Korean Mythology

Go with my blessing,” Hwanung said. “Go and live on the peak of Mount Taebaek. That is the best place for you to live.” And so it was that Hwanung descended to earth with three thousand spirits to help him. Hwanung also took the heavenly seals given to him by his father, and he began to rule over the people. Aiding him in his rule was the Earl of Wind, the Master of Rain, and the Master of Cloud. Hwanung established his abode in Sacred City, which he built on the mountain, and then set himself to order the people’s lives. He supervised three hundred and sixty areas of human life, including agriculture, health and sickness, punishments for crime, and how long the people were allowed to live. One day, a bear and a tiger came to speak to Hwanung. “O great Hwanung,” they said, “we wish to become people and live among the human beings.” “I will not grant that wish,” Hwanung said. “It is good that you should be a bear and a tiger. Learn to be content with the forms you have.” After a few days, the bear and tiger again came to Hwanung and said, “O great Hwanung, we took thought about your wish that we remain bear and tiger, but our hearts are still troubled. We still wish to become people and live among the human beings.” “I already told you I would not do that for you. Leave, and go live good lives as tiger and bear,” Hwanung said. Again and again, the tiger and bear came to Hwanung and asked to be turned into people. They came so often that finally, Hwanung gave in. “Since the only thing that will make you stop asking is to give you what you want, I shall tell you how you can become human. Here are twenty cloves of garlic and some sacred mugwort. Take them into that cave. Eat nothing but the garlic and mugwort, and stay inside the cave for one hundred days. If you follow those rules, you will turn into people.” The bear and tiger thanked Hwanung. They took the garlic and mugwort and went into the cave. They remained in the cave for twenty-one days, eating the garlic and mugwort and avoiding the sun’s light. After twenty-one days, the bear turned into a woman. The tiger, however, did not receive a human body because he got tired of being in the cave eating nothing but garlic and mugwort. He left the cave before the hundred days were over and stayed a tiger for the rest of his days. The Bear Woman left the cave and went looking for a husband, but she could not find any man who would marry her. She went to the foot of the sacred sandalwood tree and prayed. “Oh, how I wish I had a child,” she prayed, day after day after day. Finally, one day, Hwanung saw her praying there. He saw how beautiful she was and how much she wanted a child, so Hwanung took human form and went to the woman. They lay down together, and soon the woman found herself with child. When her time came, she delivered a beautiful, strong baby boy that she called Tanung. Soon, Tanung grew to manhood. “Mother,” he said, “I must go into the world and establish my kingdom.” “Go with my blessing, my son,” Bear Woman, said and so Tanung left the sacred mountain. Tanung established the city of Pyongyang to be the capital of his country, which he called Choson, which means “Bright Morning.” After a time, Tanung moved to the city of Asadal on Mount Paegak, and there he was king for fifteen hundred years. Later he moved to Changdanggyong and then back to Asadal. When he was one thousand nine hundred and eight years old, he became a mountain god. The Legend of King Tongmyong This story is the foundation legend of the ancient Korean kingdom of Koguryo. Located in North Korea, Koguryo existed between the first century BCE and the seventh century CE. Koguryo fell in 668 when it was invaded by the allied armies of the Chinese T’ang dynasty and the smaller South Korean state of Silla. It is Koguryo that gives the modern country of Korea its name. Haemosu and Yuwha There came a time when Haemosu, a true Son of Heaven, decided to come down to earth. He mounted his chariot, which was pulled by five fierce dragons. His retinue numbered in the thousands, and musicians played and sang all the way down. Haemosu came down during the day, but he would return to his abode in the heavens at night. Now, not far from where Haemosu stayed during the day was a great river. The Earl of the River had three beautiful daughters who liked to go and bathe in a pool called Heart of the Bear. One day, Haemosu went out hunting and happened to spy the three young women as they sported and played in the water. The beauty of the young women pierced his heart, and he desired to marry one of them. But when the young women saw a man