“Korean…? You know how to write in Korean?”
When Taeseong looked at her, she beamed brightly and nodded vigorously.
‘Was the message she wanted to convey a thank-you?’
Since it was his first time encountering such a situation, Taeseong was quite flustered.
“What on earth is she thankful for?”
When she gestured toward his hand with her eyes, Taeseong extended his hand again.
Village.
For saving.
Thank you.
“Ah… Are you talking about that lunatic and the red mask in the forest?”
Nod.
“…How do you know how to write in Hangeul?”
In the past.
A Korean came here.
He taught me.
“A Korean?”
Nod.
Considering the proximity, it wasn’t impossible, though it did spark a bit of curiosity. A Korean teaching Korean to a ghost—what an intriguing thought.
“Do you know his name?”
“…”
After a moment of hesitation, the woman began writing slowly.
Taeseong read aloud the letters etched onto his palm one by one.
“Hong… Gil… Dong…?”
The woman nodded repeatedly.
Hong Gil-dong.
A name every Korean has likely heard at least once. A man of misfortune who couldn’t call his father “father” or his brother “brother.”
One of the most famous outlaws in Joseon history—or perhaps in all of Korean history.
Of course, the ‘Hong Gil-dong’ most Koreans know is a fictional character, an altruistic outlaw from a novel. Still, Taeseong also remembered the name.
The fact that he heard it from a foreign ghost made it all the more bewildering.
“A name I never expected to hear…”
The real question was whether this individual was the same as the one he knew. Considering how much he had seen of the world’s hidden truths, dismissing it as a mere coincidence seemed unlikely.
‘If everything said about him is true… it wouldn’t be surprising if he’s still alive.’
The Hong Gil-dong from the novel was depicted as a figure far beyond ordinary humans. A man with superhuman strength that could crush boulders with ease, control the wind, create multiple clones, and even master illusions, summoning, and exorcism.
‘He must’ve surpassed the bounds of humanity long ago. In terms of rankings, he’d at least be a Beta.’
The towering woman, who had been silently observing the contemplative Taeseong, locked eyes with him as he spoke.
“Come to think of it, what exactly are you? You seem different from the typical entities I know. Most malevolent spirits I’ve encountered have harbored blind malice toward humans. But you expressed gratitude to me. Why is that?”
“…”
With a faint, bittersweet smile, she stepped closer to Taeseong.
Had there been even a hint of malice in her actions, he wouldn’t have hesitated to strike. Yet, he merely watched as she approached.
“…!”
A cold chill enveloped Taeseong’s body.
Although Taeseong wasn’t small, her towering figure made him look like a child embraced by his mother.
‘What a curious sensation.’
The touch was undoubtedly cold, unmistakably that of the dead. Yet, as time passed, warmth spread through his entire body.
When Taeseong tilted his head upward, the woman lowered hers until their foreheads touched.
It was then that he realized the intent behind her actions.
Memories of the Eight-footed Ghost flowed into Taeseong’s mind.
“God, please bring peace to everyone in our village today as well. We are always grateful to you.”
After finishing her prayer, an old woman pulled rice and fruit from her bosom and placed them on the shrine’s altar.
Once the old woman left, the massive woman stealthily peeked out, gathering up the fruit piece by piece.
“Po. Po. Po.”
A small, hidden space deeper within the forest.
The master of the little shrine built for a nameless god was none other than the woman now present in Taeseong’s memories.
Back then, she wasn’t the Eight-footed Ghost people spoke of today but a tiny girl.
‘So this was her original form.’
The girl would sit in the same spot every day, watching the humans who came to visit.
Initially, she was a mere lowly creature without intelligence.
But as more humans came, she gradually gained the ability to think, eventually questioning their behavior.
“Po. Po. Po…”
Why do they pray so desperately?
I have no power.
I can’t grant their prayers.
And yet, eventually, one thought took root in her heart.
If I had power, I would fulfill their wishes.
As the seasons changed, the girl’s form slowly transformed into that of the woman Taeseong now knew.
The old, shabby shrine became tidy, and the altar overflowed with offerings.
They say miracles happen when human prayers gather.
The lowly spirit that once fed on men’s life force had been elevated to a ‘god’ thanks to the earnest prayers of the villagers who made this place their home.
Their daily pleas for family peace and the village’s prosperity accumulated, bringing about a miracle.
They created a god to grant their desires.
The god of fertility and abundance: Hojokami.
The name Eight-footed Ghost was merely a moniker from the ghost stories humans had spun. This was her true name.
Though her origins were humble, as a god, she sincerely cherished the villagers.
Man or woman, child or elder, regardless of gender or age—she treated them all as her children.
“Po. Po. Po.”
Still, her fondness for men remained. When a child came alone to the shrine, she would secretly share candies with him.
Even the elders of the village claimed to have seen the tall woman during their youth.
As time passed, the villagers revered her more, and her power grew stronger each day.
They are my children.
I am their mother.
Thanks to her endless devotion, akin to a mother’s love, the village thrived for centuries, more prosperous than ever. It felt as though this peace would last forever.
The little boy who once received her candies grew into a fine young man, married a good woman, had children, and passed away as an old man.
When she had witnessed this cycle dozens of times…
Her children stopped coming to her.
