Young-hee and the Pullocho (8 page)

“Me and my rabbit friend. I'm sorry, but I didn't ask your name.”

“Quite all right,” said the rabbit. “Call me Kkiman.”

“Kkiman says that the magician that owns him will eat him tonight. Can we do something?”

Boonae looked down at the cage, unimpressed. “What kind of rabbit allows himself to be captured by a common magic man? Most magicians I know couldn't trick a tiger, let alone a rabbit.”

“That is true,” said Kkiman, looking a bit ashamed. “My father always said I was the least tricky rabbit he ever knew, and would end in a pie. ‘Shameful,' he would say. It's a miracle Mrs. Kkiman agreed to marry such useless rabbit. But even Kwon never would have gotten me if I hadn't needed medicine for Soon-ja, my littlest kit. I let fears override good sense. I got the medicine, but missed nuances to my deal with the shaman.”

“Obligations cannot easily be undone,” Boonae confirmed. “If what he says is true, it would take more than a key to free him.”

Young-hee was pondering Kkiman's plight, when a gruff shout caused her to jump. “What's this?” said the short, frizzy-haired man rushing toward her. “Have the ladies seen something they like?” Kwon asked, donning a fake smile that utterly failed to ingratiate.

Young-hee remembered how her mother bargained with the old women at the real-world market, and how important she said it was to hide how much you want something and treat it like something you don't care about. “Well, I was looking for some simple magic powders,” Young-hee said. “My friend and I are going on a long trip and we'll need something, uh, for energy.” Young-hee saw Kwon frown and worried,
Maybe that's not what magic powders do.

“Surely I can help you out,” Kwon said, rummaging through his wares. “As you see, old Kwon has all sorts of powders and potions. Ground ogre horn mixed with lotus seeds would allow you to travel at your best speed without sleeping for days.”

“That might work,” said Young-hee, trying to look cool. “Although I prefer my magic to be living. It's more potent than some old powders, don't you think?”

“Perhaps,” said Kwon, trying to suss out his odd customer, “you have something in mind?”

“Well, I noticed that old rabbit. He might do.”

“Oh, that foolish rabbit,” he scowled. “I've been trying to sell him for weeks. But no one wants him, so I've decided he's best served in a stew. In a few hours, I should have plenty to share.”

Kkiman shook in fear, but Young-hee pretended not to notice. “Hrm, I don't much like the taste of rabbit,” Young-hee said. “Especially a frightened one like yours. But my friend here has a good recipe for powdered rabbit bones.”

“I've not heard of any such thing.”

“That doesn't mean it isn't really good,” said Young-hee fishing through her pockets. “Now, how much would you like for him?”

“Well … he was going to be my dinner. But I supposed I could let him go for … ten jungbo.”

Young-hee suddenly realized she had no idea how money worked in that place.
So annoying
, she thought. She looked at the money from her pocket—two 5,000-won bills and some coins. “Uh, I have a little over 10,000 won?”

“
Won
? What's a
won
?” said the magician. “Don't waste my time, girl.”

“Boonae? Would you have any… uh, jungbo?”

“I'm so sorry, Young-hee, but I just gave all my money for a big shipment of new lanterns.”

Young-hee dug into her other pocket, but found only a puffy hair scrunchy from a silly craft project using leftover fabrics—and it was not one of her better designs.

“What's this?” said Kwon, taking the hair band. He held it up to the light, tugging the elastic.

“It's just …” she started to say, but stopped herself. If the magician liked it, who was she to discourage him? “It's an old family heir-loom, very rare.” Kwon found one of Young-hee's hairs stuck in the hair band, which only excited him more.

“I'll trade you the rabbit for this, straight and even,” he said eagerly.

Young-hee shrugged. She didn't understand this place at all. “Deal.” The old magician took a ring of keys from an inside pocket and opened Kkiman's cage. The rabbit stuck his nose out tentatively, sniffed the air, then made a big jump to freedom.

