Mount Mami of Golpo Gaya… Once revered as a sacred sentinel guarding the northern lands of Golpo, Mount Mami was a place of awe and pilgrimage. Countless people ascended its slopes with reverence, seeking solitude for meditation, offering prayers to the spirits, or simply escaping the sweltering summer heat beneath its lush canopy. But a century ago, the steady stream of visitors began to wane. Travelers who braved its trails vanished without a trace, and in time, ominous whispers replaced the mountain's once-hallowed reputation.
Rumors spread like wildfire. Some claimed the missing had become mountain wraiths, doomed to haunt the misty ridges. Others swore they had returned home in the dead of night, only to spirit away their own kin into the mountain's unrelenting grasp. As fear took root, what was once a place of spiritual refuge became a cursed land shunned by all.
When the mountain's malevolence grew too great, ascetics and priests from across Gaya ventured forth to purge the evil. Yet, one by one, they too disappeared, their fates sealed within the mist-shrouded peaks. Those who waited for their return could only mourn and share tales of Mount Mami's growing terror. These stories, passed down for over sixty years, turned the mountain into a cursed legend, a place no one dared approach.
Yet, Goi ascended this forsaken peak with unwavering steps, his movements light and unhurried. The gentle chime of bronze bells at his waist rang in time with his stride, its crisp tones slicing through the oppressive silence that clung to the air like mist. As he climbed, the bells suddenly let out a discordant cry, its ringing urgent and sharp.
Goi halted.
Lifting his gaze, he peered up the narrow trail. Beneath the outstretched boughs of an ancient pine, a spectral figure drifted in the dim light. The ghost, translucent yet defined, bore the wizened face of an elder, his presence neither hostile nor malignant. When the bells chimed softly again, Goi murmured, "I know. He mean no harm."
The ghost, startled by the recognition, turned toward him, its eyes widening with vivid relief. Slowly, he floated forward, his form flickering like a dying ember. Goi, though not hostile, kept his right hand near the hilt of his bronze gladius, remaining cautiously on guard. As the ghost drew closer, its form became clearer—an elderly ascetic, his features worn but dignified. The ghost offered a respectful bow before speaking, his voice touched with awe. "Despite your youth, your spiritual power is formidable, honored traveler."
"You flatter me," Goi replied evenly. "But tell me, old master, why do you yet linger in this world?"
The ghost's expression grew solemn. "I have a request of you, traveler," it said, its voice tinged with desperation. Goi nodded, encouraging it to continue. The ghost hesitated, then spoke with difficulty.
"It is no small favor," the ghost warned. "But… my master remains trapped upon this mountain. Please, I beg you—save him."
At these words, Goi regarded the specter closely. Though the man had long departed the mortal realm, his face was lined with something more than mere regret—it was devotion.
"You remain here even in death, bound by loyalty to your master?" Goi asked.
The ghost, flustered, gave a small nod. Goi felt a strange sense of respect stir within him.
"Then I shall honor your devotion," he declared. "Be free of your burdens—I will carry them from here."
The ghost's eyes shimmered with gratitude as he raised a trembling hand and pointed toward a path veiled in dense mist.
Goi inclined his head respectfully before stepping off the main trail, following the silent guidance of the departed. As he walked forward, an unseen force—something both sacred and malevolent—began to press against him. Yet he did not falter.
Behind him, the old ghost released a deep sigh.
My dear, sweet Yeye…
His master's voice seemed to echo from somewhere far away again.
They had spent one hundred and fifty years together.
It was at their very first meeting that his master gave him the name Yeye.
Later, when he asked why, the old master smiled and said it was because he had been born the same year that King Suro founded Gaya—the beginning of an alliance that would grow far beyond its six founding realms.
Yeye himself had never known when he was born—he had been just another orphan, a street beggar child forgotten by the world. But his master had known at a glance. As though he had seen through time itself.
Back then, he had said it would only take a moment—just a small task to finish in Mount Mami—and then he would take Yeye home, to formally accept him as a disciple.
And with that, he stepped into the cave.
Neither of them could have known that that moment would stretch into one hundred and fifty years.
As a child, Yeye had simply waited outside the cave, not understanding a thing.
He thought, Ah, so this is how immortals train—in seclusion and silence. He never once dared to enter unless he was called. And when his master did summon him inside, Yeye would find him resting—exhausted, his breath shallow.
But even in that weary state, the master devoted himself to Yeye's growth. He taught him to read and write. He taught him how to steady his breath, how to hold his stance, how to move without wasting strength.
Though the cave's threshold separated them, the master's guidance never faltered.
Yeye lived in a modest hut a thousand paces down the slope from the cave, where his master resided. And he followed his master's teachings with quiet diligence.
Each day, he fetched water, prepared food, and brought it to the mouth of the cave. He washed his master's robes and wiped his body with warm cloths.
Though it was difficult at times, Yeye endured it all. Perhaps it was because, deep in his heart, he longed to care for the parents who had once abandoned him.
One day, after Yeye had grown into a young man, his master looked at him and smiled.
"My Yeye has grown tall… I can see now how the immortal essence has gathered in you. It's time I teach you the deeper arts."
"You always carried the light of Venus in your eyes… and now I see you were meant to become a sun that brightens the world."
Those quiet words became the compass of Yeye's life.
He trained harder, opened his spiritual senses, and slowly began to awaken true power.
And then, he understood: his master was not simply dwelling in the cave.
There was a demon in the cave.
His master had been confronting it—sometimes through strength, sometimes through persuasion—for more than forty years.
When Yeye, now grown and confident, said he wished to help, the demon cackled.
"Your little pet wants to fight beside you? Excellent! I'll steal his soul and use his hands to kill you myself!"
It was the first time my master truly lost his temper. They fought for seven days and nights without rest, until the demon's rampage ceased. And both combatants lay exhausted.
"You saw it for yourself, Yeye. Even if you train for a hundred years, do not dream of facing such a thing alone. Promise me—use your strength to protect Mount Mami, not to confront that which lies within."
Yeye kept that promise. For over a century, he kept it. He had wanted to keep it forever.
But now… with more than a hundred and ten years of spiritual cultivation behind me, I wonder if perhaps… it is time I stand beside my master, not just behind him.
That was when it appeared.
"Serve me."
Yeye sensed its presence—and the force within it.
But he had not recognized it as an enemy—because it had taken the shape of a woman.
In that moment, Yeye realized: he had never truly escaped being human. He was not yet a sage. Not like his master.
He had hesitated. And in that instant, it struck.
Its first blow shattered him.
Even so, Yeye mustered his remaining strength.
With a final surge of energy, he struck its spiritual core—injuring it so deeply that it was forced to retreat from Mount Mami.
But the cost had been too great.
His own essence began to unravel. As the sky grew dark around him, he heard his master's voice one last time.
"Yeye… you have already become immortal. Soon, you will rise to Heaven, and serve the Jade Emperor himself. My beloved, my only disciple… farewell."
But Yeye could not leave.
His master was still here. If he left now, the mountain would fall to ruin. So he lingered. But if three days passed, even his soul would be scattered, unrecoverable.
And yet… the moment he saw that young man—That young man… he knew.
He may—no… he will end my master's karma, just as he did mine.
For the first time in over a century, he felt light—weightless. A breeze stirred through the trees, and in its gentle current, he dissolved into the sky, his soul finally free.