staring at them, they dove into the water and swam back down to their father’s palace at the bottom of the river. “I will just have to wait here until they come back,” Haemosu said. “But I can’t just sit here on the riverbank. I need a proper palace.” So, Haemosu took his riding crop and used it to trace the foundations of a beautiful palace. Haemosu waved his riding crop, and walls appeared, followed by beautiful tiled roofs and windows with the clearest glass. Again, he waved his riding crop, and the palace was full of soft cushions and the best food and wine. When the palace was finished, Haemosu went inside to wait. One day, the Earl of the River’s daughters went to bathe in the Heart of the Bear pool. They were startled to see a beautiful palace on the banks of the river. “Let’s go and see who lives there,” they said. And so, they went to the palace, where they found the gates open. They came to a room where food and wine had been set out, and so they sat down and made a merry meal. Soon they had drunk quite a bit of wine, which made them laugh and sing. When Haemosu heard the women singing and laughing, he went to the dining room. The women saw him and started to run away, but Haemosu caught one of them, the most beautiful of them all, and her name was Yuhwa, which means “Willow Flower.” “Don’t be afraid,” Haemosu said. “I love you and want you to be my wife. Please stay here with me.” Willow Flower agreed, so Haemosu sent a messenger to the Earl of the River asking for his daughter’s hand. The earl was enraged by this. He stormed over to Haemosu’s palace and said, “How dare you ask for my daughter like this! This isn’t the proper way to contract a marriage at all. You should have sent your go-between to me, and then I would send mine to you, and then we’d negotiate the terms of the marriage contract. But you’ve just gone and stolen my daughter! This is shameful! Who do you think you are?” “I am Haemosu, noble sir, and I am a true Son of Heaven. I love your daughter, and want her to be my wife.” “Son of Heaven, eh? Well, you’ll have to prove that to me before I will believe it. Let’s have a shape-changing contest. If you can best me, then I’ll know you are who you say you are.” “That is fair. Let us begin.” The two men walked to the riverbank, where the earl dove into the water and changed himself into a carp. Haemosu dove in after him and turned into an otter. In no time at all, the otter had caught the carp. The earl then changed himself into a pheasant and flew up into the sky. Haemosu followed in the form of an eagle. He nearly had the pheasant in his talons when the Earl of the River turned himself into a stag and went bounding into the forest. Haemosu took the shape of a wolf and gave chase. When the earl realized that he would never be able to beat Haemosu, he took his own form and said, “I give in. You truly are a Son of Heaven. Let us go and drink together to seal the marriage contract.” The two men went to the earl’s palace, where they drank cup after cup after cup of wine. Now, Haemosu had been living among human beings during the day for some time, but he had never quite gotten used to human wine, and soon he was quite drunk. The earl put Haemosu into a leather bag and then put the bag on the dragon chariot. Then he put Yuwha onto the chariot next to the bag. As the chariot began rising through the water, Haemosu woke up and found himself inside the bag. He sliced a hole in the bag with one of Yuwha’s hairpins and climbed out, but as he did so, he knocked Yuwha off the chariot and back into the water. Haemosu returned to Heaven without his wife. The Birth of Chumong Now, the earl had pretended to welcome Haemosu as his son-in-law, but in truth, he was still livid. The earl went to his daughter and said, “You brazen hussy, going into a strange man’s palace and letting him put his hands on you! You are no daughter of mine. Get out of my house!” The earl put a curse on his daughter that made her lips stretch and stretch until they were three feet long. Then he banished her and her maidservants to the Ubal River. There Yuwha lived, sad and mute, for she could not speak because of the length of her lips. One day, some fisherman sailed down the Ubal River hoping to catch some fish. There they saw Yuwha and her maidservants playing in the water. They stared at Yuwha and her long lips and wondered what manner of creature she could possibly be. “What should we do?” one of the fishermen asked. “I’m not sure. Maybe we should ask the king,” his companion replied. The fishermen went to the capital city and begged an audience of King Kumwa. “O most noble king,” the