A Legend Known To None

They say that on the night of the Blood Moon, when the heavens stain themselves in shades of dying red, the boundary between the mortal realm and the divine grows dangerously thin.

On such a night, if a human's final breath spills out with blood illuminated by that scarlet light, the Moon Goddess will descend in silence.

She comes barefoot upon a trail of silver frost, her robes flowing like pale clouds, her eyes reflecting every sorrow ever whispered beneath the moon. She kneels beside the dying human, as if listening to the echo of their heartbeat fading into the wind.

With a voice soft enough to calm storms, she asks for their last wish.

But the goddess does not grant wishes blindly.

It is said she can hear the true shape of a person's soul -- the greed buried beneath gentle words, the yearning that trembles beneath despair, the love that refuses to die even as the body does.

If she accepts the dying one's final desire, then the mortal's body rises from the earth as though lifted by invisible hands. Suspended in the red-washed sky, the moonlight pierces through the heart, and from their chest grows a lunar tree -- its branches pale as bone, its bark cold as snow.

If the blossoms bloom white, untouched by blood or shadow, the wish is fulfilled.

It becomes truth, carved into destiny, unstoppable even by the heavens themselves.

But if the blossoms tremble and slowly turn crimson red, darker and darker until they resemble clots of frozen blood...

Then the mortal's soul is rejected.

The lunar tree withers in an instant. The body collapses. The spirit, drenched in unfulfilled desire, twists into a fierce ghost.

From that moment on, it wanders the earth with its last wish seared into its bones, unable to forget, unable to rest. It haunts the village that once called it human, chasing after the life it was denied under the Blood Moon's gaze.

Villagers still whisper to this day:

"Do not bleed beneath a red moon. For the goddess judges desire… and desire, if unworthy, devours the soul."

Little Jin sat across from his father, his small hands clenched in his lap. Cold sweat trickled down his temples. He had begged for a ghost story tonight, but he never imagined his father would choose the one that still frightened the entire village.

"Father… is it true?" he whispered.

His father chuckled softly, "What is?"

Jin swallowed. "My friends said… There really was a man whose wish turned into crimson blossoms. And his soul became a fierce ghost because of it. They said that's why…"

He shrank back, voice trembling, "That's why no one goes near that lake anymore."

"Mhm," his father said, nodding. "They're right. That lake is where the fierce ghost is said to roam."

Jin's eyes widened.

"They say," his father continued, lowering his voice just enough to make Jin's heart skip, "that his wish was overflowing with greed. Even at the moment of his death, he thought only of himself. So the Moon Goddess rejected his desire… and banished his soul."

The fire crackled softly between them, its light dancing across Jin's fearful face.

"That," his father said, "is why we never make selfish wishes, especially under a Blood Moon."

Chills crawled down little Jin's spine.

This was the very legend that had frightened him enough to never even wander near the bam-ui sup -- the Forest of the Night. A forsaken place where sunlight never reached, and the rumored dwelling of the Crimson Blossom Ghost.

Yet tonight, he was being forced to consider stepping into that cursed place, all because of the ruckus happening inside the room he guarded.

He probably wouldn't survive this, Jin thought.

Seven hours had passed since that man was dragged inside. The constant screaming, the ruthless beating, the sickening moans -- each sound rang in Jin's skull like a curse. If only he could drag that person out… but his hands were tied.

He was a government employee, a debtor, a servant whose life was not his own.

"Are you sure he's dead?" someone asked inside.

"Look, he's not breathing…"

"Shit! You know this one is a royal object. The prince won't like this…"

"Let's just get rid of him and blame his dead body for running away. There's no way the prince won't believe us."

"Tell that servant outside to do it. The one guarding the door."

"Him? You trust that idiot?"

"He can't run from his debts. He'll obey. I'm his lord, after all."

The door slammed open, and a fragile, pale human was tossed out like a bag of discarded meat. His long silky hair covered most of his bruised face, and his half-dressed body was marked everywhere with violent fingerprints. Worst of all, his thin legs were twisted -- completely broken.

"Get rid of him," one of the men ordered from inside. Jin didn't turn around. Not out of respect, but because he was terrified of seeing the horrors within that room.

"Dump him somewhere no one will ever find him. And by no one, I mean no one."

Jin nodded silently. He lifted the limp body with trembling hands and laid him carefully in the horse cart. As he climbed onto the rider's seat, tears gathered and fell uncontrollably.

A sharp ache stabbed deep inside him.

It was him who had escorted this man to his lord.

And now it was him who would bury this man.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, voice breaking.

"Tae-jin…" a faint voice rasped.

Jin froze. His hands slipped from the reins for a moment.

"Don't stop…" the voice said again.

"You're alive…?"

"I can hold my breath for seven minutes at most… Even then, they kept going for the first four minutes after I stopped breathing."

A weak laugh left the broken man, "Well… it doesn't matter now."

"Haneul… I'm so sorry," Jin sobbed beneath the full moon as he drove toward the dark tree line of the cursed forest.

"Are you… going to kill me?" Haneul whispered.