Loading summary
Transcript11 lines
- [00:00]
A
This week on Myths and Legends, there are two stories of the Korean Grim Reaper. You'll see what it takes to beat death at his own daily Batman style combat training, some intentional gardening, and very specific fashion choices. The creature this time is a rhino dog who eats nightmares and also metal and people. This is Myths and Legends Episode 4420 Saja Boys 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. Today there are two stories of the Joseon Saja, basically the Grim Reaper in Korean folklore. We'll dive into their personality and what they do in the stories today, but we'll dive right in with a general who very much does not want to meet the Joseon Saja. What's our family motto? General Jine clapped his hands at the end of breakfast. The General's son looked at his mom who only sighed. We have a family motto. The son was just back from his exams and this was all new to him. The father. The general smiled. He would catch on alright. The general holding his hand across the table and his wife's hand joining him accompanied by her own very heavy eye roll. The son put his own hand on his mom's and watched his dad's lips. Don't bury dad until he's been dead seven days. Alright everyone have a great day. The general cried to his wife's mumbling and his son's complete confusion. How was he supposed to follow along with that? What even was that? Alright, I'm gonna go tend my orange trees. The general smiled and left. What is that? The son asked as he helped his mother clean up. Son, when your father was a general. The mom started in on the story without answering the question. My life was anxiety and despair. Despair because I missed him dearly. He was gone for months on end and while he took care of us, I loved him. It was anxiety because every day I feared the message from the King that whether in battle or in court intrigue, he would have finally been overcome by his enemies and killed. Last year, when he left the King's service in full honors, my heart was filled to bursting. I had him back for as many years as we would have together. They would be joyous ones. The mother then paused and shared that recently she had been looking back at the time when he was away with deep fondness. But why? The son glanced out. Was it because he moved them out of the city to this orchard? Did she miss her Friends? Her family, she said. Yes, but moreover, your dad got weird. Then the pair heard screaming from outside. No, no, no. Reverberated through the wooden walls. The son spun around, but the mother only shook her head. The son could go out there and help him. Her blisters needed a week off. Son. Son. Somebody bring my axe. The general cried, snatching the handle as he rushed past. The son didn't know what to expect when he threw open the door. Assassins from another general, old enemies from the kingdom in the west, or Dokaebi come to torment him. Son, good you brought my axe. It's another peach tree, son. We have to get it down before it sprouts that vile fruit. The general was almost shaking with fear. A peach tree? Why are you so scared of a peach tree? The sun stood among the aromatic citrus wafting on the breeze from the orange trees and looking at what was little more than a peach sapling. This wouldn't have fruit for years. Son, the axe. Now. The general snatched it, still not tearing his eyes away from the peach sapling, and began wailing at the peach tree until it was little more than green wood chips. Looking at his son, the general asked the young man to scoop up the remains and take them to the fire. He was a general, not a botanist, and while he was fairly confident trees didn't spread by smells and dead leaves, he he wasn't about to find out, to his detriment. Okay, I'll take these to the fire and burn them, but then we're having a talk, the son said. When he returned, he found his father pacing the edge of the orange trees as he must have walked the enemy lines back in his heyday. Dad, what's going on? The son asked, and the general pointed to his head. The nod at the top. Did the MOI know what this was? His topknot? His hair? Wrong. Well, right. But there was more here, he said, saying he wore a silver hairpin. Okay, think about it. The general strode along the trees. Silver citrus. What did those have in common? Sibilance. Though probably not in Korean, the son mused, and the father shook his head. Did they teach him nothing in that school? He supposed that he couldn't expect the boy to be thinking about death, not at his age. He had his whole life ahead of him. Old men like the General had to be careful. They had to be prepared. Thus the citrus and the silver and the 14 hours a day he spent practicing close quarters combat. What? What did either of those have to do with death? The son asked, and the father laughed again. Everything my boy everything. Didn't he know that the Joseling Saja, the reaper of a grim nature and demeanor, hated citrus and couldn't come close to silver? The son blinked. Seriously? Oh, I'm serious, the general said, dead serious, and he didn't want his unintentional dad joke to belie his point. He had seen the Joseon Saja enough on the battlefield to know the signs after retiring. He had spoken with people of great learning, both in science and the old ways. The science people weren't too helpful when it came to strategies designed to thwart the Grim Reaper, saying that he should just try to relax, watch the saturated fats, and get a regular prostate exam. But the wise men, the people who knew the old folk ways, told him about the citrus and the silver. They also told him about Dongbangsuk. Who? The son asked. Okay, this was all getting really, really weird. The father laughed. It still didn't