Chapter 1: The King of Ghosts

“What do you mean by that?!”

The one who abruptly stood and shouted was The Heavenly King of Growth, the Southern Guardian King.

His face twisted in displeasure, as if he had heard something deeply offensive.

“That being is a ghost! A ghost, I tell you!”

He wasn’t the only one wearing such an expression.

Every person seated around the table wore a similar look of unease and disapproval.

“That’s right. This is absolutely unacceptable. How could a ghost possibly set foot in the Celestial Realm?”

“Exactly. A ghost is a ghost. We cannot allow such a profane being into the heavens.”

“Just the thought of that filthy, foul-smelling ghost entering the Celestial Realm is enough to make me nauseous.”

“I’ve encountered the stench of a ghost just once, and the memory of that horrid smell still lingers in my mind. It was unbearable. If such a stinking ghost were allowed into the Celestial Realm, the entire realm would reek of its foul odor.”

The celestial gods gathered at the meeting unanimously declared their disapproval.

Their strong opposition was not without reason.

Never in history had a ghost been allowed to step foot in the Celestial Realm.

To let such an unprecedented event occur during their time was unthinkable, and their determined expressions revealed their unwavering stance.

“But we cannot simply leave the Ghost King as he is, can we?”

The Celestial Lord, seated at the head of the table, sighed heavily, his face burdened with concern.

As the ruler of the Celestial Palace and the overseer of the Three Realms, the Celestial Lord bore the ultimate responsibility for all matters.

“Left unchecked, the Ghost King will consume all of the Realm of the Four Kings with his ghostly army and eventually ascend to the Thirty-Three Heavens. And if that happens, who will be able to stop him? If anyone here knows of a miraculous solution to contain him, speak up. Don’t just oppose the idea blindly.”

At the Celestial Lord’s pointed words, the celestial gods fell silent.

“If we offer the Ghost King a proper position, perhaps he will cease his slaughter. However, granting him just any position may provoke his wrath. If we’re to give him a role, it must be one that upholds his dignity. The only vacant position right now is that of Heavenly realm, so I propose making him the ruler of Heavenly realm.”

“Heavenly realm? But that’s part of the Southern Heavenly Domain…”

The Heavenly King of Growth’s face contorted severely.

Heavenly realm was part of the southern skies, under his governance.

Ultimately, this meant that The Heavenly King of Growth himself would have to bow to the Ghost King.

The very thought of giving such a role to the Ghost King made his expression twist with displeasure.

“How could it come to this…”

“What a ridiculous situation…”

Unable to directly oppose the Celestial Lord’s decision, the celestial gods could only cluck their tongues in frustration.

The Ghost King, as they called him, was originally nothing more than a nameless, lowly ghost.

However, after devouring dozens, even hundreds of other ghosts, he rose to become their king.

It was unprecedented—a ghost becoming a king.

In fact, the concept of a “king” among ghosts was unheard of before.

Ghosts were born from the corpses of humans and beasts who had died horrific deaths. Lacking reason or intellect, they were beings driven solely by instinct—to kill and consume.

Because of this, ghosts never organized, nor did they unify. It was natural for them to prey upon each other.

They were creatures incapable of having a king.

Yet this man had become the first Ghost King.

By sheer terror and overwhelming strength, he subdued even the most mindless of ghosts, uniting them under his rule. After conquering the land of ghosts, he began encroaching upon the Celestial Realm.

When the lowest part of the Celestial Realm fell to the ghosts, the Celestial Lord made a decisive choice: if they could not stop him, they would give him what he sought in order to protect what remained.

* * *

“How could we allow such a profane being… Good heavens.”

“The Celestial Lord must have lost his mind.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. A ghost in the Celestial Realm—what kind of disaster are we inviting?”

“Would it even understand proper decorum?”

“Just the thought of the stench makes me sick already…”

After the meeting convened by the Celestial Lord ended, the celestial gods departed, gathering in small groups as they walked away, their faces filled with dismay. Their murmurs of discontent were impossible to hide.

“Have you smelled it before?”

At the mention of the stench by one of the gods, the others pricked up their ears.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Don’t even ask. It’s a stench so foul that covering your nose doesn’t help. I’ve never smelled anything worse.”

“Does it smell like rotting corpses?”

“It’s far worse than that.”

“Oh dear, this is a disaster… an utter disaster.”

