Gotten a Taste for It
"No, Dusic. You're supposed to be taking a break, so how could you just show up with something like this out of the blue?"
"What do you mean? I had a hunch, and if I don't check it out, then I'm not Lucky Fairy Gak Dusic."
"Hah... Aren't you embarrassed saying that nickname yourself?"
"Not at all? It's the symbol of a hero who survived navigating through all sorts of dangers."
"Aigoo. Hero my foot. Please, for the love of god, don't listen to that fortune teller and do anything that'll shorten your lifespan."
"I won't."
"You say that, but look at what you brought today. Perfect for burying someone where no mouse or bird would find it!"
Grumbling under his breath, Im Hongjae flipped through the documents Gak Dusic had brought, his face twisting up even more. His already rugged features, comparable to Gak Il-sik's in their severity, grew fiercer, but Gak Dusic just shrugged it off and sipped his red ginseng tea.
"Hey, Hongjae. Did your father-in-law make this himself? It's seriously rich."
"Hah... I've got so much on my plate these days... I'm not the knife-wielding punk I used to be... My body's not what it was."
"Whining again. And what, knife-wielder? Is that your new concept?"
"Yeah. Knife-wielder. Saw it in a drama last time, and it hit me just right. A fighter carving through turbulent times with a single blade!"
"Everyone else fights bare-fisted, and you're proud of swinging a sword alone."
"Hey!"
"No, seriously, watch some new dramas these days. Why do you always dig up those ancient relics? That's why you're getting old."
"Old? I'm spry as ever!"
"I clearly heard you whining just seconds ago that your body's not the same. Quit crying and get to work already. You've rested enough—don't your fingers itch for action by now?"
"Aigoo. Who works with their fingers? It's this smart head of mine."
Shaking his head, Im Hongjae patted his chest, made an ah face, and pulled a plum-flavored candy from the pocket of his shabby jacket, popping it into his mouth.
"Ooh, finally quit smoking? You said you'd die before giving up cigarettes."
"Because of that rabbit-like punk. Saw this experiment on TV— even if you scrub your hands raw, nicotine sticks and spreads everywhere. What if my wife and kid get lung cancer? Fine if I die, but my fox-like wife and rabbit kid—!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"But this stuff... it's all in the past, right? Why dig it up now? You're just stirring up old wounds."
"Doesn't feel like the past to me."
"Huh?"
Gak Dusic scratched his chin and said, "Jeong Kyung-rok. This guy's gotten a taste for it."
"A taste? What taste? Drugs? Everyone knows he's into that."
"Look at his dilated pupils in the photo."
"Not that. The taste of wiping people out clean."
"Ah. That taste?"
As Gak Dusic mimed slicing across his throat, Im Hongjae's eyes darkened.
"Hmmm. The thrill of ending someone's life with your own hands. Once you get hooked, it's hard to forget..."
In his line of work, Im Hongjae had seen plenty who'd lost their minds to that rush, and even those locked away in prison who ended their own lives because they couldn't harm others anymore.
"So, Jeong Kyung-rok took out his own brother after that patient Kang San? Caused an accident?"
"Just my hunch for now. No evidence."
"I've seen your hunches hit the mark more than once or twice."
Im Hongjae stared blankly at the ceiling and muttered, "This'll take time. Sensitive stuff, so I'll need to round up the guys... But what about that patient Kang San? If he finds out, he might go after witnesses. Could've already tried. I trust you, but cops won't bite on just your guess. Even if you're Gak Dusic."
"That's why we make the board bigger."
"What board?"
"Big enough that people keep paying attention. Oh, speaking of which."
Gak Dusic neatly wrote down Hangul and English letters on a paper and handed it over.
"What's this?"
"This stream. Watch it. It's by Kang San's sister, Kang Seol-bin—"
"What? That BJ streamer thing? I don't watch that crap. Over-the-top, wasting food, noisy as hell—I hate it all."