“Oh, thank you, Miss Young-hee, ever so much!” he exclaimed as he danced about. He looked so happy, Young-hee laughed.

“Yes, quite impressive, for someone's first visit to a goblin market,” said Boonae. “How did you know Kwon would trade on sentimental value?”

“I had no idea. None,” said Young-hee. It felt so genuinely satisfying to help someone, especially someone so nice. “Can we help get your medicine, too?”

“Medicine?” Kkiman asked, looking confused, until memory clicked in and made his eyes sparkle. “Oh, yes, for my little one. I'm sure my lovely wife Soon-ja has found something by now. I'll just hurry home and check. I do love them so.”

Young-hee glared at Kkiman. “You said Soon-ja was your baby's name.”

“No-no-no, you misunder …, I mean, I misspoke. Of course I know my wife's …” his voice trailed off.

“You don't have a wife and baby,” said Young-hee.

“Well, not exactly. I do have a couple of litters, but their mothers and I are not terribly close.”

Young-hee thought him the least guilty-looking liar she had ever seen. She thought of several creative ways of telling him off and forcing an apology. But all she said was “Feh. Oh, just go.”

“Very good, I think I shall,” he said. But just as he took a step, Kkiman stopped. “I hope you will not be too angry. The magic man was going to eat me. And I do appreciate being freed. Here, please take this.” The rabbit reached into his fur and pulled out, as if from a pocket, a bracelet, a tangle of flowers knitted into a pattern, as intricate as it was beautiful. “Please, take it. I owe you for your generosity.”

Young-hee stood, hands firmly at her sides.

“It is a gift in exchange for a debt,” said Boonae. “It is safe to take.”

Young-hee didn't want the rabbit out of her debt. But she could feel Boonae and Kkiman waiting, growing more uncomfortable. “Fine, I'll take it,” she said, holding out her hand. “Thank you,” she added with reflexive, but instantly regretted courtesy, since she was definitely not thankful.

Kkiman hopped off. “And thank you, Miss Young-hee. It is a beautiful day not to be a stew.” And just like that, he was lost in the market throngs. Kwon made a scoffing sound, but otherwise ignored them.

Young-hee looked at the bracelet some more. It looked delicate and felt like real flowers, but seemed incredibly strong with the solidity of silver.

“It is a special gift,” noted Boonae. “I rarely see floral-silver of this quality.”

That was something, she thought, admiring it in the light, and then put it on her wrist. It did look pretty. “What a jerk,” she said.

“You mustn't get too upset, Miss Young-hee,” said Boonae. “He is a rabbit. That's what rabbits do. They tell tales, they get caught, then, they tell more tales to get free.
His words have bones
, is what folks say about his kind. You're lucky he did not convince you to eat hot coals—rabbits have been known to do that. They are very tricky.”

“
Feh
,” Young-hee repeated. “
Jigyeowo
.”

Boonae had an errand, so Young-hee walked through more stalls filled with more strange and amazing goods. At the end of one row, Young-hee spotted something much more interesting than any roots or drawings—a rickety, wooden stall full of fragrant cookies and cakes.
Now this is quality
, she thought. The merchant was a particularly homely dokkaebi, more squat than most, wearing old, sagging linens that said he didn't care about clothes at all. Which was fine with Young-hee, who didn't care about his clothes either. Just the food. “Wow,” she said, “what is all this?”

“Just some simple pies and cakes, m'lady,” said the dokkaebi, preparing to launch into a great sales pitch, when he did a double take. “Oh my, you're a bear child. A human female, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Yeah, that's right. People seem fascinated by that.”

He looked at her hard for a moment, calculating, and then all at once seemed to lose interest. “It's not my business. I just don't see many of your kind, is all. Is the old stone your master?”

“My master? You mean Grandma Dol? She's my friend, I guess. The jangseung in the forest just introduced us.”

