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This week on Myths and Legends, there are five stories from Korean folklore. We'll see that when it comes to creeping up to your neighbors houses and peeking in their windows. You should only do that when you think what's going on inside is super weird. How faking it until you make it is not a great idea when it comes to practicing medicine and what you should do if your spouse is a secret demon who wants to kill you. The creature this week is the Duergar and why you shouldn't hassle mythological creatures in the woods. This is myths and legends episode 436ft first. This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some are incredibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins. Others are stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen. We're in Korean folklore with five interconnected stories and they actually fit with a time period, the 15th century. At that time, modern day north and South Korea were a united Kingdom called Chosun, which existed from 1392 until 1897. Today's story though takes place in and around Seoul, so mainly in modern day South Korea. We'll jump in on the outskirts of Seoul with someone doing something they maybe shouldn't. The middle aged man stepped back from the window. It was not his window. And while windows are made for looking through, it's generally understood that the looking is meant to go from in to out, to go from out to in. Well, it's gonna happen. That's the nature of windows. For instance, if I'm walking the dog at night, I'm going to have opinions about how many of my neighbors don't appear to understand the nature of color, temperature when it comes to LED bulbs, or do understand but like their house to be lit exactly like a middle school gymnasium. It's interesting to see what they do with the wall colors and trim. But you take a glance and you keep walking. Because it is also the case that too much looking for too long, it gets weird. Proximity also matters. Street distance or greater normal yard maybe if the dog needs to go, but then quickly face pressed against the glass. You might not be a serial killer, but you sure are acting like one. The middle aged man on the outskirts of Seoul, though, thankfully was not a serial killer or even a creep. He was just intensely curious about what was going on in the stranger's house. Rushing back to the street, he scooped up his lantern, licked his finger, looked down at the flame flickering at the end of the candle, decided that even though it looked cool when Aragorn did it. He didn't want to burn his finger and just blew it out. Picking his way back up to the house, he went this time to the door and knocked. The mourner answered. Good sir, the man, a wanderer dressed like a farmer, said in his most pitiful voice, my lantern has gone out. May I rekindle its flame in your honorable fire? The man in the clothes of a mourner stepped aside and invited him in. Bowing, the traveler stepped into the house, opened up his lantern, and handed the young man the candle. There, in the flicker of the fire, sat an old man with tears fresh on his face, and a Buddhist nun, not in the robes, but bald all the same. So, if you don't mind me asking, the wanderer started. When I was outside, I saw this older man here weeping, this nun dancing, and I heard the most beautiful music. And it was coming from you? A mourner stooping toward the fire. The young man stopped. Oh, and how did you see those things from the outside? Before I answer that, let me just say I'm not going to rob you and I'm not creepy. I heard the sound, noticed a tear in the window paper, and looked in from the window. The traveler smiled. Okay, well, that's very creepy, the young man replied. Oh, no, no. See, I already addressed the creepy part by saying I'm not creepy, so that bit is settled. The wanderer grinned. Well, I know you're not here to rob us, the young man said as he put the candle into the fire and then gestured to the kitchen. Notice anything about that kitchen? The wanderer squinted and then no. Yeah, the young man in mourner's clothes said, pressing his face to the ground. The wanderer didn't see one. The kitchen was completely ant free. That was amazing. That's one way of thinking about it. The young man pulled the wick back from the flame. The young man pulled the candle back from the flame. Another way was that they couldn't afford even a crumb for the ants, let alone themselves. They were starving. There definitely wasn't enough rice, but they had just been getting by on a little bean porridge, with the lion's share going to their aged father. The sister was not a nun, but instead she had been cutting off a strand of her glorious hair each day to sell for beans. Now, though, that was all gone. Oh, got it. So she's not a nun and the father is weeping because. Because the traveler started and then stopped. Oh, he actually didn't get it. My father's mind isn't what it was. We can tell him all day that she's not a nun, but a few minutes later it's like he's seeing her head for the first time and he breaks into tears anew. So I sing and she dances and it helps. Okay, now I understand two parts of it, but the mourner's clothes, the wanderer said, gesturing up and down toward the man. Poverty. Crushing, abject poverty, the young man reiterated. His mother had died. Well, it had been longer than the appointed three years for him to wear the mourner's robe, but it was the only robe he had left. A scrap of paper fluttered pinned to the wall, and the wanderer replaced the lit candle in his lantern and held the light aloft. That poem. He gasped when he finished reading. It's. It's perfect. I've never read it before. Who wrote it? I did, the young man said, forcing a smile. Why are you not a scholar for the King? Have you never sat for an examination? The wanderer was nonplussed. My sister is selling her hair for bean porridge. There's no way I could afford the brushes, ink, the paper reserving a place. Not even at the one. In two weeks time? The wanderer asked. There is no exam in two weeks time, the kid said. They're only once a year. He glanced to his father and then looked to the stranger also. That didn't change their economic circumstances. They're announcing it everywhere. The middle aged wanderer shrugged. Well, I still need brushes and paper. My sister doesn't have enough hair for that. At the mention of hair, the father gasped and looked his daughter over. No, no, no, no. She took the vows. This was all his fault for being unable to provide for them. He. He shook with sobs. I need to get back to it, the son said. The wanderer understood. And as the son rushed to comfort his father, the stranger announced that he was leaving a little money for the flame. We don't need alms from a beggar. She's not an actual nun, the son called back, but the wanderer wouldn't be deterred. Dropping a few coins on the table in the remarkably ant free kitchen, the wanderer slipped from the. Hey. The worms called out. Honey Guy. They tried to wave to the traveler, but you know, they didn't have arms. The words too were really more like interpretive dance because worms maybe can't really speak. Honey Guy. The stranger did not see the worms trying to get his attention in the street, and they worm sighed before relaxing. Must not have been him. Dodging is also tricky if you're a worm because you don't have eyes and you move so slowly across the dry