surprise him that his son didn't know. But Dongbangsuk was the first man to find a way to cheat death. He lived for thousands of years. Did he now? The son was getting more and more tired by this conversation, probably the longest of anyone. The general continued. Rookie numbers, though. I'm gonna do it not by deception, but by fighting. The general squinted, looking through the trees. You know what? He still had time. They teach so much in schools, but they don't teach the important stuff like how to cheat death. The general pointed to a rock and told his son to take a seat. Story time. Dong Bangsok was annoyed. There was a slow walker in front of him. This was the worst. He had so much to do today, but every time he tried to get around this guy, the man would drift lazily one way or the other. It was like the man didn't see him at all. A minute or two later, completely fed up, Dong Bangsok just went for it. He sidestepped the man on the road and pushed his cart. At that moment it caught the man in the hip, and while Dongbangsuk felt bad, maybe the man should have looked and not been in his way. And Dongbangsuk winced as he saw the blind man rising to his palms and dust himself off as he stood. Oh shoot. Setting down his cart, Dongbangsuk rushed to the man's aid and helped the stranger to his feet. Punk kids in your carts be. Back in my day, we carried stuff with our hands and arms and sometimes backs spoiled. That's what you are, the man said and turned to face Dongbangsuk before looking but not looking him up and down. The traveler on the road chuckled. Never mind. Why did you do that? Dongbangsuk asked as the man who was blind began his walk down the street. He you'll see. The man yelled back. What will I see? I don't like your chuckles laden with ominous portent. Dong Bongsuk cried, running before the man, but the stranger didn't slow. Yeah, I bet you don't. The man said. Dong Bongsuk stopped. He would try a different tactic. You know what? I was wrong to hit you with my cart. That's on me. My bad. Mind if I buy you a drink to say I'm sorry? The stranger stopped, stood there for a moment, and then nodded. You know what? Apology accepted. And also drink accepted. Let's go. Dongbang Seok poured the soju for the older man and set it down with a hopeful grin. It was around the third bottle that the stranger began to loosen up, but when the last few drops made their way into the glass, the stranger finally blurted it out. Yeah, you're gonna die. Sorry, kid. He laughed and then stopped his laughter. He actually kinda liked the kid now. This was sad. Dongbangsuk gasped. Was this man a blind seer? Someone who lost their physical sight but gained a second sight? Nope. The blind man grimaced. Also, that was kind of an unhelpful stereotype. No, no, no. It's not bad. It's good. Like you have prophet powers. That's sweet. Dongbang Seok was feeling the soju a bit too. No, but my abilities are independent of me being blind. And even a positive stereotype can still be bad because it kind of flattens me into a trope. And it's you telling me who I am. It's a whole thing, you know. Let's not get into it because you only have like two weeks. The man burped. Dong Bong Seok's eyes almost fell out of his head. Two weeks? What? He was only almost 30. This wasn't fair. That's life, kid. Or death. Rather your death. Sorry, how many bottles have we had? Regardless, it's a week after your 30th birthday. It'll happen in your home. The man put a hand on Dong Bang Seok's shoulder, then wrinkled his nose. No, I shouldn't, the man said. Shouldn't what? Dong Bang Seok squinted and then waved for the waiter, motioning for another bottom. We'll see. The plan to outfox death. But that will be right after this. When I say something like say yes to saying no, I feel like a motivational speaker up on stage in jeans and a sport coat. You might be like, what does that mean? And that doesn't make sense. And you're right. But you know what else doesn't make sense? Overpaying for wireless what's your favorite word? Mine is actually nostril. At Mint Mobile, their favorite word is no. No contracts, no monthly bills, no overages, no hidden fees, no bs, which I'm assuming means bad sketchiness. This is a family show. We tried them out not too long ago and it was so easy to get started. ESIM activated. You get to keep your number, your contacts, your phone. All plans come with high speed data and unlimited talk and text on the biggest network. So it's basically what other carriers have, but for way less. Plans start at $15 per month. Ready to say yes to saying no? Make the switch@mintmobile.com legends that's mintmobile.com legends Upfront payment of $45 required, equivalent to $15 per month limited time. New customer offer for first three months only. Speeds may slow above 35 gigabytes on unlimited plan. Taxes and fees extra. See Mint Mobile for details. The changing seasons are a great time for you to make a change. It's getting colder outside, so it's nice to be comfortable inside and turn your bed into a sanctuary of comfort with bowl and branch. Not for me though. The changing bit. We've been using bowl and branch literally for years. So when we change out our sheets, we're changing out those bowl and branch sheets for another set of Bolen branch sheets. We all have them. Technically, our dog does too, because she sleeps on our son's bed. They somehow get softer with every wash. Based on my very tenuous grasp of textiles and like entropy, this feels like it shouldn't work. But I can tell you it absolutely does. All our Bolin branch sheets feel even better than they did the day we got them years ago. And no joke, they're so durable. We've replaced mattresses before. We've had to replace our sheets. If you're