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Two days.
That’s how long Seonghwa had to take a soul. Two days.
Seonghwa had been a devil for 400 years, and he spent 250 of those years in the Under, punishing the souls of those who made a deal and couldn’t follow through. Finally, after centuries, he received the news that he had been promoted. He could go to the Land of the Living and make deals with those desperate enough to barter their souls. Seonghwa had been so excited for his promotion; punishing souls in the Under was dirty, miserable work. Lots of fire and chains and whips. Lots of tears and screams and pleas for mercy.
Making deals and taking souls was much cleaner and more enjoyable, and Seonghwa was damn good at it.
Seonghwa had a good sense for desperation. He was able to sniff it out on the Living like a hunting dog sniffing out the tracks of a bunny. He knew when someone was reaching the end of the line and just desperate enough to make a stupid decision like betting on the very fate of their soul.
He was also good with his words. Seonghwa could find a lonely, desperate human willing to talk, and get them to agree to just about anything, including making deals for their souls. And when his way with words failed him, his good looks and deceivingly beautiful eyes would always make up for it. The Living were incredibly shallow and would do anything a gorgeous being told them to.
So yes, Seonghwa was incredible at dealing souls. Or at least he used to be. In the last few decades though, the Living had become more invested in these little light-up bricks they keep in their pockets called “smart phones.” The Living were always invested in these smart phones, constantly watching things, reading things, scrolling through things, listening to things. They were less likely to talk to strangers, which really made Seonghwa’s job hard. When he approached people, they hardly even registered that he was talking to them.
It had been 8 months since he had taken a soul, and his bosses in the Under were getting angry. They couldn’t understand how he hadn’t made a deal. He had been given a deadline, and now he only had two days to collect a soul for them. If he couldn’t……well, he would be one of the souls being punished in the Under.
Seonghwa had given up. He was wandering aimlessly around a park in the middle of the city. Every one of the Living he saw had their noses buried in their phone, and most of them had a set of headphones on, completely deaf to the outside world. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make a deal in the next two days and was content to wander through the city one last time, shuffling his feet and kicking rocks around. Seonghwa sighed and ran his hand through his long hair, mussing it up.
All of a sudden, Seonghwa heard music. Lively, exciting music. The shrieking of a fiddle pierced through the air. Seonghwa found himself meandering towards the sound until he found the source.
A short, brunette man was dancing around a grassy area, playing a fiddle for a few people who were half paying attention. In front of the man sat an open fiddle case with a measly 1000 won note inside. Behind the man on a bench was a small duffel bag which most likely held all of this man’s belongings, a half-full plastic water bottle, and a tattered blanket.
The stench coming off of this man was blinding. He didn’t smell dirty. No, he smelled of desperation. The smell was so strong, Seonghwa got a bit dizzy.
Perfect, thought Seonghwa. He hadn’t seen (or smelled) one of the Living as desperate as this in so long. This could be just the soul I need.
Seonghwa was pulled out of his thoughts by a light smattering of applause from the few Living surrounding the fiddle man. The small man took a couple bows before turning around to drink from his water bottle.
Seonghwa made his way up to the man and waited as the small crowd dispersed. The man turned around and jumped in surprise at Seonghwa standing so close before breaking out in a smile. “Enjoy the show?” he asked.
Seonghwa laughed and nodded. “You’re very talented.”
The man beamed and held out his hand. “Name’s Hongjoong. Pleased to meet you.”
Seonghwa firmly shook Hongjoong’s hand. “Seonghwa. The pleasure’s all mine.”
Hongjoong started to turn away before Seonghwa grabbed his arm to stop him. “I guess you wouldn’t know this, Hongjoong, but I’m a fiddle player too.”
Hongjoong’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at that. “No way! Where’d you learn? I would love to hear you play! Although, I’m not sure you’d be nearly as good as me,” he said with a small smirk.
Seonghwa chuckled at that. “Cocky, aren’t we?” Hongjoong only shrugged in response with a confident look in his eyes. “If you’re so good, why are you out on the streets playing for change?” the devil asked.