ground that it's less dodging and more so fate if you're not squished by passersby. As we know with humans, though, just because you were extremely lucky and had no control over the outcome doesn't mean you can't take ownership of your success. High fiving each other, really, just slapping each other with their heads to celebrate the deft dodge the worms took off after Honey Guy. If the stranger, the alleged honey guy for the worms, had been a minute later, he would have been run over. Shin was driving tired. Bringing a birthday present to his employer's friend was not in the job description of a stable hand. But when the messenger came down with a bad case of being dead from a preventable illness that morning, well, it fell to him. Compounding the fatigue was the knowledge that he would also have to do his job, caring for the horses when he got back. But he wouldn't make it back. Not that night. The stable boy pulled up to the stable next to the inn. It was nice of his boss to let him take the tall, elegant gelding, their nicest horse, and he had given the young man money and permission to stop if he needed to. So Shin handed off the reins to the stablehand and entered the inner waking the dozing innkeeper. The man looked at the coins Shin set out before him. My master gave me enough to stay in an inn, shin informed the innkeeper. Glancing at the coins, the innkeeper informed Shin that no, he did not. But they were full up anyway. The innkeeper could do half the coins there, and the kid could sleep on the floor by the fire. Deal, shin said, and within a minute of laying down on the floor, sleep took him. What is this? Shin screamed the next morning. It's your horse. The stable hand shrugged. The lame horse, blind in one eye, hunched in gray, older than the stable and maybe the part of town that housed it, lazily tried to bite Shin. No, I had the tall, majestic gelding. Shin looked the horse over. Oh, okay. The stable hand had heard that one before. The this isn't my horse. My horse is the one with the flowing mane and like the racing stripe. Ha ha ha ha ha. Most of the time it was just dads that tried to drop that little gem. I'm not joking, shim said as he stepped away from the yet another lazy bite from the gelding. I dropped him off with you last night. Last night? The stable hand searched his mind. I wasn't here last night? I don't think anyone Was the other guy called in dead? It was another preventable illness. Then who did I give my horse to? Shin was feeling light headed. Uh, probably a thief would be my guess. The stable hand shrugged. Aw, yeah, Rice, the worm said in the stable. He waved to his other worm buddies. Nearly half of them had made it from the day before, what with the early birds. Dig in, boys. He's gonna throw you off of it. The ant cried out and then shook his head. He didn't even know why he tried talking to worms. Worms. Screams didn't echo through the stable as Shin flung them away from his rice offering to the spirit of the stable with the plea that he be led to whoever stole his horse. Dozens of legs tapped the floor. A centipede crawled out from the shadows. Oh man, is that Mr. Long body? The ant looked. Oh yeah, it was good for him. A worm that tries to get out and mix it up among the other bugs. He does more than mix it up. He's getting married. The centipede said. No. Who's the lucky worm? A few more ants stepped forward to get in on the gossip. Not a worm, actually. My man Longbody. He's talking to Ms. Thousand Feet, the centipede said. No, for real? That millipede that lives out under the big rock just outside of town? The ant said. Yeah. They like, bonded over their love of decaying organic matter and it just took off from there. It's the talk of the pluripetal community, the centipede noted. Gotta be a first, right? Longbody will be leaving quite the legacy. A nearby moth fluttered down. What are you doing, man? The centipede turned to the moth. Oh, I was making a joke. The moth shrugged. Oh, you hexapods and your jokes. Yeah, so funny. That's not something you get to say to us, the centipede said. What? I wish I had more legs. The moth laughed. That's not helping, the ant said, and sensing that this conversation had taken a turn, went to go congratulate Longbody. Oh yeah, I don't talk to Moth anymore. He started sharing some, like, really weird videos. I think he might be legust, longbody said. And thanks for the congratulations. We're really excited. I never thought I would meet anyone who just gets me, you know? One of the ants laughed. Well, he didn't envy what Long Body would have to get her. What do you mean? Longbody asked. Well, the shoes, I mean. I mean, I know you're productive and all, eating through the mud and making your Little piles and whatnot. But mud doesn't equal shoes, and she's gonna need a lot of shoes. Long Body looked at the ant. Well, that didn't matter to him. Probably didn't even matter to her. Love was what mattered, and they cared about each other. He would care for her. And Longbody trailed off. Well, I both do and don't envy you, bud. The Ant slapped Longbody on the back, which was easy because he was pretty much all back. And then Ant looked up at the ox that was fighting against the farmer in the street. The humans couldn't understand him, of course, but all the insects could. I'm not an ox. My name is Old Timbertop. I'm a human man. Please, somebody help me. The ox screamed. What's that guy's deal? All the insects looked to one another. Old Timbertop was having a bad day. The man got his name from his business, and business was good. After having taken one risk in his youth when he bought up a useless patch of woods with no clear idea what to do with it, he lighted on an idea. Lumber. So he cut the forest down, packed it on some oxen, and sold it for a profit. That first profit doubled and tripled in size as Old Timber Top, the people called him, invested back in his business of ruthlessly cutting down every tree he could own. And since he was so rich, that was basically all of them. He also learned that by taking this lumber a little farther down the road to the city, he could sell to the rich magistrates and the city dwellers who couldn't get lumber as easily as the people in the country. You know, I Jason, read an article recently about how the average sale price of a car in the US is $50,000, because the car companies found that they could make a really expensive car and market it to wealthy people and make more than they would selling a reasonably priced car without, like an IMAX screen on the dash and unicorn leather seats to the rest of us. That was where Old Timbertop ended up. He controlled the entire harvesting and production process. So unless his country brethren could afford city prices and they couldn't, it looked like they also couldn't build fences and sheds to protect their pigs from the tigers that came down from the mountains. The most beautiful trees of all, though, were those sweet, sweet grave trees to honor the deceased. People would plant trees around the graves of their ancestors and tend them meticulously. Life is unpredictable, though less so when one guy controls all the building materials in the region and has a reputation of being someone who would skin a mosquito for its hide and tallow. When families were inevitably unable to afford food, Old Timbertop would swoop in and get the trees by their ancestors graves for pennies on the dollar. Old Timbertop