Little Pink Starfish

The Inmyeonjiju, come to save its children captured by the hunter, felt around nearby trees with its antenna-like legs. Poison dripped from its fangs, and above those fangs were eight eyes. But instead of spider-like black beads, they were human eyeballs. The Inmyeonjiju blinked its hairy black eyelids and darted its gaze around wildly. The rolling eyeballs soon found Saeon.

The spider with a grotesque human-like face stayed wary and didn’t move easily. Then, Saeon stomped on the sack. Something crunched, and the sound of a crying child from inside the sack grew louder. The Inmyeonjiju let out a sharp wail in an old woman’s voice, then quickly disappeared between the trees.

More and more spiders gathered as time passed, and spiderwebs spread like fog, turning everything hazy. Beyond the white veil-like threads stretched between the trees, hardly anything could be seen. Only vague shapes flickered past.

Can a human really catch something like that?

The humans Ebi knew were weak—sometimes they died just from seeing a ghost. He furrowed his brow with worry without realizing it.

Just then, the Inmyeonjiju jumped out from behind Saeon. But it was as if Saeon had predicted it—he rolled to the side and dodged. The moment his hand touched the ground, a sharp scream echoed out. The cry sounded so human that Ebi flinched, but Saeon calmly got to his feet. One of the Inmyeonjiju’s eyes now had a knife sticking out of it. Saeon had thrown it so fast Ebi hadn’t even seen it happen.

The wounded Inmyeonjiju flailed its legs wildly in pain. The hairs on its legs were actually thin, hard spikes. As they moved, they made faint crackling sounds. Trees around them snapped and splintered. Red-tinted spider silk gushed from the spider’s rear, pooling on the ground.

Seven bloodshot eyes scanned the area in fury. Saeon calmly pulled another knife from his sling bag and watched. The spinning blade gleamed in his hand. Agitated, the spider leapt up onto a tree and started crawling quickly from tree to tree, scattering bloody web across the valley. In an instant, the whole area turned blood red.

Ebi, watching in a daze, suddenly got caught in the web. It was sticky and heavy. By the time he pushed it from his face, only a red cocoon remained where Saeon had been.

The Inmyeonjiju let out a creepy laugh, shaking its round belly. The cocoon writhed as it laughed, swinging side to side. Each swing made the trees creak under its weight.

“Saeon…!”

Ebi, who had thought Saeon would have a trick or two as a hunter, now shouted in shock. Everything was soaked in red, like blood—his heart thudded fast. His voice must have revealed his location.

The Inmyeonjiju, calmly waiting for its prey to pass out, turned its greedy gaze on Ebi. Its huge human eyes shifted between Saeon and Ebi. In those strangely human eyes, greed swelled.

As it prepared to leap at its new target—

Something shot out from the red cocoon around Saeon, fast as light. A harpoon pierced one of the spider’s thorny legs, tied with a red rope. The harpoon tip was barbed to stay stuck. Muscles bulged blue under the arm that held it.

With raw strength, Saeon tore apart the tough cocoon and rolled forward. He then wrapped the rope around the stake that had been driven into the sack holding the Inmyeonjiju’s children. The rope seemed to fly toward the stake like it was drawn in.

Ebi, wide-eyed and sweating, clenched his hands.

The spider, stunned by the harpoon, soon charged at Saeon. But it hadn’t noticed the stake tied to the rope—just before it reached him, its body lurched and collapsed.

As it scrambled to stand, another leg got caught in a red snare. Saeon tightened it, snapping the leg with incredible force. Ebi, startled, unconsciously touched his own ankle where the red string had once been tied.

Saen didn’t stop. He used the snare to trap another leg. The Inmyeonjiju now stumbled with every movement. Another harpoon flew into yet another leg.

Realizing the fight had turned against it, the spider panicked, thrashing and spraying venom everywhere. But with its movement limited, none of it reached Saeon. Ebi, stepping forward to get a better view, stopped short—his feet stuck in the sticky web.

But while Ebi struggled to move, Saeon was gliding over the ground like he was on grass. Watching closely, Ebi noticed the spiderwebs melted when they touched the stream water.

So this is what a hunter really is.

Ebi finally understood how hunters defeated yokai stronger than themselves. First, Saeon lured the Inmyeonjiju into the valley using its young as bait, then aimed for its eyes to provoke it. He pretended to be caught, lured it into the stream to disable the webs, and counterattacked.

But that only worked against beasts. Ebi wondered if Saeon could do the same against more intelligent yokai.

Meanwhile, Saeon hunted the spider methodically—so thoroughly it bordered on cruel. Even when it was clearly defeated, he carefully severed each leg. Even legless, the spider twitched and thrashed.

Calmly, Saeon jumped onto the Inmyeonjiju and reached toward its ear. He removed a piercing, took off his gloves, and clenched his fist tightly around the earring.

Ebi flinched, thinking Saeon was bleeding. But from a distance, he couldn’t tell if there was blood on the piercing.

Saeon pulled out a long stake from his bag. A strange blue aura swirled around his hand like a mirage. Then, with all his might, he drove the stake into the spider’s head. Half of it sank in at once, and the Inmyeonjiju screamed in agony. The sound no longer resembled a human voice.

Finally, Saeon raised his leg and stomped down on the stake with his heel. The force and speed were unbelievable for a human. With a loud thud, the stake pierced straight through the spider’s head, ending its life.

Saen kept his foot on the stake, watching the spider twitch for the last time, never looking away. His breathing never even quickened.

Ebi tried to run over to him, but his feet were too sticky. He had to transform into a small bird. Fluttering over, he hesitated when he saw Saeon clenching and unclenching his hand. Only when Saeon put his gloves back on did Ebi land on his shoulder. Tilting his head in curiosity, he asked,

“What was that just now?”

Saeon didn’t reply. Instead, he checked the sack of baby Inmyeonjiju. Confirming they were all dead, he began stuffing the bloody spider silk into the sack. Ebi pecked at his ear gently, asking question after question.

“What did you do with the piercing? Some kind of ritual?”

“Is that stake specially made to hunt Inmyeonjiju?”

“What’s the spider silk for?”

“Wait—are you taking the eyeballs too? Ew, gross! But what do you use them for?”

Ebi chirped non-stop, full of questions, but Saeon gave no answers. Eventually, Ebi gave up and flew off to wash the web off his shoes in the stream. By the time he came back, Saeon had filled the sack with spider silk.

The two of them waded through the stream until they reached web-free ground. Even after the webs melted, Ebi playfully splashed in the water, then spoke.

“Thanks for earlier.”

“When earlier?”

Finally, Saeon answered, after barely speaking all day.

“When the Inmyeonjiju was about to jump at me.”

Ebi wasn’t sure if Saeon had thrown the harpoon to save him, or if it just happened to work out that way—but he was polite enough to say thank you anyway. Then Saeon replied,

“You don’t like getting stabbed, right?”

“Well, most people—no, even yokai and goblins—don’t like having things stabbed into them…”

“Really?”

Saen answered half-heartedly as he brushed off a spider crawling on his shoulder. Ebi gave a very awkward laugh.

“Didn’t the Inmyeonjiju look like it really hated being stabbed too?”

“Did it?”

Saeon, with that same innocent face, replied like he genuinely had no idea. Ebi, once again, couldn’t figure out what this hunter was thinking.