Dear Traveler,

It is time to learn the truth about the pig.

You see, this talking swine is not really what he seems. Ham Song, as he goes by, was in fact a dragon. 

For reasons unknown, our Ham Song was damned long ago to occupy a porker vessel. Whoever bewitched him made sure to curse him further by blocking his ability to speak about his affliction. 

Before you begin to weep, Dear Traveler, I must tell you that there is an upside to this curse. Ham Song carried with him a tremendous amount of Luck. 

Not luck, you moron – Luck!

Of course you cannot hear the difference. You have the IQ of a mushroom. 

Anyway, it wasn’t clear at the time why, but Ham Song needed Sun Ritsu’s help. Sure, it was always his intention to break out of the noodle house pantry, but there was something about our underwhelming sun clone that made the pig especially desperate for his company.

There’s something else I should mention before we continue. Based on your blissful, unapologetic demonstrations of ignorance so far, I will assume that you are not aware that here in the Ninth Heaven, pigs are not well regarded. They hold a reputation for being greedy cheaters. For this reason, they rarely travel the giants alone. So as you might imagine, Ham Song’s chances at survival were pretty slim because he simply had no porker companion to swindle him out of becoming a chop.

Why didn’t Ham Song seek a friend from his race for protection, you wonder? I already told you, he’s no real pig. He’s a dragon! He couldn’t break bread with the common sow even if he tried. Think if I decorated you with a monocle. Would you suddenly know how to act intelligent? 

Our Ham Song was doomed to suffer by the hands of spiteful spirits unless he could somehow enlist Sun Ritsu to help him break his curse.

For three weeks, all Ham Song had known was darkness. And food. Lots of food. 

Capsule after capsule of teriyaki noodles, jajangmyeon, pho broth. An abundance of eggs – boiled, fried, drizzled raw over rice. Snack bags of dehydrated shrimp and congealed duck fat. Tubes of strawberry cakes, banana pudding, and watermelon slush. Cartons of every milk drink imaginable. 

The cooks made sure that Ham Song ate whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. And then some. 

The pig wasn’t stupid; he knew that his captors were merely trying to fatten him up as quickly as possible. But at this point, he had given up. 

It was hard enough convincing the average spirit to go out of their way to help you. Throw in a curse that prevented you from explaining what it was, and it became damn near impossible. Ham Song had tried everything to get around it. He couldn’t provide any sort of hint. Not even on accident.

What was worse, because the pig wasn’t Ham Song’s true essence, he couldn’t develop or purchase glamour for it. He had to traverse the Ninth Heaven as a naked quadruped. He would never get used to the humiliation.

There was a time when Ham Song had accepted his existence as a pig and went to go join the rest of them. The season had barely begun when he decided that he could no longer bear it. He was a dragon. Not a Luck-hoarding, money grubbing swine. It was then that he understood that his curse was meant to make him suffer a slow and painful death towards the Lake of Ninefold Darkness.

For many seasons, Ham Song had fought the inevitable. He realized that there were only two ways to shake his curse. One was to find a sun clone who carried the sign of the gold lotus. That or hope that some spirit noticed that he possessed none of the personality traits of a pig and all of the ones associated with dragons. The problem was that not many spirits these days remember what the dragons were like. Society only knew them for their flaws. The dragons had gone down in history as prideful, selfish wraiths.

As far as Ham Song’s first option went, the chances at finding a sun clone with a rare and cryptic brand like the gold lotus was about as unlikely as his curse wearing off long enough for him to tell his truth. 

So finally, with no hope left, he had allowed himself to be caught and dragged off to a noodle house somewhere in the Horse Province. He squeaked and oinked like a regular, dumb hog; he ate all of the junk food they gave him. He was content on facing the chopping block in the next few days and being stripped of his essence so he could join the rest of the Ninefold spirits in their subterranean lake.

Ham Song was content to die . . . until he saw the impossible.

One day a worker entered the storage pantry where Ham Song was being held. He wasn’t a cook. From the shadows, Ham Song lifted his eyebrows at the sight of a sun clone. What were the likes of a monkey spirit doing in a dump like this? What it some kind of trick? Some clever game the clone played in his spare time?

Whatever the reason, this clone was indeed an employee. And to the pig’s astonishment, he carried the prophetic sign of the gold lotus. It glowed like a beacon in the middle of his back.

Ham Song could not recall a moment when he felt such hope. He still had a chance! He didn’t have to resign to being eaten by the spirits of this unfortunate establishment. At least, not yet.

He did, however, detect a problem. It was clear by the sun clone’s demeanor that he had no clue that he was marked, or “blessed” as some spirits called it. 

This did not surprise Ham Song. Most spirits these days could not perceive interruptions in essence or even remember how they acquired such things. Ham Song himself could not remember who had cursed him. He barely remembered what it was like to be a dragon. For what seemed like millennia, the focus of his existence had been trying to reclaim his true essence. 

Quite honestly, Ham Song wasn’t sure what it was about the gold lotus insignia that could help him. His certainty came from the same place as the rest of his knowledge of his curse: He was a dragon trapped in the essence of a pig, he was physically unable to discuss the particulars of his curse with another party, and if there was ever a chance at breaking it, he needed to seek out a sun clone blessed with the gold lotus.

After Ham Song’s brief encounter with the sun clone, he slowed down on the binge eating and worked on a plan to break free. It was time to put all this Luck he had to proper use. 

So he dipped into his endless reserves, coated his hooves in Luck, and waited.

It was only a matter of time before the clone would be back.

~

Poor, poor Ham Song. His only chance at freedom rests with the likes of Sun Ritsu.

Yes, he is very Lucky. What of it?

No. No. Stop. Just stop before you hurt yourself. That is not how Luck works. He can’t just dust his hooves and poof everything works out.

Luck is about increasing the likelihood of things turning out in your favor. It’s not a guarantee. Otherwise, everyone would be able to get what they wanted willy-nilly.

Look, there’s still so much that you need to learn about Luck. Trust me, it isn’t just going to click overnight. For now, we need to circle back around to our so-called hero, Sun Ritsu.

Of course you forgot about what’s going on with him. Dear Traveler, I don’t know if anyone has told you this lately, but you really are an idiot.