noticed two things. One, the more he had, the more he wanted. Where he once saw the equivalent of hundreds of thousands per year as extravagant, he now saw it as poverty. The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't happy. Everyone hated him for some reason. And he always suspected the people who did like him only liked him for his money. He decided that that was a them problem. He was simply better because having spent too long in the city, his tastes had grown more refined. And they obviously hated him for that and only that reason. No one saw him off when he left for Seoul, not even his own family, who he left behind on the cheapest kind of Kimchi. To quote David Cross on Mr. More money equals better than so. Even though Old Timbertop was not a scholar, he had no knowledge of the law or medicine. He had never served anyone in any capacity. So of course he hadn't been a soldier and knew nothing of war or strategy. And he couldn't even ride a monocycle. Like the story tells us, all the guys in Seoul could. Despite all those things, he was rich. So naturally he would be given respect and honor and a place in the government. This was not what happened. Here we see that we are in a work of fantasy. The rich guy was not seen as good and smart and capable because he happened to have a lot of money. Despite dressing the part and bowing low and flattery. So much flattery, everyone could see that this guy had no idea what he was doing. That being said, he made generous gifts to his patrons, that is the people in the government, and they accepted his gifts. But that's all they did. Well, that and they laughed at the man who dressed like a scholar and a soldier and a king, but knew nothing beyond how to squeeze 1600 won out of 1400 won by taking advantage of his neighbors. Quick note. This is just an illustration. And I know the Korean won didn't come about until 1902 and and the modern day South Korean won until 1946. Old Timbertop had taken a risk once upon a time and pressed onward when everyone believed it was folly and it brought him to where he was today. Surely if he continued pressing onward despite giving all the money he had to people who laughed at him and told him, yeah, they would take his money. But just to be clear, this was not a bribe. They weren't going to do what he wanted to do. Surely he would be successful here too. After years in Seoul, Old Timbertop finally went bankrupt. Totally skint. He alienated his relation when he chastised the man for not believing in him, so his only options were to sleep on the street or go home. Unbeknownst to Timbertop, it wasn't just the magistrates and generals laughing at him and watching his downfall. Others were watching him from the shadows and they were also laughing. We'll see what's up with Old Timbertop, Sir Longbody, the student in Mourner's Clothes, and others. But that will be right after this I'm not a meal prep person. Historically I've not been a any type of prep person, but I'm working on that. Meal prep is a challenge though, because I feel like when I'm making dinner there are three categories. Health, time, taste. And I can choose only two of them. That's why I love Home Chef. All the planning done, amazing restaurant quality recipes that I choose by tapping on my phone, something I'm already doing all the time anyway. Prep. All the fresh ingredients come in individual bags per recipe, and some of them are already chopped or sliced. Taste. I mean really. Home Chef makes dinner time once a big stress point, something that we actually look forward to. They have over 30 meal options per week and Home Chef makes eating at home even more affordable because Home Chef customers save an average of $86 per month on groceries and people really love it. Home Chef is rated number one by users of other meal kits for quality, convenience, value, taste and recipe ease. For a limited time, Home Chef is offering my listeners 50% off and free shipping for your first box, plus free dessert for life. Go to homechef.com legends that's home chef.com legends for 50% off your first box and free dessert for life. Homechef.com legends must be an active subscriber to receive free dessert. As you might know, I love sweater season. Summer in Ohio is decidedly not sweater season. When you step outside thinking it's going to be 45, but it's like 85, you start rethinking what you're reaching for. That's why Carissa and I both keep coming back to quints. High quality essentials, breathable linen, super soft organic cotton. They somehow thread that needle of elevated luxury that doesn't cost the same as most elevated luxury. Everything is 50 to 80% less than similar luxury brands because they work directly with ethical factories to cut out the middlemen. With quince, you're paying for quality, not some brand markup Quince is not just clothes either. We have family and friends that use them for bedding. Carissa got a new 14k white gold wedding ring from them when hers just disappeared in our kitchen. But when it comes to clothes for summer, I love my like Henley tee from them. And I'm already looking at more short sleeve shirts because Quint's just makes awesome staples that all look good but you don't have to think about them because they just work with everything you have. Elevate your summer wardrobe. Go to quint.com legends for free shipping on your first order and 365 day returns. Now available in Canada too. That's Q-U-I-N-C-E.com legends for free shipping and 365 day returns. Quints.com legend legends. You're not even allowed to wear hats in Korea during this time, old Timbertop told the butcher's wife as he ate the couple's warm bean porridge and chewed on the beef. That's a weird way to pronounce. Thank you for taking me in out of the rain when I was pounding on your door and begging for help. Must be a regional dialect I don't understand, the wife said, and then turned to show him where he would be sleeping. It was a nice stone floor, as stone floors go. It was warm, and when Old Timbertop was alone, he took off his cloak and outer clothes to dry in the fire. Old Timbertop was exhausted. He blinked and it was noon the next day. He stretched out on the floor. It was real nice of these butchers to let him stay here, even if they were butchers and because of social hierarchy, couldn't wear hats. Where's that ox? We had a deal with them, timbertop heard from the other room. Still asleep. No. Market day will be almost over before I get him to town. Time to get him up. Then. The door opened. Oh my gosh. Sorry. Let me get my clothes on. Timbertop yelped as he scrambled to his pants. Not seeming surprised. The butcher looked the sticks in his hand over the doqevi, said to touch his back three times. Like poke him or just lay it on him. I literally have all the information that you do. I was at the same meeting with them. The wife, holding a halter rope and thick iron ring, said, dokebi. Like the little goblin ogre things? Timbertop asked, jumping into his pants as the husband approached. Too bad they're not demons, or else we could make a reference to K Pop. Hey, hey, that tickles. The tickling Was the first and last thing that Timbertop noticed about the stick. Because of what happened next. Hunching to the ground, his skin became hide. The hide became hairy, his fingers fused together and his nails grew out until they were hooves. Horns shot from his skull and his nose stretched out, Drawing his mouth with