The Love Doll Locked-Room Murder (1)
Late at night, as we tried to enter Dodeok Mountain Campground, an employee on night duty at the entrance predictably blocked our path. Night hikes up the mountain were extremely dangerous, and given the nature of an outdoor campground where guests' privacy had to be respected, they only allowed pre-booked visitors or daytime guests. But as I mentioned earlier, we were operating at a tension level that not even the Forestry Service director—or the Minister of Land, Infrastructure and Transport—could stop.
We quickly knocked the guy out with a chop to the back of his neck and stuffed him neatly into the office.
"Wouldn't it be better to settle this with money?"
"Just throwing cash around makes you look like an uncultured asshole. Gotta use your fists once in a while."
The pickup truck smoothly climbed the gentle mountain path again, and we made it into Dodeok Mountain Campground without a hitch. The place, with its cute squirrel mascot statue planted right there, was one of the more famous campgrounds in Gyeonggi Province. Being close to Seoul meant the infrastructure was top-notch overall. There were separate lodging buildings for camping newbies or groups, and for the pro campers who loved roughing it, outdoor cooking areas, public restrooms, footbath spots, and more. They'd even neatly divided the campsites with paving blocks or wooden planks to prevent the battle-hardened types from fighting over "this is our spot from here to there."
And the surroundings? Lush forests and mountain peaks made a fine backdrop behind, a distant cityscape and lights stretched out ahead, and a wide-open sky overhead. No wonder Koreans who loved mountains came back half-drunk on the mountain air, hitting the place up regularly.
But S-man killed my hype by saying there weren't as many crazy bastards camping in the dead of winter as you'd think. Turns out that was bullshit from some fucking armchair expert.
"There's a shit-ton of people here?"
"Even in this freezing weather, the common folk have dragged their cheap tents and sleeping bags out into the wild."
I'd heard the lodging cabins—which got flak for messing up the natural views—were tucked away off to the side in the woods, hidden by trees. With plenty of time to kill, we picked a spot, pitched our tent first, and settled in for some leisurely phytoncide relaxation.
"Do you know the difference between a commoner's tent and a luxury one?"
"What?"
"They take way too fucking long to set up."
With all the extra parts and bulky add-ons, the high-end tent looked like a pain in the ass from the jump. Still, with two grown men tackling it, we eventually got it looking decent enough.
The pleb tents people had brought—maxed out on size within their budgets—looked downright pathetic. Ours, on the other hand, was so cozy and comfy you could've lived in it. The sleeping bags were soft, fluffy, and warm as hell; lie down, close your eyes, and boom—morning.
After about an hour of setup and tidying, we lit a campfire with the firewood we'd bought ahead. A bit of a bummer that for fire safety, you had to use a sealed container to keep embers from escaping.
"Isn't this a little weird, though?"
"You're always finding something 'a little weird.'"
"No, look around. Every single guest here, us included, is a guy."
"I hate to sound sexist or misogynistic, but don't women freak out about their skin getting wrecked from camping? Sure, trekking or biking is fine for anyone, but roughing it outdoors? That's different."
Back in college, I'd learned just how sensitive 20-something women were about their 'skin.' To them, flawless, snow-white complexion was a lifelong achievement, a treasure, a brag, a killer weapon in the mating game. And now, out here in the cold, dry air that'd make your skin burst, sleeping and shitting in a place nowhere near as cozy or clean as home? For women, camping probably felt like pressing a hot iron to their bodies in real time.
—Skin troubles are contagious!!!!!!!!!
"Sure, some women avoid outdoor stuff for skin health or personal reasons, but campgrounds are places you come with someone, right? Friends at least, lovers or family at most. But all these solo packs of dudes? That's definitely off."
"Could just be working stiffs like us looking to soothe their tired bodies and souls."
We were guys-only ourselves, so what was the big deal? Still, S-man wasn't totally wrong. Not just young folks like us—30-somethings, 40s and 50s filling spots everywhere, pounding booze and bullshitting. You'd expect a girlfriend or wife tagging along here and there, but just eyeballing it, there were damn near 30 males. The bachelor stink was riding the winter night breeze right to us.
My inner testosterone is rejecting this campground.
Why do people hit the beach in summer? Hot guys or girls. Why winter campgrounds? Fresh newbie campers ripe for some pussy-hunting.
"They all look like Korean patriots, conservative vets, full-term discharge types. No gaps in their ranks, like they're desperate for something?"
"Doesn't seem like they're planning romantic charcoal suicides in their tents. Looks like they've gathered for a purpose."
"When guys flock to a spot, nine times out of ten it's baseball or soccer."
Teams like Kiwoom or Man U—guys bleed money and time just to cheer and trash the players. That's manhood.
"Besides sports, there's one other thing that skyrockets male unity."
"4v4 infinite quick, you join and we're good?"
"...Something sex-related."
Should've said that from the start. Hearing it laid out, it rang true—and left a bad taste.
Why? I'd gotten an invite from DemonPussy.com too, that's why.
Remember: group, secretly, pussy. Not just me, so 'group' checked out. Guys-only gathering secretly at a winter mid-mountain campground no normies hit? Yeah. All that was left was the pussy.
Not rock-paper-scissors pussy.
So they've all beaten us here way early and staked out spots. How hyped are they exactly? Idol sasaeng fan levels.
As S-man hung a kettle over the campfire to boil water for coffee, one guy from another uncle pack waddled straight over. He casually offered soju, grilled squid, and gochujang with a friendly grin.
"Young bucks suffering in this cold. Down this shot to warm your guts."
Crack! He popped the soju cap like it was nothing, poured shots into disposable paper cups, and handed them over.
Normies might suspect sudden kindness like that, but I clocked instantly: same purpose as us.
"Looking for some new company, huh?"
"At my age, facing winter solo? Side gets chilly."
We clinked lightly, slammed the bitter soju, tore into the squid, slathered gochujang, and chomped away.
"Looks like you guys aren't newbies."
"Could tell you were first-timers at a glance. Only young guys hauling pricey gear here this season? You two."
"Meaning cheap tents and bags are fine as long as you can crash till the 'lodging' opens?"
"Ain't it? Organizers don't even charge entry—they prep everything for us. Limited spots, so latecomers get nothing. That's why everyone's here early, hunkered down."
With the all-male lockdown, satisfaction must be off the charts. Explains repeats from last year. Bet they got some great awesome pussy.
"Heh, try it yourselves—you'll see. This is a hidden heaven, open just once a year, known only to those in the know."
"Sounds thrilling already."
I slipped S-man the DemonPussy.com invite text on the sly while he boiled water, telling him to dig into it. No sorry for the deception, though. I'm the boss. Feeling bad for a mere employee? Biologically impossible.