The Saint of Yeonok-dong (1)

"This young man Lee Seop feels different from those frauds who came through our village before."

"You think he's a con artist?"

"What kind of con artist bothers coming all the way here? If he put the effort he spends swindling us into voice phishing instead, he'd make a lot more money."

"Maybe he's a human trafficker?"

"What would anyone want with kidnapped old folks like us?"

"Well, we do have grandchildren, don't we?"

"No. He doesn't seem like the type."

Religion and fraud have always been deadliest to people who've been shoved to the very bottom of life. It was no coincidence that there had been cases, in the past, of swindlers and cult recruiters targeting the residents of Yeonok-dong. A few of the elderly had actually been ruined by such predators — driven, in the end, to take their own lives.

For that reason, the old people of Yeonok-dong did not open their hearts easily.

"But after I talk with that Seop boy, somehow my heart feels at ease."

"He gave me a massage last time, said he'd help me out — and it was wonderful."

"How good can a massage possibly be?"

"I'm telling you. It was far better than the Korean medicine clinic I always go to."

But Lee Seop, awakened to his divine power, was different. Every breath he drew, every word he spoke, carried an intangible force that the people of Earth had never once felt in their lives. That was why conversation with him brought peace. It offered comfort, and the knotted lumps of grief inside a person quietly dissolved on their own.

Churches and social workers occasionally came around to this neighborhood and lent an ear, but what Lee Seop offered was beyond any comparison.

"Ahem! Did our Seop not come today?"

"Ah! There he is, over there!"

"Is — is that so?"

Hearts that had been sealed shut began, little by little, to waver.

"What on earth does that young man do for a living?"

"Whatever he is, he doesn't seem like a bad person. He even tutors our grandkids."

"My granddaughter looks for him more than she looks for me these days, I swear."

On the surface, the people of Yeonok-dong kept their guard up, mouths full of warnings that no outsider could be trusted — yet somewhere along the way, in their hearts, they had already accepted the stranger called Lee Seop. A single day without seeing him left them hollow and strangely uneasy. They didn't need to talk to him. They didn't need a massage. Merely watching him from a distance was enough to fill them with warmth and contentment.

"Look here, Seop! What is it you actually want?"

At last, Elder Heo — the neighborhood head of Yeonok-dong — could hold back no longer and asked him outright. "Spell it out for us, plain and clear. Then we can treat you without this itch of suspicion."

A cultist? A con man? A kidnapper? Or just some traveling peddler?

If he was a cultist, they would close their eyes and pretend to believe. If a peddler, they'd pool some money and buy a few of his goods. But if he turned out to be a swindler or a trafficker — then he had best be prepared for what followed.

"There is only one thing I want."

"There it is. So there was something after all! Well? Out with it — let's hear what it is!"

"Do you pray, elders?"

"Pray? I suppose we do."

Perhaps because death was drawing near, nearly every one of them kept some faith or other — Buddhism, Catholicism, Protestantism being the most common.

"When you pray, please think of me. That is all I ask."

"???"

The moment prayer entered the conversation, the old folks of Yeonok-dong exchanged glances. So he really is one of those cult types after all.

"That's truly all? You're not going to make us join some religion or anything?"

"No, ma'am. In all sincerity — that is all I need."

"Hmm…."

"And if I ever privately ask you for anything beyond that, you have my permission to drive me out of this neighborhood for good."

A kind, handsome face. The same neat casual suit he always wore. Lee Seop, endlessly gentle and considerate, spoke now with a gravity and seriousness none of them had ever heard from him before.

"W-well, if that's all it is, then. Ahem! Any religion is fine, then? We can just pray however we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like?"

"Yes."

"Goodness me, there's no end to the strange religions in this world."

Thinking of Lee Seop while praying? That could hardly be called a chore. Which was exactly why suspicion gnawed at them all the harder.

But everyone tacitly let it pass. What if, by pressing him further and interrogating him over every little thing, that young man left the neighborhood for good? The sense of loss would be unbearable.

That was the kind of addictive presence Lee Seop was.