“But here’s the thing,” The Heavenly King of Growth began, glancing around cautiously before speaking in a hushed tone.

“If we are to allow the Ghost King into the Celestial Realm, who among us will approach him to make the offer?”

“……”

At this, the other celestial gods fell silent, exchanging uneasy glances, their confidence evaporating.

Even if the Celestial Lord’s proposal to offer a corner of the Celestial Realm seemed reasonable, who would dare deliver the message to the Ghost King?

The Ghost King was rumored to devour not only ghosts but also celestial beings.

There was no guarantee that the envoy carrying the Celestial Lord’s proposal wouldn’t end up as the Ghost King’s next meal.

Everyone was terrified.

The thought of volunteering for the task and dying a meaningless death, coupled with the fear of standing before the infamous Ghost King, made the celestial gods anxious and hesitant.

“Such a task… shouldn’t it fall to the commanders?”

“Yes, exactly! A dangerous mission like that should be handled by the commanders.”

As soon as one spoke up, the others quickly chimed in with agreement.

Fearful that the Celestial Lord might summon them back or assign the task to them, the celestial gods hurriedly fled to their respective domains, their steps frantic and hurried.

Not a single one of them dared to look back.

* * *

After a long time, a guest arrived at Bukak.

The mountain, quiet and desolate due to Sangah’s prolonged seclusion, rarely saw visitors.

The only one who served Sangah at Bukak was a young attendant. He had been sweeping dry leaves with a broom when the unexpected guest arrived, leaving him flustered as he hurried to lead the visitor to Sangah.

Sangah, dressed in her usual plain, worn robes, had been tending to flowers that grew in the shadows, carefully moving them to a sunnier spot. When she saw who her visitor was, she was taken aback.

It was none other than the Celestial Lord.

It had been two hundred years since she last saw him.

Two hundred years had passed since the events of that dreadful day.

* * *

“Ordinarily, this would be a task for the celestial commanders, but if armed commanders were to approach, the Ghost King would think they’ve come to fight. Before we could even speak, it would turn into bloodshed.”

The Celestial Lord, who had sought out Sangah, presented her with a difficult request.

It was a decision he had reached only after much deliberation.

Sending celestial gods to the Ghost King was not an option.

The gods fundamentally despised ghosts—not merely disliked, but utterly abhorred them.

No matter how they tried to hide it, their disdain would be written all over their faces and visible in their eyes.

What use would it be to send celestial gods if their hatred was so transparent?

The celestial commanders were no better.

Their fiery tempers could escalate any encounter into a catastrophe. If a commander met the Ghost King, it could spark a conflict far worse than they intended to prevent.

This left the Immortals. But who among them would willingly travel to meet the Ghost King?

Though Immortals were nearly eternal beings, the Ghost King made no distinction—he devoured all.

Moreover, it was said that the flesh of Immortals was a potent elixir. Ghosts drooled at the mere sight of an Immortal, drawn by the promise of nourishment that could amplify their power.

How could the Celestial Lord ask any Immortal to venture into the domain of ghosts under such circumstances?

Caught in a dilemma, unable to act one way or the other, the Celestial Lord thought of only one person: Sangah.

Though now an Immortal, Sangah had once been a celestial commander.

She was the only one who wouldn’t show disdain toward the Ghost King through words or expressions, nor would she allow herself to be easily overpowered by the ghosts.

Seeing her again for the first time in two centuries, the Celestial Lord found her appearance unchanged from the day they last met.

Despite her simple and worn hemp robes, she still possessed the same pure, unblemished beauty, as if sculpted from white jade.

“Sangah, so that’s why I must ask you…”

“I will go,” Sangah said, cutting him off.

She had silently listened to the Celestial Lord’s explanation, already aware of the reason for his visit.

“I will go to the Ghost King myself.”

“It will be exceedingly dangerous,” he warned.

“I understand,” she replied calmly.

“In that case… though it shames me to ask, I entrust this task to you.”

The Celestial Lord bowed his head to Sangah.

For the ruler of the Three Realms to bow to anyone was an unthinkable act, but in this moment, it was an expression of his earnest gratitude.

That Sangah had accepted without hesitation a task everyone else had feared was enough to make the Celestial Lord bow, not just once, but ten or even a hundred times if necessary.

