WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Chen

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◈ Incarnation of the Malevolent Star ◈

Chapter 1: Part 1 - Whispers of the Dark Brother (1)

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#0.

The boy was born alongside death.

Born together, death was the boy's brother.

#1.

Beneath a clear sky, in a courtyard washed in white sunlight, the boy kept pressing his finger into the yellow earth.

Squatting low, he jabbed the ground again and again with his fingertip.

Each time, a black Japanese wood ant beneath it was crushed to death.

One small death after another soaked the dry soil in bodily fluids, leaving stains that were tiny but distinct.

"Hoo..."

The boy was deeply absorbed in the deaths he was causing.

Killing something alive was so enjoyable. Even if it was only an insect.

The ants' movements changed.

Their language, carried on scent, warned them that a terrifying monster had appeared.

The worker ants clustered around the carcass of a gray rat scattered in alarm, while agitated soldier ants thrust their large heads in every direction, busily searching for their enemy.

The boy knew from experience that formic acid from ant stings made his skin itch and burn. He also knew that soldier ants' strong jaws could easily tear a young child's tender skin, and that it hurt quite a bit.

Still, their resistance only added to his enjoyment. Simply pressing them down and killing them without any variation was too monotonous.

Naturally, less monotonous pleasure was better than monotonous pleasure.

The experienced boy knew exactly how to confuse ants at times like this.

He gently scraped together the dirt speckled with little stains, then scattered it over the ants' heads like a shower.

Like sprinkling coarse salt over napa cabbage when making kimchi. Patter. Patter. Like that.

After doing it several times, he grabbed the rat by its tail and swept it back and forth. He showed no hesitation as he handled the dead rat.

With their sight and smell disrupted, the ants swept aside by the rat mistook it for a living enemy.

They poured their fierce rage onto the dead rat.

The boy kept sweeping with one hand while crushing the ants gathering around the rat with the other. With the poor eyesight of black Japanese wood ants, which could barely make out nearby movement, it was difficult for them to see through his deception...

"Onik. What are you doing there?"

At the old man's voice from behind him, the startled boy flung away the rat, sprang to his feet, and hurriedly turned around.

"Grandpa."

The boy's grandfather, Jo Jeong-ho, stood with his hands behind his back and looked at his grandson.

"Were you killing ants again?"

"..."

"I told you not to. No matter how small a creature may be, it isn't right to kill it for fun."

Onik, the old man's beloved grandson, lowered his head without a word.

"Child. Look at your grandpa."

At his grandfather's words, the boy cautiously raised his eyes.

Onik's clear gaze lifted toward his grandfather, wavered from side to side as if it had lost its way, then finally fell back to the ground.

To an outsider, he looked like a child who had done something wrong and could not meet an adult's eyes. But that was not the truth.

Onik had always found it difficult to meet anyone's gaze.

Jo Jeong-ho believed it was because the boy was shy and easily embarrassed.

'He's shy. It must be because he grew up without parents.'

The old man had raised his grandson since he was a newborn.

Onik's mother had died giving birth to him, and though his father was alive and well, he had not visited the boy even once since leaving him with the old man.

From the child's point of view, his father might as well not have existed in this world.

Even the name Onik had been given by his grandfather, not his father. It meant that he should grow into a person warm and helpful to others.

If Jo Jeong-ho had not pressed him, Onik's father, Jo Yun-beom, would surely have left without even properly registering his son's birth.

The old man could not understand the cold-hearted cruelty of his only son.

'I didn't raise that boy that way.'

For that reason, the old man found it hard to believe he was a good guardian. Had he not already failed terribly at raising a child once?

Not for a single moment had he believed he was filling even a little of the void his pitiful grandson must have felt from the absence of his parents.

The old man was poor at showing emotion. All he could do was quietly ache for his grandson.

But Onik's true feelings, as he stood awkwardly with his gaze lowered and the dead rat behind him, were entirely different from what the old man imagined.

