So This Is What It's Like to Be Late for a Birthday Party
"This must be what it's like to be late for a birthday party. I've never been late to one before, so now I finally get the feeling," S-man muttered in a complicated tone as he barreled in on all fours like some beast cub.
Grabsik, who had been riding on his back in a surfing pose, looked awkward now that the incident was over—no point striking a pose at this stage—so he blushed and quietly climbed down from S-man's back.
It was annoying to think these guys were Supernatural Phenomena Resolution Office employees flashing business cards, but what could I do? In this day and age, finding young slaves was harder than plucking stars from the sky.
"Hoo, I'm dying. Dying. These broadcast people who want to film don't even properly investigate the scene and just swarm in like a herd, getting possessed all at once—what the hell is that about? If you're calling in experts like us, at least come with us on the preliminary survey."
"They probably hid it on purpose because doing the prelim together might leak the broadcast theme or story to the cast."
"Then at least hire one more expert besides us to go along. Broadcast folks are just so damn ignorant, I swear."
They'd send a few unprotected production staff with no professional training on dangerous undercover reporting to expose a cult's inner workings, or film some X-Files episode without hesitation, committing illegal trespass on private property, invading privacy, and slandering reputations. Back in the old days when everything was scarce, people forgave wild broadcasting like that, but nowadays, filming like this just gets people killed in a whole different way. The whole reason summer specials got axed was because ordinary folks exposed unprotected to supernatural phenomena couldn't handle it and died in droves. If you had any brains, you'd learn from your seniors' mistakes, right?
Broadcasting's a lost cause.
Honestly, if it had just been run-of-the-mill earthbound spirits or evil ghosts, I might've toned it down and angled it for broadcast appeal, but nothing went right from start to finish on site, so no way the footage turned out okay. Best to cut losses before they notice— that's how you minimize damage.
Just take the dispatch fee and run.
The broadcast falling through was their problem; I'd done the work, so I was getting paid for it. With my thoughts sorted, I was about to discuss how to clean up this mess together.
If someone hadn't grabbed my collar.
"You... you're insane! What the hell kind of person are you?!"
Instead of soothing my weary body and soul, the insolent shaman grabbed my collar. Ha Tae-jun clutching my collar with wild eyes looked pretty gay, so I lightly swatted his hand away.
"I was grinding top ping to death with no gang response, and now you're coming at me? That's some thick skin. Stop showing you skipped basic manners training and go sulk over there."
Dare to lay a hand on me, you dog butcher? I almost went for it but held back. Sharing the assist was infuriating enough.
"Don't change the subject with bullshit! You... how the hell did you do that earlier? That wasn't 'soul-sending'!!"
Oh, that. "Truth is, I just like planting 'salvation' flags. Souls loaded with sin and grudges—aren't they pitiful? Perfect for stripping bare. Just like cult bastards lure in young college kids with grim faces and make 'em kowtow to the leader first thing, I pick out those grudge-heavy souls, force 'em into ultimate humiliation dogeza before Jesus, then send 'em straight to heaven. Personally, it's my jam."
"What the...?!"
"Soul-sending my ass—it's all just souls with backstories getting unfair trials and sent to hell for SM playtime, right? Better they all go to heaven together nice and friendly. Old saying: if it's good, share even half a bean. Heaven's got plenty of room, so squeezing in a few more ain't weird. That's why I sent 'em up."
"You think that's even remotely sane?! What you did... it defies heaven's will and shatters the wheel of fate itself!"
"So?"
I shrugged, and Ha Tae-jun bit his lip hard.
"Straight talk: I don't buy that everyone gets a 'chance.' If God loves all equally, chances should be equal too, but they're not. Some born on money piles, some in shit pits, but hey, equal. Sure, everyone gets a shot. The mud-pit kid survives day-to-day without crime, without becoming a victim, resists the sweet temptation of suicide, achieves human victory—and then gets a chance. Exists, sure enough."
Did the woman who became that pig evil god's archetype harbor grudges because she wanted to? No doubt if she'd been average-looking, she wouldn't have. She'd have partied with friends like any 20-something, fucked wildly with boyfriends, lived the normal life everyone gets. It was just too far out of reach for her. What others start with at the line, she could only grab right before the finish—if she made it.
This world ain't equal.
"Couldn't stomach the bullshit idea of grading people in an unequal world, then dumping the losers in purgatory or hell while cherry-picking a few for heaven. Qualified for equal love, but some get it, some don't—unfair as fuck. That's why I stepped in."
Heaven's gates are camel-through-needle's-eye tough, they say, but that's not my problem. If humans were born to be loved, they deserve it. I'm just debt-collecting on Jesus who defaulted. The world judged it 'just,' my will made it 'possible.'
"Ha Tae-jun, enough."
"...Yonghwa Seonnyeo-nim."
The Mad Woman stopped Ha Tae-jun mid-rant with a quiet headshake.
"That's just what it is. Does what it wants because it can."
"So I should just sit back and watch this heaven-defying outrage?!"
"Then block it with your will? I'll yield."
"......"
"Sermons, scoldings, exorcisms—wasted on something immune. Even if heavenly gods descend on you, doubtful it'd work."
"That's enough, Park fellow."
Sin Dae-ho, regaining composure, stroked his beard and backed her up.
"Didn't we just see it? This old man charged ready to bear annihilation karma, and it didn't even scratch. You got a way?"
"We have to try something! Isn't that why we walk this path?! Punish evil and wrong, right twisted providence, uphold heaven's will— that's why we ditch normal lives!!"
"A passionate youth like you sacrificed much for noble ideals. Imagine what that gave up?"
Sin Dae-ho pointed his ritual staff at me, and Ha Tae-jun's face hardened.
"We on this path all forsook normal lives to commit. Fateful, sure, but iron wills too. What'd that freak—draped in curses, slaughter, yin energy—give up? How much sacrifice? What will?"
"......"
"Suicidal? I won't stop you."
Finishing, Sin Dae-ho approached and poked my chest with his staff.
"Don't get vicious just 'cause you heard hard truths. From our view, no bigger monster than you."
"How do I stop someone who wants to die?"
"Laugh it off sometimes. Not the right way, but you comforted and ascended a ton of souls nicely. No need to ruin the sacred vibe."
"I don't buy this religion, but anyone'd call it blasphemy, not sacred."
Sin Dae-ho glared at persistent Ha Tae-jun, then turned.
"This old man's beat—heading out. Felt like glimpsing Buddha for a sec, or I'd be crossing Samdocheon tonight. Oh, and."
Passing Yonghwa Seonnyeo, he added: "I trust you won't end up like that."
"......"
As things calmed, folks dispersed. Some to pickup trucks, others calling ambulances for the fallen. The lightly possessed got instantly fixed by Grabsik's mysterious hypnosis, but issues piled up like mountains.
Thanks to S-man's pickup, we beat the rush back to Seoul. Alone in the truck bed, I gazed at the pitch-black winter night sky.
Stars quivered wildly, constellations scrambling. Old ones vanished, new ominous stars glowing red.
When the first ill-omened star twinkles,
the first calamity shall engulf the earth.
"Ah, killer starlight."