The Scent of Myrrh and Sage

3. Whispers of the Spirits

A scream was stuck in Seonghwa's throat. He gulped it back bravely since he didn't want to offend the person working in such a lonesome and haunted place. Did they live here? Seonghwa had never seen such a person in their village and the footprints were undoubtedly theirs.

Now that the person turned, the picture pieced itself together. A dangling necklace of bones. The staff leaning against the table by their side. A book telling them the secrets of their work. Seonghwa couldn't read, but he knew those who did were educated in a way the people of his village weren't. Soon, awe washed over the initial shock.

Seonghwa couldn't keep his tongue, too invested in the way this person dressed.

"A-Are you a ghost?"

"A ghost?" Bloodless lips quirked into a grin. The pale features in that wide hood were pointed and sharp. It was impossible to tell a gender from vision alone.

And the tone of their voice...

Seonghwa peered around, put off by the swelling whispers. As if caught in the act, they quietened down. Did they not bother with this living person in their midst?

"I am perfectly alive. Do you seek to be a ghost, wandering into a place like this?"

Chilled once more, Seonghwa wrapped defensive arms around his body. His coat couldn't keep out the cold of the dead permeating his skin.

"N-No! I saw footprints outside and followed them here. You must be the embalmer."

"I tend to these graves," the person hummed in reply. Seonghwa felt scrutinised even when no eyes perceived him. Nervously, he rubbed over his collar, feeling its soothing hug. Right, Seonghwa was safe with his collar. His parents were always with him.

"Can you see me?" He asked meekly, knowing he was terribly impolite, but he never met such a peculiar individual before. They were so pale they must live among the shadows. Perhaps even befriended them?

"I don't need eyes to see. I can easily tell you aren't dead like the others here." Another grin. Seonghwa glanced away in shame. He probably made a ruckus while entering.

"I apologise for disturbing you. I come from the village down the hill."

Though that much must have been clear since all other places were far from the mountain range, the embalmer paused. They lowered their book onto their stone table and shadows of purple danced across the yellowed pages.

"What is your name?"

"S-Seonghwa," Seonghwa muttered softly. He didn't know if he was supposed to share his name with a stranger living in a cave. But they didn't attack Seonghwa upon entering their home and, though eerie, they seemed perfectly sane. Perhaps a hermit? The mayor mentioned a few lone shepherds in the area.

"Seonghwa..." The person mumbled. Their tone had shifted, as if the name reminded them of something. Home, perhaps? A family? Or even one of these ghostly companions?

"I'm Hongjoong." With a nod, the man finally unveiled his gender. Seonghwa nodded back shyly, almost glad he didn't have to shake his hand. Long nails grew from his pale fingers, rimmed with the black earth of his work. How many dead passed his hands? Did he steal their bones to fashion his outfit? Or did he merely like to blend with them?

The idea sparked a theory in Seonghwa's mind.

"Do you know about these shadows? Are they the souls of the dead? Our priest noticed them in our graveyard and claims it haunted, but they seem tame here." Possibly for the very reason that Hongjoong wore their garbs.

Once more, that fathomless voice surprised Seonghwa.

"That's because I am here."

A pale hand lifted towards the shadows. His fingers bent to beckon to come hither. Nervously, Seonghwa stuck near him and watched as a shadow glided over. It took shape, shifting and morphing to settle on something, and when it entered the pale purple shine of the candles, it suddenly gained the same pale colour of the deceased.