'...I'm scared.'

He was scared of meeting his grandfather's eyes.

Not only that, he was scared of meeting anyone's eyes.

It was not that his grandfather or other people frightened him.

He feared the possibilities of murder he saw whenever he looked directly at his grandfather or anyone else, along with the dark urge that crawled up from inside him.

The dark urge whispered to him every time.

It told him to turn the possibilities he saw into action. It told him he had the ability to do it, and that both the process and the result would be very enjoyable...

That was why looking at his grandfather was the hardest and scariest thing of all.

Because he loved his grandfather.

Jo Jeong-ho knew nothing of his grandson's fear. That was why he could never bring himself to scold him.

Instead of reprimanding his grandson, the old man changed the subject.

"You did well catching the rat. Did you use your sling again?"

"Yes..."

"It always amazes me. You seem to have inherited all your great-grandfather's skill."

"..."

"Go wash your hands. Pastor Kim's second son said he was heading into town, so I asked him to buy you the hamburger you like. He called a little while ago and said he was by Yeoul Bridge, so he should be here soon."

"Yes, Grandpa."

After tossing the dead rat over the wall into the vegetable garden, Onik went to wash his hands at the outdoor tap beside the courtyard and reflected on what he had done.

'I let my guard down too much...'

Normally, his grandfather would not have returned at this time. Whenever he went out to check the fields, he usually did not come back until at least four in the afternoon.

At that time of year, that was his usual routine.

So Onik had completely let his guard down and immersed himself in his game when something unexpected happened.

Onik's senses were unusually sharp. Even at his young age, he recognized how different he was from other people, so clearly that he knew it was strange.

If he had not been so relaxed and absorbed, his grandfather would never have caught him playing his ant-killing game.

'...I mustn't get caught again.'

If his grandfather ever came to hate him, Onik would not be able to bear it.

Even so, he did not think about stopping the game.

He had to let out his desires through little games like this from time to time. Otherwise, the urge that constantly crawled up from deep inside him would grow too strong for him to handle.

That dark urge made him imagine murdering even the person he loved most in the world.

As Onik shook the water from his hands, the sound of a motorcycle exhaust, drawing nearer from afar, abruptly stopped at the front gate.

"Sir! Your delivery is here!"

Kim Yo-han, Pastor Kim's second son, cheerfully opened the gate and stepped inside. When he spotted Onik, he waved happily.

"Oh, Onik! Hi!"

"Hello, hyung."

There was more than a twenty-year age difference between Yo-han and Onik.

Even so, Onik called him hyung because that was proper in this village.

In a village so old that even the Village Youth Association President was over fifty, a teenage boy and a man in his thirties were both considered about equally young.

The way people addressed one another naturally followed the village's view of them.

Kim Yo-han, one of the few truly young people in the village, had an excellent reputation, as did his father, Pastor Kim, whose occupation was pastor and whose name was also Moksa. Both spared no effort in helping elderly people with limited mobility.

That help included all kinds of errands.

The remote village had only six buses a day and no supermarket where people could buy necessities. The elderly, who found it difficult to go into town every time they needed something, relied heavily on the father and son from the church.

Even Onik's grandfather, who was still healthy, did not refuse the help offered to him.

"Thank you, as always."

Jo Jeong-ho, who had been sitting in the shade of the wooden porch, stepped into the sunlight and accepted the bag Yo-han held out to him.

"Take care on your way. There have been a lot of feral dogs lately."

"Yes, sir. You be careful too. Onik, enjoy your meal."

Jo Jeong-ho did not pay Yo-han before he left. Instead, he added the payment to the cost of later errands and put it all in the church offering box at once.

The kind-hearted Pastor Kim went around telling the village elders this:

"God has commanded me to serve, and I obey Him. So you may render payment to God according to your heart and circumstances."

This unusual arrangement based on trust was also consideration for several poor elders. It was a thoughtful way of telling them to pay only what they could, according to their conscience, if things were truly difficult.

