How to Rewrite Ghost Stories - Chapter 19

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Natty

◈ How to Rewrite Ghost Stories ◈

Episode 19: Goblin Fire Playground (2)

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There was a late-night bus from near my home to Mangsudong.

I wanted a car. Or a motorcycle. It might make getting around easier.

After walking for about twenty minutes with that thought in mind, I came upon the Mangsudong Children's Playground site.

Seven years ago, when a huge mixed-use apartment complex began going up, it had been in the best possible location between the apartments and the main road. Yet the playground site had remained untouched.

It was not like a playground lot would be a holdout property. Either ghosts had appeared, or someone had fought the government over the land and lost.

The playground was surrounded by a flimsy wire fence. It looked as though time had stopped inside it.

Rusty horizontal bars and swings with their old nineties paint peeling away. A jungle gym that had kept me in casts as a child. A centrifuge thing... a roundabout, was it?

A seesaw that had already slumped to one side was half-buried in swept-up sand.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

I did not know who I was greeting, but I offered a polite enough hello and squeezed through a gap in the fence. Sand crunched under my feet.

An old swing swayed with a creak, though there was no wind.

When I turned on my phone's flashlight, I noticed something else strange about the playground.

‘There are no windows facing it.’

For a newly built apartment complex that had apparently obsessed over sunlight and windows, not a single residential window overlooked the playground. There were only small emergency windows, perhaps for boiler rooms or stairwells.

The buildings looked as though they had thoroughly turned their backs on this land. Was that not basically advertising that there was something here?

So what was here?

I opened the Depth Gauge on my phone, but nothing appeared.

I circled the place a couple of times. All I got was a shoe full of sand. I pushed the swings, hit the jungle gym, and hung from the horizontal bars. Still nothing.

This was seriously fussy. Every time I entered a ghost story, my life was on the line and I burned through all my stamina and energy, but the app would not fill the gauge because apparently I had not put in enough effffort.

“You said you'd give me presents for filling the Depth Gauge, but it doesn't even look like it wants to fill up.”

Are you listening, Hertz? ThreeAM PM?

This time, I grumbled at the radio in an especially dissatisfied tone.

“At first, you sent me that elevator ghost story and gave me old books. Where did all those abilities go? At this point, shouldn't you at least give me the power to pull up ghost stories like a wiki?”

The radio frequency flickered weakly. Maybe being alone outside did not count as being alone.

I read the Morse code that appeared.

--- -. . .- - --- -. -.-. .

‘One at a time.’

“So all your energy is going into becoming my bonsai radio pet right now, is that it?”

-.-- . ...

“Oh, come on...”

I thought I had joined hands with a powerful supernatural phenomenon, but it turned out to be Level 1. Maybe it had come with all sorts of special effects when it first appeared, but was not actually that impressive.

“...So if I had endured the elevator and held out, refusing to go to Bloodwater Valley, this could have just ended?”

The radio did not answer.

No way. Really? I felt scammed.

I could not exactly throw it away, seeing as it was installed on my phone. Still, it had picked a great place to be a Tamagotchi, tucked into an essential item for modern people.

‘It is not as if I have been badly hurt so far.’

I was not so betrayed that I wanted to break the contract immediately.

In the end, I was getting a dopamine-rush ghost story experience on a level far beyond fact-checking, and I had not been hurt. Of course, there were people I had failed to save...

Ugh. My stomach turned.

The students who had vanished in Mangnyang Tunnel had appeared in my dreams for days. Even now, I sometimes saw them when I closed my eyes. I should have tried harder to stop them.

Anyway, just like the saying that things go well when ghosts show up, my work at the company had gone well too. I had also gained strange items and books I could never have won at auction, no matter how long I tried.

‘And I am looking forward to seeing how much rarer things can get as I level up.’

“I am not complaining. Honestly, I like it just for bringing me rare source materials, capital, or books. It is a hundred, a thousand times more reliable than spending a fortune on C-Bay and getting garbage.”