it before they both rounded off. In seconds, an ox was laying on the floor bellowing. Okay, I'm actually really scared of these sticks now, the husband said and wondered a lot if they should put them in a bag or something. The wife went to work with the halter and handed the iron spike to the husband. I learned a little bit about the nose rings for bulls for this. Apparently for adult animals that could potentially be dangerous. They will pierce the nasal septum and put a ring in there for control because it's a very sensitive area of the body. I don't know enough about this to say anything one way or the other. Seems like it hurts the animals. Also seems like that's kind of the point. In the event of them getting dangerous, it does not look fun to do or to have done. That was Timbertop's estimation as he screamed, but his curses came out only in bellows. The couple slipped the ring through and it was done. They looped a rope through the ring and halter and led Timbertop out. Getting a full grown male ox out of the house designed for not a full grown male ox was a challenge. And Timbertop got in a few good kicks to their furniture and walls as he left. But when he was outside, the butcher stopped him and looked him in the eyes. They told me you'd still be in there. The man we met last night was smarter than an ox. Most oxen anyway, so it should take less training for you. Holding up the rope attached to the halter, the butcher said that this rope was so the ox knew which way to go. Giving a brief tug on the nose ring rope and waiting for Timbertop to stop crying about it. The butcher said that that one was the incentive to follow the leadings of the first rope. Neither of them wanted him to have to pull on the second rope. Let's go. The butcher commanded. And when they made it to market, he could honestly say to the ox's buyer that he had never worked with a more obedient animal. I'm a human man. The ox yelled. But shin, the stable hand, only heard bellowing. The rice offerings weren't working. The innkeeper just kept suggesting bowls of rice. But shin began to suspect that that was because he was the one selling rice. Maybe the heavens weren't listening because he didn't know how to talk to them. Snapping his fingers, Shin took off in a run. After he left, several ants helped themselves to his rice. Asking around, the stable boy found the mundang, what the story calls a fortune teller, but quick search says it is something of a practitioner of museok, what's been called Korean shamanism when it comes to a blind shaman who claim to peer into the past and future using different methods to do exactly that. It was pretty much what Shin expected. He didn't tell the woman what he sought, and she seemed to know when he approached, waiting for him to sit, a smooth turtle shell in one hand and sticks in the other. The woman dropped the sticks in the turtle shell, shook it, and poured the sticks out on the table. Good people. The woman cried. Shine a light in our darkness. Help this young man find his horse. The mundang felt the sticks. Nodding, she found her frog shaped box and demanded three coins from Xin. Putting them in the box, she shook it and felt the coins. Hmm, she said and sat there. She lifted her chin to Fei Shin, go buy a bag of salt. Set it down before the sad animal, right where it was left. Do not give him water. He will lead you to your horse. She scooped up the coins and put them in another box. Silence let Shin know that this session was over and it was apparently not a I don't get paid unless you get paid situation. So Shin rose to go buy some salt. I am so thirsty. The horse cried out. Then stop eating salt. A beetle yelled back. Have you ever eaten salt? I'm a horse. We eat like grass and stuff. Salt tastes amazing. The old horse said and took another bite. Beetle turned to his friend Longbody, the worm who was engaged to Miss Thousand Feet. I just, I don't know, I never thought about it, Longbody said to the beetle and the ants that were sitting around talking about his metaphorical cold feet. You don't think that she would want shoes? The beetle laughed and then looked at Longbody, the worm. Okay, yeah, that actually makes sense. Ms. Thousand Feet was the best thing that had ever happened to Longbody. She understood him in a way that no one else ever had. She seemed to love him no matter what. It was just easy with her. But talking to his friends, he began to worry that he wouldn't be able to give her what she needed. I mean, think about it, the Aunt Anthony said. Even if you give her burlap and twine shoes, that's not cheap. And then she says, oh, I want to go out once. That's like a million shoes. Gr Ant, his brother chimed in. Miss Thousand Feet might say she doesn't care now, but then she sees her sister out there in her new shoes and then what? Long Body sighed. Antoine, Gr Ant's second cousin by marriage, said that if he loved her and loved his own finances, he should think about these things. Their aunt, nephew Dave, said that it seemed like maybe love would find a way. Longbody should really talk to her about this first. The older ants laughed. Clear communication and avoiding assumptions while wanting what was best for the other person. Dave was young. He had a lot to learn about relationships. The ants and the beetle, who I guess was interested but didn't have enough context to contribute, left to go get the remainder of that rice. Longbody said that he should go too. He had to get back to work, apparently not listening to their conversation. The old horse, in panic, said he couldn't take it. He turned and trotted away. The stable hand Shin, who had been watching, padded close behind. Old Timbertop watched the horse rush past him. That was an inspiration. The man who bought him was gonna take him back, fatten him up and slaughter him. What was even worse, he had to carry stuff for the man. Wood, of all things. Some jerk had bought up all the wood in his region, so he had to travel into the city to oh, okay. Yep, okay. He saw it now. This was a lesson. People don't just wake up and become oxen. There was a point to all this. Yep, he had been a massive jerk and hadn't thought about anybody or anything but himself and his pocketbook. Okay, yeah, he got it. I got it. You can change me back. Old Timbertop called out the world. Just heard bellowing. Quiet, you. The man. His owner barked and he jerked the lead and nose ring. Old Timbertop recoiled. Then they were stopping. His new master looped the lead around a pole out by some grass, and Timbertop craned his ox neck to see where the man was going. Oh, yeah, he Timbertop never went to the bar on his business trips. Business was for business. You gotta have some clear lines between the two or else things get blurry. You either end up working all the time or. Or you're not working at all. When his owner walked into the bar, Timbertop knew he was going to be ours. Timbertop wasn't wrong, but now that he was alone, he realized that he was hungry. He had dinner the night before and then been turned into an ox before breakfast. He looked at the grass. Welp. When in the form of an ox do, as others in the form of oxen do. Thinking that he could probably workshop that one a bit, and wondering just how many people were trapped in the form of animals, Timbertop took his first and last bite of grass. Because it was grass. Grass tastes bad. He did notice a ring of mushrooms growing near the