looking for a change, I can't recommend them highly enough. Start building your sanctuary of comfort this fall with Bolan Branch. For a limited time, get 20% off your first set of sheets. Plus + free shipping@bolandbranch.com Myths that's Bolandbranch B O L L A N D branch.com Myths to save 20% and unlock free shipping exclusions apply. Two weeks later, Dong Bang Seok sat in his home. When you really start thinking about it, death that is it can really mess with you all the different ways. He could die in the place he felt safest. It could burn down. He could choke, he could trip on a rug and his head could find a corner. He could accidentally cut himself. His hairpin could go through his skull, he could over ferment his kimchi and that jar could explode, sending shrapnel. There was a form at the door. Well, more accurately, the form slid through the door in his wide black hat and flowing hanbok. He stood before dongbang seok. The 30 year old swallowed hard and then smiled a sad smile. He took a deep breath and turned to the bean. It was his time, he understood. Most people don't even make it this long in this time period. And he was grateful for the time he did have. The Joseon Saja's eyes went wide. Wow, it was refreshing to see someone so young, so mature about all this. Usually they begged or pleaded or ran. I'm ready to go though, I guess. No fighting it. Thing is, I just put some rice on, dongbangsuk said. And his kimchi was at that perfectly fermented, tangy place and. And he had just finished roasting a chicken too. You know what? Did the Joseon Saja have any place to be? Dongbangsuk laughed that he was accepting of his fate. But you know, truth be told, he was in no hurry to go meet it. They could relax, have a drink and something to eat, then head out. Dongbang Seok held up his hands. Look, no big deal to him. Either way, he was already dead. And if the Joseong Saja didn't get bored or tired or need to take a load off, then they could leave. The psychopomp. The Korean Grim Reaper thought about it for a moment and then sat picking up his chopsticks and spoon over the meal. Dong Bong Seok got the man the bean thing. He got it to open up and learned all about the illustrious souls he had claimed over his long career. He also learned that despite the human fears about death, Death's view of death was that it was just another job. He wasn't the only Joseung Saja. There were countless others with that role and title. He had a boss in paperwork and quotas and promotions, and the more Dongbangsak listened to it, the more he laughed that he felt glad to be on this side of things. Actually, as the meal wound down, the Joseon Saja complimented Dongbangsak that the meal was lovely and though he didn't get tired or hungry in the way that Dong Bongsok understood fatigue or hunger. He could feel refreshed, and this was exactly that. Rising, the psychopomp nodded at Dongbangsok and said, okay, it was time to go. Dongbangsuk rose as well and picked up the bowls to clean, but laughed. Silver lining, actually, just before the Joseong Saja made it to the door, Dongbangsuk said, wait, wasn't the Joseon Saja forgetting his shoes? The psychopomp turned to look at the frankly beautiful shoes on the floor. Just his size too. Wow. But no, those. Those weren't his. I can assure you they are not mine. Dong Bang Seok laughed. Those are far too nice and stylish. No, he was just a simple merchant, definitely not deserving of something like that. Those belong to the Joseon Saja, he assured the bean. Before Death could protest again, Dongbangsuk asked if he was going to take his travel cloak too. The bean stood confused while Dong Bongsok removed the silken wrapping from the lacquered box that he apparently had been keeping hidden in the other room. He approached the being and slid the soft, warm and luxurious sable fur lining over his arms. This is not my cloak. The Joseon Saja sifted inside it, though. Wow, it did feel. This was amazing. This would make the collections in the northern regions so much better. Alright, ready to go, Dongbang Sak said. Wait, the psychopomp replied and then paused. He produced some papers and rifled through them. Oh my. You know what? He laughed, looking up. Best day ever for you, the Joseung Saja said. Turned out he made a mistake. It wasn't the young man's time after all. Even the people of the afterlife can make mistakes, it seems. Dong Bang Suk feigned surprise. Well, wow. Okay. I appreciate it. And I must say you were fantastic company. If you ever want to come by again for a meal and a drink. And I don't know, maybe you left more of your stuff here. I don't know how the underworld works. My door is always open. I'll remember that. Death smiled, picked up his new shoes and wrapped his cloak around himself and slid through the door. When he was gone, Dongbangsak finally exhaled. Thirty years later, Dong Bangsok was tired. He appreciated the extra time and not dying, but not what he had to do in order to not die. The Joseon Saja returned a few more years after he turned 30 for another meal and more gifts. And that had been easy. It was a decade after that. Then he started showing up more and more often, demanding more and more jewelry. Though not silver for some reason. Gold coins, trinkets from faraway lands. All this to motivate him to keep the books sufficiently cooked in the in order to not have the Dongbangsak deficit glaring enough to trigger attention from above. The time he showed up with a second Joseong Saja, Dongbangsuk knew that he was cooked. The first explained that he needed some extra help hiding the fact that Dongbangsuk hadn't been taken and this guy was just the one to help. Dongbangsuk could give him the same treatment he gave the first, right? The