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Shim Hyeon and the Ocean God

by Seoung Min Kim

 

“They usually send maidens.”

The Ocean God’s voice is a deep and resonant drawl. The whole palace smells of brine and sealife, like the fish market back in Inju. There are lights, but not from candles or lanterns — it’s a faint luminescence radiating from the walls. Shim Hyeon has his forehead pressed to the cool stone of the palace floor, but even if it was raised, he could not see the throne clearly from this distance.

“What is your name?”

“I am known in the village as Shim Bongsa.” Shim the Blind — and only for the past ten years since his eyes clouded, but the village must not remember him as he was before. He doesn’t let his true name leave his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” he says, speaking to the stone tiles. Each one is carved with patterns and inlaid with pearl — he can tell by moving his fingers over them. “The merchants at Indangsu meant for my daughter to be your bride, but I stole her place in the coffin and they threw me into the sea instead.”

“I have a whole city of unwanted daughters down here. If I married all of them I wouldn’t remember their names.” The Ocean God sounds bored. “So what am I supposed to do with you?”

Shim Hyeon lifts his head. “I’ve lived a long life  ” he begins, and the Ocean God snorts “ — and I will be satisfied as long as my daughter can live on in peace.”

“Then we’ll put you in the kitchens. See what they make of you.” He raps his knuckles on the throne. “Seven, show this man to the servants’ quarters.”

A hand takes his arm.

“Thank you, young man,” says Shim Hyeon.

The grip slackens in surprise at being addressed.

Shim Hyeon does his best to examine his guide. Short and slender, but the boy holds himself with the poise of an adult — perhaps around his daughter’s age. The fabric of his jeogori is of fine silk.

“Watch your step, ahjussi.”

Shim Hyeon had to leave his cane behind when he climbed into the coffin meant for his daughter, but he can feel the ground beneath his worn sandals go from stone to packed sand as they pass through a courtyard. The sea swirls above the palace in a distant roar, kept back by the Ocean God’s magic.

“And why are you here, young man?”

“Call me Seven.”

“That’s not your name, is it?”

“Yours isn’t Shim Bongsa, is it?” Seven practically spits.

Shim Hyeon has no answer for that.

“I came to retrieve medicine for my parents,” says Seven.

“Well, well. A good son,” says Shim Hyeon. Seven makes a scornful noise and tugs a little harder at his sleeve.

“Wanted or unwanted, faithful or unfaithful, all of us ended up down here eventually,” says Seven. He leaves Shim Hyeon in the room and shuts the door.

The sleeping mat Shim Hyeon is given is more comfortable than the thin straw he slept on in the village. The combined body heat of the servants keeps the room warm, and it brings him back to his youth, when he slept with his whole family in one room.

But he is alone here. He misses the nightly ritual of his daughter combing his hair out, of combing hers in return. He falls asleep and dreams of floating in a coffin on top of the waves.

---

Morning in the palace begins early for the servants. Lighting the fires, warming water, and preparing food: Shim Hyeon hears the the shouted orders from the cooks and handmaidens, smells the fish roasting for breakfast. His bones still ache from his journey to the Ocean God’s domain, but he joins the rest of the staff in the kitchens.

The head cook, an iron-voiced woman with a strong grip, directs Shim to sit over a simmering pot and stir it. She never tells him her name, and everyone else in the kitchen just calls her “Boss.”

The food smells heavenly. Most days, Shim Hyeon and his daughter barely had enough to afford rice porridge. Still, he doesn’t dare taste the Ocean God’s breakfast.

“Don’t drool into the stew, ahjussi,” Boss says, laughing. She presses something soft and warm into his hand: a dumpling. “Here. You can have more after we serve the palace.”

He takes a bite. The outside is fluffy and sweet, and the inside is stuffed with scallions and prawns. He chews slowly, savoring the taste. “You’re quite the cook, miss.”

“Now, none of that.” She barks a laugh. “I’m no young girl you can win with flattery.”

Shim Hyeon chuckles. “Well, well. Me neither.”

“Seven,” says the Boss. “Come to spy on me? Make sure the new guy isn’t poisoning the King’s food?”

“I’m here to see what’s taking so long,” says Seven icily. Shim Hyeon never heard him come in.

Boss leans over Shim Hyeon’s shoulder and ladles some of the soup into a bowl. Shim Hyeon catches a whiff of fire, hot peppers, and sweat. “Can’t rush perfection,” she says.

Seven turns and strides from the kitchen, boot heels clicking on the floor.

