Not long after the incident with the unfortunate woman, Grandfather brought me an outfit that looked like a traditional hanbok and told me to put it on.

  ‘Did he borrow this from a temple again?’

  I picked up the clothes with that thought, but to my surprise, they were brand new.

  "The clothes are pretty, aren't they?"

  "Yes, they're nice."

  I felt a bit uneasy. In this Saju Philosophy Studio, nothing ever came for free. Sure enough, Grandfather made his move.

  "How about a little part-time job?"

  "What kind of job?"

  "I want you to recite some of the physiognomy I taught you. It's okay if you get a few things wrong. I'll be right there to correct you."

  But I refused firmly.

  "No way!"

  "Why not?"

  "I’m still suffering from the guilt of misspeaking to that poor woman the other day. I can't believe you'd ask me to do this right now. You’re too much, Grandpa."

  Grandfather looked at me as if I were being ridiculous.

  "Is that so? That time, you were just babbling on your own. This time, I’m telling you I’ll be right there to guide you, aren't I?"

  "I still don't want to!"

  I turned my back on him in a huff. Just then, he pulled something shiny out of his pocket.

  "Are you sure? You really don't want this?"

  < A 500-Won Coin >

  Back then, fifty won could buy three "Traffic Light" jawbreakers, so this was thirty candies.

  A bag of shrimp crackers was a hundred won, so I could get five big bags.

  It was enough for ten credits at the arcade downtown to play some games.

  Or I could buy a hundred pieces of warm pulbbang(red bean bread) from a street vendor.

  ‘With this kind of money, I could be the king of the block for a day!’

  My motivation to do it suddenly far outweighed my reasons to refuse.

  ‘He said he’d be right there to watch over me, so I won't make the same mistake again.’

  I decided it was only wise to accept such a good deal. Seeing the hesitation in my eyes, Grandfather struck while the iron was hot.

  "If you want it, help me. If not, forget it."

  I replied politely to close the deal.

  "I will help you. Just give me the word."

  Having successfully bribed a seven-year-old with cash, Grandfather gave me my first mission.

  "Good. Now, run down to the bus stop at the entrance of the village. Bring back two men who don't look like locals. They should arrive within an hour, so if you go now, the timing will be perfect."

  Sometimes Grandfather used a divination method called Cheok-jeon-beop, where he threw coins to read the future.

  "Did the coins tell you important guests are coming?"

  "No, they're a scheduled appointment. But it feels like these guests might need a bit of a 'show.' That’s what the reading says, anyway."

  I didn't quite understand what he meant by a "show." I just changed into my new clothes and headed to the bus stop as he told me.

  As soon as I arrived, two men in suits got off the intercity bus. One of them had a camera slung over his shoulder.

  ‘That’s them.’

  I approached them first.

  “You’re not from around here, are you? Are you by chance looking for the Saju Philosophy Studio?”

  The men seemed taken aback and couldn't find their words for a moment. Finally, one of them spoke.

  “We came from Seoul because we heard there’s a very famous Dosa in this village. Do you happen to know where he is?”

  “I don’t know if he’s ‘famous,’ but I know the Dosa that all the outsiders come to see. He sent me to get you.”

  Grandfather had told me not to use polite honorifics with the guests, saying it would create a more imposing atmosphere. I wondered how much of an ‘imposing atmosphere’ a seven-year-old could possibly create, but I followed his instructions.

  The other man asked me a question.

  "But aren't you a local kid? Why do you speak with a Seoul accent?"

  Suddenly, I felt too lazy to explain everything. I disliked these kinds of questions because, usually, adults who asked them would follow up with a hundred more annoying questions. So, I just gave it to them straight.

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  "I’m using a Seoul accent because it seems like you're from Seoul. I think you’re the two men my grandfather told me to bring back. Just follow me."

  I treated them with a hint of irritation.

  ‘People from Seoul really care about accents.’

  A Seoul accent.

  It was honestly annoying. I was born in Seoul, so it was the only way I knew how to speak. But the kids here would tease me by mocking my voice when we played.

  To avoid being teased, I tried hard to learn the local dialect. But when I tried to speak like them, they just got angry.

  "Are you making fun of me because you're from Seoul? Stop with the awkward dialect and just speak like a Seoulite."

  What was even funnier was when my father briefly returned to the country and we went to visit relatives in Seoul. Even relatives who never usually spoke to me found it fascinating that I "spoke with a dialect."

  "Say something in the dialect! Where is that accent from?"

  In such a small country, the way they divided people based on accents and dialects seemed truly pathetic to me.

  I led the way to my grandfather's house. Behind me, I heard one of the men whisper to the other.

  "Do you think that kid... might be a Seondong (a divine child servant) sent by the Dosa?"

  To these grown men who were still talking about divine children, I said, "I can hear you, you know. I’m not a Seondong. And why are you guys so slow? The sun's going to set at this rate."