bean winked from underneath his hat. He forced a smile and then a nod. Yep, yeah, no problem at all. One extra Joseung Saja became two and two became four. And Dong Bongsak knew that he couldn't keep this going. There were at least six psychopomps here, all in on the grift. If his finances held out, which they wouldn't, it was more than likely that someone would talk and word would get out to the people who wouldn't or couldn't be paid off. There was an upside though, to having so many of them cycle through his house because Dongbang Seok began to see patterns, subtle differences that revealed each one to be who they were no matter what form they took. And over the next few years, he made detailed observations, not just in identifying who these beings were, but learning the ins and outs of their system. As his funds dwindled to almost nothing one day, on their next anticipated arrival, Dongbangsak was gone. Thrown into a panic, the Joseong saja began freaking out. This was unconscionable. They were planning on pinning this on someone else they didn't like, altering the records and revealing the deep seated corruption they themselves had benefited from. Bringing in the scoff. Lol Dong Bong Seok after they revealed the deficit, now they had neither their golden goose nor their way out. The first one to accept the bribe all those years ago was the first to roll over on the group, pinning his own plan on them and decrying with a sanctimonious woe that they had approached him and he had gone along with it long enough to gather evidence. Dongbang Seok's disappearance launched a scandal that cost many of the Joseung Saja their positions and led to a crackdown on record keeping in grift. But for the black eye he had given the heavens and the underworld, and for the massive manhunt that commenced after his crimes were revealed, no one on above or below the earth could find Dongbangsuk and it remained that way for 3,000 years. One translation I found said 3,000 years. Another said 3,000 gapta, with a gopcha being a certain cycle equaling 60 years, which would make it 180,000 years. Regardless, it was a long time. The Gangnam Doryung, the Death God, sat by the river in the form of an old man washing coal. They had tried all manner of search and sting operations for years to get dongbangsuk, and while they had gotten close a few times, none had been successful. It was a source of shame for everyone, but now they had called in the big guy. There was a team waiting far enough away to not raise suspicion. The Gangnam Doryong, the Death God, was alone there in the river, washing coal. Why are you washing coal? One young man, barely out of his teens, asked as he walked by. The being looked him up and down. It's an old fashioned technique. It's called minding your own business. You ever try it? He growled at the kid. The 20 something scoffed and continued on. Why are you washing coal? A woman was next in line. The God of death squinted. Nope, I'm a crazy old man doing crazy stuff, he said. The woman shrugged. Okay, fair enough. Why are you washing coal? A third voice asked. The God of death looked up, a man who looked like he could be in his 50s or 60s, but who carried himself differently, almost like one of them in the heavens. The old man in the river grinned. Don't you know if you wash coal long enough, you can make it white? What? The younger man put his hands on his hips. Yeah. I wouldn't expect a young buck like you to understand the old ways. But it's true. If you wash coal long enough, it turns white, the God of death said in the river and went back to scrubbing. That's not how carbon works, the man said. I'm an old man, the man in the river replied. You should respect your elders and their knowledge. The traveler leaned in. Old man, huh? He looked back and forth down an empty road. Well, you can't turn coal white, and I should know. I've been alive for 3000 Goptja, so how about you show some respect? He grinned, but then looked with confusion when he saw the old man look, smiling even wider in response. What are you so happy about? It's nice to finally meet you, Dongbangsuk, the God of death said and dropped the disguise. As he did, the Joseung Saja strike team swarmed, leaping on Dongbangsuk and dragging him off to the underworld. The son Back with the general took a mental inventory. Okay, that was an interesting little folk tale. That's a funny way of saying factual historical account. The general rose from his seated position and started stretching. He learned a lot from that story, though. You can't be crafty with death because death is sneakier. You have to be stronger. You have to win. The son sighed. Okay, that story aside, he did have two more questions. His dad, the general, was chopping down a tree just now. The son had to ask, what's with the peaches? Evil fruit. The dad barked. Okay, some sources translate it this way. I can't find anything regarding peaches being seen as evil in Korean culture or folklore. Folklore. My guess is that in this situation, it's functionally evil to the general because it breaks the barrier of the citrus used to ward off the Joseon Saja, and not because of any inherent vice. Okay, second question. Why are we supposed to wait a week to bury you? The son asked. That's what he wanted, right? A week? Yes. The dad shouted. It's okay. He would just have the boy recite it 40 times before bed each night, like he demanded of his wife. I'm like 17. I'm not doing that. And you shouldn't be making mom do it either. The son said. But he waved his hand. So the weak. The weak is my fail safe. My ripcord. If the worst happens, that's what's going to rescue me. You'll see. The dad smiled. Okay, now the kid needed to skedaddle. His assassins would be here