fishermen said. “We were on the Ubal River today and saw the most marvelous creature. It looked like a woman, but it had very long lips and played in the water like a fish. We wondered what we should do about it. You are wise, and we will follow your advice.” King Kumwa replied, “Go back to the river. Catch this creature, and bring her to me.” The fishermen went back to the river. Yuwha and her maidens were still disporting themselves in the current. The fishermen cast their net and caught Yuwha. She was very frightened and struggled to get away, but the fishermen said, “Don’t be afraid. We’re not going to harm you. King Kumwa told us to come and get you and bring you to see him.” When Yuwha was brought before the king, he asked her many questions, but she could not answer because of the length of her lips. King Kumwa sent for his most learned doctors. “See whether you can trim her lips so that she can speak,” the king said. It took the doctors three tries before they could return Yuwha’s lips to their normal length. Then Yuwha said to the king, “I am the daughter of the Earl of the River. My father exiled me and cursed my lips because I went into the house of a Son of Heaven without his knowledge or consent. The Son of Heaven is named Haemosu. He fell in love with me and wanted to marry me, but my father was opposed. Haemosu went back up into the heavens on our wedding day. I have not seen him since.” King Kumwa thought this was a very strange tale, but he felt sorry for the young woman. He gave her a comfortable room to stay in and made sure her every need was met. Whenever the sun shone into her chamber, her body glowed. If she moved from one part of the room to another, the beams of the sun followed her. It soon became apparent that the young woman was pregnant. When her time came, she gave birth to a great egg. The king took the egg and put it in the pigsty, but the pigs would not eat it. The king then took the egg and put it in the pasture, but the cows and horses merely walked around it. He took it into a forest meadow, and the birds gathered around it and shaded it with their wings. The king became angry and tried to break the egg, but no matter how hard he hit the egg, the egg would not break, no matter how sharp the tool was. Finally, the king took the egg back to Yuwha. Yuwha covered the egg with a fine cloth and then set it in the sunniest part of the room. After a few moments, the egg burst open. Inside the egg was a boy child, perfectly formed and more beautiful than anyone had ever seen before. By the time the child was seven years old, he was already making his own bows and arrows. It did not matter what target he pointed his arrows at; he always made the shot. For this reason, they gave him the name Chumong, which means “Good Archer.” King Kumwa brought Chumong up with the king’s own seven sons, but none of the princes was a match for Chumong. Chumong always bested them in every game and sport, and soon the princes became jealous. When Chumong and the princes were grown to manhood, the crown prince went to King Kumwa and said, “You really should do something about that Chumong. He could be dangerous. You’ve seen how skilled he is. It’s only a matter of time before he tries to take your throne.” King Kumwa decided to test Chumong’s loyalty by putting him in charge of the royal stables. Chumong obeyed the king, but in his heart, he felt angry and ashamed. “I am a Son of Heaven,” Chumong said to himself. “I should have a position of high honor, not be given the duties of a herdsman. I should be a king in my own land.” Yuwha heard what her son said. She went to him and said, “You are right, my son. You should leave, not least because I think the princes are plotting against you. But first, you need to choose a horse, and then you need to choose some companions to go with you.” Mother and son went to the paddock where the king’s horses were kept. Yuwha took out a whip and started making the horses fearful, so they would bolt. One of them ran straight for the paddock wall and jumped right over it, even though it was taller than a man. “That is the horse you should take,” Yuwha said. “The king will never allow it. That’s the best horse in his herd,” Chumong said. “Leave that to me.” Yuwha coaxed the horse back into the paddock, where she put a small needle into its tongue so that it would not eat. After several days, the horse became thin and listless. When King Kumwa came to inspect the stables, he saw that that horse wasn’t doing well. “That horse is not fit for a king. Therefore, I give him to you. He is yours to do with as you wish,” Kumwa said. Chumong