Hongjoong’s face fell at that remark. Anger flashed in his eyes. Perfect, thought Seonghwa. An angry Living is more likely to make a rash deal.
“I used to play in the city symphony before I got kicked out due to ‘attitude problems,’” Hongjoong grumbled. “I fell into a depression and started gambling the little I had to try and make a bit more money. I began losing a lot more than I was winning. After that, I wasn’t able to afford my rent anymore, and I got evicted. I’ve been living on the streets since then, trying to earn enough to survive.”
Seonghwa hummed. “Cocky attitudes don’t get you far, my friend. However, I have a proposition for you.”
Hongjoong wrinkled his nose and huffed. “I do NOT sleep with people for money or whatever you’re thinking! I haven’t reached that low of a point yet!”
Seonghwa snorted. “Nothing like that, my friend, don’t worry. No, if you care to take a dare, I’ll make a bet with you.”
Hongjoong’s eyes lit up at that. “Like a gamble? I do love a bit of gambling.”
Seonghwa chuckled. “Your past is proof enough of that,” he muttered under his breath. Out loud, he said, “I bet I can play a better fiddle than you.”
At that, Hongjoong let out a hearty cackle. “You? Play the fiddle better than me? I’d love to see that happen!” His demeanor fell quickly. “I don’t have much to bet except that 1000 won down there,” he muttered, gesturing to the bill in the fiddle case at his feet.
Seonghwa gave a small smile to Hongjoong. “You have something much more valuable to me.”
At that, Hongjoong hugged his fiddle to his chest. “I am not betting my fiddle if that’s what you’re implying. This is just about my only possession. You aren’t getting this over my dead body.”
Seonghwa shook his head and chuckled lightly. “I don’t want your fiddle.” Hongjoong sighed in relief. “No, Hongjoong, I want your soul.”
Hongjoong stared at Seonghwa for a beat before doubling over in laughter so loud and shrill that it hurt Seonghwa’s ears. Hongjoong looked back up at Seonghwa and noticed the deadly serious look he was giving. He let out a few more weak chuckles and said, “What are you? The devil? Taking souls?”
Seonghwa ignored the question, and instead held his arms out in front of himself, closed his eyes, and focused on the object he needed for this deal. A beautiful golden fiddle materialized in his arms with a matching golden bow. When Seonghwa opened his eyes, Hongjoong looked like a trout with how low his jaw had dropped. “How did- What did- You- What are you?” Hongjoong stuttered.
Seonghwa gave a mirthless chuckle. “I believe you were correct when you called me a devil.” He sat the gold fiddle on the ground between them.
Hongjoong struggled to speak for a few moments. “I was just joking about that,” he managed to choke out.
“Well, I’m not joking. I am a devil. I would like to make a deal. I’ll bet you a fiddle of gold against your soul because I think I’m better than you. So what do you say, Hongjoong?”
“So let me get this straight,” Hongjoong sighed. “You’re a devil.” Seonghwa nodded. “You play the fiddle.” Seonghwa nodded again. “And you think you’re better than me.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes and nodded another time; this was taking much longer than he thought it would. “So you want to have a ‘fiddle battle’ against each other. If I win, I get to keep the golden fiddle. If you win, you get my soul. Is that correct?”
Seonghwa sighed. “That’s what I said, yes.”
Hongjoong quietly considered the proposal while muttering under his breath. Seonghwa crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. He had never tried to make a deal with one of the Living who had to think as hard about it as Hongjoong had.
Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa while glaring, as if he was trying to look straight through to his core to see if Seonghwa was lying. Hongjoong sighed before sticking his hand out, “This might be a sin, but I’ll take your bet. You’re gonna regret this because I’m the best that’s ever been.”
Seonghwa snorted and grabbed Hongjoong’s hand to shake and close the deal. As their hands met, flames rose from Seonghwa’s skin and engulfed them both. Hongjoong jumped back and hissed in pain. “What the fuck! You just burnt me!”
