Trapped on a Terrifying Island, This Good-for-Nothing Just Wants to Survive

1.

“Pyeong’an Daoists are brave and fearless, like fierce tigers emerging from the forest. Hamgyeong Daoists are resilient and unyielding, like dogs fighting in a muddy field. Hwanghae Daoists endure hardship and labor tirelessly, like oxen plowing stone fields. Gangwon Daoists are pure-hearted and virtuous, like old Buddhas beneath the rocks. Gyeonggi Daoists are graceful and elegant, like beauties in the mirror. Chungcheong Daoists are innocent and gentle, like the clear wind and bright moon. Jeolla Daoists are tender and delicate, like willows before the wind. Gyeongsang Daoists are rough and tenacious, like the towering Mount Tai and Jiao Yue.

“The people of the eight Daoist regions have distinct personalities, and gathering them together easily leads to disputes. However, on Yeh Island, please remember: we do not differentiate by ancestral home or place of origin; we are all fellow villagers, even if our homeland has been torn apart into two…”

This was said by a deceased elder.

No one remembers his name. Some say he was a Yun, others say he was a Kim, Lee, Park, or Choi, opinions vary. However, this speech miraculously passed down, word for word.

I’m not sure if this elder was an ancestor of the Yun family – although we are a renowned hereditary shaman family in Goryeo Village, our lineage is untraceable.

I also don’t know what happened on Yeh Island in the past. The survivors of “that disaster” are either dead, insane, or missing. Those who survived often remain silent about the event, some even losing their ability to speak.

With a jumbled timeline, collective memory loss, and history turning into chaos, only the legends of gods and strict moral codes remain clear and distinct.

2.

In the center of Cicada Hiding Plain lies a dense forest, usually surrounded by a wire fence. It is said that the ruins deep in the forest are sealed with evil spirits, and everyone dares not enter rashly. Even if someone breaks the barrier out of extreme hunger, they only dare to forage on the edge of the forest.

Several villages surround the forest, forming a tribal alliance-like area. Outside the “tribes”, a high brick wall circles, creating a pattern of one ring enclosing another with the forest, villages, and wall.

Since the area inside the wall is relatively closed off, it is known as the “inner ring”. This area is some distance away from the town’s residential area.

If villagers want to visit other villages, they must first obtain an introductory letter from the village chief. If they want to go to the town, they must also undergo a health check and wear a locator. Otherwise, the white-clothed strangers guarding the only entrance to the wall will not let them pass.

However, health checks and wearing locators are things of the past. Not long after I completely left the inner ring, all villagers were implanted with a chip called “Oracle”.

The Oracle chip monitors the wearer’s health and accurately locates their position. When someone shows abnormal health signs, the chip’s built-in transmitter automatically sends an alert to the town center hospital. Then, the hospital sends a tightly-wrapped team to take away the abnormal person and their family.

I have never seen anyone who was taken away return to the inner ring. Some say they tasted free medical care and have settled in the town, never to return to their hard life. Others say they received mercy from the divine family and went to live as tenant farmers or laborers in Shejia Town.

Unfortunately, everyone guessed wrong. Shejia Town rarely takes an entire village family; they usually only take care of widows, orphans, single elderly, and those who are disabled and cannot be cared for by their families.

For instance, Mr. Park Byung-won, who lost his parents at a young age, received long-term support from the Shenbu family and studied diligently. As an adult, he married in the town, had a daughter, and opened a private clinic.

As a side note, when Doctor Park wanted to take his nurse wife for rural volunteer medical service, they were stopped by the white-clothed strangers at the wall entrance, demanding a high fee. Only in recent years, with the intervention of the Shejia forces, did Doctor Park’s path home become somewhat smoother.

3.

My father, Yun Sang-cheol, and my mother, Min Sun-ja, are both respected witch doctors in Goryeo Village.

They taught my eldest sister to exorcise evil spirits and cast divination, my second sister to entertain the gods with song and dance, and my brother to play shamanic music, but they taught me nothing.

“I want to learn shamanic arts too!”

At the age of five, I tugged at my mother’s skirt, looking up at her with eager anticipation.

My mother bent down

and touched my head, speaking earnestly, “It’s not suitable for Dongji to learn this. When you grow up, you can learn medical skills from the doctor in Zhonghua Village, or go with your father to pick herbs in the hidden mountains, alright?”

“Alright!”

Just then, my father returned from Shejia Town with supplies. He put down his shoulder pole and, without resting, picked me up:

“See what your father brought back?”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, peeking into the basket – one was full of herbs and food, and the other neatly stacked with new clothes and daily necessities.

These were extra gifts from the palace officer to our family, much more than what other villagers received.

I didn’t understand why this was, thinking it was probably because my father was in favor with that person.

“Dongji, quickly call your brother and sisters to help. Tonight, we’ll cook dried pollack soup and serve it with plenty of white rice, alright?” My father put me down, gently scraping my nose with his thumb.

I ran to the backyard, passing the good news to my siblings who were diligently practicing their skills.

That year, my eldest sister was in the prime of youth, my second sister had just reached maturity, and my brother was a ten-year-old child. Their minds and bodies were not yet mature, but they had already started practicing with knives and guns, and playing instruments barefoot on blades.

Hearing my words, they all stopped practicing and happily jumped back into the house. After all, we were just kids.

My mother hummed a song while washing rice, and my father prepared the dried pollack, removing the skin, deboning, and cutting it into pieces. He then put the washed fish heads into the pot to boil, preparing to strain the broth later with a cloth.

My eldest sister cut the tofu into neat cubes, my second sister diagonally sliced green onions and chili peppers. My brother and I washed bean sprouts, sitting on small stools picking through the vegetables.

After removing the roots from the bean sprouts, the fish head soup began to bubble. The prepared dried pollack, along with bean sprouts, tofu, green onions, chili peppers, minced garlic, and pepper powder, were added to the pot, slowly releasing the unique fragrance of codfish in the steaming heat.

Maybe, for the town people, it’s just soup and rice, but for villagers who cannot live by fishing, hunting, or farming, it’s a precious delicacy. The soil and water in the inner ring are problematic, consuming local crops and seafood leads to serious diseases.

Usually, we rely on donations from the palace officer and port goods to survive. After a full meal, we would go back to sparse porridge and meager meals for a while.

Now, I never cook Korean cuisine in Shejia Town. Because the taste of home easily turns into tears in my stomach.

I don’t want others to see my vulnerable side.

4.

Later, Cicada Hiding Town launched an education policy for minors in the inner ring, and I was fortunate enough to get the opportunity to study in the town for free.

This was the quota allocated to our family by the village chief, and my parents left it to me.

To give a good impression to the Kasahara family who provided boarding, my mother combed my hair and put me in new clothes.

“Your brother and sisters aren’t meant for studying, always getting their palms hit by the village teacher. Dongji is smart, recognizing so many herbs at just six or seven years old, surely you’ll become a great doctor.”

“Like the medical woman Dae Jang Geum?”

“Even better than Dae Jang Geum, she’s from ancient times.” My mother gently pinched my face.

Carrying the hopes of my family and the entire village, I embarked on my journey of learning.

At that time, I didn’t know that my parents and the palace officer had been mutually indebting and repaying favors.

Years later, I discovered that my name was not Yun Dongji.

I wasn’t even Korean.