then removed the needle from the horse’s tongue and fed it well. Soon the horse was strong and fat, and its coat was glossy. Chumong then went to his three closest friends and said, “I am leaving tomorrow. I am a Son of Heaven, and I intend to found my own kingdom. A king needs trusty companions and advisors. Will you come with me?” The three men said they would gladly come, and when all was ready, Chumong bid a tearful farewell to his mother and rode out of the city with his friends. Chumong Establishes His Kingdom The four men rode toward the south until they came to the Omsa River. The river was broad and swift, but it had no bridge, and there was no ferry. Chumong raised his hands to the sky and said, “I am the Grandson of Heaven and the Grandson of the River. Here I am with no one to help me. I must cross the river. Who will give me aid?” Then he took his bow and struck the water with it. In just a few moments, turtles and fish rose out of the water. They linked their bodies together, and soon there was a shining bridge all the way from one side of the river to the other. Now, when King Kumwa found out that Chumong had tricked him out of a good horse and fled the city, he was furious. He commanded the captain of the guard to take a company of picked men to find Chumong and bring him back, dead or alive. The guards caught up with Chumong and his friends just as they were crossing the bridge that the turtles and fishes had made. As soon as Chumong and his companions reached the far bank of the river, the fish and turtles let go and fell back into the water, leaving no way for the pursuing guards to cross to the other side. Riding ever southward, Chumong and his friends soon came to a fair land with thick forests and many streams and rivers on its mountainsides. “This is a good place,” Chumong said. “I will make my kingdom here.” Chumong took out his royal mat and sat upon it. “I am no longer Chumong, the Good Archer. Now I am King Tongmyong, Light of the East, and my land shall be called Koguryo.” Tongmyong established his kingdom and assured the loyalty of his subjects. In the city of Moso, he built a large house above the Piryu River to live in, and he administered the country well with the aid of his courtiers. One day, Chumong went out hunting, and he came across another party of hunters. These people clearly were nobles, and Chumong wondered who they were and where they were from. A man who seemed to be the leader of the group of hunters approached Chumong and said, “Greetings, I am King Songyang, and you are in my land, which is called Piryu-guk. Who are you, and where do you come from?” “My name is Tongmyong, and I am the son of a Son of Heaven. I have established my own kingdom and rule it from my capital, Moso.” “I see. I, too, am of noble birth. All my forbears were kings, and we have ruled this land for generations upon generations. You may be of noble birth, but you have newly come to this place, and there isn’t room for two kings in the same land. I think you should make yourself my vassal.” “That I’ll not do. I am a king in my own right, and I bow to no man.” “Very well. Perhaps we should have a contest to see which of us is more deserving to rule both our lands. I see you have a bow and arrows. Shall we have an archery contest?” Songyang suggested this because he was a famous archer among his own people and had no knowledge of Chumong’s skill. “I accept your challenge,” Chumong said. Songyang told his servants to set up a wooden statue of a deer. When the deer was in place, Songyang said, “Since you are the guest, you may shoot first. Distance is one hundred paces.” Chumong took his place one hundred paces away from the deer. He nocked an arrow to the string and let fly. Everyone watching let out a gasp of astonishment when the arrow embedded itself in the deer’s navel. “That was impressive shooting,” Songyang said, “but it had to have been a fluke. No one is that good with a bow. Let’s set up another target, a small jade bowl. You can shoot first again, but I’ll wager you won’t be as lucky this time.” When the bowl was in place, Chumong again bent his bow and let fly. The arrow went straight to the target, and soon the bowl was shattered into a hundred pieces. Everyone who saw Chumong’s feat was silent with awe. Songyang glared at Chumong for a moment and then mounted his horse and rode away with his retinue, not saying a word. Chumong, for his part, was pleased that he had won the contest but was still angry that Songyang thought of him as inferior and that he hadn’t even had the courtesy to congratulate him or even to say goodbye. Chumong