As science advanced and civilization evolved, they naturally forgot her with the passage of time.
“Po. Po. Po…”
Standing before the empty shrine, she murmured with a bitter smile.
When was the last time she saw a human?
It must have been ten years ago when loneliness drove her to descend to the village.
The shrine, abandoned for over a century, was thick with dust, and spiderwebs filled every corner.
The altar, once overflowing with offerings, was now unrecognizable.
Her once formidable power, which had kept even the most audacious of spirits at bay, had dwindled to the point of barely warding off minor specters.
Had she been forgotten entirely, even this faint remnant of her strength would have vanished, leaving her as prey for other spirits, destined to disappear.
However, thanks to her past ventures into the village, she had remained remembered—not as the god of prosperity, Hojokami, but as the “Eight-Foot Ghost” of local folklore, maintaining just enough power to survive.
A guardian deity who had protected her village for centuries now lived in fear of mere spirits.
By this point, it would be understandable if she resented the villagers who had forgotten her.
But such thoughts never crossed her mind.
To her, they were her children, and she was their mother.
Her only regret was that she could no longer protect them.
And so, tragedy came in its worst form.
One day, an onmyoji appeared, dedicating the forest she lived in to a snake god as a sacrificial altar.
A girl, driven mad by obsessive love, became a murderer who slaughtered the villagers.
“Po! Po!”
Oh, my children are dying.
Stop it. Please, stop it.
The grieving mother wept in anguish, but all she could do was use her frail body to resist until the end.
Thus, the village slowly perished.
“A guardian deity created through human prayers, huh…,” Taeseong murmured, astonished at the unexpected revelation.
“So, you were the village’s protector?”
“Po. Po. Po.”
“A mother figure, then…”
At that, Taeseong thought of his own mother.
Had she felt such pain when he had vanished from her life?
“That must have been hard.”
Perhaps because she had shown him her memories, or maybe due to the emotions transferred through them, Taeseong vividly felt the Eight-Foot Ghost’s emotions.
He understood her devotion to protecting this place, her love, and the torment she endured.
“I was going to subdue you, you know,” he said matter-of-factly.
“If you resisted, I planned to tear you apart.”
“Po! Po! Po!?”
“Don’t be alarmed; it was just my job.”
“Po. Po. Po…”
Her face, pale with shock, gradually softened into a relieved smile.
“But don’t worry. I’ve changed my mind.”
“…”
“I’ll let this slide. You don’t seem like a being that harms humans.”
“…”
“You can stay here and live as you wish. Now that the vermin are gone, it should be somewhat livable again. That’s the only favor I’ll grant you, though. I can’t stop the other managers of this land from coming here, so if you sense danger, you’d better hide yourself.”
But the Eight-Foot Ghost shook her head.
“What? Do you want me to kill you?”
She frantically shook her head and gestured for his hand.
“…You want to follow me?”
“Po! Po!”
Taeseong looked at her with bewilderment.
“…Why?”
This village… no longer needs me.
“…Neither do I.”
There’s no reason for me to stay here.
I want to follow you.
I want to stay by your side.
You are my savior.
I wish to repay that debt.
The Eight-Foot Ghost gazed at Taeseong with earnest eyes, her cheeks faintly tinged with red.
In the ensuing silence, Taeseong seemed momentarily flustered.
Finally, he spoke slowly.
“…Just so you know, I don’t like women taller than me. Especially if they’re spirits.”
That’s fine.
I only wish to be by your side.
“If you come with me, you won’t be able to roam freely like now. You’ll be confined to a containment facility, managed by the system forever. Are you really okay with that?”
The Eight-Foot Ghost smiled and nodded.
“Alright. If that’s what you want, I’ll allow it.”
For Taeseong, it wasn’t a bad deal. Capturing a former deity would undoubtedly boost his record.
‘The higher-ups will probably reward me for this.’
If he wanted to strengthen his position during negotiations with his superiors, he needed tangible achievements. Pleased with his plan, Taeseong smiled.
‘I’ll need deputy Lee Eunha’s help to handle this before other managers notice…’
Just then, he sensed movement. Taeseong turned around.
Voices echoed faintly from the distance.
“Unidentified entity detected ahead.”
“That must be the one who killed our guys.”
“…I don’t get it. At most, it’s a Delta-class. Why so much trouble?”
“There must be a reason. Don’t get cocky and finish it in one go.”
“Spare me the lecture.”
Before the last words faded, a man in a black suit leaped into the air.
With a single bound, he closed the distance, swinging a massive sword at the Eight-Foot Ghost’s neck.
The blade, easily over a meter long, moved as if it were a mere dagger in his hands.
“…”
As the blade neared her neck, Taeseong reacted a fraction of a second faster, kicking the attacker’s wrist to deflect the sword’s path.
The man landed lightly and scanned Taeseong, his expression hardening.
“Don’t tell me… you’re a manager from Joseon?”
“Looks like you’ve got a head just for decoration.”
“What?”
Taeseong shot forward like a cannonball, leaving a deep footprint behind.
“It’s not Joseon…”
The man barely had time to comprehend the situation before Taeseong’s kick sent him flying, rolling across the ground.
“It’s the Republic of Korea.”
