On the slopes of Mount Ikhwan, perched at the edge of a razor-sharp cliff, stood a temple called Ogeam. This place was not meant for human prayer—the monastery housed only a single monk, living quietly in his humble sanctuary.
The temple had existed long before Sohwa settled on the slopes of Ikhwan Mountain, and it drew attention each year in an unusual way. Once annually, a richly decorated altar laden with offerings would appear within its walls. Yet unlike traditional rituals, no incense was ever lit—indicating this was not a ceremony for the dead.
Even during times of great famine, when the country suffered under heaven's wrath, cows, pigs, and goats were offered upon that altar as if they were tributes to the highest deities. No one ever touched these gifts.
It seemed they were intended exclusively for Sohwa.
Though the meals Dohwi lovingly prepared were delicious, the fox was sometimes drawn to other people's treats. On such occasions, she would sneak into the temple and quietly devour the offerings from the altar.
That was how she met the monk of Ogeam. He generously forgave her transgressions and became a frequent companion.
Dohwi called him a "corrupt monk"—though there was some truth to that accusation.
---
"Monk, what should I do? It's as if a spirit has possessed me—every night I dream of being carried off by a tiger. And my nose has completely lost its sense of smell."
Sohwa rubbed her nose sadly as she sat cross-legged on the temple terrace.
"The hunting is going poorly, and if the one I've sheltered ever leaves, how will I feed myself? What should I do?"
The monk, tapping out a rhythm on a wooden *moktak*, suddenly raised his voice as if addressing the heavens themselves:
"It's all because your yang energy has weakened."
"Yang energy?" Sohwa blinked in confusion.
The monk cast a sly glance at Dohwi, who stood like a pillar behind Sohwa, then resumed his rhythmic tapping.
"Yin and yang must merge. The elements must unite. Only then will the path to natural harmony reveal itself."
"There you go again with your convoluted speeches. It would've been better if you'd kept quiet, since explaining is apparently so difficult," Sohwa huffed dismissively.
The monk—knowing she had been separated from her pack too young and had never received proper education—merely clicked his tongue in reproach.
"Do you even know what *heat* is, child?"
"Of course I do!"
"And do you know what to do when it comes?"
"Lock the doors. That's exactly what Hoyeon said!"
Sohwa's naive answer made the monk exclaim, "*Amitabha!*" He began working his prayer beads feverishly between his fingers.
Meanwhile, Dohwi had already retrieved Sohwa's cloak and, without waiting for her, headed toward the exit.
"See you later, Monk. Farewell," Sohwa called, rising to follow Dohwi—but the monk suddenly seized her wrist.
"The problem is not your nose at all, my child."
"What?"
"Listen carefully." His voice dropped to an urgent whisper. "A tiger lives in these mountains!"
"*What?!*"
"*Shh!*" The monk hissed sternly, glancing over his shoulder.
Dohwi was staring straight at them.
The monk—as if frightened of being overheard—leaned closer and whispered rapidly:
"This tiger is watching you, waiting for the moment to devour you without leaving a single bone. If you don't leave Ikhwan, you will never live the life of a fox."
Sohwa's eyes darted around helplessly. _A tiger? In these mountains?_
_That simply can't be!_
When she turned pale and began shaking her head in denial, the monk fixed her with a piercing gaze.
"Do you remember the cherry tree in front of your house?"
"How did you—"
"Dig the ground beneath it. You must quickly understand who this creature *really* is that follows you everywhere."
The monk's gaze shifted pointedly toward Dohwi's broad back.
_Him?_
Sohwa couldn't believe her ears. _Dohwi is a tiger?_
"Karma, child. Heavy karma that haunts you," the monk added quietly, his voice weighted with sorrow.
Suspicion and fear flooded through her, chilling her to the bone.
---
"Why do you look like that? What did he tell you?" Dohwi asked, peering into her eyes.
Sohwa remained silent, pale as fresh snow, completely lost in her own spiraling thoughts.
_He wants to eat me... without leaving a single bone... he waits, he watches..._
Walking beside Dohwi, she couldn't shake the monk's warning. Dohwi draped an arm around her shoulders, leaning slightly toward her.
"They say there are tigers in these mountains?" Sohwa asked suddenly, her voice trembling despite her efforts to steady it.
Dohwi chuckled, his lips curling into a faintly mocking smile.
"There are no tigers here, Sohwa. At least, none will appear before *you*."
Watching him, Sohwa swallowed hard. She felt momentarily relieved—but at the same time, she wanted to ask: _How can you possibly know that?_
"If worst comes to worst, you could always transform into a fox. Then they'll just think you're a harmless little fluffball, and no one will bother you."
His words stung. _"Little fluffball"?_ Even if she couldn't properly thank him for all his kindness over the years, such words still wounded her pride.
_This ungrateful brat..._
Snorting indignantly, Sohwa turned her face away. Dohwi—thinking she was offended by the monk—merely shrugged.
"See? I told you not to talk to him. Monks like that spout all kinds of nonsense."
"Don't you *dare* speak about the monk that way, Dohwi," she said quietly, her voice edged with reproach.