continued with his hunt. Suddenly, a white deer appeared. Chumong shot the deer but only wounded it. He then tied the deer up and said, “White deer, I will never let you go free unless you do as I bid. Make it rain on Piryu. Make it rain so that everything floods. Make it rain so that the floods wash away everything in that land.” The deer began to cry, a sound so heart-wrenching that Heaven could not but answer the poor animal’s plea. It rained on Piryu for seven days. It rained so hard that soon all the rivers rose and washed away the houses. It even flooded Songyang’s palace. Songyang cried out for help. “Make it stop! I agree that Tongmyong is indeed a Son of Heaven and my superior! Just make the rain stop!” Tongmyong heard Songyang’s cry. He took his riding crop and drew a line with it. The rain stopped, and the floodwaters receded. Tongmyong released the deer, as he had promised. Suddenly, the sound of a thousand stonemasons hammering away filled the air. All the people wailed with fright, but Tongmyong said, “Have no fear! Heaven is building me a palace up on the mountainside!” No sooner had Tongmyong uttered those words than a mist lifted, and there on the mountain was the most beautiful palace anyone had ever seen. Tongmyong ruled over the land for nineteen years and then left the earth behind and returned to Heaven. The Tale of Pihyong In his translation of this story, James Greyson notes that it functions as a just-so story that explains how Pihyong became a household deity. Greyson observes that Pihyong’s miraculous conception and birth, combined with his ability to control various spirits, made him a desirable patron for those who wished some protection from malevolent spirits. Modern Western readers might wonder what Kildal did that was so bad that he deserved death. Greyson explains this by saying that Kildal’s transforming himself into a fox reveals his bad nature since the fox was associated with evil spirits in Korean folklore. Pihyong’s supposed father, King Chinji, was an actual historical person. He reigned over Silla between 576 and 579 CE. Once, there was a king of Silla named Chinji. He ruled for only four years, and this was a good thing. King Chinji did not rule wisely. He allowed his lands to fall into disorder, and the government was incompetent. The only thing Chinji really cared about was feeding his own appetites. One day, Chinji heard of a beautiful woman named Tohwa-rang, which means “Peach Blossom.” Chinji demanded first that his advisors find out as much as they could about the woman and then that she be brought to him. When Chinji saw Tohwa-rang, he burned with desire. Tohwa-rang was everything his advisors had described and more. “I would like to be your husband,” Chinji said. “What would you think of having a king for a husband, eh?” Tohwa-rang replied, “It is said that it is bad fortune for a woman to have more than one husband at a time, noble sir. I already have a husband and so must decline your invitation.” “You know that I could have you killed for refusing me.” “Yes, I know that, but I don’t want to marry you. I only want my own husband.” “What if your husband were dead. Would you consent to marry me then?” “Yes, if my husband were dead, I would be free to marry you.” Chinji then let Tohwa-rang return to her home. Not long after Chinji had spoken to Tohwa-rang, the people of Silla rose up. They deposed Chinji and killed him. Two years after Chinji’s death, Tohwa-rang’s husband also died. Ten days later, Tohwa-rang woke in the middle of the night with the strange feeling that she was being watched. She peered about in the darkness, and there at the foot of her bed was the ghost of King Chinji. “Your husband is dead now, so you can marry me,” Chinji said. “You haven’t forgotten your promise, have you?” Tohwa-rang said she had not. “Well, then,” Chinji’s ghost said, “let’s get married.” “I would like to discuss this with my parents first.” “Very well,” the ghost said, and then it vanished. Tohwa-rang went to speak to her parents the next morning. She told them everything that had passed between herself and Chinji, both when the king was alive and when he had visited her as a ghost. “Should I marry him?” Tohwa-rang said. “It seems odd to marry a ghost, but I did promise.” “You could do worse than marrying the ghost of a king,” Tohwa-rang’s parents said. “It’s odd, but he’s still a king, for all that.” Tohwa-rang went home. That night, the ghost of King Chinji appeared to her again. “So, what did your parents say?” he asked. “They said that I should marry you if I wished,” Tohwa-rang replied. “Will you marry me?” “Yes.” As soon