Sujin dutifully followed her lady as Jimin stormed through the town streets in a rage.  Originally, the pair had gone to the Park household, only to be told that Young Min was far too busy to see them, despite Jimin’s earnest pleas.  They had then traveled to the gisaeng house, to wrest an honest confession out of the woman claiming to have spent the night with Young Min, but the story had remained unchanged.

Left with no other options, the two women had begun to make their way back home.  Only, halfway there, Jimin had finally spotted the man supposedly “too busy” to meet with her as he snuck through the marketplace like the guilty liar he was.  No doubt he was already going back for another round at the gibang!

Well, if Sujin had been in her lady’s position—not that she would ever dare dream of such a thing—she would have simply labeled Young Min as an incorrigible cur, lucky to be rid of, and left it at that.  But Jimin was not content to move on to other things so easily, and perhaps, Sujin wondered, such was the way with nobles—to never be content to settle when something better could be done about the situation.  In a way, Sujin reasoned, it was a gallant gesture: her mistress would make certain that the rascal Park Young Min would never tarnish another noblewoman’s reputation again.

Although, what exactly Jimin had in mind, Sujin didn’t know, and wasn’t even sure if her ladyship even knew at this point.  But her mistress was a smart girl—she would soon think of something, even if it took them hours of storming through the market streets to do so.

“Do you know,” Jimin continued to rant, as Sujin left her thoughts and resumed listening to her lady’s tirade, “I was actually thinking of pardoning him, just this once.”

“That would have been most generous of you, my lady,” Sujin said, formulating her response appropriately.

“I thought so too!” Jimin exclaimed.  “After all, he’s never given me any trouble before.  Hasn’t he always been kind and generous to me?”  Not waiting for her maid to reply, she continued.  “And so I reasoned that every man must fall off his horse at least once in his lifetime, and once he comes to his senses, he’ll understand what he did wrong and never make that mistake again.  But to go right back the next day—not even wait until the evening!—and commit the exact same mistake…Oh!”

“Milady, you mustn’t tire yourself so much,” Sujin consoled as Jimin put a dainty hand to her forehead.  “Perhaps we should sit down in the shade and rest, and get something to eat.”  Her own feet were starting to ache, and she was beginning to get a bit grumpy—not at her mistress, though, of course!—but simply because she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and whenever her stomach complained, she would complain right back at it.

They had by now left the market and come to the outskirts of the town, walking along a winding path that led up into the mountains, and Sujin quickly guided her mistress to a boulder beneath the shade of a large tree.  With a tired sigh, they both sat down.

Sujin was relieved at the break, but before she could get too comfortable on her section of boulder, a figure came into view at the far end of the path, causing her heart to lurch into her throat.  Belatedly, she realized that she and her mistress had settled down a bit too far from the town than would be deemed safe, and that they were now prime targets for any robbers.

“Milday, perhaps we should go back…” Sujin ventured, but Jimin shook her head.

“No.  I’m tired.  I want to rest.”

Sujin looked back up at the person coming towards them, whose disheveled appearance foretold that no good would come from their meeting.

“Really, milady, I think we should…” Sujin urged again, tugging on her mistress’s skirts.  But now it was too late.  The approaching stranger—an old, bent-over woman—was now nearly upon them and within speaking distance.

Jimin was still oblivious to the third party, and again began lamenting her situation.  Mercifully, it was cut short.  Unmercifully, it was cut short by the strange old woman.  Sujin wasn’t sure which was worse—having to listen to more of Jimin’s complaining, or having to talk with a creepy stranger.

“A love gone wrong, is it?” the woman called out, crinkled eyes peering up at the lady and her maid.

Jimin looked down at the bent figure, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.  Sujin took a hesitant shuffle backward on the boulder.

“Who are you?” Jimin demanded.  “And how do you know that?”

The responding grin was enough to send shivers down Sujin’s spine.  How could her mistress be so bold in the face of something so sinister?  It must be her noble lineage.