* * *

“That’s so unfair!”

After the Celestial Lord had departed, Haemaek, Sangah’s young servant, shouted indignantly.

Haemaek, originally a red fox living in the mountains of Bukak, had been taken in by Sangah and served as her attendant.

Being only fifty years old—a mere child by fox standards—he had a fiery temper, and now his face was flushed bright red as he stomped his feet in frustration.

“How could he ask something like that of you, Sangah? And how could you agree to such a ridiculous request?!”

“Why are you being so loud?” Sangah asked calmly.

“Please, just tell them you can’t do it! If you go to the land of ghosts, you might die! You might not come back! So, Sangah, please…”

“These plants over here need to be transplanted to that sunny spot. Can you do that for me?”

“Sangah…”

Haemaek stared at her, dumbfounded. Even in the midst of such a monumental situation, Sangah was more concerned about moving plants.

“They sprouted in the shade, and if we leave them there, they’ll wither and die. Since they were born, shouldn’t they bloom fully in the sunlight before fading away?”

“This isn’t about the plants…”

“It’s not as if I’m going to die. Stop making such a fuss.”

“But you could! Ghosts are terrifying enough, but the Ghost King—they say he devoured hundreds of terrifying ghosts to become their king!”

“He’s about to become the ruler of Heavenly realm. You should speak of him with respect.”

“How can a ghost become the ruler of Heavenly realm? I bet he’ll be kicked out before long anyway!”

“Mind your words,” Sangah said firmly, turning to Haemaek with a stern look.

Only then did Haemaek hurriedly clasp his hands over his mouth.

“Ghosts are just like these plants,” Sangah continued. “Born into a shaded, sunless place, they struggle desperately to survive. Isn’t that what they’re doing?”

“How can ghosts be like plants…? Plants aren’t scary, but ghosts are terrifying…”

“To little mice or rabbits, you’re just as frightening,” Sangah replied with a faint smile.

“Me? But I’m adorable!” Haemaek exclaimed, puffing out his chest.

Haemaek blinked, his expression one of utter confusion. He couldn’t comprehend how ghosts were frightening, yet he, himself, could be considered scary.

“While I’m away, you must transplant all these plants and make sure to water them once a day. Understood?”

“Please don’t go,” Haemaek pleaded, his face falling as he tugged on Sangah’s sleeve.

“If you don’t come back, I’ll be here all alone, and I’m scared.”

“What’s there to be afraid of? Nothing here can harm you.”

“Being alone is scary… So please, don’t go.”

“It won’t take long.”

Sangah gently patted Haemaek’s head and freed her sleeve from his grasp.

“Ugh…”

Haemaek pretended to cry, but he knew Sangah wouldn’t fall for it.

He also knew how kind Sangah truly was—so kind that she had taken him in when he was abandoned and dying.

After all, it was her kindness that had saved him, a young fox who had lost his mother.

Haemaek had met Sangah when he was barely a month old.

His mother had been caught in a hunter’s trap and taken away, leaving Haemaek alone in their den. He had waited in vain for her return, starving and whimpering, until he was on the brink of death.

Orphaned fox cubs usually either starved or were eaten by predators.

But Sangah had found him, crying in desperation, and had brought him to Bukak. She gave him the ability to transform into human form and made him her attendant. Haemaek had lived with her for fifty years since then.

Thanks to Sangah’s care, he could live far longer than an ordinary fox.

By becoming the attendant of an Immortal, Haemaek had absorbed some of Sangah’s celestial power, becoming a spiritual creature with an extended lifespan.

Many animals longed to become the attendants of Immortals for this reason, but such opportunities were exceedingly rare.

Haemaek knew he was fortunate to have been given such a rare opportunity.

He was a fox who understood gratitude.

That’s why he worried about Sangah more than anyone else. But despite Haemaek’s constant concern, Sangah seemed completely unaware—or perhaps indifferent—about taking care of herself. This was a constant source of frustration for him.

Sangah, always sacrificing for others and enduring losses herself, made Haemaek’s heart ache. Yet, no matter how much he wanted to help, there was nothing he could do.

Just like now.

It pained Haemaek to know he couldn’t stop Sangah from going to the land of ghosts, no matter how much he protested. It made him angry and upset, but what could he do?

Having no other options, he could only obey Sangah’s instructions and move the plants as she asked.

