Seoul to Incheon.
Se-Jun sat by the window, quietly watching the passing scenery blur into shades of green and grey.
Beside him, Hye-jin was on a call.
"Yeah… yeah. Got it. Thanks."
She hung up and turned toward him.
Her eyes scanned his outfit.
"I think you need to take your clothes off."
Se-Jun turned instantly.
"…What?"
The taxi driver awkwardly adjusted his mirror.
Hye-jin sighed.
She leaned closer, lowering her voice.
"We're ten minutes away. You can't show up as a shaman in jeans and a shirt."
Se-Jun blinked.
Then immediately crossed his arms over himself, misunderstanding.
Hye-jin stared—
then groaned.
"Hey! Not like that!"
A few minutes later—
The taxi stood parked at the roadside.
Hye-jin and the driver waited outside.
The car…
was shaking slightly.
Passersby slowed down, giving strange looks.
From inside—
"Okay, come in!"
Se-Jun's voice called out.
Soon, they were back on the road.
The atmosphere inside the car had changed.
Silence.
Slight embarrassment.
And preparation.
The taxi entered a quiet coastal village—
Danmok Village.
"Here, stop here!" Hye-jin said quickly.
The car came to a halt.
Se-Jun stepped out first.
The wind hit him instantly—
strong, wild, almost dramatic.
His robes fluttered around him, giving him an unexpected presence.
Hye-jin stepped out next, dragging two heavy suitcases.
"Se-Jun, help—"
He raised his hand slightly.
"When my foot touches this land…" he said slowly,
"…I am no longer Se-Jun."
Hye-jin blinked.
"I am the shaman."
She stared at him.
"…If you're the shaman, then I'm—"
"Hye-jin!"
A voice interrupted.
An elderly man approached them.
"Uncle!" Hye-jin smiled.
The old man's gaze shifted to Se-Jun.
The wind picked up again, almost perfectly timed—his clothes swaying, his expression calm.
"…He is?" the man asked.
Hye-jin answered without hesitation.
"He is Shaman Kim Il-sung… the grandson of King Choe Chi-won the Great."
The old man's eyes widened.
"Oh! Kim Il-sung!"
Se-Jun gave a small, composed nod.
"Please… call me Il-sung."
The old man smiled respectfully.
"Of course."
The two men began walking ahead.
Just like that—
Leaving Hye-jin behind.
Still holding both suitcases.
"…Seriously?"
"We've cleared her grandfather's house," the old man said as they walked.
"Everything is prepared for you, Il-sung."
Se-Jun nodded, maintaining his calm expression.
Suddenly—
A car stopped in front of them.
The engine cut.
The door opened.
A man stepped out.
Sharp suit. Sunglasses. Authority in every step.
The old man lowered his voice slightly.
"This is the factory owner… Joon-ho."
He walked toward Se-Jun, removing his sunglasses with a smooth motion.
"I'm Joon-ho."
He extended his hand.
Se-Jun looked at it.
Then met his eyes.
"I'm Il-sung."
He didn't shake it.
A brief silence.
Joon-ho's lips curved into a faint smile.
"I heard a shaman was coming," he said calmly. "As per my father's protocol… a shaman shouldn't walk onto the land."
Se-Jun let out a soft chuckle.
"…Your protocol?"
His gaze drifted past Joon-ho.
Hye-jin was in the distance—
struggling with two heavy suitcases, dragging them awkwardly.
He looked back.
"If I walk…" Se-Jun said slowly,
"…what will happen?"
A beat.
"Will it start to rain?"
Before anyone could respond—
He stepped forward.
Barefoot.
Onto the land.
The villagers began to gather.
Whispers spread like wind.
"He's the grandson of King Choe Chi-won…"
"A real shaman…"
The old man nodded with quiet pride.
Se-Jun walked slowly.
Then stopped.
Closed his eyes.
lowering his head as if sinking into deep concentration.
A quiet beat passed.
Then—
He slightly opened one eye.
Just enough to glance at his watch.
10:25.
His lips moved faintly.
"…10:25."
*Flashback*
Inside the taxi—
Se-Jun glanced at his phone.
Weather forecast.
"Rain… around 10 to 10:20."
The driver laughed.
"No way, sir. It's spring. It won't rain."
Se-Jun simply nodded.
*End of Flashback*
10:25.
Nothing.
For a second—
Then—
A memory.
His mother's face.
Warm. Gentle.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
Drip...
A single drop hit the ground.
Then—
Rain.
Sudden.
Heavy.
Pouring like the sky had been waiting.
The villagers gasped.
"Oh—!"
"It's raining!"
Even Joon-ho's expression shifted.
Just slightly.
Se-Jun slowly opened his eyes.
Calm.
Unshaken.
Like he had called the sky himself.
He turned.
And walked toward Joon-ho.
Stopped in front of him.
"…Slippers."
Joon-ho blinked.
"What?"
Se-Jun pointed down.
Joon-ho was standing on them.
A brief pause—
Then he stepped aside.
Se-Jun slipped them on without a word.
A villager rushed forward with an umbrella.
Se-Jun took it.
But instead of holding it over himself—
He held it over that man.
Then—
He turned.
Looked toward Hye-jin.
She was watching him in shock.
Se-Jun gave her a small wink.
Rain poured harder.
And for the first time—
Everyone believed.