“I am a shaman,” the woman said.  “The spirits talk to me, and I listen.”

Sujin noticed with dread that instead of drawing back with fear or disgust, Jimin instead leaned forward with greater interest.  “The spirits told you about me?” she asked.

“Milady, we should leave,” Sujin urged.

The shaman—or witch, as Sujin thought of her—simply broadened her yellow grin.  “You have been greatly wronged, your ladyship,” she said.  “And I do believe you wish to do something about it.”

“Yes!” Jimin agreed.  “It’s Park Young Min—I thought we loved each other, but apparently he’s been seeing a gisaeng behind my back.  I want him to understand that I’m not to be taken so lightly.  This could damage my reputation as a lady!  I want him to realize his mistake, and atone for it!”

“I see.”  The shaman nodded sagely, although Sujin wondered how truly sage-like such an old, possibly insane, biddy could be.  Jimin, however, seemed to go along with it, so Sujin supposed she should as well.

“It’s just…” Jimin sat back with a sigh.  “I know I want to do something about it, but I’m just not sure what, exactly.”

The shaman’s eyes glittered.  “I might have just the solution,” she said.  “Follow me, your ladyship.”  Her gaze flickered to Sujin, smile dropping a fraction.  “…And friend.”

Sujin refrained from a nasty retort only for her lady’s sake.  Jimin followed the evil witch, and so Sujin did too, thinking that if the hag decided to eat them, Sujin would be obligated to sacrifice herself so her lady could make an escape.

The servant shook her head to clear the morbid thought.  Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.  At least, she noted, they were heading back into town, where there would be a greater likelihood of calling for help, should the need arise.

They were led past the shops of the marketplace, far from the rich estates of the yangban, and into the less affluent part of town.  Here, the streets were less clean, and there was a slight smell of staleness and refuse.

Finally, they came to an old home with a sagging roof and warped wooden door.  After a bit of a struggle, the woman managed to pull the door open, and the trio stepped into the dark interior of the shaman’s abode.  Once through the doorway, the door closed behind them, leaving a few flickering candles and a small watery beam from the window as the only remaining light to see by.  An appropriately creepy setting for an evil sorceress, Sujin decided.

“Now,” the old woman began, hobbling over to a small table laden with glass vials.  “What I think you are looking for, your ladyship, is something called revenge.”  The bottles clinked against each other as she sorted through them while she talked.

Jimin thought for a moment.  “I suppose that’s true,” she replied.  “I want revenge for the humiliation Park Young Min has put me through.  Everyone is staring at me now!  I can only imagine what the gossip has to say about me.”

Sujin knew very well what filth the rumor mill was spewing about her mistress, but wisely chose to keep her mouth shut about the subject.  No need to give Jimin any more unnecessary grief.

“So how can I get my revenge, shaman?” Jimin asked, biting her lip in deliberation.  “He was so good to me that I feel I might still love him a little.  I don’t wish him to die.  But my anger at him is too great—I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him.  What would you suggest?”

“Ah, a tricky predicament,” the shaman said, nodding her head and looking up from her sorting.  “In that case, I would recommend something slow that festers in the mind and spirit.  It won’t kill him, but cause crippling pain.  Once he atones for his sins, he will be cured of it.”  She finally procured a small glass vessel no longer than her index finger, half-filled with a watery green liquid that Sujin eyed warily.

“You mean a curse?”  Jimin bit her lip.  “It sounds…a bit harsh.”

The shaman tilted her head inquisitively.  “Revenge is not a kind thing.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Jimin agreed.  “I guess it will just take me a few moments to get used to the idea.”

“Be assured, my dear, that he will come to rue the day he set you aside for another woman,” the shaman purred.

Jimin nodded.  “All right, then.”

“Good, good,” the shaman murmured.

“My lady, please, are you sure about this?” Suijn finally interrupted.

