~死というものは簡単だったら人間は暮らしまないと思うが…~
“Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra. Avada-” The words of the oh-so-simple spell echoed about a dark room filled with the soft sounds of rustling from various creatures wondering what the child was about. It was spoken like a chant, a prayer whispered into the darkness of the night. Boy 7812 had not been bought a wand yet, but that hadn’t stopped him from reading as much about magic as he could. They had said he was too young to control his magic, but Boy 7764 had shown him the forbidden book he’d stolen before he…. Of the three Unforgivable Curses, the Killing Curse had entranced him the most, and every day since he’d been eight he had come to this room to practice controlling his 애기 마법 (baby magic), as they called it – and to say those words over and over again. It was almost time. It was almost time. They were going out to buy his wand tomorrow. It would be his first time out with minimal supervision. The only time he’d ever get if he did not earn back the name 대 어머니 had bestowed upon him when he’d arrived – or would have, had he not already had a name, unlike the others. His first chance… but maybe also his last.
He muttered the spell well into the night, picturing in his mind the moment of his freedom. Only when light began filtering through the thin windows set high up in the walls did he return surreptitiously to his rooms, creeping past the guards as he had learned to do over the years. He did not sleep that night, though, too filled with a feeling that was not quite excitement and not quite dread. When they fetched him a few hours later to the Apparate Room, his unassuming brown eyes were glued to the ceiling. He had been out before, with the other boys, but only for field trips or official occasions and in both cases all the supervisors were on high alert. But because of the unpredictability of wand selection, they only ever sent one boy at a time to get his wand. Wand selection couldn’t be done by proxy and only one person was allowed to accompany them. At least, that’s what he had heard from the older boys. What he had heard from Boy 7764.
Yoo Seon-seng-nim awaited him impatiently. Yoo Seon-seng-nim was the mentor of the 12 boys in his group, and had never shown any indication that he liked any of them. He was not a bully by any standards, more of the type who hated his job and never let anyone forget that fact. He wore a perpetual tiny scowl on his face even as he gripped Boy 7812 by the upper arm and unceremoniously Apparated them outside a dark and very dilapidated temple whose name had long been forgotten. That was, of course, intentional – several networks of spells having been set up since time immemorial so that the 마없사 (마법을 없는 사람 – people without magic) would leave it alone. No one knew why it had been set up in the first place, but it was well-known now as a shelter site for Korean mages during Japanese occupation. That should have made it a tourist attraction, but it was too close to the border – contested territory. Only one man had the madness to set up shop in the sacred site, and he did not like armed customers. Wands were born in that shop and sent out into the world. They did not come in.
It was with this sparse knowledge and desperate hope that 7812 stepped inside a cavernous space that had once been the main hall of a Confucian Temple. From the outside, it appeared to be dusty, covered in cobwebs, and utterly abandoned. Upon stepping across the threshold, however, rows and rows of large shelves seemed to materialize in the empty space. The bookshelves were elegant, delicate structures of wood, but every spindly shelf was pristine and polished, filled with neat stacks of wand-boxes. The once-dulled paintings upon the ceiling were now full of life, majestic dragons snarling down at them in the warm, golden glow that seemed to permeate the room without any specific light source. 7812’s eyes opened wide and he stopped, unable to take another step. Though no particular lover of art at age 11, the room itself was a revelation. It was nothing like anything he had encountered before, and he got the distinct feeling he would never see anything quite like it again.
A loud cough from the far left of the room brought him back to earth. Not far in front of him, in front of the rows of shelves, was a low display table. It looked like it might have held the same spindly style as the shelves, but it was covered with a tablecloth of shimmering grey silk upon which lay four enormous wands of unstinted beauty. The cough had come from the most crotchety old man he’d ever seen, standing in front of an extravagant desk of black lacquer wood in-laid with mother-of-pearl. It was a distinctly Korean style that was probably worth millions. The man had brown skin and a mass of wrinkles and had his hands crossed behind his back casually, shoulders slumped forward slightly. He was eyeing the boy speculatively. Yoo Seon-seng-nim gave him a bow, but otherwise remained deferentially silent. The revered Wandmaker had a process with all the children who came to get wands from him. No one really understood it, but it was like he could spear you with one glance and just… know. 7812 shifted uncomfortably under the beady gaze, but he had been told what to expect beforehand: Do not speak with the wandmaker. The wandmaker will evaluate you and gesture you closer to the display table. You will hold your hand over each of the four wands presented and wait for instructions. It was the oddest thing the boy had ever heard of, but he obeyed, little knowing there would be days where he would look back and wonder if this precise moment had changed his fate for good.