pole. Now, Timbertop knew you don't eat wild mushrooms. They could be fatal. But these were were extenuating circumstances. His first preference was not dying at all. His last one was being slaughtered by this jerk who bought him and then feeding the man's family. If he could eat these mushrooms, not be hungry and die from spite and mushrooms, well, that was a happy medium. Timbertop ate the mushrooms. He could only get one or two, and after he swallowed, began to feel something. A rumbling, but also a quaking and quivering in his chest and limbs. Then he dropped. In a moment, he was a human again. Wanting to marvel, he first got that ring out of his nose because. Ow. And then, overcome with joy, he studied his hands and arms. Realizing that he was crouching naked, Timbertop did a nude bow in all directions to the dokkaebi, thanking them for turning him back, and scrambled off toward the forest. Then, a fresh idea in his normally timber packed head, Timbertop braved the twilight to go scoop up as many of the mushrooms that were there. He had an idea. Shin, atop his master's grand horse that he had recently recovered, saw a naked man sprint across the road with an armful of mushrooms. That was something you don't see every day. One hopes the mundang was wise. After the horse ate his fill of salt, he took off on a trot down the city street, then out into the country, ending up at a manor. The horse went directly to the country estate and Shin helped him open the gate. Then he trotted to the stable to slurp up water right next to Shin's master's horse, creeping over and grabbing his saddle, Shin tacked up the horse and had nearly made it to the gate when he heard shouts. Hey. What are you doing with my horse? Shin didn't turn the horse, but but looked over his shoulder to the man rushing out of the house. I'm taking my horse back, Shin said. Not if I catch you. The man pointed also. That's not an admission of guilt. That's just a statement of fact. Okay, you can't, because your horse is old and sad. If you try to say I stole it, I'll have my master testify. And according to the text, you'll be paddled, which is probably euphemistic, shin declared. With that, he left the horse thief's estate. Riding home and marveling at the wisdom of the Mundang, Shim was so lost in thought that he almost ran over a man standing on a bridge, weeping. Shim was about to ask the man if he was alright, but the man turned to him first and, screeching, asked if the rider could hear him too. Please, please say he could hear him too. Shin had already been through enough nonsense, steered wide around the man, and galloped off toward home. We'll see what's going on with that guy at the bridge because, you know, we need more stories and characters this week, but that will once again be right after this. My dad was a pilot, a rescue diver, a competitive skier. He visited, I think every state in the United States between his career and his hobbies. He almost died like six times. And in the last year of his life, he told us so many awesome stories, but even then I knew he was only scratching the surface. I mentioned last time that we gifted Storyworth to Chris's mom one year and it is the Mother's Day gift that we all still remember because it's a lifetime of stories that have lasted for years. Since Father's Day is coming up and I really think it's a dad thing to not want to talk about yourself, I don't know. I know it is for me. Storyworth gives your dad and the whole family a book of stories of stuff he'd never think to tell on his own. Each week, Storyworth will send him a question about his life and he can respond however he wants, replying to an email on the web, a voice recording or new this year, a guided phone call. You get each story in his own words as he tells it, and Storyworth will compile those words, photos, everything into a beautiful hardcover book. This year, give Dad a gift that captures who he really is before the stories get harder to remember. Father's day is Sunday, June 21st. Order right now and save up to $20 at StoryWorth.com Legends Save up to $20 at storyworth.com Legends storyworth.com Legends I want to take a minute to talk to parents because as a parent, this is something I didn't fully realize until recently. Myopia, or nearsightedness, is showing up earlier and earlier in kids, and I've learned that it's about more than just seeing clearly in class. If myopia progresses over time without being addressed, it can lead to bigger vision challenges down the road. That's why I'm really glad Conversations around children's eye health are changing. When you take your child to an eye doctor, you're not just getting a prescription, you're getting insight into how their eyes are developing and what options might help support them long term. One of those options is Essilor Stelis lenses. They are designed specifically for kids and used as part of a myopia management approach, all while still correcting everyday vision. They're worn just like regular glasses, nothing complicated for kids or parents, because really, we do not need any more complications in our lives. Every child is different, so the best place to start is with a comprehensive eye exam. For me, it's about being proactive now to help protect their vision for the future. Visit essilor.com to learn more about Stellus lenses and to find an Essilor expert eye care professional near you once again, that's Essilor E S S I l
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o r.com hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons and Safeway for you. Save days are here now through June 23rd. Find hot deals throughout the store and earn four times the points. Look for in store tags to earn on eligible IT items from Chobani, Vitamin Water, Jelly Belly, Nutella, Haagen, Dazs, Nestle and Altshine. Then clip the offer in the app for automatic event long savings. Stack up those rewards to save even more. Enjoy savings on top of savings when you shop in store or online for easy pickup or delivery restrictions apply. See the website for full terms and conditions.
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Chu stood at the bridge, shaking. He had first heard the voice this morning, and he had spent so long at work. Because it couldn't be. It just couldn't be him. Chu's father. This morning when he crossed the bridge, he heard his father's voice from underneath. For a moment, he forgot. Chu turned with a smile to look for the man trailing behind him as he would on some days. But the road was only dust and sky. Then Chu remembered. It was like losing him all over again. The voice, though, kept speaking. Chu longed to hear it again, to speak to his dad, to tell him everything he couldn't in his final days. But the voice didn't pause. It said horrible things. That Chu was in danger. His father said he was speaking to him from a distant shore. But what the man was saying, it was too much. Chu ran off toward his silk shop in town. He stewed all day in apprehension of the trip home until knowing that it was just a hallucination. He told himself he would not hear his father's voice at the bridge. His father was dead. Hi, son, the voice said, deep but with a raspy edge. His father's voice. Chu burst into tears. It wasn't a waking dream or hallucination. It was his father. Chu tried to flag down a rider, but the kid barely slowed, looking at him like he was mad. I miss you, son, the man said when they were alone again. We, the dead usually don't get to do this, but you were all I had left. They were kind. Please don't run away. Chu couldn't run even if he wanted to. The pain of hearing his father's voice but knowing he wouldn't see the man. It was worse than nothing, but he still didn't want to give it up. Did you hear me this morning? The voice asked. Is it true? Chu said through a sob. It is, the voice replied, solemn now. Your wife is a demon in human form. Chu broke into tears again.