Yeonok-dong, tucked into the northernmost edge of Seoul, was one of the city's most neglected neighborhoods. It was not, however, a slum packed with foreign laborers. It was simply a place where aging houses and walk-up villas stood in rows, and where many elderly residents waited for phone calls from children who had long since stopped calling.

Creeeak. Creeeak. Creeeak.

On a low hill road, an old woman was hauling a handcart piled high with scrap cardboard. Despite the biting wind, sweat beaded on her forehead.

How exhausting. How long am I supposed to live like this? Every single day feels like a dead end.

Her children, one and all, had cut off contact the moment their own circumstances turned difficult. And yet she still went out collecting scrap like this because of the grandson and granddaughter her daughter — the only one who had ever married — had left behind and walked away from.

"Hm?"

After laboring over the cart for a long while, the old woman suddenly felt the weight lighten. She turned around, puzzled.

"Oh my, Seop!"

A young man was pushing her cart from behind.

"Grandma Sung, a full load today, I see."

"Ho ho ho, lucky day for me."

Clearly this was not the first time such a thing had happened; the old woman simply chuckled and kept pulling her cart along. Hers was a weary, grinding life — but these days it was no longer lonely. One young man had started dropping by now and then to keep her company, and somehow life had become worth living again.

"Ever since I met our Seop, things have been going well for me."

"Going well? In what way?"

"The scrap piles up beautifully."

"Hahahaha — well, that's good news."

"I mean it! Maybe it's the praying? Ever since I started praying morning, noon, and night, just the way Seop asked me to, it's been like that."

At her words, Lee Seop only offered a calm, gentle smile. And in that smile, the old woman felt her heart settle at ease.

"How are Ha-jun and Ha-eun doing?"

"Seop, thanks to your tutoring they're keeping up with their schoolwork just fine now. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A graduate of a top university really is a different breed."

Sung Ok-ja beamed at the thought of her grandson and granddaughter — fourth and fifth grade in elementary school this year.

"And your back and knees?"

"Oh~ Seop, your hands must be blessed. The pain that never went away no matter how many times I visited the clinic in the next neighborhood over — it's completely gone these days."

"I'm glad to hear it. If it ever comes back, just say the word. I'll give you a massage whenever you like."

"Yes, yes. But you should look after Soon-ja upstairs more than me. Yesterday she was moaning all day about her aching shoulders…"

"As it happens, I just finished massaging her and I'm on my way back now."

"You did? Good girl — very good. I won't have to hear her whining anymore, then."

"There's a neighborhood feast tonight. You'll be coming, won't you?"

The old Yeonok-dong had been too hard-bitten for gatherings or neighborly exchange; at best, the seniors' association met once in a while. All of that changed when Lee Seop arrived. Now, every other Thursday, the neighborhood held its own regular feast. True, it amounted to little more than boiling meat and pan-frying a few pancakes.

"Of course I'm coming. The children can come too, right?"

Sung Ok-ja asked with eyes full of anticipation.

"Absolutely. Elder Heo went out of his way to make this one special — he's even prepared plenty of pizza and fried chicken for Ha-jun and Ha-eun."

"Heo Jae-soo. That man's personality leaves something to be desired, but I'll say this — he comes through when it counts."

"He's a good man, really. The house you live in is one of Elder Heo's properties, isn't it, Grandma?"

"That's right. He knows my situation, so he barely charges me rent. A grateful old soul, truly. A bit stiff-necked, but still."

There was something strange about this young man Lee Seop. Talk with him for any length of time, and somehow the heart grew light. And after meeting him, things went smoothly for days on end. Amid the weariness of daily survival, small happinesses and quiet satisfactions bloomed like wildflowers.

"Oh my, Seop is here!"

"Seop, today's the day, right? The neighborhood feast?"

"Ahem! Seop, I said a prayer thinking of you today, just like you told me! Was that right?"

"Seop oppa's here!"

And it was not only Sung Ok-ja who felt it. One by one, almost before anyone noticed, the residents of Yeonok-dong had begun drifting toward Lee Seop like filings to a magnet.

Korea was fertile soil perfectly suited for the birth of every religion imaginable. Cramped territory, dense population, merciless competition, a vicious brand of materialism. Living in a country packed together like a chicken coop, it was hard to keep one's sanity. Even the infrastructure — the psychiatrists, the counseling centers — was scarce, and the stigma around them worse still.

