The Scale of Eoduksini

Since 2012, a strange rumor has circulated in the Gimpo community. It spoke of the Choi family, who had prospered for generations, suddenly facing a series of financial collapses and mysterious accidental deaths. What was intriguing was the recurring record of an unusually large, motionless snake being found near the abandoned Choi family old house each time these misfortunes struck. Sometimes described as a large constrictor, other times as an incredibly thick red-necked keelback, the snake would vanish without a trace immediately after the incidents. Local authorities dismissed it as mere superstition, but the repeating pattern in decades of accumulated data was statistically too improbable to be mere coincidence. I suspected a clear link between the snake's appearance and the misfortunes that befell the family, and to trace its true nature, I headed to the Choi family's old house, nestled deep in a mountain valley on the outskirts of Gimpo.

As soon as I entered the forest path leading to the old house, the temperature noticeably dropped, and the air felt like it was freezing. The cicadas' loud chirping and birds' singing, so boisterous outside, fell silent as if by magic, replaced by an unnatural stillness. The old house that emerged at the end of the dirt path was a typical Hanok, a traditional Korean house, but its roof was crumbling, and tiles were missing here and there. Vines stretched as if to swallow the house whole, yet, strangely, the main gate and the area around the family shrine seemed perfectly preserved, as if protected by an invisible force. There were no signs of deliberate damage, only the heavy weight of time pressing down on the entire structure.

Stepping inside through a crooked side door, I found thick dust and fallen leaves piled up to my ankles. The damp earth, the smell of rotting wood, and a distinct, somewhat briny, musty, heavy scent peculiar to reptiles hung heavily in the air. In the faint rays of light filtering through the cracks of the boarded-up windows, dust motes swirled like living, tiny dancers. The silence inside was of a different dimension than that outside. It was a physical silence, pressing down with such solid weight that it was difficult even to breathe.

I cautiously began exploring the house. As I passed through old rooms and approached the central shrine, the strange phenomena became increasingly distinct. Beyond the wall, from within the thick earthen walls, a faint, rhythmic scratching sound could be heard. It was like something scales scraping against a rough surface, but it was too distant and subtle to pinpoint the exact location. Even though the ceiling looked like it could collapse at any moment, a dull dragging sound faintly echoed from the second floor, only to stop abruptly as soon as I focused on it. I thought I could hear a low, rough whisper, or a 'shhh' sound, barely audible at my ear, but it would vanish before I could fully perceive it.

In puddles of rainwater on the floor, ripples agitated against the faint air currents seeping through the gaps. In spots where sunlight obliquely poured in, dust motes formed small vortices, defying natural airflows. Particularly in certain areas, such as around the shrine altar and a firmly locked storage room, a sudden, freezing cold could be felt, as if the surrounding air had turned to ice. My breath would briefly fog white before disappearing. I tried to rationally explain all these phenomena, but an uncomfortable conviction gradually crept in – something was watching me, playing with me. A strange chill ran down my spine. I kept checking over my shoulder, and my flashlight obsessively swept through spaces that should have been empty.

Finally, I discovered a hidden floorboard beneath the family altar. Lifting the cleverly disguised wooden panel revealed a small, earthen-floored space. Inside, instead of treasure, an old earthenware jar sealed with a red string was placed. And next to it, as if protecting the jar, lay a bone-dry, mummified snake skin, coiled up. The musty scent now seemed to stick to my throat beyond my nose, making it almost impossible to breathe. This was it – the domain of Eoduksini, its very heart.

The moment I reached for the jar, everything changed instantly. The last faint light from outside seemed to be absorbed and vanished, plunging the entire room into complete darkness. The air thickened like taffy, pressing down on my body, making it hard to breathe. A chilling cold, bone-aching, surged from my feet and enveloped my entire body. The faint scratching sound from within the walls transformed into an immense roar, like colossal stones grinding, pounding my eardrums, and the low 'shhh' sound became a deep, rough howl that reverberated through my chest, terrifying me.

The earthen floor beneath my feet undulated and swayed as if it were a living creature. It wasn't an earthquake. It was the movement of something massive writhing beneath the earth. The thick rafters of the ceiling cracked with loud snaps, as if gripped and twisted by a gigantic hand. Even in the absolute darkness, with no light whatsoever, a colossal snake-shaped shadow shot swiftly across the crumbling walls, then coiled back, engulfing the entire room. The shadow moved with a fluid, intense power, as if alive, brushing past the edges of my vision.

A thick, heavy piece of rafter, having collapsed from the ceiling, moved as if thrust downwards by a force beyond mere gravity, pinning my leg against the wall. An immense, bone-crushing pain surged through my entire body. I saw the snake skin next to the jar wriggle as if coming to life. I struggled desperately. The floor still trembled, and the walls groaned as if twisting. An enormous roar echoed, reflecting off the collapsing walls. Terrified, I exerted all my strength to pull my leg free, but in my struggle, some of my equipment, perhaps a shoe or a piece of my trousers, was crushed under the heavy rafter. I blindly crawled through the absolute darkness and debris. I scrambled towards the collapsed side door I had entered through, barely escaping as the entire house roared and finally collapsed behind me.

When I stumbled out of the collapsing building, overwhelmed by terrible shock and pain, the sudden silence outside the old house was piercingly sharp, as if tearing my eardrums. The cold air enveloping the valley seemed to deepen further. As the sun began to set, long, drawn-out shadows felt eerily menacing.

Weeks later, my physical wounds healed, but the mental trauma remained deep. I tried to return to my routine, but an unshakeable, phantom cold lingered in the leg I had injured at the old house. And even in my quiet, empty room, that briny, musty reptilian smell sometimes seeped in without cause. One day, as I was packing my travel bag, I discovered a strange object in a seam of my old backpack, or perhaps stuck to a remaining shoe sole. It wasn't a piece of equipment I had lost. It was a large, dark, dried snake scale. It was much larger and smoother than any local snake scale I knew, and it was ice-cold to the touch. The scale clung to my fingers as if by a magnet.

A few days after that, inexplicable minor misfortunes began to strike. Significant financial losses due to forgotten technical issues, cherished items breaking without reason, trusted business contacts suddenly cutting off communication. And then, equally inexplicable windfalls followed. It was a kind of luck that felt ominous, as if repaying a debt or tying an unknown string. I knew Eoduksini's pattern all too well. The lingering cold, the phantom musty scent, the scale clinging to my fingers, the fluctuating waves of fortune. It was not just a memory. It was a new thread of reality, forged in terror. I realized. I hadn't just documented Eoduksini. I had brought it home. The disturbed entity now cast its cold gaze upon me, along with its ambiguous blessing.