soon. Okay, wait. The son asked, but he was interrupted by the stranger lunging from the trees with a drawn blade and his dad gripping the assassin's wrist, flipping him and disarming him. Picking up the knife, the dad waved for his son to get inside. These men were contracted to kill anyone not on the allow list on sight. He hadn't expected the son to come home early. He sent the message the other day, but the boss back in the city probably hadn't received it yet. Contracted by who? Who is doing this to you? Wait, did you say allow list? The son stopped. I'm doing this. It's for training. Now get inside. The general yelled, and some spears sticking in the ground in front of the son convinced him to head back inside. You meet the assassins? The mother asked when he got back in. Yeah. So he's really afraid of death, the son said, listening to the sound of his father thrashing the henchmen outside. See what I mean? The mother shook her head. A few hours passed and she gathered up a tray and told the son he could go outside if he stayed behind her. She was always safe. It was just annoying. The mother dropped some rice and kimchi off with each of the assassins who lay strewn on the grass between the house and the ring of orange trees, who, struggling to rise, thanked her for her kindness. She found her husband dripping with sweat next to a pile of weapons spinning. He stopped short of hitting her with the BO staff coming just an inch from her chin. A smile broke and he thanked her. Wow, is it quitting time already? Why are you doing that? The son asked later over dinner. Because, son, if I die, and that's a pretty big if, I need to be able to fight the armies of the dead to get back here, the dad said. Obviously okay, that's not very obvious. And isn't that super dangerous to pay assassins to come for you? The son shook his head. It would be if the Joseon saja could get in. He laughed. It was both a test of his skill and a test of his barrier. No one ever died in here, least of all him. Had to be doing something right. Standing, he said it was time for bed. Another big day tomorrow of trying to no succeeding in cheating death. Oh. He sat back down and put his hand in. No, I'm not doing that, the son said. The mother put her hand in. It's one sentence, she said, not adding that it was way easier than the tantrum that would follow. Shoulders slumped, the son put his hand on his mother's don't bury dad until he's been dead seven days, alright? Woo. Good night everyone. We'll see what's lurking beyond the orange trees, but that will once again be right after this. This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. If you didn't know, October 10th was World Mental Health Day. The more time I get to spend on this earth, the more I respect and value mental health. You know, mental health can run the gamut from bigger things that we experience like clinical depression and anxiety, to like small maladaptive behaviors and ways of thinking that we fall into without even realizing it. You can be doing fine physically, but if you're not doing well mentally, you're not doing well. And I've found the inverse to be true. Even if I'm physically feeling kind of bad, if I'm doing well mentally, I'm doing well. Sometimes it doesn't take much. The right question, a safe space to cry and talk through things. A small win. It can change lives and the people that make that possible are things therapists and this October, BetterHelp is shining a light and showing appreciation for therapists because the right therapist can change everything. And BetterHelp makes it easy to connect with licensed therapists. They've been doing this for years, so they have all sorts of ways to match you with the right one. But if you need a change, you can switch at any time. This World Mental Health Day, we're celebrating the therapists who've helped millions of people take a step forward. If you're ready to find the right therapist for you, BetterHelp can help you start that journey. Our listeners get 10% off their first month at betterhelp.com myths that's betterhelp.com myths we've been cooking at home more because takeout is expensive and not good for us and it has been. So all you have to do is plan out all the meals, go to the grocery store after work when you're hungry and everyone else is there, and then you come home and figure out a meal still hungry and and get everything on the table by like 8:30. It's so fun and easy. No, I'm just kidding. It's terrible. But it doesn't have to be. What if all those fresh ingredients were already there and you had the recipes ready to go and it took like no time at all for this awesome home cooked meal. Home Chef makes cooking simple fresh food right to your door. Easy recipes and it tastes great. Home Chef is rated number one by users of other meal kits for quality, convenience, value, taste and recipe ease. Whatever day you're having. They have over 30 meal options so they definitely have the right one for you. They have the classic but they also have 30 minute meals, oven ready trays, quick microwave options and not just for you. They have a dedicated family menu for hassle free delicious dinners and when you just need something easy because we all have nights like that. Five ingredient meals, five pre portioned ingredients and dinner is done for a limited time. Home Chef is offering my listeners 15 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. This guy, the Joseong Saja groaned. This general shine. He knew it all. Still, it was his time and the Joseong Saja was behind and there were like major repercussions if he didn't get this general. He had to keep communicating his own Failure. Because otherwise people would think this was another Dong Bong Suck