The radio stayed quiet, so I added that in case my DJ was reading the room.

The Morse code flickered a few times, then the frequency rippled again. I had thought it was an annoying supernatural being, but after being together this long, I had grown rather attached to it.

So what was I supposed to do about the blue light now?

Sitting on the seesaw and thinking would not give me an answer. I picked up a twig and began scribbling in the sand.

Apartments turning their backs. An eyesore of a playground that had not been demolished. Blue light. Blue was the color phosphorus made when it burned... It often appeared near graves, so people called it goblin fire... Goblins.

Goblin Play.

‘Come to think of it, I heard someone chanting something like a spell back then too.’

A song-like chant I had heard when someone pulled me out just before I reached the exit inside the pop-up ghost story. The white-clothed employee who erased memories had chanted something similar.

‘Something about a clear wind blowing, and geese... Seagulls? I think.’

I formed an equation in my head.

Civil servants plus a king equals tradition equals folklore.

Blue goblin fire plus play equals folk games.

Then I began looking for similar lyrics.

I searched for oral lyrics and chants beginning with “clear wind.” After digging around for a while, I found a monk character's lines from the Bongsan Mask Dance.

“In the mountains, I knew not the seasons passing. Flowers bloom, and it is spring. Leaves sprout, and it is summer...”

This might be it.

Would it work if I copied it?

I read the passage from my phone. Nothing changed around me. Wondering whether the rhythm was the problem, I played a mask dance video on WiTube. Still no effect.

‘Maybe I cannot borrow from a mask dance?’

I was not one of the Corporation's people, and maybe magic spells required some sort of license.

This time, I read folktales related to goblins. Oral literature, collections of oral tales, legends, folk songs. I searched every goblin-related tag I could find. Their traits when they appeared, what they wanted. Objects. Wealth. Promises.

‘Let me try one more time.’

I looked around for the oldest-looking thing among the rusted playground equipment.

There. What I was looking for.

A little house like a turtle shell, with a tire in front of it.

It had probably once had a net and a fake cannon so children could play pirates. Now it was full of holes and cracks, a hideous thing like a toad's new house from a children's game, its flag toppled over.

I stood before it and gave the door a knock, knock.

“A clear scene doubles in the green pond, and the lovely moon shines round through the window lattice...”

I dimmed my phone as much as I could and followed the lyrics.

I did not even know whether I had the right tune for the folk song. I was not a good singer to begin with.

Still, I focused on chanting it as accurately as I could.

“Within the lonely house, I light only a candle. Deep in the silent night, with no one around, the cricket's cry is mournful.”

My voice rang through the empty lot. It wound around the ruined little house.

Even so, I did not stop.

The more I sang, the more strength entered my stomach, and my voice began to carry a rhythm. The sand rolled with a rustle, rustle, rattle, rattle.

“Oh, how fine! What a splendid age of peace.”

「No, no, I cannot stop playing.」

Another voice overlapped mine.

Jingle, jingle. Oh, how fine! What a splendid age of peace.

The sound of swaying. Bells. Footsteps. Whistling. Blasting horns. Flutes.

My vision began to ripple.

「When human traces vanish from the vast landscape, green pines and bamboo belong to winter. Oh, how fine! What a splendid age of peace.」

The ruined playhouse began to swell however it pleased. It bulged and shifted back and forth as though someone were gently sawing it.

“...!”

In an instant, the rotten wooden boards became Chinese parasol tree beams, and the punctured rubber roof was covered in tiles.

An old pavilion, like a reception room taken from a nobleman's house, rose in the middle of the playground.

“...A shop?”

The pavilion had a proper signboard, and an obvious counter for exchanging goods at the front.

When I stepped a little closer, a thunderous shout poured out.

[What year is it this year!!]

“Twenty twenty... No. The Year of the Fire Horse.”

