The Heresy of Cheese
"Our people have traditionally sprinkled spicy chili powder and pepper on ramen since the days of Grandpa Dangun! It's recorded in both the Sugangdo and the Bible, so cross-verification is a total breeze!"
"Nah, that's wrong~ Our ancestors were fiddling with the plump udders of milk cows, stuffing leather pouches full of milk and mindlessly stirring away when they discovered cheese! Cheese is the one true savior of ramen!"
"You're a wicked hooked-nose who doesn't have an Eastern palate! If you truly love that moldy lump, why haven't you committed adultery with it?!"
"On special weekends, I'd devour Camembert straight from the rind, chase it with cheddar for a palate cleanser, and mozzarella was always there like a fresh white snowflake pussy ready for me to plunge into!"
Clang!Kaang!Dong! The guy with an unholy obsession for cheese swung a steel pipe straight into my fire axe. This sin-soaked fool still clung to his false faith (cheese) as the foundation of ramen—a vile heretic.
And what's the surest way to open a heretic's eyes?
"Religion is a chain of suffering! So inflict more pain, and you'll forge even stronger faith!"
Pain! Only pain! Priests who embrace asceticism endure until their gums bleed for good reason. With the sweet fruit of salvation dangling before them, they hammer themselves like steel to stay disciplined, and Lord Jesus Father smiles in satisfaction.
"From now on, I'll teach you the 'joy' of Korean noodles with kimchi, chili, bean sprouts, and green onions. Humbly accept it."
"Nein!!"
"Is your hometown in Europe by any chance?"
"I'msil County, Jeollabuk-do!"
"The birthplace of Korean cheese! Unforgivable!!!!!!!"
He raised the steel pipe horizontally to block my axe blade, so I faked a downward chop, dropped the handle, and charged him.
"You bastard! Up close, I can smell that nutty aroma wafting off you! Just how much cheese have you been rolling around in?!"
"Do you even remember how many loaves of bread you've eaten?!"
"I've never eaten bread in my life!"
"!"
Bouncing between relatives' houses, I never even scored a scrap of sliced bread! Same boat as Tassadar, who's never tasted death.
"How pitiful—you don't even know the combo of flour and cheese."
"Korean rice and chili are more than enough!"
I grabbed his collar, hoisted him up, and sprinted like a madman from one end of the hallway to the other—nearly 20 meters—slamming him into the giant window at the far end.
Crash! Glass shards flew as I hurled myself outside still gripping his collar, using him as a mattress to hit the ground.
Thud!
"Guhhh?!"
"No point teaching Korean tastes to a cheese-stinking freak from the start! Come on—let's hit up Grandma Kim Sun-ja's bean sprout soup joint and taste some home cooking!"
"Gurk! Hack! My life... is like gooey cheese! I chased a long, stretchy life like pulled cheese, but craved the overflowing flavors of Buldak Cheese Ramen too! Are you insulting me?!"
"Insult? This is nothing compared to you lot defiling my ramen right in front of me and turning the sacred name into trash! They say don't even spit on an enemy's grave out of hate—imagine insulting the ramen destined for a turbulent life in my gut. Be grateful I'm not Vatican."
If I were Vatican, I'd nail these bastards to crosses, slather 'em in chili oil, top with soft tofu, and roast 'em crisp.
Even limp and dragged by me, the guy cackled like a third-rate villain, spewing lines nonstop.
"I'm Im Sing-jung, proud son of Imsil County! My parents named me to live cautiously! You think I'd come here without scoping you out?!"
"If you'd been a girl, it'd have been Im Sing-hye for sure."
"That's what my folks said they planned."
"More importantly, you investigated me? I haven't caused any real trouble around here. If you planned to mess with me, you'd have jumped me the day I hit that underground bar."
"We don't know the details. Big Bro just said bring you in alive for a cool million bucks. Don't you get it? This street's all about eating or being eaten!"
"Yeah, I know. Bean sprout soup's all about... fuck."