situation. There was so much paperwork, but he couldn't stand the citrus. He got as close as he could and threw a few more peach seeds in and waved his ash gray hands as they immediately sunk into the ground and sprouted into saplings. These were distractions, of course. The real thing was growing in a spot replete with weeds on the southeast edge of the circle. That was his way in. He just had to keep Shinee distracted with these saplings. The Joseung Saja, the psychopomp that led souls to death, regularly made the rounds. Sure, he was able to pick up a few of the assassins as they succumbed to their injuries upon leaving the orange grove, but unless he could close the Xin' a account, he would face disciplinary action. No one. Since Dong Bongsuk had remained alive so long after death, the extensions alone would cost him his promotion. It took a few more weeks, but eventually the peach tree grew big enough to create a gap in the oranges. Just a small one and it was nearly intolerable. But it was enough. The smell was odious and the pain nigh unbearable, but the Joseon Saja was able to slip between and finally make it into the circle. It was time. Slipping his iron club from his hanbok, he floated across the grass to General Shine, stretching before the onslaught of attackers that day. Stretching that he would never get to finish. Finally, the Joseon Saja would get to complete his task and take this man and foot. His foot bumped against an unseen barrier and soon his chest and face. The Joseong Saja found that he could go no further. He looked up and groaned. Seriously. A silver hairpin. This day just got so much worse. Then the general froze, and the Joseong Saja could see the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Oh. With the sound of a raven taking flight, the Joseon Saja vanished as the General spun around and studied the treeline. Two weeks? This was ridiculous. The Joseling Saja peeked up from underneath the floorboards. He couldn't even file his request for an extension. This was absolutely going on. His annual evaluation. Ugh. This general. The Joseph Saja. Similar to but different from the Grim Reaper here in the US and Europe and other places. Laid flat on his back. One of the good things about being an ethereal personification of death is that was that he didn't get hungry or tired in the normal ways, and the vibes he was throwing off kept the rats and snakes away. One of the bad things was that he was Very, very bored. He didn't experience time like the rest of us do, but even for him, this was taking forever. With the amount this general exercised, you'd think he would bathe every day, but since he couldn't go to the river or hot springs, it meant that his wife or son would have to bring back water, then use fuel to heat it, which would necessitate another trip. All that meant that dad smelled a little bit more, which was annoying to the people close to him and the spirit lurking under his floorboards. Not the smell, though, that did get to him, but the fact that the Joseon saja was waiting for him to take a bath, so presumably he would. Yes. The general stood there by the warmed water and set his pin down, letting his hair unfurl, wincing at the tangy aroma. He muttered to himself that he should probably do this more often, his hair blocked behind him, the Joseon saja rising from the floor after months and months, finally able to approach the general. Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. The Joseon saja's grin was the only thing visible under his hat. How did you get through my oranges? The general cried, less in fear than rage. The Joseong saja didn't answer, but the general would spend the rest of his life wondering where the gap was in his citrus armor that led to this. The rest of his life, however, would not be that long. Knowing his frustratingly furtive foe's fiendish fortifications for fending off his final fall, the Joseong sajo was taking no chances. He raised his iron club, brought it down on the man's head, and General Shine dropped to the floor, dead. His son found him by the bath, laying in what looked like a puddle of his own stinky hair, and when he realized what happened, he scooped dad up into his arms and cried. The mother, for all of her frustration, seemed shocked that he would be so healthy and strong, yet die so suddenly and for no apparent reason. She joined her son in mourning the man they had always loved and would always the general snapped awake and quickly rose to his feet. A deep gloom pervaded everything around him, and there were shouts somewhere in the distance. How had he gotten through peach trees? Well, however he managed it, it didn't matter now. It happened, and dwelling on the past meant he would stay here. He had to go back, and going back meant going forward. He realized the shouting was at him somewhere off in the murky darkness, and looked to his waist, swearing, he saw that he was only wearing a towel. Well, this was what he had been training for. He flung off the towel. It would only be an encumbrance. Boots echoed on the stone floor. There in the underworld. He assumed a fighting stance and charged himself. The mourners moved through the house, the mother and the General's true house, the one in the city over the previous two days. After the mother and son washed the body and dressed the general in his grave clothes, they began the funeral ritual. The people who came to see him were as varied and as interesting as the general had been. She heard from old friends he had personally carried from battle, saving lives of enemy captives he had treated warmly, and she received missives even from those he had fought, who voiced their deep respect for the man to survive so much and collapse. Stepping