"This isn't like that, Hongjae. I'm saying this for your sake. Stop with the old dramas and watch stuff like this, or you won't have anything to talk about with your daughter later. Right now she'll just giggle at whatever you say, but soon she'll be chattering about dual swords or wild men or fists of fury. Then your rabbit daughter will stare at you blankly and run off yelling 'Mommy~ Daddy's no fun~'?"
"No way!"
"Way. I've seen it plenty. Trends aren't just fun—people follow so they fit in, even if they force it."
"...So watching this stream gives me chit-chat ammo with my girl?"
"Better than your old dramas, at least."
"Ahem, ahem."
Gak Dusic smirked as Im Hongjae coughed awkwardly and pocketed the paper. Who'd guess this was once the 'Mad Dog' Im Hongjae? Real progress.
"Thanks, man. Let's grab a proper meal next time. Too busy today."
"Sure. But cognac this time, punk. No passing it off with a bowl of soup and cheap booze. Where else you gonna find high-class talent like me for peanuts? You're no reporter—you're a highway robber!"
"Got it. Cognac. Cognac it is."
"Hey, Dusic. If you pull that half-barley-tea half-cognac mix like last time, you're dead."
"...You knew?"
"As if I wouldn't notice! You made such a fuss about how precious and expensive it was, served it to my father-in-law when he visited—argh!! Still get chills thinking of his face—"
"Puhahaha!"
"Laughing? You laughing?!"
Gak Dusic, who'd once sparred as his brother's partner, nimbly dodged Im Hongjae's flushed, lunging grab and doubled over in laughter.
Jingle-jangle.
The bell on the door chimed. Park Young-sook, midway through making seasoned cabbage, looked up and beamed at the familiar face.
"Unni! Come on in. But aren't you swamped right now?"
"Busy, sure, but how could I sit still after hearing the news? Park lady's son! He's moving one arm properly now? He'll be fully recovered and discharged in no time!"
"I hope so."
"No, eyes open, recognizing people, fingers and toes moving, now arm after just days. What a blessing! Must be all your good deeds coming back!"
"Aigoo, good deeds? What have I even done."
"Aigu, I've heard dozens just from market talk—feeding broke folks without charging a dime! So, can your boy feed himself now?"
"We'll see. He's been on tube feeding, so chewing, swallowing, digestion—all need monitoring. Or he'll get sick."
"Ah... right. Long-fasters need recovery time. Take it slow."
Park Young-sook smiled warmly at Cha Kyung-hee, the successful mill owner nodding along.
"Eaten yet, unni? If not, have some seasoned cabbage with rice? Just made a fresh pot."
"Ooh, perfect! Got soup?"
"Yep. Aster soup, nice and spicy."
"Spicy's just what I need! Feeling a cold coming on, craving heat."
"I'll set you up."
"No need, I'll grab it!"
"It's done anyway."
Park Young-sook peeled off her gloves, plated some fresh seasoned cabbage, heaped rice and aster soup, and set the table.
"Aigoo, looks delicious!"
Cha Kyung-hee gulped, grabbing her spoon.
"Side dishes okay? Want some egg pancakes?"
"No, no. Told you, cold vibes. This is fine!"
"Then here, chopped green chili. Add more if you want heat."
"Aigu, Park lady's got style!"
Winking, Cha Kyung-hee slurped hot broth—scalding lips, spicy-savory tongue, warm burn down the throat. Sweat beaded, sighs escaped.
"Kuh~ That's the stuff!"
She dumped chili into the soup, stirred wildly, and devoured. Sweating buckets, sniffling, wiping with tissue, slurping like mad.
Cooks love enthusiastic eaters. Park Young-sook watched fondly, adding another soup bowl. Cha Kyung-hee nodded thanks, mixed rice into the second, crunched cabbage, and vanished it like wind hiding a shrimp.
"-Urp! Excuse me!"
"All good. Coffee?"
As Park Young-sook lit the stove for coffee amid Cha Kyung-hee's apologetic belch—
"Hey, Park lady. Heard the news? That cold noodle spot across the street—rent dropped again."
"Yeah."
