The offering as a sacrificial lamb bears the misfortune within its body.
Like a dustpan that gathers dust, or a cloth that wipes away filth, growing ever dirtier and more stained.
It pollutes itself, gathering all the defilement within its body.
Afterward, the task is obvious.
With all the defilement embraced, it simply vanishes.
The cloth burns into pure ash, while the dustpan, filled with dust that can neither be washed nor shaken off, is destined to be thrown into the trash heap.
“The shamans, the scholars call this ‘the expulsion of calamity through material mediation.'”
Jinseong smiled as he continued his explanation.
“And for such ‘expulsion’ to take place, symbolism is necessary. Symbolism that proves the offering can encase the calamity, that it can serve as a medium transporting the calamity. That’s why they sometimes use animals considered ominous, put on masks that represent evil entities, or even use objects resembling humans.”
“Symbolism….”
“Hehehe. It sounds more complicated than it is. Have you heard the story that goats are seen as the beasts of the devil? In the same manner, one could charge goats with ‘evil’ and either banish them or burn them, wear a devil’s or ghost’s mask, or alternatively use an idol or symbol representing a specific calamity to ward it off. Or, like in our country’s tradition, craft dolls to discard calamities.”
Kim Cheolsu was amazed at Jinseong’s detailed explanation.
It wasn’t just the sheer volume of knowledge that amazed him. He was impressed by how Jinseong possessed knowledge beyond his years, and had the ability to explain it clearly.
“You know a lot.”
“No, it’s not that much. It’s a bit more specialized than common sense but nothing overly profound. Just a collection of trivial knowledge.”
Jinseong offered a modest response to Kim Cheolsu’s admiration. Then, as if to switch the subject, he picked up one of the photos lying on the table and continued.
“Based on this trivial knowledge, I suspect the monsters shown here are symbolic representations of these ‘material mediators used to transfer calamity.'”
“Hmm. Is there any particular reason you think so?”
“Reason?”
Jinseong picked up another piece of paper in response to Kim Cheolsu’s question.
“This paper mentions that these monsters are referred to as yokai from Japan.”
“Yes. That’s correct.”
“While I don’t know much about Japan, I believe their faith has a unique quality, right? The ‘eight million gods,’ as they say?”
This “eight million gods” isn’t an exact number of divine beings but rather a metaphor for countless.
“The religion of Japan, Shinto, carries a unique characteristic. Comparing it to the religions dominating the world today… I believe using the term ‘primitive’ would be appropriate. It has a very primitive essence.”
“Primitive essence, you say?”
“Yes. Primitive essence.”
What does ‘primitive’ mean?
It’s the era filled with the unknown.
“The ancient people feared what they couldn’t resist, worshipping to be free from that fear. They personified their fears, worshipped them as gods or rejected them entirely. Religion was thus formed.”
Such is the beginning of animism and totemism, the so-called primitive religions.
“Japan retains this primitive aspect. One prime example being ‘calamity gods.'”
“Calamity gods?”
“Yes. Deifying entities one couldn’t oppose, feared, or entities that cause harm—to escape from the fear. This characteristic of Japanese Shinto resembles the ancient primitive era.”
Jinseong explained as if reading from an academic paper.
“Japan retains such primitive aspects. The prime example being calamity gods.”
“Calamity gods?”
“Yes. They worship beings they couldn’t resist, beings they feared, beings harmful to humans—using such deities to escape the fear. This is highly reminiscent of the ancient primitive era.”
Jinseong smiled lightly after his explanation.
“Of course, other religions aren’t entirely devoid of these things. In the Abrahamic religions, there’s mention of demons or jinn who harm humans, and in Buddhism, there’s mention of evil spirits, yakshas, and maras. However, these beings are not worshipped but utilized to exalt gods’ greatness or transform the fear of evil into faith in gods or buddhas. Thus, when we evaluate Japanese traditions, it’s fair to say they retain a ‘primitive’ essence.”
Jinseong ended his explanation and handed over the photo.
“And based on this, I believe these yokai—let me rephrase, these monsters—are indeed these.”
“That the Japanese people deified them to overcome their fear, right?”
“Yes. There’s a Japanese saying that giving a frightening thing a name makes it less terrifying. The yokai in this picture likely represent specific fears. For example, Amabie, that peculiar mermaid, represents the fear of epidemics, while Iwanabouzu symbolizes the uneasiness around killing and the karmic retribution from it.”
“Shaping fears… Hence, in terms of using a medium to absorb ‘bad things,’ these forms are unparalleled, correct?”
“Yes. Creating an entity resembling Amabie would make it easier to transfer epidemic-related calamities, while creating one similar to Iwanabouzu could handle impurities from blood and death.”
Kim Cheolsu questioned Jinseong’s explanation, not fully understanding.
“So, why have these material mediators, or whatever they are, appeared on the Korean Peninsula?”
It was a very valid question.
We somewhat understand the yokai.
Then why did these yokai appear?
Jinseong, upon hearing the question, scratched his chin as if deep in thought.
“Hmm, there are several plausible explanations, but…”
“There are?”
“Yes.”
Jinseong raised three fingers.
“Three possibilities.”
“Three?”
Jinseong lowered one finger.
“First, these yokai, if they truly served the purpose of ‘expelling calamities.'”
“Expelling calamities?”
“Yes. Judging from your expression, you seem to have guessed. They might have gathered all Japan’s calamities and expelled them out of the country—specifically to a ‘foreign’ country, which has nothing to do with them.”
The first possibility Jinseong mentioned involved dumping evil onto another country.
Kim Cheolsu’s face darkened, obviously upset.
It was as if, rather than transferring bad fortune to another country, they were secretly dumping nuclear waste overseas and pretending they knew nothing.
This was clearly not just a matter of grabbing someone by the collar. It was sufficient to trigger an international dispute.
Decades ago, Egypt had nearly gone to war with Greece because they secretly dumped hydrogen, imbued with calamity from their land, into Greece via a ritual.
Of course, the escalation to war wasn’t solely due to one incident of hydrogen.
It was also a time when Egypt and Greece were already clashing frequently. Egypt even brazenly claimed, “Since ancient times, we’ve sold Egypt’s cursed hydrogen to Greece through rituals. It’s merely a continuation of our tradition. What’s the problem?” This caused the situation to worsen.
“Haha. It’s a tricky matter.”
Jinseong looked at the complex expression on Kim Cheolsu’s face and lowered another finger.
“Secondly, they could have used these not merely as mediators of calamities but to commit terror.”
“Terrorism.”
“Yes. As you know, these yokai replicas have impressive combat abilities. This is because their original forms, the yokai, embody fear and hence carry the ability to harm others.”
Jinseong continued seriously.
“In fact, there are quite similar practices in magic. Puppet sorcerers, as they’re called, typically use this method. They employ replicas of non-human entities, which carry calamities, command them to combat enemies and, when necessary, sacrifice the puppet to spread defilement.”
“That’s…”
The second possibility Jinseong mentioned was for ‘offensive’ purposes.
Using these yokai replicas to harm people, instill fear, and spread calamities to pollute.
This was no different from some madmen threatening people, dropping bombs all over, and using chemicals to contaminate the country.
Of course, it wouldn’t be surprising if the President were to appear on live television and declare a ‘war on terror’.
Kim Cheolsu’s expression grew increasingly serious.
Jinseong noticed and folded his third finger, offering a calming word.
“Finally, the third possibility, which might bring some relief to Secretary Kim.”
“Relief? What is it?”
“This could be due to the seals of divine objects breaking.”
“Divine objects?”