The old man looked him over for a long moment, then pointed to the display table. It was odd. With other elders, they were expected to greet politely then listen. Adults were never this quiet. It unnerved him a little, but he straightened his spine a little and tightened his lips. He had to buck up if he was going to do what he was going to do. His right hand hovered over the first wand. Like the other three, it was as long as his entire arm. It was a sparkling, bright blue and carved along the entire length was the likeness of a curling dragon. It was impossible for him to say what kind of wood had been used as its base, since it looked to the boy as if it had been carved from some kind of cloudy stone. His hand did not move, but his eyes wandered to the next three: a flaring peacock-like bird in a burning, red wood; a lithe wand of marble white, with dark stripes ringing it, the symbol of a king emblazoned onto a hilt of gaping, roaring jaws; and the last a long black snake whose end wrapped around a tortoise of the same, light-drowning black, surface smooth as stone.
“다음.” (Next.) The old man’s low growl of a voice startled the boy, who hastily moved his hand. The great red wand next twitched as his hand passed it, but in his haste 7812 had moved his hand too far and the black wand leaped to life, a black streak of mini lightning sparking from its tip to his palm. The strike was actually painful, and 7812 jerked his hand back, pressing his left thumb into his stinging palm. For a moment he thought he saw the snake’s coils writhe and the turtle’s jaw snap shut with a sinister whisper of a laugh. He turned a slightly betrayed look on his teacher and the old shop keeper, only to find Yoo Seon-seng-nim’s eyebrows disappearing into his hairline and the old man staring daggers into his skull. “현무 인가…” (Hyeonmu, is it?)
What was that supposed to mean?! But before he could ponder the old man’s strange words, self-same old man ambled closer at a surprising speed. How could one look as though they were moving so slow, yet travel so quickly. Too late, he was right in front of 7812’s face, and it was impossible to avoid him. The boy met his eyes with an uneasy defiance. The older man was intimidating, and he could not pretend he was not a little cowed, but he would not be cowed into submission, at least. For a long minute, the two of them simply stared at each other. The old man searching for something, 7812 refusing to back down.
Finally, the wandmaker muttered something to himself in grumpy Korean before turning towards the shelves. “따라와.” (Follow me.) He rumbled at the kid, ambling off into the shelves to the right with his hands still folded behind his back. He seemed to have a perfect idea of where he was going, even though it became clearer and clearer to the teen following him that the airy shelves were deeper than he had supposed at first. He went deep into the belly of the beast, and only when they reached the very ends of the shelves did he alter his course, turning to the right. The end of the shelves revealed a generally simple wooden desk with papers sorting themselves, a small tool carefully chopping wood into approximately the correct shape. The man went past that too and to a small door which opened up into more shelves, but fewer now, and sturdier in style. The wand boxes looked no different from the ones in the outer room, but were less neatly fitted together. It was like a storage room.
They came to a shelf that looked like any other and finally they stopped altogether. The teen looked blankly at his elder. His elder didn’t look back, solemnly surveying the messy shelves. “손 들고 기다려. 지팡이는 너를 찾을 거야.” (Raise your hand and wait. The wand will find you.)
This old fart got weirder and weirder by the second. 7812 almost blurted, “나를?” (Me?) but caught himself in time. No talking to the wandmaker. He understood now why that was a rule. It almost felt like just the act of trying would cause a curse to settle upon him. Obediently, the boy lifted his hand tentatively up the shelves, not certain what was about to happen. He wasn’t left waiting. Something to the right gave a mighty thump. The old man stepped back and let his customer make his own way to the source of the sound. He raised his hand again. Another thump, closer, stronger. Closer and closer he went, until he raised his hand and reached out to grab a simple black box no different from the others. As if in a trance, he opened the lid of the box, only to have the thin stick of wood inside snatched away.
“천리마 깃, 산사나무, 서른 센티미터. 넌… 나쁜 놈 이지.” (Chollima feather, Hawthorn, 30 cm. You’re… a bad little bastard, aren’t you?) The crazy old mage gave a dark laugh and lifted his handiwork to the light and the boy finally got a good look at his future wand. It was black and shaped to look longer than it was, thin and tapering. The handle was shaped sort of like a long feather or a billowing cloud. Besides that, the wand was plain, but it somehow still gave its future owner the impression that it was a rebellious sort. They would probably suit well after all. As he took it in his hands it struck him how light it felt, yet how solid. It gave him confidence. He could do this. With a wand like this… he could. He caught the old man eyeing him, but all the creepy gramps did was offer him a funny leather pouch. “이거또 아마 피료할거야.” (You’ll probably need this, too.) It was a wand holster. The two of them walked back even as the old man skillfully demonstrated how to thread the holster onto his belt.
By the time they got back, Yoo Seon-seng-nim was the picture of barely-contained impatience, and he did not hesitate to take ahold of Boy 7812 again, dragging him off again, away from the magic of the strange shop. The boy stared backwards at the shop until he was yanked over the threshold, and the magnificent rows of wands and the crazy old man you weren’t allowed to talk to vanished in an instant, a memory to be treasured. They were getting closer and closer to the area of the temple where one could Apparate and 7812 was running out of time. He could feel his pulse speeding up, his palms growing sweaty. The shadows cast by the trees felt at once assuring and oppressive. They turned a corner out of sight of the wandmaker’s shop, and the boy’s fingers curled around the hilt of his new weapon. He lifted it shakily, pointed it straight at his mentor and spat, “Avada-“
“Kedavra.” There was a flash of green light, and the small body of a bird fell at the boy’s feet. The teen was shaking, but the second word had not come from his mouth, but instead floated through the air in the collected, sharp voice of a woman. His entire body was trembling as he looked up towards the source of the voice and saw an austere looking woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. Her wand was still in her hand, and it was a creepy, spiky affair, carved in a sort of dark, reddish wood. It was with a sort of numb shock that the boy saw a wand holster similar to his own hanging from a belt loosely slung around her waist, despite his mentor not being in possession of one. Though she had just brandished her wand to kill, she stood with her back perfectly straight, and her eyes cold as ice. “그아이는 누군야?” (Who is this kid?)