into the bath, one of his old comrades shook his head. The mother nodded, wondering how much of his activities in his final few months led to his condition. Still, it was fate. This much she could take solace in. At the morning of the third day, the funeral procession formed outside, with friends bringing flowers and a beer for the coffin's trip through town. It was how it was supposed to go, the people there waiting to walk through town and say goodbye to the man who had meant so much to so many of them, looked to the mother and son to begin, but they could only look at their hands and remember the family motto at the same time. The General swung his giant pestle and blasted one of the guards against a stone wall. The harder you hit them, the longer they stayed down, but they never stayed down forever. This was the land of the Dead, the Ten Hells, and he was at number seven. He didn't think he did something deserving of such a fate, but perhaps fighting his fate was what landed him here. He was making his way, apparently, through all ten of the Hells. The Mountain of Knives was a useful one, and he stocked up there after thrashing the guards who came for him at first and taking their armor and the boiling oil. Cauldrons helped him with the Hell of ice. It was easy to slip through the Trees of Knives, a forest where sinners were thrown against spiky trees. The Hell of tongue ripping was a loud place until it wasn't, and all he had to do around the Viper pits was, well, spar to kick some of the people trying to stop him from going around the Viper pits into the Viper pits. Now he was at the Hell of Mortars and Pestles. Thinking ahead, he only had three more to go. The Hell of Sawing would be useful for getting through the doors to the Hell of Lacerating winds where he would be glad for the cloak he had taken from one of the kings. Stepping into the final one hours later, the hell of darkness. He swore that when he got back up there, he would chop and burn every peach tree he could find, bumping into quite a few other denizens. The general remembered the stories. Everyone else probably tried to see where they were going, but there was no seeing, not in here. They were in utter darkness. He could, however, hear. He wandered for a few more hours, only catching hints of it once or twice, but soon heard it off in the distance. The river. The boundary between the worlds. He had it. The guards who tried to lay hands on him didn't know. He had done a couple of his weeks against assassins blindfolded, so while they could see, he wasn't at a disadvantage. Moving toward the river. It was dark one moment and light the next. Well, not light. It was still terribly dim and gloomy, but he had emerged through the other side of the hell of darkness. He found the river. You have to pay the toll, the ferryman growled as the general sat down in his boat, but then looked at the man with the saws and knives at his belt, the battered armor of the guards, and was that a giant pestle? The ferryman dipped his oar into the water and said, you know what? He would cover this trip. As they crossed, a bright light grew all around the general. He gasped awake. He could feel the air filling his lungs. He had done it. He lost to the psychopomp who had come for him. But he fought through the underworld and come back to life. This would be a grand lesson to share with his son. Everyone thought he was a fool. He knew this. But now he had proof. All these thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant as he opened his eyes and sat up. But as he did so, found two things. When he opened his eyes, there was no change. He was still in darkness as he sat up. Well, he only made it a few inches before his head hit the wood. What? The general's panic grew as he screamed. He felt his confines only a few inches in any direction. What was happening? Then it dawned on him. No. No. No. No, no, no, no, no. They hadn't listened. They hadn't believed in him, that he could do it, that he could come back. They had buried him. He screamed and pounded at the wood, which devolved into scratching and clawing and kicking, hoping that someone, anyone, could hear him. Up above, the son held his mother as they both looked on the grave. He wasn't that man in the end, she said, caring, thoughtful. Rationale. That was the General the world had known, the one who obsessively tended his orange trees and didn't bathe and fought anyone who entered his homestead. He wasn't that man. She laughed, remembering the family motto. We all wanted him to come back, but I think it was good that we did this. Or else what? A week could turn into 2, 3? A month? Then we're sitting around with his body. The world thinks we're mad. The son sighed. It was better this way. Everyone could say their goodbyes. They could accept that he was gone, and they all could let go. The mother smiled and wiped her eyes. They would be back again the next day to see him. But it was getting dark. She laughed. As they walked, she said she almost, almost waited. Almost did it. Because you know what? When death finally came for him, the weirdest thing he had just pulled out that silver pin to bathe. The son laughed. That was a coincidence. Come on, mom, let's go home. And they did. Not knowing the father, the General Shine was a mere six feet beneath them, still alive, crying and pounding on the interior of his coffin. At least until he ran out of air in a few minutes. Yeah, that got surprisingly grim. This is to me, a story about fate and fighting your fate and how if the General had just accepted that he was going to die someday, he might have enjoyed the time with his family instead of his ceaseless preparations. Because, well, even when you don't accept fate, sorry, it's