Seonghwa once again ignored what Hongjoong said. “The deal has been made. If you win, you get my golden fiddle to do with as you please. If I win, I get your soul to do with as I please. I’ll conjure a crowd of Living to act as judges. They won’t know our situation or what I am, so there are no biases.” Seonghwa snapped his fingers and a crowd surrounded the two of them. Hongjoong’s eyes widened as he gasped at the sudden audience. The Living are so easy to impress, Seonghwa thought. Outloud, he announced to the crowd, “Let’s get this show on the road. I’ll begin.”
He reached for the golden fiddle but Hongjoong swatted his hands away. “Nuh uh! I don’t know what kind of magic that thing holds. You are not getting any kind of advantage. Use those powers of yours and conjure up a regular fiddle just like mine.”
Seonghwa laughed, “I thought you were supposed to be ‘the best there’s ever been,’ boy.” He complied, however, and a regular wooden fiddle appeared in his arms. Hongjoong nodded solemnly and gestured for Seonghwa to begin.
Seonghwa began to rosin his bow with flames from his fingertips. He got in position with the fiddle tucked under his chin, and as he drew his bow across the fiddle strings in a quick tuning exercise, it made an evil hiss. As Seonghwa began to play his piece, the fiddle let out wails and shrieks akin to the sounds made by the tortured souls of the Under. The sounds made from his quick fingers and smooth bow work were hauntingly shrill, and caused a chilling quiet to fall over the crowd of the Living.
When the devil had finished his piece, he looked up at Hongjoong who was smirking. Seonghwa instantly froze. Why was the Living man smirking? He had just played a piece that perfectly channeled the torturous energy of the Under. That was the best damn fiddle piece Seonghwa had ever played or heard. Hongjoong clapped his hand onto the devil’s shoulder. “Well, you’re pretty good, old son. But sit down right there and let me show you how it’s done,” he said, gesturing to the bench a couple feet away.
Seonghwa had an uneasy feeling as he took a seat. Why wasn’t Hongjoong nervous? Why wasn’t he scared for his soul? The Living man couldn’t possibly be better at fiddle than Seonghwa……could he?
Seonghwa faked a confident smile. “Hongjong, go ahead, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard, boy.”
Hongjoong flashed a cocky, toothy smile at the devil before placing his fiddle under his chin and raising his bow. He took a deep, grounding breath before placing this bow against the strings.
Seonghwa sucked in a deep breath; one note into the Living man’s piece and he knew he was doomed.
As Hongjoong drew his bow across the fiddle’s strings, the Living audience began clapping in beat. Hongjoong’s song was full of life; it obviously told the Living man’s story. It started out upbeat and lively, mirroring Hongjoong’s time as part of the symphony, living his dream. It quickly tumbled into sporadic, panicking notes, going from the highest of highs falling to the lowest of lows: his gambling problems. The song’s pace slackened and the sound turned sour and shrill: his homelessness. All of a sudden, the tempo quickened back into a jaunty, optimistic tune: Seonghwa could only assume this was mirroring the deal they had just made, and Hongjoong’s confidence in his ability to save his soul and win the golden fiddle.
As Hongjoong played his last note, the crowd of the Living broke into a cacophony of cheers and yelps. The audience had obviously chosen their winner.
The devil hung his head, as he knew he had been beat from the moment Hongjoong had placed his bow against the fiddle strings. The Living man whooped loudly, as Seonghwa placed the golden fiddle on the ground at his feet. Hongjoong stabbed his finger into Seonghwa’s chest and declared, “What was that earlier about cocky attitudes not getting you far?” Seonghwa sighed as Hongjong continued, “Devil, just come on back if you ever want to try again. I told you once, you son of a bitch, I’m the best that’s ever been!”
Seonghwa had no words for the Living man. All he could do was solemnly nod and slightly bow as he grimaced.
The devil turned on his heels and left a cheering Hongjoong behind. Seonghwa knew he had no chance left at capturing a soul before his time was up. The only comfort he could muster was the idea that Hongjoong would be able to turn his life around as the owner of the golden fiddle. Seonghwa knew that thought would bring him mild comfort as his soul was being tortured in the Under for failing his only job as a devil in the Land of the Living.