Super Shaman-K (1)
I hoisted Park Han-jeong's ice-cold corpse onto the massive dining table. The H Group heirs, that iron-fisted chaebol dynasty, stared in disbelief at their patriarch crumbling like rotten driftwood right in front of them.
"A guy like the H Group chairman must've written a will ages ago. You all can just divvy up the empire according to it. But since you've tasted my grace, it's only fair I tack on one little condition, right?"
I shoved the blood-smeared magic cross in their faces, and they all nodded without hesitation.
"Good. Seasoned folks like you catch on quick—I like that. First, from this moment on, you all believe in Jesus. Second, you take full responsibility for industrial accident compensation for every employee under H Group subsidiaries and contractors. Third, H Group pulls out of all mysticism and occult dealings starting today. Stick to playing with money like the merchants you are."
"You said just one condition..."
"I said it all at once, so it's one."
Isn't scarfing down a whole bowl of ramen in one bite still "one bite" in the end?
"Oh, and if any of you think you can't keep this promise—or don't want to—stand up now. I'll turn you into a vegetable."
And send you to heaven. Thankfully, no one seemed inclined to rebel. Hell, they looked genuinely eager to embrace Jesus. People really are animals that perk up to good words.
"One heads-up: I can spot your sins. If you don't believe me, I could spill every filthy secret you're hiding right here— who did drugs, who stashed slush funds, who bribed which politicians. You can't swear to Jesus now and bail later. Liars? I'll come back. And I won't send you to heaven like this old fucker."
"N-Normally... isn't that hell you're talking about?"
"Want to go there?"
"N-No, sir!"
"Yeah, heaven's better for you too. If you're gonna croak, aim high—not hell. So behave. Keep your family in line so I don't have to drop by again. Especially that insolent prick... Park... whatever-his-name-is. Tell him if he doesn't learn manners and acts up, next time he'll be a total cripple, not half."
Law's distant, but fists are close—and words even closer. No wonder Jesus' preaching converted folks.
A tanned, brown-haired muscle dude spreading the gospel? Who wouldn't buy it?
"Oh, and this is my condolence gift."
I pulled a pack of bubble gum from my pocket and plopped it on Park Han-jeong's corpse. Cash wasn't my thing these days—that was all I had.
Finally free of the H Group curse, I sighed at wasting effort on another money-losing gig and strolled out of the restaurant.
Exiting the mansion with S-man, it was already 11 p.m. Kongnamul gukbap joints were long closed, even burger spots for American lackeys shutting down.
"Let's hit the Mad Woman's for grub."
"She'll hate late-night visits, won't she?"
"Fuck her if she does. If she won't feed us, I'll hog the ancestral rite spread."
"What a retard idea. Let's go."
We raced through Seoul's damp midnight heart to the Mad Woman's divination shop—Yonghwa Seonnyeo's place—kicking the door open before she could even unlock it. Past the usual bowed auntie, we stomped onto the grand hall floor. Felt like my second grandma's house now.
"I've told you a hundred times: you can't barge into where gods dwell like that."
"Jesus is the only God!!!!"
S-man and I plopped down before the scowling Mad Woman, slapping the floor.
"Food!"
"Food!"
"Food!"
"Food!"
"Haa..."
She rubbed her temples and signaled the kitchen auntie for a spread. Then she grabbed a handful of coarse salt and rice, flinging it at us. No snow season, yet we turned snow-white like we'd been buried in flakes.
"So vicious. Normal folks would've shed their poison bit by bit, but you two hoard it like venomous bugs. Slice your flesh, jar it with chicken skin, and you'd brew the ultimate gudok poison."
"Classic shady K-shaman—rice-curse creativity on point. Korea's doomed!"
"Means watch your back, you rotter."
She bashed my head with a ladle full of salt and rice, lit a cigarette.
"You're beyond saving with basic rites or cleansings—rotten to the core. Bury you alive, and you'd last a millennium undecayed. You're walking curse ingredients; don't lose a hair or drop of blood. That alone's a disaster."
"Time for Propecia."
"No bald genes in my family."
Better not—S Group's heir genes were horror enough.
The auntie brought sizzling meat skewers, kimchi, stew, banchan, and heaping rice. We dug in, sprinkling body-salt for flavor when needed.
"Mmm... why're you here so late?"
As we wolfed down, Choi Jiyun shuffled out in pajamas, rubbing eyes, asking the Mad Woman. She nestled her head on the Mad Woman's lap like sisters—age gap barely there.
"What're you staring at? Eat."
"Nah, just realizing you're a grown-up too."
Watching her stroke Choi Jiyun's hair brought a grin. Chihuahua personality, but she got shit done—reassuring. Could die in peace now.
"Eat and spill. That blood stench off you isn't human—what'd you do?"
"Beat down Jacob, that self-proclaimed Christ's disciple, and mercy-killed the ancient H Group chairman on the side."
"Made the 1-vs-100 legend too."
"You just got your ass kicked."
I spoon-whacked S-man's head for mooching glory. The 1-vs-100 legend belonged solely to Han Daeri, president of the Supernatural Phenomena Resolution Office.
"Felt your power spike temporarily. That abomination cross, right?"
"Magic cross. Boosts faith 500%."
"Grab it, and boss transforms into Section Chief Han mode."
"Don't care about your bullshit. Stash that abomination where I won't see it. Makes me puke."
I gawked, wondering if she was kicking off Christian persecution with religious racism.
"Not what you think. Religious symbols demand respect, but yours? Zero. No respect, no worship; no worship, no faith. Symbols are faith—not tools."
"Grip and impact feel solid, though."
"Unholy thing fed unholy blood, shaped like a holy symbol? The dissonance? Like wearing a pad instead of underwear daily."
"Why's your dinner analogy always... ugh."
I nearly flipped the table—patriarchy's classic—but held back. She served it; flipping mine's refusing grace. I'd clean it too. No way I'd be Pongpong Man.
"Anyway, with annoyances cleared, restart office work proper next week. You've trained her, so use Haksik as unpaid intern."
"Keep her from rough stuff. She practices control, but her nature leaks yin energy unintentionally. Talismans block it, but self-mastery or bust. Teaching her talisman-free, even if detour."
Curse dolls bait external bad luck, but for Choi Jiyun, they blocked her unwitting blasts. One slip from control, and she's a feral beast. We'd heard as much. Without us, she'd have enthralled hordes, turning Seoul into a new Sodom and Gomorrah, spraying curses wild.
I recalled crushing the Great Whore of Babylon's "fetus" from her body—that malice, grudge, curse from an unhatched thing. Lucky we stopped it incarnating. My hand still rotted and regenerated inside, but whatever.
Faith mattered. Belief I wouldn't die. Will to never quit. That sufficed.
As I asked the auntie for rice refill, the Mad Woman pulled out her buzzing old smartphone. My freak ears caught the speaker leak:
"No way I'm—"
"She is!"
Money's too damn good. Gonna fuck that money.