“Don’t let that little prick get to you. We’re a friendly bunch,” says Boss. “Now brush these clams for me.”

---

Over the next few days, Shim Hyeon finds Boss’s words to be true. Perhaps it’s that the underwater citizens know what it’s like to be treated as a burden, so unlike in the village, people are kind to him. He’s still expected to help out as he is able, but for the most part he enjoys the work, and he enjoys spending time with the people of the strange city.

On his way to the kitchens one morning, he passes a group of girls while they play in the courtyard, and he can hear the creak of a wooden seesaw. They’re not trying to see over the palace walls — the Ocean God doesn’t trap them in. They’re just playing.

Their shrieks of laughter remind him of his daughter when she was a child, wading in the river with him, screaming in delight as they splashed one another. She was always drawn to the water. He sometimes called her a little duckling.

He wonders about her life now, without him. She would be able to travel where she wished and maybe take work, without an old man to care for. The thought fills him with as much joy as it does melancholy.

Seven waits for him outside the kitchens. “I’ll bring you to the King today. He wants to talk to you.”

“Lead on, my friend.” Shim Hyeon takes Seven’s offered arm.

“I’m not your friend,” says Seven, although he doesn’t withdraw his arm. Shim Hyeon senses him pouting and tries to hide a smile. He remembers when his own daughter was a teenager.

The two of them begin the walk to the throne hall.

“So,” says Shim Hyeon, “what does the Ocean God look like? Is he a dragon, like everyone says?”

A group of councilwomen walk by, deep in discussion about this year’s urchin harvest. Shim Hyeon almost misses Seven’s muttered answer.

“He is a man.”

“Is he handsome?”

No response. Shim Hyeon hums. “I see, I see.”

“You don’t see anything! You ask too many questions, ahjussi.”

---

After depositing Shim Hyeon, Seven retreats to outside the throne room doors, leaving him alone with the king.

The Ocean God speaks in a lazy, disaffected manner that suggests he is sprawled over the throne. Shim Hyeon kneels before him on the stone floor, his knees aching. He’s really getting too old for this sort of fealty.

“Do you sing or play the haegeum?”

“No,” says Shim Hyeon. “I’ve been told my voice is like an old dog barking.”

“A pity. I had to banish my last court musicians for treason.”

Shim Hyeon shifts to a crouch, resting his weight on his ankles instead of his knees. “Seven won’t tell me whether you’re handsome.”

Startled laughter. The king has a nice laugh. “What does a man such as you know of beauty?”

So Shim Hyeon tells him: of his loving sisters who left to marry, his wife who passed away, the art he lost along with his livelihood as a court painter. Still, his daughter is the most beautiful thing he’s ever known.

The king listens without speaking, and finally replies: “So you are a fair judge. Come feel for yourself.”

Shim Hyeon approaches the throne with more confidence than he feels. He toes the edge of each step, careful not to trip. Before he can reach out, the king crushes his arm in a tight grip and pulls him forward.

One hand lands in the Ocean God’s robes, sliding across silk. The Ocean God guides the other to his face.

He is a man, as Seven said, with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Shim Hyeon maps them all with his fingers. But when he goes to card them through the Ocean God’s hair, he feels something else on either side of his head: antlers, covered in soft velvet.

He breathes in. The king smells like camphor incense burning.

“Well, well,” he says. “Very handsome.”

A strong hand clasps the back of his neck. “I could say the same of you, Shim Bongsa.”

Shim Hyeon smiles. “You don’t want an old man like me.”

“What use have I for those children?” the Ocean God asks. His voice is a low rumble, a rocky coast on a winter day. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

It’s been a long time since anyone made Shim Hyeon blush. The Ocean God’s breath is warm on his skin.

“Won’t you tell me your name, Shim Bongsa?”

Shim Hyeon turns his face away. The king laughs.

---

As soon as Shim Hyeon enters the kitchen for his shift, he finds himself crowded on all sides by the other servants.

“They said you two kissed!”

“They say the king wants to take you as a consort!”

“Who says?” asks Shim Hyeon.

“The servants from the inner court. We do talk to each other, you know.” Boss snaps her towel. “All right everyone, get back to work.”

Shim Hyeon barely manages to thank her before she rounds on him with a grin in her voice. “So? What happened?”

“Nothing. We just talked. He seemed interested in me,” says Shim Hyeon. “Is this a common occurrence?”

She hands him a bowl of bean sprouts to wash. “No. The last girlfriend he had was the daughter of the river god, and she left him when he forgot her birthday. It’s been at least a century since then.”