as she said yes, a great cloud came down and covered Tohwa-rang’s house so that not one window or eave was visible, and from the cloud came the scent of delicious perfume. The ghost of King Chinji spent seven days and seven nights with Tohwa-rang, and at the end of that time, it disappeared. Tohwa-rang soon found herself with child, and when her time came, she delivered a baby boy. Just at the moment that he was delivered, there was an earthquake. Tohwa-rang named her son Pihyong. King Chinji’s successor was a man named Chinp’yong. He heard what happened when Pihyong was born, so he sent messengers to Tohwa-rang to ask whether he might foster the child at his palace. Tohwa-rang gave her consent, so Pihyong was brought to the palace and raised by King Chinp’yong. Pihyong grew up tall and strong and proved to be very intelligent. King Chinp’yong gave him many duties about the palace, which Pihyong did very well. One day, some of the other palace administrators went to King Chinp’yong and said, “You know that boy Pihyong? The one with the odd birth story?” “Yes,” the king replied. “Well, every night, he disappears. Nobody knows where he goes or what he does. He doesn’t come back until dawn. Doesn’t this seem odd?” The king agreed that it was odd, so he ordered fifty of his soldiers to keep a close eye on Pihyong. The men watched Pihyong for several nights. Each night, Pihyong flew away from the palace and went to the west. A group of spirits gathered around him as they flew, and when they arrived at a stream on the slopes of a hill, they sang and danced together all night long. Just before daybreak, when the temple bells began to ring, Pihyong flew back to the palace, and the spirits disappeared. The captain of the soldiers told the king what he and his men had seen. Has a son named Pihyong. Pihyong lives here; All you bad spirits Should fly away as fast as you can! Pihyong lives here! Ch’oyong and the Plague Demon King Hongang was a historical ruler who reigned over the Korean kingdom of Silla from 875 to 886 CE. The events of the story retold below supposedly took place in 879. A formal dance involving costumed singers, including one dressed as Ch’oyong, was performed at court in Silla at the New Year to drive illness and plague away from the kingdom. A thirteenth-century version of the dance text incorporates the song Ch’oyong sings at the end of the tale below. During the reign of King Hongang, the entire country was happy and prosperous. All the houses were roofed with tiles instead of thatch, there was always rain and sun in just the right amounts to make the crops grow, and the sound of music and song was always in the air. One day, King Hongang decided to go to the waterside at Kaeunp’o. He spent a happy day there, delighting in the sunshine and the sea breeze. But in the afternoon, a strong wind began to blow, and the waves on the water were frothed into whitecaps. Great, billowing black clouds covered the horizon and blew toward the shore, and a thick fog came down and covered everything so that it was impossible to see even a few feet in any direction. King Hongang was greatly afraid. He turned to his wise ministers who had accompanied him and said, “What is causing this storm? Can I do anything to make it stop?” The king’s astrologer replied, “I think I know what this is. It is a message from the Dragon of the Eastern Sea. He wants you to do some act that is both great and good. If you do such a thing, the Dragon will be content, and the fog and the storm will go away.” “I will appease the Dragon very well,” Hongang said. “I will build a temple in his honor, right in this very spot.” Hongang sent for architects and builders, and soon a beautiful temple dedicated to the Dragon of the Eastern Sea stood near the beach. No sooner had the last nail been pounded than the fog lifted, the wind subsided to a gentle breeze, and the clouds drifted away. Everyone was in awe of the beautiful temple, which shone with gold and whose roof tiles glinted in the bright sun. The Dragon of the Eastern Sea saw the temple that Hongang had built, and he was greatly pleased by it. The Dragon called his seven sons and said, “We are going to pay King Hongang a visit of state. He has erected a beautiful temple for me, and we need to go and thank him.” The Dragon and his seven sons came up out of the waves. King Hongang, who was there for the dedication of the temple, bowed low. “Welcome, Lord Dragon,” King Hongang said, “and welcome to your many fine sons.” “Greetings, King Hongang,” the Dragon said. “My sons and I have come to thank you for the temple you have built. Your architects