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How?
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How was that possible? She was so sweet, so kind. She needs to Last only another 15 days as your wife. If she can manage that, then she'll have no more need for her deception, the father's voice said. There's no other way. Chu wiped his nose. There's not, the father replied. She has to die. Miss Thousand Feet watched the form of the man in anguish over his wife. The millipede had come out from under the rock to get a break from the talks of marriage, but here was a man in nearly as much anguish as she was. She loved Longbody. He understood her in a way that no one ever did. Her family did not love him. They gave their approval, of course. On paper, Longbody was a good match, a hard worker. He brought himself up from nothing and he was wealthy. But he was also covered in dirt. Miss Thousand Feet couldn't help but hear the sneers of her sisters. That she was going to be a seamstress to a worm, that he didn't understand their world and he wouldn't be able to take care of her in the way she deserved. That he was using her as a stepping stone and that she would be trod on and disregarded like the dirt in which they would both live. Girls, stop. Her mother had said that evening. Thousand Feet knows what she's getting into. She loves him. She won't mind learning to make a single legged trouser and an impossibly long coat, and then spending each night washing it because he travels around all day in the dirt. Right, dear? The millipede mom looked down with mock concern. Ms. Thousand Feet Crawled out of the hole with metaphorical tears in her eyes, Oceloi, the structures on her face that can really only sense degrees of light. Was she a fool to think it could be different? But she imagined every couple thought it would be different for them until they got married and became their parents. Old Timbertop had some clothes he borrowed. He would pay the owner back eventually. He also had the sticks, the ones that had transformed him that he had stolen from the butcher couple, though you could barely call them stolen since they were sitting outside, like the butcher was scared of them or something. Now he was waiting to get back into town, his town behind an especially chatty kid, the local stable hand, Shin. Yeah, there's no magic in that salt, the old gatekeeper said. You're a smart boy. You should have figured out that by giving salt to a horse you just made him thirsty, prompting him to go back to the place where he got water, his home, and there you would find your master's horse, the place from which the sad one came. Can we keep it moving, please? Old Timbertop said, and then thought about it. Nope. He was different now. He sighed. Sorry. He just had a long day and at some impromptu nose piercings. He shouldn't have taken it out on them. You've had a long couple of years from what I've heard, the old gatekeeper said. After Shin trotted off, Timbertop said, yeah, it had been long, but he was different now. Everyone claims to be different. The old gatekeeper shrugged. But what matters is what you do. I'm going to my family, timbertop said. To say sorry for leaving them for years with the cheapest kimchi, and also for leaving them for years. That's a start, the gatekeeper acknowledged. Also, I'm a doctor now, old Timbertop said with a grin. The gatekeeper rolled his eyes and waved Old Timbertop through. Two weeks later, the young scholar, still in mourning clothes, remember him from the beginning, held his brushes, ink, and paper. The traveler that stopped by had left enough money for him to buy ink, brushes, and paper. He took a deep breath. There were two notices on the gate in front of him. The first was about the king's examination taking place today in the palace. It had been the talk of the entire kingdom. That an examination would take place in an off time without any notice was highly irregular, but, well, absolute monarchies are going to monarch absolutely. So the whole thing was organized as quickly as possible. The other notice that he saw was a warning. People were turning into oxen and to know the signs the symptoms were turning into an ox. If Someone you love came down with turning into an ox they needed to isolate, probably in a barn, because they were now an ox. Given that the ox thing was mostly among the noble families, the young man in mourning clothes didn't seem to worry too much about it. Weird though it was, he wound his way through the streets of Seoul until he came to the palace. A glut of scholars sat at the desks, and while no one ever looked happy at these things, their faces were particularly strained when a spot opened and the young man took it. He spread out his papers and looked at the topic for the essay, and he smiled. The prompt was just three. An old man weeps, a mourner sings, a nun dances. Whoever heard of such a ridiculous prompt? The scholar next to him hissed. The young man paid no attention, Writing out verse after beautiful verse, he quickly finished. Before he had a chance to leave the city, proclamations came up from the palace that a winner in the contest of learning had been decided. Daring to hope, the young man in mourning clothes turned back and walked toward the palace. And it was when he arrived nearby that everyone looked to him. The ministers waved him forward for a meeting with the king. Do you not know me? The man asked the student. The young man in mourner's clothes said that of course he knew the man. The man was the king. Look at me, the king commanded, and the young man looked and though trembling, met the monarch's eyes. They were eyes he recognized from that strange night, where the odd traveler admitted to looking in their windows and then left enough money for him to buy ink and brushes and paper. There was no examination. You thought it up that night? The scholar looked away. The king waved for his ministers to leave them. The youth was silent, but the king knew what he was thinking, telling him to go on. He could speak freely. I didn't earn it. You did it out of pity. The youth's voice sunk. I'm going to tell you a story, the king replied, not responding to what the young man said. You know how we got our Alphabet? You. The student ventured. No, no, no, no. Hangul came from heaven itself, from the brush of the Jade Emperor. You see, I knew that if our way of writing remained as it was, with the Hanji characters that come from China and its poor fit with our language here, the average person would never understand it. So I brought it up with the ministers and the nobles, and you know what they said? No. It wouldn't change. It worked well enough for them. So it worked well enough. It would take a sign from heaven for Korea to have a new Alphabet. The Jade Emperor must have heard, because the next day when they walked out in the garden, the worms and the flies and other insects on 24 different leaves formed my