And so the exhausted, those wrung dry by endless competition, and the desperate who had been cast out of that race entirely became ideal prey for predatory cults. What they needed more than anything was sweet comfort, recognition, belonging, and hope.

It was no accident that so many world-famous cults had put down their deepest roots in Korea, of all places.

And thanks to that, I was able to get started without much difficulty.

Had he been born in North Korea, China, or the Middle East, the difficulty curve would have shot straight upward. Feeling a quiet sense of relief, I looked around.

"Waaaaah!"

"Hey! Stop right there!!"

"Kyahahahaha!"

The sounds of children at play rang through a neighborhood that had once, effectively, been dead. For all that it was home to so many elderly living alone, it was not devoid of young people. More precisely — there were, quietly, quite a lot of small children. Boys and girls living with their grandparents in place of absent parents, or — worse — child heads of household who had no one at all. The latter were the ones who had grown up in their grandparents' care, only to be left utterly alone when the grandparents passed away.

"Seop, what are you doing standing there? Come on, eat up."

"This batch of kimchi they just made is seriously good."

"Ehahahaha! Seop, you have to drink with us!"

The elderly residents around me kept pressing food and liquor into my hands. I stuffed myself on thoroughly boiled pork and freshly made fresh kimchi and radish kimchi, and let a pleasant buzz of makgeolli settle over me.

"Hahahaha, so like I was saying…"

"Oh no, not the Vietnam War story again?"

"Why not?! Our Seop here says he never gets tired of hearing it!"

"Come, come — drink! Drink!"

It wasn't just me; the people of Yeonok-dong were eating and drinking merrily too.

Every so often, the passive skill kept triggering on its own.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

While keeping the elders pleasantly entertained, I briefly took out my phone. On the screen was a self-made status window of my own design.

My efforts had not been in vain — the count of regular believers had long since surpassed the threshold required for my class change. The criteria for a regular believer were generous. Anyone who felt goodwill toward me and thought of me when they prayed counted toward the total.

The problem was the devout believers and the fanatics. From that tier upward, we left the realm of fondness and entered the realm of faith.

It's about time, I suppose….

Hiding a meaningful smile, I made my rounds through the site of the Yeonok-dong feast. I poured drinks for the elders, kneaded their aching shoulders, listened to their stories, and solidified my base of regular believers, layer by layer.

Just as the mood had ripened —

"Um… Seop?"

An old woman approached me, hesitant and careful.

"Grandma Kim Soon-ja, is there something you need?"

Having recalled the old woman's name without a moment's pause, I asked with a warm smile — even as my eyes swept the surroundings, cool and watchful.

Right on cue.

Behind Grandma Kim Soon-ja stood Elder Heo, the de facto ruler of Yeonok-dong. From a short distance away, he was taking long swigs of makgeolli, his gaze fixed steadily on me.

So the bait finally got cast.

My eyes met those of Elder Heo — that is, Grandfather Heo Jae-soo — and I greeted him with a soft, smiling look. He gave a wry chuckle, dipped his head in acknowledgment, and went back to his drink.

Elder Heo had once run a small business of his own; he was the most capable man in this neighborhood. His wealth was considerable, too — some thirty percent ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of Yeonok-dong's land and buildings belonged to him. Thanks to that, he sponsored gatherings like this one generously.

He was a target I absolutely had to turn into a devout believer.

"You see, it's just — whenever you give us those massages, Seop, the pain magically goes away and all that?"

Having caught my eye with Elder Heo, Grandma Kim Soon-ja finally spoke up.

"Hahahaha, I was simply lucky, that's all."

"Luck my foot! I never even finished middle school, but I'm no fool. It's not just me — every one of us old folks knows you're no ordinary young man."

Elder Heo and the neighborhood's old-timers evidently wanted to confirm something through Grandma Kim Soon-ja.

"Could you… perhaps heal other illnesses too?"

At those words, the entire space — bustling with the feast only a heartbeat before — fell silent in an instant. From far off, nothing could be heard but the faint laughter of children at play.