Where had she come from? Yoo Seon-seng-nim was quickly recovering from the shock of his attempted murder, but whoever this lady was ranked higher than him, because he restrained himself. “칠팔일이 번 이에요.” (Number 7812.) He told her, eyeing the still-raised wand in the boy’s hands.
“칠팔일이? 이름이 아찍또 없는야?” (7812? He still doesn’t have a name yet?)
She had asked the question to the other adult, but still running a bit on adrenaline, the boy snarled at her, “없내~” (I don’t) He protracted the last syllable mockingly, staring her straight in the face, breathing hard. His mentor’s face curled into one of anger, but the woman held up her hand coolly. She didn’t even bother to look at Yoo Seon-seng-nim, meeting the boy’s eyes in an almost careless manner.
Quite suddenly, her lips lifted in a wicked smile. “아~ 칠팔일이! 너 재형 이죠.” (Ahh.. 7812! You’re Jae-hyeong, aren’t you?) Both males stared at her with the same horrified shock you might give someone suggesting you drink from a catheter. 7812’s mouth went dry, rendered speechless. No one had called him that since he was 5. He only ever heard it when he was reminded of it during his annual meeting with 대 어머니.
He opened his mouth to try saying something, but his mentor ended up speaking first, “누님-“
누님?! The boy had never heard the older man refer to anyone with an honorific title like that. Finally, the words he had been trying to speak stammered their way out of the boy’s mouth, a bit later than intended. “어-어-없다고 말 했잖아!!” (I said I didn’t!!) Both adults turned to look at him.
Yet again, his teacher looked angry, and the crazy bitch looked pleased. She threw back her head and laughed. “엄마 말이 맞다, 말이 맞어.” (Mom was right. She was right.) More shocking words were coming out of her mouth. No one ever called their revered leader “엄마” like that. She pointed a finger straight at Boy 7812 and declared, “너 좋다. 지금부터 넌 내 아들이야.” (You are good. From now on, you are my son.)
“누님!” The older man protested more strongly, snapping at her.
“봉팔!” She snapped right back. “내가 왜 여기 있고 생각하지 않겠어? 그 아이는 아마… 내 선물요.” (Bongpal. Didn’t you think of why I’m here? That kid is… probably my present) His mouth snapped shut, and he turned crimson, face contorting with a mixture of rage and embarrassment. It was a good look for him. The woman turned her attention back to the boy. “재형이. 난 류 용강.” (Jae-hyeong. I’m Ryu Yong-gang) Yong gang? That was a weird name. “아니. 柳龍江だ。」 (No, it’s Yanai Tatsue) The switch to Japanese was so fluid that he almost tripped over himself. Too much was happening too fast, he could hardly keep up. His teacher looked equally overwhelmed, angry, and confused. At the very least he seemed to know who this bitch was. She was plowing on, paying no attention at all to the discord she was causing the two guys. 「私は韓国人じゃないさ。お前のお母さんと同じね～」(I’m not Korean. Just like your mother, hmm?) Well, he’d been epically wrong when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, though thankfully at least his teacher looked confused now.
Lightly tipping his chin up with her fingers she grinned and leaned closer, whispering so that only he could hear. 「そうだよ。知ってるさ。君はただの雑種犬だって。それだからこそ君は一番ふさわしい。今日から、あの呪文をちゃんと絶たられるまでに君は私のものだ。そして、いずれ私を殺して、この組と一緒に空を超えて行け。」(That’s right. I know. About you being a mixed-breed mutt. That is precisely why you are the most suitable. From today on, until the day you can properly cast that spell, you are mine. So, someday kill me, and together with this group surpass the sky.) She sprung back and laughed again. “봉팔너 빨리 돌아 가라. 아들 – 류 재형이, 나를 빨리 따라와. 할 일이 많이 있어.” (Bongpal. Hurry up and go back. My son – Ryu Jae-hyeong, you hurry up and follow me. We have many things to do)
Notes:
1. Bongpal is Yoo Seon-seng-nim’s first name.
2. Seon-seng-nim is a title used for a teacher.
3. 누님 is a title meaning big sister, but as one might expect in a gang, not necessarily a biological old sister.
4. 대 어머니 means “great mother” but in this case is also being used as a title (albeit a somewhat unusual one).
(Original date written unknown as it is saved from a site no longer running.)