“He lied to me, Sujin!” Jimin exclaimed, turning to her maid.  “If you’d forgotten already, it would do you well to hold your tongue.  That man is an immoral cheat and liar, and it’s a pity that I’ve fallen for his tricks.”

Her mistress was conflicted, Sujin realized, and rightly so.  For all the kindness and affection Park Young Min had showered Jimin with before, only to so suddenly turn and betray her, was a harsh blow.  Caught in-between her old feelings and the sudden new evidence of unfaithfulness, Jimin was struggling, and Sujin realized it was her place to support her mistress.

“Are you ready to continue?” the shaman asked.

Jimin smoothed out her dress and took a breath to regain her composure.  “Yes.  What is the price?”

“A few coins, nothing too troublesome,” the shaman answered dismissively.  “A discount price for her ladyship.”

Jimin bowed.  “Thank you.”

“Now, as for this curse…” the shaman began, uncapping the bottle she held.  “Once it is activated, it will take effect immediately.  There will be no chance for second-doubts.”

“Very well,” Jimin said, raising her chin high.  “How will it be activated?”

“A simple incantation will do.”  The woman pulled an old black rice pot off a shelf onto the table before her and scattered some crushed flower petals inside.

Jimin raised a brow.  “Such as?”

The hunched woman smiled, grabbing a sprig of mugwort and sticking it into the top of the glass bottle so that half of the plant still stuck out.  Then she began a slow chant under her breath that grew louder with each passing moment.  At first, the words were nonsense, but then they formed into just the curse Jimin was looking for.

“Ari-arirang, ssuri-ssurirang, arariyo,

“If you leave and forsake your love,

“Walk ten ri, and lame you’ll have grown.

“Look for redemption far above,

“On the mountain over which no bird has flown.

“Ari-arirang, ssuri-ssurirang, arariyo,

“Look on your love,

“A bright flower in the harsh midwinter.

“If these flirting women you rid your heart of,

“Return when the flowers bloom in Hanyang.”

Sujin wrinkled her nose at the last line, thinking that if the shaman couldn’t at least get all of her curse to rhyme, or at least keep a consistent rhythm, it must not be a very good curse.  But before she could say anything to her mistress, the shaman poured the green liquid into the rice pot, where little pops of light burst as the potion met the flower petals.  A purplish haze rose up in the aftermath, and when it cleared, only a polished black stone remained.

“What’s this?” Jimin asked as the shaman handed the small stone to her.

“The weight of your actions,” the shaman began, “are like a small pebble tossed in a lake.  Though the original object is small, the ripples it causes spread far and wide.  You would do well to remember this.”

Sujin wasn’t sure if the woman was trying to make Jimin feel guilty about what she’d done, or trying to give encouragement that all would be well.  Whatever the reason, Jimin took the stone and paid the shaman.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Jimin said.

The old woman smiled, crooked teeth jutting over her bottom lip.  “It was my pleasure, young lady.”

========================================================

I suppose you’re wondering by now when it is that I come into the story—really, you’re quite impatient.  Haven’t you heard that good things come to those who wait?

 Now.  Ri is a unit of measurement dating back to the Han Dynasty.  The measurement is also used for Japan and China, but varies between the countries.  For Korea, its value is about three-hundred and ninety-three meters.  Now, for Americans, that requires even more conversion (honestly, what do they teach you in your schools?) and so, given that one meter is approximately three-point-two-eight feet, the Korean ri would come out to be around one-thousand and ninety feet.  Keep in mind, though, I’ve rounded a bit on the numbers.  If you want an exact number, you can do the math yourself.

 The rice pot that the shaman used for her little spell is something called a dolsot—surely you’ve eaten the Korean dish called bibimbap before?  Bibimbap, when served hot, is prepared in a stone pot to keep it warm, and this type of stone pot is what the shaman used.

Aha!  See, now I’m not the only one who’s hungry.  I know a good Korean barbeque nearby—we can go there and I’ll finish the story while we eat.  The pork they serve is delicious.