That was why Jo Jeong-ho usually gave a generous offering that included payment for the labor. He also attended church every week and joined the service, despite not being a church member.

Given that the arrangement at Pastor Kim's church continued without trouble, there were probably many villagers besides Jo Jeong-ho who put their gratitude into their offerings.

At least, Jo Jeong-ho believed so.

The motorcycle's exhaust note faded into the distance.

Jo Jeong-ho beckoned to his only grandson.

"Come. Let's eat together before it gets cold."

"Yes, Grandpa."

Grandfather and grandson sat on the shaded wooden porch and ate their hamburgers.

The Lotteria Classic Cheese Burger was one of Onik's favorite foods.

Lotteria was the only hamburger chain in town, so he had never tried hamburgers from another chain. Still, Onik firmly believed this Classic Cheese Burger was the best hamburger in the world.

It was the hamburger he had eaten during his first meal out with his grandfather.

His taste had never changed since that day.

"You really do enjoy it."

His grandfather felt pleased as he watched his grandson eat well.

"You always eat the same thing. Don't you get tired of it?"

"Not at all."

The wind rushed by.

It was hot, so every door and window of the main house had been left open. The breeze from the foot of the mountain flowed through the inner room and over the wooden porch. The cooing of a mountain dove came with it.

As Onik chewed on the world's best hamburger, his eyes settled on a framed certificate hanging on the wall of the inner room.

"Certificate of Decoration"

"The late Jo Yang-jin"

"For having made great contributions to our nation's independent sovereignty and national development, the following decoration is hereby posthumously bestowed in accordance with the Constitution of the Republic of Korea."

"Order of Merit for National Foundation, Patriotic Medal"

"August 15, 1990. President Roh Tae-woo. Prime Minister Kang ○○. Minister of Government Administration Lee ○○."

Jo Yang-jin was Onik's great-grandfather and Jo Jeong-ho's father.

Beside the framed decoration certificate of independence activist Jo Yang-jin hung another frame.

"Veteran Service Certificate"

"Jo Jeong-ho"

"You are awarded this certificate in honor of your service in the Vietnam War, where you devoted yourself to defending liberal democracy and advancing national development."

"October 22, 2001. President Kim Dae-jung. Minister of Patriots and Veterans Affairs Lee ○○."

After gazing at both frames, Onik spoke to his grandfather.

"Grandpa."

"Yes?"

"Please tell me about Great-Grandpa again."

"You want to hear that again? You've heard it enough to memorize every word."

"I like hearing it again and again. Please tell me."

"Honestly..."

Jo Jeong-ho made a helpless face, then granted his grandson's request.

"Ever since he was young, your great-grandfather was famous throughout the village for being almost ghostly with a sling. Before he had grown up, he was a troublemaker who went around secretly killing other people's chickens for no reason. Once he grew up, though, he became an independence fighter who smashed the heads of Japanese bastards and traitorous collaborators..."

A sling was a stone-throwing tool.

In Jo Jeong-ho's recollections, the independence activist Jo Yang-jin had been a ghostly sniper.

He twisted the cords himself to make his sling, then used it to beat invaders and collaborators to death. It was easy to make and conceal, and it made little noise, which made it a highly suitable tool for assassination, except that it was extremely difficult to master.

Jo Yang-jin was said to have been able to aim precisely at a person's head and burst it from a distance of fifty jang, around 150 meters. Calling him a sniper was no exaggeration.

Jo Jeong-ho said, "If the Japanese Empire had not banned stone fighting while claiming it was trying to civilize the Korean people, he might have become known as the greatest stone fighter in all eight provinces. Not a name the eldest descendant of a family line ought to make for himself, though."

If everything in the memorandum Jo Yang-jin had left behind was true, the number of Japanese soldiers and police, officials, and pro-Japanese collaborators whose heads he had smashed came to no fewer than sixty-seven. Few among even the most distinguished independence fighters could compare.