Her tone made him stop mid-stride.
"Have you forgotten?" His voice turned cold—almost ominous. "Have you forgotten what you saw back then?"
Sohwa's breath hitched.
"Seven years ago... in the cave beneath this mountain. Remember?"
Her eyes fluttered as memories she'd tried desperately to bury clawed their way to the surface.
"You saw it with your own eyes."
"..."
"The enormous snake skin. Remember?"
Sohwa held her breath, that day crashing back into her mind with brutal clarity. Dohwi—as if deliberately stoking her fear—squeezed her hand tightly. She tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip.
"You screamed then, in absolute terror, as if the creature were right in front of you," he whispered, his brow furrowing as though he remembered every horrifying detail.
"The slimy scales clinging to that pale skin... how utterly *disgusting* it was..."
His words sent fresh tremors of fear rippling through her, and her teeth began to chatter involuntarily.
---
The events of that day descended upon her like an avalanche.
It had been seven years ago, during the time she'd sought the monk's counsel most frequently. Back then, her fears always led her to Ogeam. But the monk often disappeared for days at a time—especially in winter.
That particular day, Dohwi had mentioned seeing the monk enter a certain cave. Sohwa had witnessed the same thing once or twice before.
_Why did I go there?_
At the time, it had seemed reasonable: as a guardian spirit of this land, she should speak with the monk about the mountain's future.
"Monk! *Monk!* The raccoons are stealing my berries! If this continues, all my seedlings will die!"
But the monk hadn't been in the outer chamber. The cave was enormous—vast and deep, swallowing light whole. Despite her mounting dread, Sohwa decided to venture further inside.
At that moment, Dohwi had gripped her hand tightly, lending her courage.
"I think he's deeper in, Sohwa. Let's keep going."
"Monk... Monk, are you here?"
They took a few more cautious steps forward—and then they saw *it*.
"*A-aaah!* W-what is this... *monster?!*"
Sohwa, upon seeing the massive pale thing coiled within the darkness, collapsed to the ground in horror, nearly fainting on the spot.
"Please—just have mercy! Please, have mercy on me, sir!"
At first she thought it was a gigantic serpent. The creature was so immense it could barely fit within the cavern's walls.
"If you decide to attack, sir, then eat only *me!* Spare this child—take only me!"
Arms folded in supplication, Sohwa pressed herself flat against the cold stone floor. But Dohwi only chuckled softly and soothed her in a calm, clear voice:
"It's all right, Sohwa. It's only the shed skin of an ancient snake."
Sohwa hadn't even known that snakes could shed their skin—let alone what "molting" meant. Dohwi explained that old serpents shed such enormous skins every hundred years in order to grow even larger.
He had always loved playing the role of teacher, possessing an inexplicable wealth of knowledge despite the fact that as a child, he hadn't even understood what he was.
"That's strange... I definitely saw the monk enter this cave. You saw it too, didn't you, Sohwa?"
"Uh... yes, I saw it. Let's just get out of here. *Quickly.*"
Dohwi hadn't directly stated that the monk was a giant serpent—but even a naive soul like Sohwa could draw her own conclusions. It seemed odd that everything around them had changed over the course of ten years, yet time appeared to pass the monk by entirely.
She had often wondered if he might be some wise hermit who had descended from the clear waters of the distant Hwansan River. But now it became clear: the monk was an ancient serpent who had lived for hundreds—perhaps thousands—of years.
After that day, Sohwa began visiting the monk far less frequently. Where before she might have come five times, now she visited only once. And even then, she never went without Dohwi by her side.
---
"Don't meet with that old monk again. He's no help to you—he only fills your head with worries."
"But... but he's not like that at all."
"Do you still trust this *snake*?"
"Dohwi! You can't speak about a monk that way. And besides... maybe he's not a serpent at all."
Sohwa frowned sternly, fixing him with a reproachful look as if warning him against passing judgment so hastily without clear proof. Dohwi studied her closely, then sighed heavily.
"I'm only worried. Who knows when he might decide to *eat* you."
Sohwa's eyes widened at his words, but she held her tongue. Her faith in the monk ran deep and unwavering.
"Our monk is a disciple of the great abbot of Mount Chongmun—one of the finest masters in the entire Celestial Empire. What you're suggesting simply cannot be true."
Sohwa invoked a name Dohwi knew all too well. He couldn't suppress a soft chuckle. Fortunately, he quickly schooled his expression back to seriousness, and Sohwa—oblivious to his reaction—quickened her pace.
"The monk is a good man. There's no point in thinking badly of him."
After that, Dohwi refrained from mentioning the monk again. It was clear he didn't approve of Sohwa's blind trust—but he understood he couldn't sway her.
What Dohwi *couldn't* understand, however, was the source of that loyalty. He didn't know what had passed between the monk and Sohwa during the times he wasn't present.
"The great monk from Chongmun..." Dohwi muttered quietly under his breath, almost to himself. "I'd like to meet him someday. Though I wonder if he'd accept someone like me."
His voice was soft, nearly lost to the wind—but there was something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
Something that might have been longing.
Or perhaps... hunger.
---