my illness, Won Soo?” the servant’s master asked.  “Just then, you weren’t surprised to see me like this.  Has it really been that apparent?”

Nam Soo?  No.  Min Hyun?  No, that doesn’t sound right, either.

“It just became a bit more apparent in the past few days,” Won Soo confessed.  “At first, I thought your seclusion at home was just due to the incident with the gisaeng.  But then I saw how you kept stumbling, and how you leaned against things for support when you thought no one was looking…”

Hm.  Perhaps there’s a Min in the name somewhere, though…

“I underestimated your attentiveness, it seems,” the nobleman replied ruefully.

Well, that makes two of us.  I certainly wouldn’t have pegged the fretful servant as the observant sort.

“You should rest, young master,” Won Soo urged.  “I’ve found us a place to stay until we set out tomorrow.”

Young Min!  That’s his name!

Young Min hobbled off with Won Soo, but before they had made it halfway down the street, I lost interest in their progress and set off to follow the magistrate and Kim Nara instead.  No doubt the runaway was fretting about whether I would hold up my side of the bargain.  Humans tend to lose faith quite easily.  It wouldn’t do for her to start raving at the magistrate and end up locked up for insanity.  That would only complicate matters.

I found the unfortunate creature locked up in a cell in the magistrate’s office.  At first, I had debated how to get in to see her.  I could break in after nightfall, or wait until the magistrate left, but both those options seemed a bit too tedious.  Finally, I decided on just going in to the main building and straight-up asking the magistrate if I could visit, simultaneously flashing him a charismatic smile.

My gumiho charm worked easily.  The man nearly tripped over himself in his haste to lead me to the holding cell, and I was forced to endure more stammering for what must have been the third time that day as he attempted to talk to me.

“I merely wish to see if I would recognize the suspect,” I said as we crossed the courtyard to where criminals were kept in an adjacent building.

“Oh!” the magistrate exclaimed.  “I-I see.  So you aren’t an acquaintance of his, then.”

“I am not.”  I would need proof and knowledge of Kim Nara’s real life in order to prove her innocence, and since I had neither, she was going to have to stay imprisoned for the time being.

There was a single guard outside who had enough common sense to move and let the magistrate and me pass without having to be told to do so.  When we ducked inside the building, the sweet scent of straw washed over us.  The golden-yellow strands were scattered across the floor and spilling out from the area behind the thick wooden pillars that divided the innocent from the guilty—or the suspected guilty, in this case.

“Soo Mi Nam is that one over there, I believe,” the magistrate told me, pointing to a huddled, dirty figure in the corner of the cell.  “Do you recognize him?  Has he terrorized travelers here before?”

The person he had indicated was indeed the little cross-dressing troublemaker, who looked up with wide eyes when she saw me with the magistrate.  However, she didn’t say anything, nor move closer to us, as she was not the only one in the cell.  Three other people also sat in the area with her—all men, and all much larger and meaner-looking than she.  Wisely, she didn’t want to draw their attention.

“No, unfortunately, I can’t say that I do,” I told the magistrate, who frowned at the reply.

“Well, no matter,” he said.  “I’m planning on hiring a painter to draw his portrait to post on the announcement board in the village.”

I swallowed the bitter taste on my tongue at the news.  I hated painters.

“Well, thank you for taking the time to visit, anyway,” the magistrate said, directing me back towards the exit.  Kim Nara watched us go with a mournful expression, but knew better than to call out to me.  She would just have to sit there and wait, though at least now she knew I hadn’t completely abandoned her…

As I turned away, I locked eyes with one of the criminals.  His clothes and hair were disheveled, and his shoulder was poorly bandaged and stained the surrounding fabric with blood.  Either he had put up one heck of a fight to avoid arrest, or he had been arrested for causing quite a disturbance.  Either way, he looked in bad shape.

Then I noticed the small scar above his right eyebrow, and the mark gave me pause.  Why did that look so familiar?

“Miss?  Are you coming?” the magistrate called.  I swiftly looked up and gave him another one of my charming smiles.

“Yes, magistrate,” I replied as we stepped out of the gloomy room and back into the courtyard.  “Thank you for your time.  I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance in identifying the suspect.”  Not really.

“No matter,” the magistrate said cheerily.  “I’ll figure out his misdeeds soon enough—mark my words!”

 I left the place without a backwards glance.  Now that I knew Kim Nara’s identity would remain undiscovered for a few days, my thoughts once again focused on breaking the curse.  Judging by what I had seen of Young Min’s disposition earlier, the musicians needed to get their act together as soon as possible.

Hello everyone!  I hope your week is going well.  So this chapter is very long, and there are just a few things in it I'd like to talk about.  First, there's the words of the counter-curse, 'arirang' and 'arariyo.'  They aren't completely random--I'm taking them from the Korean song called Arirang , and from my research, the words don't really have a meaning, but Arirang is the name of a mountain pass (also referred to as Mungyeong Saeje--I know, confusing).  There are also a lot of different versions of the song, so I'm taking some liberties.  If you have any questions, feel free to ask, as always!  :)  Second, the Woodcutter's Daughter and the Phantom (or The Logger's Daughter and the Phantom, which I think is the normal name but I changed it to woodcutter on a whim XD) is a Korean folktale, and winterstar5 wrote a really good nanowrimo story about it if you're interested!  I liked it so much I decided to incorporate it into this chapter. 

Also, thank you ming_ming for all your votes and comments!  :)

P.S. I've added a picture to the side of a Korean "virgin ghost"--these were girls who had died before marriage, and since only married women could put their hair up, a virgin ghost's hair is long and hangs down around her face.  They also wear all-white hanbok (clothes).  Spooky!