“Ah, well . . . I suppose even a dragon can be born in a stream.”

“The hell are you talking about?” She slaps him on the back. “You’re a funny one, ahjussi.”

He returns to the servants’ room, shaken despite his easy manner with the others. For years, he forced his desires down into the furthest reaches of himself, mourning his wife and his art. All it took was a brief show of interest from the king for them to come rushing back in a torrent.

---

He wakes to another summons to the throne room and accepts an escort from Seven in silence. The first thing Shim Hyeon notices when they arrive is the sound of animal feet on the stone floor.

One of the animals approaches him. Shim Hyeon stills as it nudges at his leg.

“Do you recognize them?” the Ocean God asks. “Go ahead, they won’t bite.”

Shim Hyeon puts his hand on the creature. It is smooth and cold, with a round head, a wide snout, and a body covered in stone scales. “Haetae?”

Usually, haetae are placed around important buildings to protect them from fire. He can’t imagine there’s much danger of that down here.

The haetae gambol and roll around his feet. Shim Hyeon puts his arms around one’s neck and holds it, and its short tail swishes through the air.

“Today,” says the king, “I want to take you fishing.”

---

The Ocean God brings him to the edge of the city. He does not travel with a retinue or guards, but Seven traipses behind them with a cart, gat tipped low over his face. As they walk, the king describes for him the various buildings and their functions.

“Here we have a temple. Dedicated to me, of course. And on the next corner is another temple — also mine. This complex is, ah . . .”

Seven clears his throat. “Ceramics workshop.”

The people of the city do not cover their windows as their king walks by, as they would on the surface. Instead, they call out to him, asking him about his day, telling him to bring back a big catch. The Ocean God preens, seemingly happy to be the center of attention among his subjects.

Beyond the outermost wall of the city is the blue ocean. Beyond that, a school of fish. Shim Hyeon cannot make out their individual forms, but perceives them as a great writhing, silvery mass.

“Galchi,” the king says. Shim Hyeon tries not to drool on his beard.

When the Ocean God plays a single note on the jade flute, the haetae jump through the barrier all at once, splashing the three onlookers. Seven lets out an undignified yelp.

“There they go!” the king shouts.

The first to return with a mouthful of silver jumps back through the barrier and trots around Shim Hyeon and the Ocean God.

“Good dog,” says Shim Hyeon. The animal drops the fish and makes a noise like a jade bell ringing.

By the end of the trip, they are all soaked. Seven collects two buckets of fish, which are stored in the cart and hauled back to the kitchens.

Boss whistles when she sees him.

“Do you need any help?” Shim Hyeon asks, reddening.

“You’d better go put on something dry for dinner.” She hustles him out of the door again and assures him she’ll take care of it.

That evening he dines with the Ocean God, who prises the sweet, tender flesh from the galchi and feeds Shim Hyeon from his own chopsticks. In between, Shim Hyeon takes bites of prawn pancakes and sips a rich broth made from anchovies. He’ll have to thank Boss later for her good work.

He waits until the Ocean God is fully relaxed, drinking rice wine and almost reclining at the table, to ask the question that has been at the back of his mind the past few days.

“Why do the merchants sacrifice people to you?”

The king sounds almost amused in his response. “They think it will change the path the storms take.”

“And will it?”

“Open,” the king says. Shim Hyeon accepts another mouthful of fish. The chopsticks linger, briefly, on his lower lip. “Sometimes they can be diverted.”

“The merchants told me you destroy their ships when you’re angry.”

“Hmm.” The king thinks for a moment. “If an unskilled man and an experienced sailor both went out to sea on rough waters, which one would you expect to make it back?”

“The sailor,” says Shim Hyeon.

“Exactly.” The king clinks his chopsticks on the edge of his bowl

Shim Hyeon laughs. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t it?”

There is a hand on his cheek, broad and warm. Shim Hyeon leans into the Ocean God’s touch, still smiling.

“It’s been a long time,” the king tells him. Where in the throne room the king seemed forceful, now he is gentle and hesitant, almost shy.

“Me, too,” Shim Hyeon says, and he closes the distance between them.

---

“Wake up, ahjussi!” Seven hisses in his ear. “Come with me!”

The Ocean God is still asleep, judging from his slow, even breaths. Shim Hyeon re-ties his jeogori and follows Seven out of the royal chambers, sliding the door shut behind him.

“I brought you something.” Seven places an object in his hands.