new Alphabet. Nature itself was showing us the way. Couldn't ask for a better sign than that. King Sejong looked at the young man and laughed at the obvious incredulity on the student's face. No one saw me. A king painting honey on leaves to attract the worms? King Sejong laughed. Now, though, we have a writing system that a wise man can learn in a morning and even the worst of students can learn in a week. The king stood, and the young man rose with him. Everyone needs a little help. I read your verses in your house. You deserve to be here. And it's a travesty that it took so long because you couldn't afford paper and brushes, even more so because you were caring for your father. The king gestured to the door. Those men write the rules and then call them fair. And if you want to make the world a better place, you need to take and give help when you can. All right, let's get you out of those mourning clothes, the student wearing new clothes and riding home on a white horse, told his father, who marveled with tears in his eyes. Hunger never visited their house again, and though they did have the occasional aunt in their kitchen, they did not mind. I heard your wife was sick. Chu, the silk merchant, heard knocking at the door. He rushed from his wife's side and answered the door. Timbertop, the physician, stood with his bag by his side and with the hint of a bow, walked in. You're the great physician from the capital, right? The silk merchant whose dead father had been telling him to kill his wife, was so pale and thin that he seemed a shade of his former self. I am, timbertop said, then looked around. He had never been here before, right? Had the silk merchant or his wife been to Seoul recently? No, chu said. His wife had been in bed sick for the past two weeks. Ever since. How long has your wife been in the form of an ox? Timber top cut right to it. After the silk merchant explained that she was not in the form of an ox, Timbertop took his hat and made for the door. A waste of half of a day. You're not going to help her? Chu pleaded. No. I only cure people who have been turned into oxen. It's an epidemic in Seoul. I don't have time for this. Timbertop slammed the door and pounded the dust on the road back off toward town. Chu took one step toward his wife's room, where she lay in agonizing illness in bed. And then he broke down. No matter what, he wouldn't do it. No matter if she was a demon and if she was going to kill him. He knew her. He loved her. He would be with her until the end, no matter what that looked like. Wiping tears from his eyes, Chu entered the room where his wife lay in bed. When he left her there minutes before, her face was dead white, almost gray or green. Now she lay on the mat, staring up at the ceiling. Chu didn't know what this was, but he was overjoyed. Her eyes snapped open. Why didn't you do it? She said, staring at the ceiling and then blinking. When her eyes opened, she was looking directly into his. Do what? Kill me. I was weakened, she said, her gaze returning to the ceiling. What do you mean? Chu asked, already knowing. But how did she know? Why did you not listen to the voice at the bridge and do as it commanded? A chill found Chu. I don't know what you're talking about. She smiled. We both know that's not true, she said softly. He wasn't lying, the voice. Not completely. I'll tell you my story. I was born centuries ago, a different woman, in a different age. I did something to anger the Jade Emperor. What it was, I can't even remember now. But I was changed. Sometimes when beings fall from heaven, they become sand monsters or pigmen. I became a centipede. A white rooster was sent to torment me, and over countless lives, whether cowering in a hole or tucked away in the alcoves of the palace, he always found me. She sat up. All torment has its limits. My time as a centipede ended 25 years ago when I was given this form. My form. But it was 25 years too soon. The rooster still hunted me, but since I was a human, he couldn't hurt me. My torment ends today. Moments ago, he had one last strategy. You find someone stronger who could hurt me and convince him to do it. I wasn't going to, no matter what, chu said. I know, she said with a smile. And it's over now. His spirit was battling mine over the past few days. Whether it was a distraction in case he thought you might do it, or a doomed final attempt on my life, it failed. He failed. I'm finally free of him. Both weeping, Chu took her into his arms. It was done. She could remain there and remain his wife. Because he trusted her and knew her, they would have peace. Miss Thousand Feet. The millipede stood awkwardly before Ser Longbody, her worm betrothed. Every conversation before this one had been easy, natural, like they had known each other across lifetimes and were simply resuming something that always was. Now neither of them could find the words. Under the bridge seemed like a private enough place, but two humans apparently retrieving and burying the body of a giant old white rooster interrupted the talk that both Thousand Feet and Longbody knew would be happening. Longbody knew that he could never give her the life she deserved. It wouldn't be fair to ask her to share his his poverty. She might feel one way now, but without her coats and shoes she would grow to resent her life with him and then grow to resent him. He loved her more than that and wanted more for her than that. Miss Thousand Feet, for her part, knew that Longbody wasn't like all the other men. But that was precisely what all the other men said before they became like all the other men, according to everyone she had talked to. He would expect things of her, she knew, and pleasing him would be as impossible as keeping dirt clean. He would grow to hate her for not being able to keep his long coats clean as he crawled underground, and that was the last thing she wanted. Both had heard that everyone was talking and knew how the other felt. They didn't say any of this because they both felt none of it needed to be said. These were facts, the biggest, most consequential fact of all being that it was over parting beneath the bridge. One left the other, never to see them again. Longbody never married. He had many offers, but no one ever shined as bright as Miss Thousand Feet. He spent the rest of his years toiling in the darkness alone, growing his wealth and leaving piles of it to nobody. Upon his death, the same gossips that encouraged Ms. Thousand Feet that Long Body was a terrible match immediately excoriated her as an ingrate who should have focused on the good parts of Long Body's character instead of finding fault, and they all agreed that it served her right that she was alone. Miss Thousand Feet, though, didn't care. She never wanted to marry after breaking things off with Longbody and also retreated shoeless into the darkness, living in dirt tunnels and dreaming about what might have been. These stories do not go together. In the originals, they're five disparate tales, but I do think they fit. To me, they're about inner lives and vulnerability. Each story has a character who projects one thing on the outside, but who's completely different on the inside, and it's their own willingness and ability to acknowledge and reveal that interior that determines their outside. The student and his sister are a genius and a person who's practicing this sacrificial love. But on the outside they look like a mourner