and craftsmen have plied all their skill, and I am most honored.” Then the Dragon and his sons danced and sang in the king’s honor. King Hongang thanked the Dragon and his sons for their song and dance and said, “I must return to my palace now. Would any of you care to come with me and be my guest? I would be honored for you to stay in my home even for a little while.” The seventh son of the Dragon said, “Father, may I go? I would like to see King Hongang’s palace and see what his country looks like.” “Certainly,” the Dragon said. “You may go with King Hongang and stay as long as he will have you.” The seventh son, whose name was Ch’oyong, accompanied Hongang on the journey back to his palace. Hongang gave Ch’oyong his own apartments and saw to it that he lacked for nothing. Ch’oyong proved to be very wise, and soon he was one of Hongang’s most trusted advisors. Hongang arranged for Ch’oyong to marry a beautiful woman, and so Ch’oyong lived in great contentment for a long while. One day, the Plague Demon looked upon Ch’oyong’s wife and desired her. The Plague Demon transformed himself into a handsome man, and when Ch’oyong was away, he went into Ch’oyong’s wife’s bedroom and seduced her. Ch’oyong came home while his wife and the Plague Demon were in bed together. Ch’oyong wasn’t fooled by the Demon’s disguise; he knew who was in bed with his wife. Ch’oyong began to dance and sing to drive away the Demon, and this is what Ch’oyong sang: Tonight I went out into the city To dance and sing with my friends. And now I come home to find Four legs in my bed Where there should only be two. I wonder who has stolen The two legs that once were mine? The Plague Demon heard Ch’oyong’s song and became very frightened. He leaped out of Ch’oyong’s bed and took his own disgusting shape. The Demon knelt in front of Ch’oyong and said, “Yes, it is I who seduced your wife. It was an evil thing to do, and I beg your forgiveness. From now on, I will not enter the home of anyone who hangs your likeness above their door.” And this is why even today, people hang pictures of Ch’oyong’s face above the doors of their homes. Kot’aji and the God of the Western Sea This story is set during the reign of Queen Chinsong, who lived between c. 865 and 897 CE. Because her two brothers died without issue, Chinsong was able to take the throne. However, Chinsong herself does not play much of a role in this tale, which centers on the adventures of an archer named Kot’aji. In this tale, dragons are first encountered, one of the most important mystical beings in Far Eastern mythologies, including that of Korea. Unlike their fire-breathing western counterparts, the Far East dragons are creatures of water, and although they might cause mischief and occasionally kidnap humans and other creatures, they are largely benignant beings with the power to confer wealth and good fortune on those who treat them well. Queen Chinsong of Silla had a son named Yangp’ae. Yangp’ae was the youngest of all of Chinsong’s sons, but he was intelligent and honest, and therefore his mother trusted him greatly. One day, Chinsong summoned Yangp’ae and said, “I need you to go on an embassy to T’ang in China. Take a good ship and as many men as you need.” Yangp’ae did as his mother asked. He commissioned a fine ship and her crew and brought along fifty of the finest archers in the land to protect the ship from the pirates who sailed the waves between Silla and China. At first, the ship had a smooth passage. The winds were in her favor, and the sea was calm. But when the ship came within sight of Kokto Island, a huge storm blew up out of nowhere. The crew reefed the sails, and the helmsman struggled with the tiller. The ship was tossed to and fro on giant waves and could make no headway but rather remained close to the island. After several days of this, Yangp’ae consulted the advisor he had brought along to help with the embassy. Yangp’ae said to the advisor, “You are practiced in the art of divination. See whether you can find out why this storm is keeping us here.” The advisor read the signs and said, “There is a sacred pond on this island. The deity who lives there is demanding we pay our respects. We should go and put sacrificial objects into the pond. Then we’ll be able to sail away.” Yangp’ae agreed that this was a good plan and ordered that the ship sail directly for the island. The storm abated just enough for them to be able to make landfall, but it was still far too dangerous for them to sail any farther. Yangp’ae, his advisor, and the ship’s captain went to the sacred pond with many precious things to offer to the deity. They