The wood of the cane is solid, like rock. Seven explains it was cut from an ancient tree that hardened beneath the ocean. There is a grip for his hand, and at the end of the cane is a smooth piece of jade that allows it to slide easily across the ground.

Tears prick Shim Hyeon’s eyes. “Why would you give me something so valuable?” he asks.

“Your daughter isn’t here. Someone has to keep watch over you.”

Shim Hyeon turns the cane over in his hands. “I miss her more than anything. I’m sure your parents miss you, too.”

“Do you think His Majesty would send you back, if you asked? He really likes you, you know.”

Shim Hyeon’s words catch in his throat. “It might be better for her if I never return.”

“What are you saying?”

“I mean that without me, she can be free to live her own life.”

There is a moment of silence between them. When Seven speaks, he sounds far away. “When I was still an infant, my parents placed me in a box of jade and floated it down the river. I never knew them until they were already deathly ill. None of their other children would come here to look for the cure, so they found me.”

Before Shim Hyeon can so much as offer his sympathies, Seven snaps at him.

“Were you better than nothing, Shim Bongsa?” The anger is hot in Seven’s voice, threatening to spill over into tears. “You traded your life for hers, didn’t you?”

He puts an arm around Seven. Seven buries his face against his shoulder.

“Hey, now. We’ll find a way to save them yet.”

There is a time Shim Hyeon remembers: before his wife died, before he lost his sight. His wife had woken with a nightmare about the baby. Shim Hyeon had taken them both out for a walk in the garden. The sun was just coming up. “Yobo,” she said. “I want you to paint this for me, so that our daughter can remember it when she is older.” And he had: rose, orange, and gold on the azaleas and chrysanthemum, the persimmon tree his wife had reached up to brush the lower branches of with the tips of her fingers. The painting had to be sold, of course, after.

The underwater city marks time in shades of blue. He stays with Seven until the morning goes from the deep blue of a magpie’s wings to the shimmering blue of a tuna’s back.

---

The king tells him he can live in the inner court if he likes, and not return to the kitchens, but Shim Hyeon enjoys the work, along with the company of the other servants, who treat him with the affection of a grandfather.

Still, he begins to spend more time with the Ocean God, exploring the underwater city and occasionally visiting his chambers.

“What did you expect to happen, when they threw you in?”

The Ocean God lies sprawled across his lap on his silk bedroll. He presented Shim Hyeon with a coral comb as a gift, and Shim Hyeon uses it to braid his hair, as he might have done for his family once.

“I suppose I expected to die,” says Shim Hyeon, running the comb through the king’s hair. It’s thick and smooth, and the king perfumes it with lotus, each brushstroke releasing a burst of fragrance.

“You don’t believe in reincarnation?”

“I didn’t expect to remember. Nobody does.”

The king scoffs. “Maybe humans don’t.”

“Tell me about your past lives, then.”

“Don’t have any. I’ve always been myself.” The Ocean God tugs him down for a kiss. Shim Hyeon smiles against his mouth.

“You’ve always been so spoiled?”

The king makes a disgruntled noise, but Shim Hyeon can hear the affection in it.

“I have something for you.” The Ocean God brings his hand down to touch the lid of a carved wooden box.

Shim Hyeon skims his fingertips over it. The Ocean God flips the latch open with a click.

Resting on a velvet cushion is a pearl, perfect and smooth.

“This will give you back your health. Only one forms every hundred years, but they’re capable of healing any illness and restoring the senses.”

Shim Hyeon’s mouth goes dry. “What would I want with this?” he asks.

The king leans in and gently runs his thumb over the thin skin of Shim Hyeon’s eyelid. Uncomfortable, Shim Hyeon jerks back.

“You just have to swallow,” the king coaxes. “Go on.”

Shim Hyeon takes the pearl and rolls it between his fingertips. He places it in his mouth but stores it beneath his tongue. It tastes faintly of salt and grit.

“Tomorrow, I will promote you to my court painter,” the king tells him. “You can begin a mural for me.”

He affects being speechless with gratitude and bows to the Ocean God, the pearl clicking against the back of his teeth.

---

Shim Hyeon moves confidently through the dark halls now, his cane sweeping over the ground in a wide arc.

Seven answers the door to his chambers, his voice low and irritable from being woken up. “What?”

“I have something for you.”

Shim Hyeon holds out the pearl.

Seven recognizes it immediately. “Ahjussi . . .”

“I want you to have it.”

“Are you certain?” As soon as Seven accepts it, Shim Hyeon feels a weight lift from him he hasn’t realized he’s been carrying. “The king intended it for you.”