still coming. The other sad irony is that the General was absolutely correct, and maybe if he had been more reasonable, his family would have seen things his way and honored his wishes. Another thing I love about these stories were that, contrary to my notion of the death from folklore, a shrouded figure with a scythe who never speaks, the ominous darkness that is coming for us all. Death here was basically a civil servant, someone who had expectations placed on them and quotas and who was maybe a little over it. But what else are they gonna do? It actually reminded me a little bit of Death from Terry Pratchett's Discworld. We'll be back in two weeks, but if you're looking for something to listen to in the meantime, all 10 episodes of fictional season six are out now with the island of Dr. Moreau, a Sherlock Holmes story, some sci fi from Philip K. Dick, a story of the master thief Arsene Lupin, the three part season finale of the original Wonderful wizard of Oz, and more. And a small point, but if you're a myths and Legends member on the site and Apple podcasts. You also get fictional season 6ad free. There are links to everything in the show. Notes the creature this time is the Pulgasari, also from Korea. I think religious persecution is bad. Hopefully that's not a hot take. Not just because I think people should be free to practice whatever religion they want, but also because of metal eating rhino dogs. The Bulgasari originated in the 14th century because Buddhism was illegal in Koryo era Korea, which spanned roughly 918 to 1392. So a monk fleeing persecution came up with an ingenious idea to make a little creature out of rice and feed it needles. There is apparently a very fine line between genius and ridiculous, but this monk walked it like a tightrope because it worked. His adorable tiny rhino ate needles and quickly grew to be big enough to scare off the authorities because it had sharp tusks, the body of a bear, an elephant's trunk, the claws of a tiger, the tail of a bull and the eyes of a rhino. The monk quickly ran into the issue a lot of owners of little alligators, baby pythons, and I've actually heard piglets go through because that little metal eating puppy grew up. The problem with a now giant beast that's nigh impervious to damage and only grows stronger when it eats metal should be obvious because when the monks turned to the government for help, the government sent soldiers. Unfortunately, all all those soldiers had metal weapons and the beast ate those weapons and chased them with the fleeing soldiers growing even more massive. Taking a I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it mentality, the monks decided on the classic kill it with fire solution. They sought it out in the forest, surrounded it and caught it on fire. You know what's worse than a giant beast who eats metal is impervious to all attempts to kill it. One of those but also on fire. It carried the fire to a local village and burned it down. The downside of this was, well, that a burned village and displaced or eaten people. The upside was that the food source in the area was nearly tapped out. So the Bulgasari kept roving far enough that no one knew the monks were responsible for the creature. And I guess if you can't get rid of the monster terrorizing the land, the next best thing for you, not the people it's terrorizing, is that no one knows you're responsible. There's probably a metaphor here for persecution leading to desperation and further violence. But this is where the Bulgasari actually takes a turn because on its own, roaming the world, it found that it had talents other than wanton destruction. Namely, it could defeat nightmares, ward off evil spirits, and. And prevent plagues and natural disasters. Because I guess pestilence and storms don't want to deal with whatever's going on there. Maybe the monks took credit for that eventually because it was apparently sculpted as a sentry on walls, chimneys, railings and pillars. Just goes to show, it's never too late to turn things around. Just stop eating people and burning down villages. Pretty low bar, if you ask me. 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. Limu Emu and Doug. Here we have the Limu Emu in its natural habitat, helping people customize their car insurance and save hundreds with Liberty Mutual. Fascinating. It's accompanied by his natural ally, Doug. Uh, Limu is that guy with the binoculars watching us. Cut the camera. They see us. Only pay for what you need@libertymutual.com Liberty Liberty. Liberty Savings. Very underwritten by Liberty Mutual Insurance Company affiliates. Excludes Massachusetts.
- [55:41]
B
All right, remember, the machine knows if you're lying. First statement. Carvana will give you a real offer on your car. All online.
- [55:48]
A
False. True.
- [55:49]
B
Actually sell your car in minutes.
- [55:51]
A
False. That's gotta be true again.
- [55:54]
B
Carvana will pick up your car from your door or you can drop it off at one of their car vending machines.
- [55:58]
A
Sounds too good to be true. So true.
- [56:01]
B
Finally caught on my nice job. Honesty isn't just their policy, it's their entire model. Sell your car today too, Carvana. Pickup fees may apply.
- [56:11]
C
Time is precious and so are our pets. So time with our pets is extra precious. That's why we started Dutch. Dutch provides 247 access to licensed vets with unlimited virtual visits and follow ups for up to five pets. You can message a vet at any time and schedule a video visit the same day.
- [56:28]
A
Day.
- [56:29]
C
Our vets can even prescribe medication for many ailments and shipping is always free. With Dutch, you'll get more time with your pets and year round peace of mind when it comes to their vet care.