My regular bean sprout soup spot had its shutter down with a 'Closed for Regular Holiday' sign. That granny pulling this betrayal at a time like this?
"Heh, told ya—we checked you out thoroughly. Waited for the day you'd be totally isolated. Scoped when the shop owners around you—who might call the cops—take their breaks. Figured today was perfect, with those weird bitches around you nowhere in sight!"
"So my ramen was fated to go cold today, huh?"
"Probably."
"I don't believe in fate!"
I shook his collar hard, making him cough up blood. The cheesy stink and smug bullshit from this fucker grated like nothing else. Should I really send this guy to heaven, Lord?
YES, YES, YES, YES.
"Give thanks always to our Father in heaven. Oh, and no Buldak Cheese in paradise for you."
"...Then what's the point of believing in Jesus?"
"To save your Buldak Cheese from getting gangbanged in hell, you gotta praise Him like crazy from heaven, right?"
"Kuh! Kill me!"
"As you wish."
I hoisted him by the collar with one hand, stiffening my index and middle fingers on the other. Wherever my fingertips pointed, salvation awaited.
"Heaven Death Beam!"
One more cheese zealot ascended.
"Still? You still haven't caught him?!"
"B-Bro, we lost contact with the guys who just went out..."
"You crazy fuck!"
The hulking brute paused mid-drag on his chain-smoked cig and hurled a crystal ashtray at his rat-faced underling. The supersonic projectile grazed the rat's head, punching clean through the wall panel.
"Eeeek!"
"I told you to keep it straight! Pick reliable guys, make it clean, no loose ends!!"
"Th-The ones we sent were top performers. Not like these kids these days—they even dug into the target's info properly and planned meticulously, so I thought they were solid..."
"So, you fuck! Did they succeed? Huh?!"
"Sorry!"
"Ugh! I keep the early members like you around, so doesn't that make me a living Buddha? Right?!"
"Y-Yes!"
"Tch!"
The guy with a golden ring-like piercing in one nostril, linked to his earlobe by a thin gold chain, slumped back on the sofa. Back in his youth, he'd been a model Korean student in Italy, balancing studies and sports—until some incident tied him to an Italian mafia outfit based there.
That's where he first touched 'mystery,' awakening to a world teeming with mysteries and the occultists who wielded them. The once-dreamy Korean student became a low-rank mafioso, honing his skills as a mystic. His merits earned him a 'faction' of his own.
With a faction, you build your crew under the mafia's umbrella, gaining more opportunities and intel. While traditional Italian mobs stuck to Europe and the Americas, he eyed the East—triads, yakuza scale. As their Korean spearhead, he set up shop in Hongdae under the 'Minstrel' banner.
"Damn, thought this time it'd be different."
"Sh-Should we call back the dispatched guys now?"
"Nah. They're skilled, but everyone has their fit. These idiots aren't cut out for brute force."
He flicked ash with his thick sausage fingers, knowing mystics weren't invincible despite handling mysteries. A bullet or blade drops them just fine. Sure, they block attacks or tweak their bodies to cheat death, but in mafia turf wars, ambushes claim plenty.
So he trained his body relentlessly alongside his mystic arts. Pushing 40s high weights like butter, he could pulp a weakling with one hand. He'd die to a gun eventually, but outlast anyone. Hell, if someone's gunning for him, he'd drop them first.
No one beats Steel Fist Kim Domino.
Those who called him Domino Pizza ended up flattened like dough. With the vanguard failed, he'd lead the next wave himself. A clean million dollars—uncountable by exchange rates, untraceable, global tender—for one live capture. That cash would elevate his crew in Hongdae, maybe flip the power balance.
A few small fry dead? Not giving up easy.
Crunch. He spat his spent cig, clenching his fist—then a pathetic, off-key wail pierced from outside.
Kim Domino flung open the third-floor window. "Who the fuck's caterwauling out there?!"
"Me, you prick."
There, smack in the dark street under flickering streetlights, stood the target.
"Stay right there, Kim Domino Pizza."
"......!"