“Pah.” Shim Hyeon spits. “I don’t need it.”

He knows the shape of his desires, now. What they do and do not encompass.

Something about Seven’s demeanor changes, like a fire roaring to life. He tucks the pearl in his coat and bows.

“I am Prince Bari, the seventh unwanted daughter of the King and Queen. I will bring this medicine back to them. And then I will find your daughter and repay her for your kindness.”

Shim Hyeon takes the coral comb from his pocket. He wraps it in a kerchief and presses it into Prince Bari’s hands. “Give her this, with my blessing. Tell her I miss her.”

“Thank you, ahjussi.” Prince Bari kisses his forehead. “I would take you with me, but my way is difficult. I fear you might not survive the journey.”

Shim Hyeon smiles.

“Go on ahead. It would be improper to leave without thanking my host.”

---

It all comes to light the next morning: Shim Hyeon enters the Ocean God’s throne room unchanged, and Prince Bari is gone.

“How dare you reject my gifts. Do you understand who I am?” The king is tremulous, shaking with rage.

Shim Hyeon considers dropping to his knees, but decides against it. Instead he leans on his cane. “I know very well who you are, and you’re not the only one who can be selfish. I have one more request to make of you: I want to go home.”

“So now you’re leaving me?” His voice sounds cold, but when Shim Hyeon touches his face, it’s wet. “I could keep you with me for hundreds of years.”

“I would hate you for it.”

“I can give you a thousand daughters.”

“I just want to see the one.”

Shim Hyeon does not make promises to the king he cannot keep. He does not tell the king his true name. Instead, he takes the Ocean God’s face between his hands and gently kisses him, tasting salt on his lips.

“Come with me, then. Meet her.”

The king goes completely still.”What?”

“You can always return, if you don’t find it to your liking.” Shim Hyeon holds out his hand.

“I haven’t been to the surface since tigers smoked pipes.”

“Much has changed since then,” says Shim Hyeon. “Don’t you want to see for yourself?”

“No.” The Ocean God lays his hand in Shim Hyeon’s. “Will you show me?”

---

The Ocean God summons a vessel to ferry them to the surface, a lotus blossom that unfurls in the center of the throne room. When they climb inside, Shim Hyeon’s world turns to pink and white and gold, like closing his eyes against the sun.

 

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Host Commentary

…aaaaand welcome back. That was Shim Hyeon and the Ocean God by Seoung Kim, and if you enjoyed that then he’s had an story up at our award-nominated sister Cast of Wonders as part of episode 539 – Park’s All-Night Ramyun and Snack Emporium, which ended up on a few recommended reading and longlists that year. You can also find more linked from his website at http://seoungkim.com .

Seoung tells us: This is based on a folktale called Shim Chong about a dutiful daughter who is sacrificed to the ocean god – I wanted to write my own twist on it and include elements of the Princess Bari story as well, which is another story about filial love and duty.

Thank you, Seoung, for the notes and the story, which was utterly delightful. My favourite moment, my favourite line, is “He knows the shape of his desires, now. What they do and do not encompass.” The power in that, in knowing yourself, knowing where you stand, what you stand for and what you are willing do for it—who you are willing to defy. To cross the Ocean God seems such an impossible thing to face down, like standing on the beach before a tsunami, but Shim Hyeon does it because he knows it is right, because he knows another has greater need of the gift he has been given, and because, I think, he knows that living as the kind of person who would shy away from the choice is not a life worth living for him. And to be sure, that confidence only comes because he has so little left to lose, I think—his daughter is already lost to him except through this gambit, his sight is gone, his years are short—but the fearlessness it enables is incredible, and enviable.

It is not always so easy to risk oneself like this—gods know there are times I have stayed quiet because my mental health cannot handle the attention at that time, or I worry for how it will spill over onto my wife and kids—but it is important to try and remember how sometimes, the people you are making a stand for are in that position of having nothing to lose (or perhaps more accurately that if they don’t make the stand they will lose everything and have nothing). Those are the times when solidarity is most important, when confidence becomes contagious (as it did to Prince Bari here), when standing alongside not only gives someone the strength to keep standing but shows others they can stand too.

I have spent far too much of my life worrying about what others think about me, about trying to fit in and get on with everyone and not cause waves. It is a constant struggle to remind myself that no matter what I do, not everyone will like me anyway, and that has to be okay; and also to remind myself that the most important person who has to like me is myself. The one person you’ll always have to live with is yourself. I need to find my courage, find my strength, and stand up more for what I know is right, even at the cost of the gifts I might be spurning.