“Please come back quickly,” Haemaek said, bowing his head, though his unease was clear in his voice.

A strange, ominous feeling gnawed at him.

And didn’t they say that a fox’s instincts were rarely wrong?

* * *

Finding the Ghost King’s dwelling in the land of ghosts wasn’t particularly difficult.

Though he was called the King of Ghosts, Sangah immediately realized upon setting foot in the ghostly realm that his title didn’t signify governance or rulership, but rather fear and domination.

The land of ghosts lies at the boundary between the human world and the Celestial Realm.

Ghosts are not born but come into existence.

They arise from the corpses of those who perish in battlefields.

Ghosts are born from the resentment and curses of humans.

They are the manifestation of all manner of grudges, coalescing into physical forms.

Because of this, the land of ghosts is filled with a poisonous miasma so thick it makes breathing difficult.

This miasma is the poison of resentment, curses, and hatred.

In the land of ghosts, the ghosts devour one another.

Fear does not exist for ghosts.

Born from fear, they do not know it. Born from resentment, they do not know satisfaction.

Thus, ghosts are inherently savage, consuming everything indiscriminately, merciless and uncontrollable by nature.

That was their original essence.

But the one known as the Ghost King had completely overturned everything once believed about them.

It was said that he controlled the ghosts.

That he ruled them.

It wasn’t because ghosts possessed reason that they accepted his rule.

He commanded them through overwhelming terror—terror so great that even beings born without fear succumbed to it.

What kind of overwhelming terror that might be, Sangah didn’t know.

She only surmised that anyone capable of subjugating and intimidating ghosts, of all creatures, couldn’t be an ordinary individual.

There was also the possibility he might devour her before even hearing her out.

It was entirely plausible.

What could the Ghost King possibly lack that would make him desire a celestial seat in the heavens?

Bound by no such constraints, he could rule freely over the land of ghosts, and if he so wished, he could invade the Celestial Realm at any moment.

Still, Sangah took her step forward, knowing full well that this place could very well be where she died.

This must be it…

Sangah realized this must be the Ghost King’s dwelling because there were no other ghosts in the vicinity.

Though it was the land of ghosts, none could be found here.

Only silence and darkness filled the space, devoid of any sign of life.

It was likely the ghosts feared the Ghost King so much that none dared approach.

The stench…

A foul odor wafted into Sangah’s nose.

Was this terrible stench coming from the Ghost King?

Following the trail of the odor, she soon came upon a cave.

Walking into its depths, Sangah finally came face to face with the Ghost King.

* * *

The man sat in the dark cave, gnawing on something with a harsh crunching sound.

At his feet, fragments of bones lay scattered.

Whether those bones belonged to ghosts, beasts, or humans, Sangah had no way of knowing.

The man sat atop a pile of those bones, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

“Pah.”

He spat out the bone he had been chewing on.

Wiping the blood-stained corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, the man turned his attention to Sangah, who stood motionless before him.

“Have you come to be eaten?”

Despite his words, Sangah could tell he had no intention of devouring her—not now, at least.

The man was clearly full, no longer driven by hunger.

As long as he wasn’t starving, it seemed unlikely that he would attack her.

But then again, who could say for sure?

Immortal flesh was said to be fragrant—perhaps that alone might tempt him.

And who could know for certain?

Immortal flesh was rumored to grant eternal youth and life—perhaps that would be reason enough for him to devour her.

“I have come to deliver a message from the Celestial Lord,” Sangah said, cutting to the point as she clasped her hands together and bowed respectfully.

“The Celestial Lord?”

The man furrowed his brow, his expression darkening.

“The Celestial Lord wishes to make you the ruler of Heavenly realm. Would you consider leaving this land of ghosts to take your place in the Celestial Realm as its master?”

“Who would want to bother with such a tedious task?”

The man scoffed at the proposal, a derisive smile tugging at his lips.

“Being bound by such things is for those celestial beings. I have no interest in such constraints, nor do I desire to be tied down by them.”

As the man spoke dismissively, Sangah felt a sudden, peculiar sensation.

Amid the pervasive stench that filled the cave, she caught a scent she had smelled before—something faintly sweet, distinctly different from the acrid odor.

It was familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she had encountered it.

Where have I smelled this before…?

Confused, Sangah glanced at the man.

This was her first time meeting the Ghost King, her first time seeing his face.