and a nun. Until they let the stranger in. For Chu and his wife, the Centipede, they remained connected on a deep level the whole time, each trusting the other implicitly. And so the former centipede woman reveals even more depth and the husband even more trust. And it destroys a centuries old curse. Long Body and Miss Thousand Feet are the sad inverse of Chu and the Centipede woman because they don't say anything. They don't trust the other. You know that if they opened their mouths and told the other how they felt and shared who they were, they would have found love, but they remained walled off by their own assumptions. Timbertop was interesting because he's someone who had no internal life. The story seems to say that even as a human, he's an animal who exists only to hoard and eat. And so that was exactly what the dokkaebi turned him into. But with the outside matching the inside, he actually grows and develops empathy. We mainly focused on him turning the game of the rich and powerful on themselves by going around secretly turning people into oxen and then making a name for himself by curing them. But the story is pretty clear that he reconnects with his family and dies a respected and loving person surrounded by those who care about him. I'll wrap things up, but the stories today to me speak of the need for genuine connection and the stagnation that can come from refusing it. Genuine vulnerability is scary, but the alternative is a dank hole in the ground where you might be safe but you'll be alone. Real connection is taking the risk and then being willing to meet and help people when they take that risk with you. Next time on the podcast is the story of Vitasco, whose mom started dating a dragon. And you'll see that if you're an epic hero, the last thing you want is is for your mom to start dating a dragon. As you absolutely know by now, hopefully Myths and Legends has a book coming out. It's a comprehensive telling of the King Arthur legends and it is phenomenal if I may say so. The first book of a three book series comes out December 1st. It's available for pre order now, but I just want to say you all are awesome. I mentioned the giveaway a few weeks back and 11,000 people applied to it so they are doing another giveaway which is going on now through June 14th. There are links to everything in the show. Notes and once again, thank you all so much for your interest. Support excitement. You're amazing. The creatures this time are the Dorgar from the Simonside Hills in Northumberland, England. So we've probably talked about Will o' the Wisp or Ghost lights. Lights that might mysteriously appear in the forest, either tempting travelers in or looking like they're leading the lost traveler to safety. If you can see where this is going, and if you know you should not follow these lights, congratulations. You've listened to this podcast before. But what if you really want to mess with a mythological creature? One story of the Duergar involves a young man who walked into the forest he knew contained a bog and shouted Tintin. Which was apparently the way to get the Duergar's attention and cause them to turn on the lights or light. Picking his way carefully through the forest with his oaken staff, he followed light after light until he knew a bog was in front of him, tore up some peat moss and threw it in the water, telling the dwarves nice try, they couldn't trick him. If you see the obvious issues with with suddenly being alone in a dark forest surrounded by angry creatures, you have officially thought about this more than he did. His friends found him half dead and babbling incoherently on the edge of the wood, the Duergar having taken turns beating him up and chasing him through the woods. Anytime he tried to land a blow on them, it was like he was fighting shadows. The Duergar are mythological dwarves. They are in Dungeons and Dragons, where they're called Grey Dwarves and they live in the Underdark. My last character was a Duergar bard. Anyway, the name is said to come from the dialectical variations of the word dwarf on the English Scottish border. One other prominent story comes from a weary traveler who found an abandoned camp. There was a pit with a bunch of fuel wood next to it and a tent left up. Since it was too dangerous to keep going on a moonless night, he stopped and built a fire. When he was sufficiently warmed by the blaze, he decided it was time to turn in. But that's when he saw something emerge from the trees on the far end of the clearing. A mythological dwarf wordlessly ambled toward the fire. When he got close, he took off his hat made of moss with a feather sticking out of it, and settled down, unbuttoning his lambskin coat. The traveler took one of the smaller sticks, broke it over his knee, and fed the blaze, watching with his milky all white eyes. The Duergar seemed to think it was a challenge. Raising a discarded fence post over his knee, he snapped it in half with one go before giving the pieces to the flame. There was a long silence between the pair, and the traveler was not about to try to one up the creature. The Duergar's beard bobbed with an acknowledgment of the traveler's prudence, and he rose, walking back toward the forest. The traveler might be weary, but he was also wary. He did not go to the tent. He didn't even move from that spot as the fire died. This was not a normal place, and the log he sat against and the ground in front of him were the only things he could be sure of. He was right to be wary, but wrong about what he could be sure of. When the sun rose, he found the log that he sat on was not a log, but a rocky outcropping. He was on the edge of a cliff, and if he had tried to take one more step toward the Duergar, or even go to sleep, he would have toppled to his death. There are two ways to avoid the Duergar. Apparently you can carry Holly with you. That's one way. Also, just gonna say it. Follow rules 1 through 3 of the myths and Legends podcast and as always, you'll be fine. That's it for this time. Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Weiser. Our theme song is by Broke for Free, and the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Combs. There are links to even more of the music we used in the show. Notes. Thank you so much for listening and we'll see you next time.
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Hey, it's Ryan Seacrest for Albertsons and Safeway for you. Save days are here now through June 23rd. Find hot deals throughout the store and earn four times the points. Look for in store tags to earn on eligible items from Chobani, Vitamin Water, Jelly Belly, Nutella, Haagen, Dazs, Nestle and Outshine. Then clip the offer in the app for automatic event long savings. Stack up those rewards to save even more. Enjoy savings on top of SA savings When you shop in store or online for easy pickup or delivery, restrictions apply. See the website for full terms and conditions. Lots of places can expose you to identity theft. That's why LifeLock monitors hundreds of millions of data points a second for threats to your identity, which is way more than anyone can do on their own. If we find anything suspicious, like new loans or changes to your financial accounts, we alert you right away. All through text, phone email or the LifeLock app. Save up to 30% your first year. Visit lifelock.com iheart Terms apply when you're
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