Even so, he had received only the Patriotic Medal because the claims had been difficult to verify.

"If he had belonged to some organization, there might have been records on their side... But he always acted alone. He also wandered all across the country so the Japanese police couldn't pick up his trail."

An assassin who worked alone, without any connection to anyone else, was truly difficult to trace. Even more so when their area of activity was broad.

One bastard in Gyeongseong a little over a month ago.

One in Gwangju twenty days ago.

One in Busan today.

Because he killed them at scattered times and places like that, the Japanese police often treated each murder as an isolated case.

Stone throwers who bore grudges against the Japanese Empire could be found anywhere in Korea's eight provinces, and enraged Koreans beating Japanese people to death was also a frequent occurrence throughout the country.

There were also many cases where he killed under cover of darkness and hid the bodies well enough that they were simply treated as disappearances.

Onik's eyes quietly shone as he listened to his grandfather.

'That's so cool.'

He had long since memorized it all, but every time he heard it, the story felt new and interesting.

Onik deeply admired his great-grandfather, Jo Yang-jin.

It was not because he had fought against Japan.

It was simply because the man in the old stories was such an ideal murderer.

He was meticulous and skillful at killing people and concealing his tracks. The fact that those killings had even earned him respect felt especially precious to Onik.

By comparison, the struggle against Japan did not particularly move young Onik's heart.

At times, Onik imagined himself as the independence activist Jo Yang-jin. He imagined being born during the Japanese occupation, killing people who were allowed to be killed, and eventually being loved by many people.

'Could Great-Grandpa have been someone like me?'

A thought he could never dare say aloud lingered in the lonely boy's mind as he admired his great-grandfather.

'Grandpa said he used to kill chickens for no reason when he was young, so maybe he enjoyed killing things, just like me...'

If there was one flaw in the life Onik saw in his great-grandfather, it was that he had not received proper recognition from later generations.

That remained an enduring regret for Jo Jeong-ho as well.

"It could not be helped that the officials doubted whether the records were real... I would have done the same in their place."

There were, surprisingly, quite a few cases in which independence activists, particularly those who followed armed struggle, exaggerated their activities. They were people too. It was also a means of winning struggles for leadership among independence activists.

Of the sixty-seven righteous acts recorded in Jo Yang-jin's memorandum, only three had been verified.

As he listened to his grandfather's old story, Onik thought, 'Someday, I want to hear Grandpa's war stories too.'

But he could not say that aloud either.

A few years ago, when Onik had been younger than he was now, he had asked his grandfather about the Vietnam War for the first and last time.

When the boy kept asking after his grandfather had gently refused, Jo Jeong-ho spoke in an uncharacteristically cold voice.

"No."

Startled by the voice, Onik had glanced at his grandfather's face and been startled again by his expression.

The shocked boy immediately lowered his gaze and hunched his shoulders. Seeing that, Jo Jeong-ho softened his voice a little to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, child. But I don't think it's a story I should tell you."

"...Why?"

"This old man served his country there... But it was not a fight I could always take pride in."

The old man gave no further explanation after that, and Onik never asked his grandfather about the war again.

Onik found it difficult to look directly at his grandfather's face, but that did not mean he did not want to see it.

The child, lonely without parents, was very sensitive to the feelings of his only family member. He could not stare for long, but he often stole glances at him.

That was why the memory of that day had been carved deeply into Onik's mind.

It was the first time he had seen his grandfather's face turn so stern, and he had not seen such a stern expression again since.

In another way, that memory held a different meaning for Onik.

'A killing that isn't something to be proud of...'

His grandfather's killing that was not something to be proud of, set against the proud killings of the independence activist Jo Yang-jin.

If Onik himself were someday swept away by the dark urge and committed a killing that was not something to be proud of, a killing that was simply wrong.

If his grandfather then hated him with that same stern face...

Onik would never be able to bear it.

That fear was the greatest obstacle keeping Onik from looking directly at anyone other than his grandfather.

Footnotes:

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