"No half-listening. I've said it forever—take that spot! Perfect timing now!"
"Now?"
"People get three chances in life. Grab 'em, succeed; miss, muddle or fail."
"Nah."
"Sounds cocky, but with your good luck streak, this feels like number two!"
"Number two? What was one?"
"Divorcing that bastard!"
"Ah..."
No offense taken—Cha Kyung-hee's life wasn't easy either. Park Young-sook smiled faintly, nodding.
"Yeah, maybe."
"So think about it. I know the market inside out—that spot's a steal. Your cooking, cheap and hearty? Boom. Right?"
"..."
"Think! Say the word, I'll hook you up. Aigu, ate great. Time flies! Rice cake time! No coffee. Congrats on your son!"
Cha Kyung-hee bolted. Park Young-sook cleared plates with a cloudy smile, then pondered deeply.
That spot's prime, alright.
She knew. In boom times, triple—no, six times the rent. Current spot's fine for market vendors grabbing a bite—corner location, no fame. Signed thinking it'd suffice, but now skilled up, it felt cramped. More tables would be nice.
But running a place like that needs something special.
Restaurant life taught more bitterness than sweetness. 'Open a diner if you've got nothing'—pure nonsense, learned the hard way.
New menu won't cut it there. Bin-i said it last time. Need a killing menu. Something customers crave repeatedly.
Mechanically washing dishes, Park Young-sook mused.
What would sell to folks these days?
Bibimbap sets got praise, but big road needed broader appeal beyond vendors.
Trends? Bin-i knows. Talk to her.
Hmm.
Seems Jomalja and Bae Chunduk spread the word—not everywhere, but to the death spirits at Happiness Nursing Hospital, making me sound legendary.
Well, I am that good.
「Many. Many.」
「Lined. Up.」
Guided by Hwa-jeong and Pung-jeong, death spirits lined up outside the window—mostly withered elders, eyes full of hope.
Prior deals with Jomalja and Bae Chunduk yielded plenty, so if the price is fair and no overreach, I'd oblige.
<Heard the rumors and flocked. That mountain god's amazing, huh?>
<Eek, don't say 'amazing' to a mountain god! Say 'miraculous'!>
<Ah, right. Miraculous, that's the word.>
<Jomalja granny and Bae Chunduk grandpa said he handles jobs clean! After-service too.>
<But he always takes payment.>
Another piped up, eyes widening.
<Payment? What kind?>
<For the job, duh.>
<Huh... A mountain god? Taking payment? Real one?>
<What? Why the nonsense?>
The one who'd corrected 'amazing' snapped.
<Even if he refuses, we shove it on him! He does the impossible—gotta pay up! No manners? Thought you weren't like that, but black-hearted robber!>
<Uh, not what I—>
The flustered spirit bowed.
<Yeah... Precious time on mortal woes deserves tribute...>
<Damn right! Shamans and fortune tellers just babbled. We screamed in ears, danced in faces—nothing. All con artists! But this mountain god? Two witnesses vouch!>
Hmm. They don't realize I hear everything. Chattering nonstop, sneaking peeks—
<Um...>
A gaunt middle-aged woman in brown hanbok, around 50s, hesitantly joined.
<Does... the mountain god take non-material payment?>
<Who knows? Ask him. Why, got something else?>
<Yeah... No gold or cash... But info only I know. Maybe?>
<Info? Real estate? Road plans, new town, development?>
<Not that, but...>
<Hmmm. Might be tough.>
<Oh...>
Her gaunt face deepened with sorrow, fidgeting her hem. Another spirit ah-ed.
<Wait, you from psych ward? Always there.>
<Y-yes. My child's there.>
<Aigoo. Hoping for a cure?>
<Yes...>
Psych ward, huh. I was about to make mind-affecting meds anyway.
First, hear their stories and requests. This crowd means solid rewards.
[Send them in one by one.]
「One. At. A time.」
「Bringing. Them. In.」
Hwa-jeong and Pung-jeong nodded and zipped off to fetch the spirits.