She had visited the human world countless times, yet she had never encountered anyone like him.

So why did it feel like she had met him somewhere before?

Why did the faint, sweet scent emanating from him feel so familiar?

“Then, do you plan to continue this cycle of slaughter for the rest of your life?”

She had anticipated his reaction. A man who had lived his entire life freely had no reason to bind himself to the rules and etiquette of the Celestial Realm.

“And what of it? Eating when I want, killing when I want—doesn’t that sound perfectly entertaining?”

“Have you ever considered,” Sangah said calmly, “what it would feel like to spend your entire life building mountains of corpses, only to look down at your hands one day and see that all that remains is blood? Would that not be an empty existence?”

“If there’s blood on my hands, it means I’ve lived a full life,” the man replied indifferently.

He picked up a bone fragment from the pile at his feet and flung it toward Sangah.

“In this place, life begins like this. It’s a struggle just to be born, and even harder to survive after being born. So what’s wrong with killing and killing again? Killing means you’re not the one dying, doesn’t it? It means your belly is full and you’re not starving today. Here, not starving is crucial, and staying alive is even more important. Killing to ensure that is nothing. If you want to look at your hands later, you first have to survive, don’t you think?”

“Life is more than just survival.”

“More than just survival?”

“There are things in this world that hold more value than merely staying alive.”

“And what are those?”

“They’re different for everyone. You must find yours for yourself. If you can’t find it here, perhaps going to the Celestial Realm might help you discover it.”

In front of the Ghost King—who was said to make everyone tremble in fear—Sangah stood completely unshaken.

Sangah feared nothing.

Having faced true terror and real fear, she didn’t tremble before anything else.

But there was something about this encounter that continued to nag at her, something she couldn’t ignore.

“Then let me ask you one thing. Have you found this ‘value’ you speak of? Something greater than just continuing to exist?”

“Yes, I have.”

“And what is it? What is this value that’s more important than life to you?”

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“If I tell you, will you consider accepting the Celestial Lord’s proposal?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Sangah slowly studied the man’s features.

She had seen them before, yet she had no memory of ever meeting him.

He felt familiar, yet entirely unfamiliar.

‘Who is this man? What is he?’

“For me,” Sangah began, “the value greater than my life lies in the things I can protect.”

“Maybe I’m just too stupid, but I don’t get it.”

“It means that anything I can reach out and protect is more important to me than my honor, pride, or even my life.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? What are those things?”

“They could be anything. A plant, a small animal, a person… or even a ghost.”

At that moment, it hit her.

Sangah suddenly remembered the familiar sweetness she had been puzzling over.

It was the smell of blood.

Not just any blood—it was her own.

The scent of her blood was coming from this man’s body.

‘How could this be?’

It was as if he had drunk her blood, consumed it entirely, for her scent to linger on him.

Her finger throbbed, and a memory burst forth—a memory from two centuries ago.

A blood-soaked infant, clinging to her hand, suckling at her finger with desperate force.

‘No… it can’t be…’

That child was dead.

Human lives rarely exceeded eighty years, even a hundred and twenty at most.

But that child had been born over two hundred years ago.

‘There’s no way he could still be alive.’

And the Ghost King? That child had been human.

“Are you…”

Sangah’s voice trembled slightly as she looked at the man, as if in a trance.

“Are you truly a ghost?”

At her question, the man roared with laughter, his voice echoing through the cave.

As his laughter subsided, he fixed his sharp gaze on Sangah, his eyes glinting with an unspoken intensity.

“They call me the Ghost King because I’m the king of ghosts. So, if I’m not a ghost, what else could I be?”

“Were you born a ghost?”

Sangah knew how absurd her question sounded, even to herself.

There was no way that child from two hundred years ago could still be alive.

Born in a human’s arms, raised as a human, living as a human—surely that child had passed on, like all humans eventually do, returning to the earth.

That child, who likely lived an ordinary life after the tragedy of their birth, should have been long gone. So why was Sangah thinking of him now?

“I wouldn’t know,” the man replied with a shrug. “Whether I was born a ghost or a human who became a ghost—that’s beyond me. But why do you ask?”

“You smell… human,” Sangah lied.

It was the first lie she had ever told.

Sangah had never lied before, but now, for the first time, she had.

