Life as Collateral
Everything proceeded smooth as silk. Through Kim Bokja, I was introduced to a real estate agent and the building owner, and we secured an empty space in a suitable building. With the real estate bubble even worse these days, even a half-decent spot in Seoul demands tens of millions of won as a baseline. In prime commercial districts where business thrives, key money in the mere hundreds of millions is commonplace.
But since I'd signed a contract with Kim Bokja using one year of my life as collateral, I didn't have to worry about any of that.
"Elder, what brings you to call on a humble fellow like me?"
"Good timing. Sit down."
The real estate agent—who was doing quite well in these circles—and the building owner, introduced through him, took seats across from Kim Bokja one after another.
"I'm sure you two know how I plan to dispose of my assets and 'items' after I pass, so I'll get straight to it."
"......"
Gulp.
Kim Bokja's fortune. Even the most notorious loan sharks were said to be buried alive under an avalanche of cash compared to her. And now, the woman herself had summoned them to introduce some nameless young punk and drop these loaded words. How could they not tense up?
"No need to get so worked up. I'm not about to eat you alive. I just need to borrow your hands for one last check on my way out."
"Just say the word, ma'am! Any land, buildings, redevelopment intel you need—I'll handle it all...!"
"Easy there, don't get ahead of yourself. Why would an old bat like me, who's already raked in more no-interest cash than I can spend, need any of that? This wild kid here actually put his life up as collateral for a one-year deal with me. So I figured I'd kill two birds: help him set up shop and offload the annoying legal bullshit."
No sooner had Kim Bokja finished than the two middle-aged men gasped, their eyes bulging as they whipped around to stare at me.
"I hate to be rude in your presence, ma'am, but... are you insane, kid?"
"Handing your life over as collateral to you? What the hell does that even...?"
"Heh heh. Isn't it a riot from your view too? This fresh-faced brat, not even thirty, stands before me with eyes like he's stared down the end of the world, boldly offering his life as collateral. So goddamn absurd and hilarious."
"Ma'am, he's young and clueless—must've spoken without thinking. Please be lenient..."
"I'll pass on that."
I took a sip of the peach tea, meeting their grimacing stares without a flinch.
"I've got something I must do, and for that, Granny's help is non-negotiable. Backing out now and living a contradictory life? Not an option."
"You little shit! You know what it means to stake your life with someone who's built an empire from a pawnshop in this cutthroat Seoul underworld?"
"I do. If I can't pay up by the day you go, Granny, I go with you, right?"
"!"
Cackle, cackle. Kim Bokja chuckled while downing the premium red ginseng tonic they'd brought as a gift.
"I figured you'd sniff it out the moment he declared he'd dive into this world. Forget dumping my assets—getting rid of all those 'items' would take more than this old bag's single life. Perfect timing: a young, green punk offers his up as collateral. Couldn't pass that up. Regretting it yet?"
"Not a chance. If there was regret, I wouldn't have come here. I'd probably be flat on my back by the Han River right now, waiting for the world to end."
"Hear that? What a character, eh?"
At Kim Bokja's question, the two men straightened up, sweat beading on their brows.
"If you're stepping in like this, ma'am, he must be in some seriously fucked-up situation. Safe to assume he's basically written off any normal social standing?"
"Kid showed up with his entire fortune stuffed in that massive duffel bag. No fixed address, no taxes paid—he'll be a missing person soon enough. Looks like that's what he wants."
"Then we can whip up some fake ID, install a straw boss legally, and hand over the building. Throw in some dummy accounts, and we're golden."
"I'll cooperate fully, ma'am."
"Good. I trust you two. This is my personal debt, so I'll make it worth your while—no skimping. Set him up proper. Contract's for one year. If he pays off the debt in that time, it's all his. If not, I'll handle it."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
"We're honored you called us for this."
The two bowed repeatedly to the diminutive Kim Bokja, then mobilized their buildings, legal know-how, and every connection they had to build out my office. Cleaning crews and interior teams swarmed in, wrapping up the makeover by evening. Ready for move-in tonight, no problem.
"Hear that? Move in tonight, and the contract kicks off at midnight sharp. Same day next year, midnight: bring me $100,000."
Without luck like hitting the lotto, scraping together $100,000 in a year is damn near impossible for someone with no base, no skills, no nothing. Straight-up pie in the sky. Even grinding the brutal Arctic fishing boats, you'd be cutting it close.
"Market rate today: 130 million won. No haggling over fluctuations later."
"130 million sounds big, but you've been in the workforce about ten years—you know the drill. 'Hundreds of millions' are way harder to touch than they seem."
"I know."
My lifetime savings, busting my ass and pinching pennies into my late twenties: just over 30 million won. Only three years of real office work; before that, college ate up living expenses, rent, tuition. Scholarships helped, but youth ain't cheap till you graduate. Then pointless military service, job hunting—nibbled away at what little I'd saved. No wonder my net worth topped out at 30 mil.
If I hadn't lived in that cheap youth housing near work, rent and commute would've carved out even bigger chunks.
Even hoarding every won of that 30 mil untouched, I'd still owe a clean 100 million in a year. Chump change to the elite, but to a lifelong everyman like me? A mountain.
Knowing that, I didn't back out. Not from fearlessness, stupidity, or despair. This was my choice, mine alone. No way it could be wrong.
"Oh, and don't forget business cards and a signboard."
At my nudge, the two shot me deadpan looks. Whatever. I savored the last of the sweet, fragrant peach tea.
Fail to prep 130 million in a year: ritual suicide. Succeed: free headquarters, all mine. No-brainer deal.
The moment word came that move-in prep was done, the young man snatched the address slip, tossed a casual "great tea," and bolted from the pawnshop.
The agent and owner gawked at his rudeness once more, but Kim Bokja just waved it off like no big deal.
"Ma'am, if it's not too forward... why make a deal with that thunderbolt-headed punk? For you, folks willing to help from every corner of the country are a dime a dozen."
"You felt nothing, Kim?"
"Well... I've been in real estate long enough to see all types, but that one's a first."
"I get it. Same for you, Song."
"...Afraid so, ma'am."
"I understand your feelings. But at my age, day-to-day, I see and sense what you can't. How could I miss it, with the Reaper right here grinding his teeth?"
The two men froze mid-breath—not by choice. The air turned leaden, unmovable. No human lung could budge that ice-hard stillness.
"Reaper, sir, these folks have years left. Please, sheath your wrath."
At Kim Bokja's gentle words, the air loosened.
Cough! Hack! "M-Ma'am... is that why you contracted with him...?"
"Yep. Even scouring the ledgers, the Reaper can't find his name. A bastard who deserves boiling oil and a thousand blades, torn to shreds. So, if there's slack, why not drag him along when I go? Saves the Reaper trouble—and lightens my karma to boot."
Huff, huff... "Why not ask your bodhisattva or monk pals instead? If he's got the Reaper gnashing like that, you'll need their help."
"Can you catch the formless?"
"......Ah."
"Whatever hell he crawled out of, that kid's beyond human flesh. Even top-tier bodhisattvas or monks are bound by mortal bodies. So we bind his soul with a spell and take him."
"But... what if he actually scrapes up 130 million?"
"Then that's fate. Means it's not his time. How's a hag like me gonna leak heaven's secrets or defy destiny? You two, don't fuck around. Mess with that, and blood won't cover it."
The men shivered in the lingering chill. A grim reaper who snatches mid-level evil ghosts on sight had to grit through this one right under his nose.
For a split second, they thought: Wrong guy to tangle with. But too late now. No take-backs.