The resonance made my ears ring. So this was what it sounded like when a roof beam collapsed. I needed to stay sharp.

[Fire Horse! Seven years have already passed! I wondered when you would come after entering with such a proper greeting, but I waited so long I thought the pillars would rot from their roots!]

Was it talking about the greeting I had offered when entering the playground? Good thing I had scored some points. Proper manners could save your life.

[Then have you come to receive what you failed to take!]

What I had failed to take?

My mind spun. If it had been seven years ago, the Corporation would have come...

‘Someone made a promise with a goblin, then postponed the payment?’

Either the Corporation or the person who had found the blue light had done something.

Would lying help here? Or should I be honest? In the goblin folktales I had just read, I clearly...

“I have come to receive it in their place.”

The old man with the lump had sung for the goblins, lied, and had his lump removed. Why could I not do the same?

Still, I was not brazen enough to lie without hesitation, so I slipped in the part about coming in someone else's place.

[Then offer one thing that was promised as well!]

I should not have lied. Please let me turn back time ten seconds.

I searched my body. My wallet? Transportation card? Phone?

Goblins would not like any of those, and they probably were not part of the promise anyway.

Reasoning and deduction.

Goblins liked mischief and might deceive people, but they understood transactions. The most valuable thing I had, something I could offer right now. Something the Corporation might offer as respect for a vanished mystery.

“...What I brought is inadequate, and I am ashamed to offer it. Still, I respectfully present it. Will this be enough?”

What I placed on the counter was the Offering Stone I had brought from Mangnyang Tunnel.

The thing that pulsed with a strange warmth rolled back and forth on its own as soon as it reached the counter.

[Excellent!]

A huge, hairy hand shot out from the darkness and snatched away the Offering Stone.

I clasped my hands and waited nervously.

[You are a child who keeps promises! I like you!]

It worked.

I did not know what exactly had worked, but it had.

“Then may I receive what is due?”

[Of course. Bring buckwheat jelly at the next seven-year mark. I am hungry now!]

A snort and booming laughter rang out. Several roof tiles slipped off and fell into the sand.

The hairy hand emerged from the counter again. It held something wrapped in patchwork cloth.

[Be on your way, you little liar!]

Huh?

I was dumbfounded.

But I was already holding the patchwork cloth, and the pavilion suddenly crumbled as though years had caught up with it... returning to its original form as a playhouse full of holes.

“...”

I stood there in a daze.

Had I just gotten myself screwed? I had received an item, and the goblin did not seem angry.

Hertz raised the volume of the frequency noise enough to snap me back to my senses.

There was no time to leisurely deduce things or inspect the item. I had to get out before the Corporation reached this place.

I crawled through the wire fence and ran in the opposite direction from the bus home. I found a bus for Seoul Station and got on.

I went through Seoul Station, ate breakfast there, wandered around until work, and did not get home until near the end of the workday.

I checked the item wrapped in patchwork cloth in my bag several times, worried it might disappear, but it remained there until I got home.

“Hertz.”

The moment I called out, the radio switched on by itself.

It had upgraded again. Good for it.

— Welcome back, Partner. You must have had a very long day.

Good. Hertz was safe too.

Only after I was sure everything was all right did I unwrap the cloth.

“What is this?”

It was a small octagonal blue-and-red silk lantern that could fit in my palm.

Its ribs were bronze instead of wood, covered in thin red-and-blue silk. It looked expensive. It was the right size for a child to carry, and lighter than its materials suggested.

“There is no manual... Of course there is not.”

Instead of a candle, it had an oil reservoir and wick inside.

I lit it as a test, and a blue flame flickered gently.

‘Is it just for lighting... No, it cannot be.’

— Partner? Where did you go?

“Hm? I am right here.”

— ...Partner?

‘It cannot see or hear me?’

I extinguished the flame.

— I thought my partner had suddenly learned to hide in shadows. Did you vanish somewhere and come back?

“Ah.”

I understood what the lantern was for.