threw the things into the water one by one, and when they were finished, the water in the pond suddenly heaved up and then splashed down again. “What do we do now?” Yangp’ae asked the advisor. “We wait and see whether the deity gives us a sign,” the advisor replied. That night, Yangp’ae had a dream in which an old man appeared to him and said, “If you leave one of your archers behind, the storm will end, and you will be able to sail on.” In the morning, Yangp’ae told his dream to all the men aboard the ship. When he finished his tale, he said, “All of you are fine men and good archers. How shall we choose which of you is to remain behind?” The archers discussed it among themselves for a bit and then answered, “We can cast lots. We’ll each write our names on little pieces of wood. The person whose piece of wood sinks will stay behind.” The ship’s carpenter took out his plane and made fifty strips of wood for the archers to use, and Yangp’ae’s advisor lent them his ink and brush. When all the pieces of wood were ready, the archers all stood along the gunwales of the ship, their hands poised over the water, ready to release their pieces of wood. Yangp’ae gave the signal, and all the archers let their pieces of wood go. One of the fifty sank below the water, and this was the piece belonging to a man named Kot’aji. “You will have to go ashore,” Yangp’ae said. “We will return for you when our embassy is done, unless it becomes possible for you to leave before that.” Kot’aji bowed to his prince, bade farewell to his comrades, and then went ashore. As soon as Kot’aji’s foot touched dry land, the storm completely abated, and a favorable wind blew up. The crew hoisted the sails, and the ship sailed off on the rest of its journey. Kot’aji decided to explore the island. “If I’m going to live here for a while,” he said to himself, “I should figure out what there is to eat and drink and maybe make a shelter. This fine weather isn’t going to hold forever.” In the course of his exploration, Kot’aji came across the sacred pond. As he stood gazing at the clear, still water, ripples formed on the surface of the pond. The ripples grew bigger and bigger, and soon the center of the pond was a boiling mass of bubbles. Out of the mass of bubbles rose a form that looked like it might be a person. Soon the form took the clear shape of an old man. Kot’aji bowed to the man. Then the man said, “I am the God of the Western Sea. I’m the one who asked for an archer to stay behind. I saw your ship coming my way, with so many fine archers aboard, and I just couldn’t miss that chance. Thank you for staying on my island.” “You are most welcome, honorable one. What can I do for you?” “My family is in terrible distress. Every day, a creature that looks like a monk comes to the pond and summons me and my family. It chooses one of my children, kills them, and eats their liver. The creature has eaten all but one of my children, my dearest daughter. Can you wait near the pond in the morning and use your bow to kill that creature?” Kot’aji felt sorry for the god and his family. He said, “I surely will help you, honorable one. It shall be as you ask, and soon your family will be free.” In the morning, Kot’aji concealed himself in the trees near the pond and waited for the monk-creature to arrive. Not long after daybreak, a figure floated down from the sky. It took the shape of a monk and began to walk around the pond while chanting strange words. Kot’aji put an arrow to the string and let fly. The arrow hit the creature right in the heart. It cried out once in pain and then transformed into the shape of a fox and died. As before, the pond waters began to roil, and the old man appeared. He saw the dead fox with Kot’aji’s arrow sticking out of its side. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” the old man said. “You have delivered me and my family. I would like to do something good for you in return. Will you take my daughter’s hand in marriage?” “I will be honored to be your daughter’s husband,” Kot’aji said, “and I will do my best to be good to her for all my days.” The waters of the pond roiled again, and soon a lovely young woman was standing next to the old man. “This is my daughter,” the old man said. “She has agreed to be your wife.” The young people gazed upon one another and instantly fell in love. “Now, we have to get you off this island,” the old man said. “This is no place for a young couple to start a family.” The old man and his daughter said their farewells. Then the old man transformed his daughter into a flower and gave it to Kot’aji. “Keep this flower safe, for it is my daughter and