She couldn’t possibly tell him that she recognized her own scent on him.

“Human?”

The man raised his hand, sniffing the air.

“All I smell is rot. What human scent are you talking about?”

“You can’t normally have a conversation like this with a ghost. But here we are, having this conversation. It made me wonder if you’re truly a ghost or perhaps a human.”

“Well, I suppose I am different. But isn’t it proper to share something about yourself before asking questions about others?”

As the man hinted at wanting her name, Sangah realized one undeniable truth:

This man was not a ghost.

At least, not entirely.

Ghosts do not possess reason.

They are driven purely by instinct—to resent, to curse, to satiate their endless hunger.

But this man could speak, think, feel, laugh, and doubt.

No ghost could do that.

There was only one answer.

This man was human.

How a human became the King of Ghosts in the land of ghosts, she couldn’t say. But it was clear that he was not a ghost.

“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Sangah, the Immortal of Bukak.”

“Ah, that explains it. I thought I caught a sweet scent. So you’re an Immortal.”

That, too, is strange, Sangah thought.

Ghosts instinctively recognize Immortals.

They can distinguish between celestials, Immortals, and humans.

Yet, this man clearly hadn’t realized she was an Immortal until she mentioned it.

He must have assumed she was a celestial, sent by the Celestial Lord.

One thing was certain: this man was human. He could not possibly be a ghost.

“When you entered, the whole cave filled with a sweet scent,” the man said, his voice low and casual. “The smell of living flesh. It made my mouth water. I thought about eating you but decided to let it slide.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. Are you a ghost, or are you a human?”

“That’s something I’d like to know too,” the man replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Whether I’m a ghost or a human. Because no one’s ever told me. No one ever said what I am.”

He paused, his gaze fixed on Sangah, before continuing with a bitter undertone.

“I was abandoned. Here. In this place.”

At that moment, Sangah’s suspicion turned into certainty.

This man was the child she had saved.

The child born to the woman she had killed.

Hyee.

The child given that name.

The baby she had fed with her blood and whose umbilical cord she had cut with her own hands.

The child she had sent to the humans to live, only to end up abandoned.

The scent of her own blood radiating from this man’s body was undeniable proof.

Even after two hundred years, her blood remained within him.

It was celestial blood. Sangah knew well that it did not fade easily.

Perhaps the blood she gave him that day had changed him.

He had never drunk water or milk as an infant—only her blood.

What kind of effect celestial blood might have had on a human child, Sangah didn’t know.

Perhaps it had given him a life closer to that of a celestial being, allowing him to retain his youthful appearance even after two centuries.

This man, the so-called Ghost King, was her burden.

Sangah had tried to retreat into seclusion at Bukak, forgetting everything and living quietly. But now, the burden she thought she had left behind had reappeared in this form.

Her unresolved original sin stood before her now, wearing the guise of the Ghost King.

---

1. The Thirty-Three Heavens (삼십삼천, 三十三天) refers to a concept in Buddhist cosmology that represents one of the higher realms of existence in Buddhist teachings. It is also known as the Trayastrimsa Heaven in Sanskrit, which is part of the desire realm (kāmadhātu).

The Thirty-Three Heavens are located in the desire realm, which is one of the six realms of existence in Buddhism. These heavens are situated just below the form realm (rūpadhātu) and are considered a higher spiritual plane than the earthly realm.
The Thirty-Three Heavens are ruled by Indra (known as Sakra in Buddhism), the king of the gods in Buddhist cosmology, and are considered one of the six heavens within the desire realm. The Thirty-Three Heavens are composed of 33 individual heavens, and the number “33” has symbolic significance in many Buddhist traditions. The heavens are believed to be a place where gods and celestial beings dwell, enjoying great happiness and long lives, though they are still subject to impermanence and the cycle of rebirth.
These heavens are not permanent states of being. Beings who dwell in the Thirty-Three Heavens enjoy a blissful existence, but their time there is finite, as all realms in Buddhist cosmology are. When their good karma runs out, they will eventually be reborn into other realms.

2. Celestial Realm (천계, 天界) refers to a divine or heavenly realm in various East Asian cultures, particularly in Buddhism, Taoism, and Korean mythology. It is often depicted as the abode of gods, celestial beings, or spirits, and it is a higher realm that exists beyond the human world, representing purity, divine order, and spiritual enlightenment.