  One of them had a heavy camera, so that was understandable, but the other one was empty-handed and still incredibly slow. After about thirty minutes, we reached the house. When I led them into the consultation room, Grandfather was already seated. Today, unlike usual, he was dressed in full Dosa attire.

  ‘I didn't know we had clothes like that at home.’

  The old men in the neighboring village wore clothes like that; he had probably borrowed them from there. Grandfather spoke first as he looked at the men.

  "What brings you here? Who should I read first? Give me your birth dates and times."

  As Grandfather spoke, one of them handed over his birth information and said, "I’m thirty-two now, but I still haven't found a woman to marry. Where should I go, or what should I do to find one?"

  ‘Liar.’

  I could tell he was lying at a glance. Since Grandfather had become somewhat famous in the area, many people came just to test him, wasting their money in the process. These men seemed to be part of that group. I almost felt sorry for them.

  ‘How can they survive in this tough world being so clumsy at lying?’

  They were the clumsiest of all the skeptics who had come to test us. It was exactly the time for Grandfather to roar at them. But instead, he turned to me.

  "Grandson... no, Little Dosa..."

  "Yes? Grandfather... I mean, Dosa-nim. What is it?"

  Unlike usual, Grandfather was tossing the question to me.

  "What do you think, Little Dosa?"

  Both men stared at me. I realized immediately that this was the 'part-time job' for which I was being paid 500 won. I answered right away.

  "The man asking the question is already married, or at the very least, engaged."

  When I looked at him while saying this, his expression turned to one of pure shock.

  ‘Hooked him!’

  It was a thrill. I found myself making the same face Grandfather made whenever he hooked a client. With everyone's eyes on me, the words flowed out naturally.

  "And I think you should be more worried about a divorce than a marriage, mister."

  Grandfather chimed in. "And why is that?"

  "He has too many women around him, and he seems to be seeing a lot of them. He’s a to-tal~ playboy."

  As soon as I said that, the man's face turned beet red, and he lowered his head. The man next to him said in amazement, "So you really are the rumored Little Dosa. If the Little Dosa is this good, the Dosa must be incredible."

  He pulled out a business card.

  "We are reporters from the Seoul XX Newspaper."

  It had taken less than three months for the story about the unfortunate woman with the Gohan-ji-sang face to travel through the neighboring villages, across the country, and back to my ears. I had first heard the story in the waiting room from the clients themselves.

  ‘What a mysterious story. It sounds like something straight out of The Twilight Zone.’

  So, I had asked the clients, "Where is that Saju Philosophy Studio? That's amazing!"

  When I said that, someone replied, "Kid, they’re talking about this place! And that Little Dosa is you! Have you forgotten already?"

  "That's right, that's right. I saw it myself that day! Our miraculous Little Dosa must have a terrible memory!"

  "Hahahaha!"

  "Hahahaha!"

  I honestly hadn't realized they were talking about me because everyone who told the story added their own little twists and exaggerations.

  It turned out these reporters had also come after hearing those rumors. Poor souls, hooked by the 'false advertising' my monk-neighbor often warned me about. I felt bad for them, so I spoke up.

  "If you came here believing those strange rumors, you’re bound to be disappointed."

  The two reporters looked at me, surprised.

  "Rumors are always mixed with lies. As you can see, I’m just an ordinary kid. Right, Grandfather?"

  Grandfather answered with a smile.

  "If you call this 'ordinary,' then both you and the Dosa must be truly extraordinary people," the reporter replied.

  "Actually, he was the one who was supposed to be asking about marriage. As for me, I’m already a married man."

  Only then did Grandfather step in.

  "Let me see your palm. I’ll take a quick look for you."

  Grandfather spoke to the one who had asked about marriage.

  "Your lifelong partner is already nearby. There’s someone you like, isn't there?"

  "Yes! There is."

  "Go and confess to her."

  "What???!!!"

  "That lady has feelings for you too. If you find the courage just once, you'll win a beauty. She is a beauty, isn't she?"

  "Yes... but she’s so beautiful that I didn't think I was a good match for her."

  "I’m telling you, it’s fine. Go confess. If you do, you'll be married by next year at the latest."

  They thanked us and left, promising to write a good article about the Saju Philosophy Studio.

  After the reporters left, Grandfather called me over and asked me point-blank.

  "How did you know that guy was married? I don't recall teaching you that yet."

  I snorted.

  "How could I not know? There was a mark on his finger where a wedding ring had been. The tan line was so obvious that you'd have to be blind not to see it."

  "And the part about him having many women?"

  I wondered why he was asking such an obvious question.

  "He’s handsome. So I just took a wild guess, and he admitted it himself."

  Grandfather burst into a roar of laughter.

  "Hahahaha! Right! When you're reading a face, you have to look at those things first. I’ve learned a lesson from you today."

  After laughing for a long time, he asked me another question.

  "But where did you learn that? I don't remember teaching you those 'trade secrets'."

  I have my own trade secrets, too. But since he was family, I thought it was okay to tell him.

  "Sherlock Holmes. It’s all in there."