“Jangseung,
pah
,” spat the dokkaebi. “Uptight, self-important prigs, thinking they control who comes and goes. Never trust 'em. You can be sure they are only nice for their own reasons. Besides, there are other gates the jangseung don't protect.” The goblin rooted in some boxes stacked under a cracked wood shelf, before finding a package wrapped in simple, gray cotton. A pull on the cloth corner revealed a stack of
yakgwa
honey biscuits. “Here, take one. They're quite good. And just one cookie will keep you full for a year.”

Full for a year,
she thought,
pretty amazing.
Would it work in her world, too? “Wow, that's pretty neat,” she said. “But will I just feel full, or actually be full?”

“I can guarantee that for the whole year, you would be satiated and healthy,” said the dokkaebi, waving the biscuits before Young-hee. They smelled rich and flavorful.

Intrigued, she reached for them.
Surely, one taste wouldn't hurt?

But just before she touched the cookie, a stony, chalky hand reached from behind and gently grasped her wrist. “What he means,” said Grandma Dol—and despite the Boonae mask, it was clearly her—“is that if you take just one, you will belong to him for a year. You would be taken care of and well-nourished, but bound to him.”

“If I ate just one?”

“If you ate just one bite. If you even took it. All exchanges contain obligations, even gifts. You cannot take something without giving something else.”

The dokkaebi shot Grandma Dol an angry look, its fleshy, gray lips quivering slightly. “She would have been safe, interfering rock,” he said. “Is that any worse than what you have planned?”

On hearing the accusation, a suddenly straighter, taller Grandma Dol glared at the goblin. “That is quite enough of your nonsense, goblin. Our business is done.”

The dokkaebi's lip curled in anger as he grumbled foully. But he retreated into his stall.

“I'm sorry for that, Young-hee. Not all creatures here are as honorable as we would like.”

As Grandma Dol led Young-hee away, the narrowness of her escape grew clearer by the minute. She could have been stuck in this world for a year. Or longer. Who knows if the dokkaebi would have ever let her go? And then she thought the dokkaebi, too, had a point—she didn't really know her new companions—except what they had told her. How could she know if they were honest? What if they had something terrible planned for her, like the goblin?

“This place is so scary,” Young-hee said, as worry tapped across her brow. “Please keep a closer eye on me. This is your world, and I don't know its dangers.” Young-hee was unsure where all this bitterness was coming from, but once out, she couldn't stop it. “It's kind of irresponsible,” she charged.

The face and posture of Boonae or Grandma Dol were neither upset nor angry. They remained polite as ever. And yet … Young-hee felt them growing colder and more distant.

“I am sorry you feel that way,” said Grandma Dol, or Boonae—or both. “If you do not think we have behaved appropriately, we do apologize. Perhaps it is best if we left now.”

Young-hee knew she had offended them. She had been scared, but it was too late. “I should probably go home,” she said, half-heartedly. “I've been here quite a while. My mom is probably worried. I should go back. If I can.”

“That is your choice. But maybe it is for the best.”

So Grandma Dol led Young-hee back to grove of jureum trees, where the jangseung stood guard. As they walked in silence, Young-hee felt a soft, persistent ache of regret in her chest. After wishing for escape from all the boredom and sameness, she had finally gotten the excitement she craved. But she ruined it, in just a few hours. She wished she could explain to the old stone woman how she felt:
Sometimes people just react badly, especially when scared or hurt
.
And getting angry doesn't mean someone's a bad person
. She wondered if the old stone woman was offended by her outburst, or hadn't liked Young-hee all along. It was too depressing to think about, so Young-hee did her best not to think at all.

Soon they came to the jangseung, standing guard at the edge of the forest. Behind them was the dark wooden door embedded in the massive tree root. She thought if she could just say the right thing, like she had to the jangseung, everything would be all right again. But she didn't know what to say or how to say it, so trying not to sound sarcastic, she said, “Thank you very much for showing me around and spending the day with me. Oh, and thanks for the food. That was really good. And for keeping me safe.”