Monopolizing in Prison (4)
"Huh? What's that?"
At the end of the only road and bridge connecting Ganghwa Island to Gyodongdo Island, one of the soldiers on guard duty wore a puzzled expression.
Civilians could enter Ganghwa Island freely, but Gyodongdo Island was off-limits to everyone except those with government clearance—even members of the National Assembly couldn't cross the bridge without permission. So when a vehicle not listed in any reports came speeding across the bridge, it was enough to make the soldier's eyes bulge.
"Hey, hey! Chang-sik!"
"Private Kim Chang-sik!"
"Any vehicles cleared for Gyodongdo today?"
"No, sir! Not a single one has clearance today!"
"Then what the hell is that!"
The sergeant pointed with his finger. There, braving the crisp winter sea breeze, a pickup truck was barreling toward them.
"I, uh, have no idea, sir?"
"If you don't know, your military career's over! Fuck! Radio the duty officer first and—"
As the tense sergeant gripped his rifle tighter, the pickup truck screeched to a halt just meters away with a piercing screeech. The two startled men forgot about the radio and stared blankly at it.
They half-expected some high-ranking officer to step out, but instead, a stunning beauty emerged—one who could pass for an active idol without batting an eye.
"Hi there, soldier oppas~."
"Uh, wha—?"
"Th-this is a strictly restricted civilian no-entry zone..."
"Yeah, but I really wanna go in. If you guys just look the other way...?"
When this ethereal beauty—who seemed too perfect even for TV or fiction—puffed out her cheeks cutely and whined, both soldiers nodded in unison without a second thought.
"Of course! Go on in, look around as much as you want, and come out whenever."
"Now that I think about it, they're not North Korean spies or anything—no big deal, haha."
"Whoa, really? Thanks, soldier oppas!"
Melted by the "oppa," the two stood there dazed, like they were in some hazy, illicit dream, clearing the path for her. They'd seen her divine face with their own eyes, heard her sweet, tangy voice with their own ears, and even received her thanks—what more could a man want? Generations of bliss to pass down.
Venus, goddess of beauty? That was chump change compared to even her pinky toe. She was the ultimate crystallization of every beauty and charm the world had to offer.
While the soldiers gawked, the loaded pickup truck passed through the checkpoint.
"See? Way better with me along. Without me, you'd have gotten shot or thrown in jail, S-oppa."
"I could've handled it with my genius brain."
"Means stepping in myself is better than relying on that 'genius brain.' It actually happened that way, right? Undeniable fact. Admit it?"
"......"
S-man muttered inwardly that he should've ditched this pint-sized brat and gone ahead alone.
The reason they'd crossed from Ganghwa to Gyodongdo was, naturally, to rescue Han Daeri, who'd been nabbed by the cops. By the time the police had taken him, they'd already fallen under Jiyun's hypnosis and spilled everything about the transfer route and destination. Thanks to that, the two had easily geared up and followed.
"Who knew even freedom-loving democratic Korea had a place like this. They scream human rights for serial killers and all."
"Criminals can be controlled by law. But those things in there? The government's clearly itching to avoid them. Can't kill 'em outright for some reason—that's the real kicker."
Even with the full might of the government, they couldn't eliminate these creepy bastards. So plan B: lock 'em in a camp. Of course, proper democratic procedure wouldn't allow it, so they'd built this secret facility out of public sight.
Unable to kill them physically, they'd let time do the work—natural death, illness, or suicide. A stalling tactic, essentially.
"Can't legally detain non-criminals, but letting 'em loose risks who-knows-what dangers. Extreme measures it is."
"So Uncle didn't even need to step in. They're just gonna warehouse 'em anyway."
"Better than random landmines exploding underfoot at any moment. Or would you rather yank 'em out for good?"
As S-man said, the government wanted Han Daeri as their extreme solution. Unlike shadowy occultists who lurked quietly, Han Daeri had gone public—naturally drawing eyes. S-man, who'd produced the Han Daeri mad movie, deserved credit he himself didn't realize.
"There it is."
A heavily guarded military unit came into view. Jiyun activated her hypnosis app to brainwash the soldiers en masse. Soon, without even stepping out, every one of them recognized the pair as "allies."
Now they had freer access than the Korean president himself.
"Buncha guys stuck on this island forever, pent-up with desire—no side effects from this level of brainwashing."
Her power stemmed from massive yin energy that shook and stimulated men's hearts. For these yang-overloaded remote-duty soldiers, the hypnosis felt like a reward. Her yin swept through, naturally loosening their stagnant yang clumps.
"This is basically like a mass hand—"
"Huh?"
S-man shut his mouth fast. No desire to piss against a utility pole like a dog again.
Like Han Daeri before them, they entered the tunnel, took a massive freight elevator down, changed into guard uniforms in the bathroom, and strolled into the monitor room.
Ten people monitored the CCTV forest alone. Add the security chief, warden, and rotating shifts—about 50 staff total.
S-man handed Jiyun a radio and left her in charge. With her there, every man in the place would be her loyal limb.
No one better to back S-man and Han Daeri via CCTV.
"So I just play queen bee here?"
"Your specialty."
"......"
"...The things in the cell block probably won't fall for your power. So I'll handle the front lines instead."
S-man bullshitted convincingly, grabbed a security card and gun, and headed to the cells. Han Daeri hadn't asked for help, but S-man and Jiyun were bored over the year-end holidays. Couldn't stand the tedium—hence tagging along.
After yesterday's storm of a dinner, I'd stayed up all night scrutinizing every prisoner's face. What I learned: the inmates fell into three main groups.
Group A cast bizarre illusions that fooled even themselves and others. Subtly happier, comfier vibes. While we ate codfish jerky, they tore into chicken. While we watched religious channels, they laughed at comedy shows.
Same imprisonment, but theirs felt just a tad better by comparison. They'd sunk into their own illusions.
Of course, illusions being illusions, none of it was real. The tasty food? Clumps of human hair, fingernails, toenails. The funny TV? Just static zzzzzt.
Group B was the opposite—hyper-active. Classic prison yard types. Forgetting they were inmates, they'd work out, gamble with crude handmade cards or hwatu decks. Most cell block noise came from them. Zero worries in sight.
Finally, Group C. Like terminally ill patients, drained and gloomy to a one. If A were pampered housecats and B rabid, rat-poisoned strays, C were world-weary, broken alley cats.
'A: 10, B: 20, C: 20. And me alone.'
51 inmates total, acting like invisible borders divided them—separate vibes, staggered timelines.
'Joy, sorrow, love, hate, regret, asceticism, enlightenment, immortality, and...'
A single frail human mind and body can't easily reach enlightenment, let alone become a Living Buddha. So what if they divide the labor? You feel the emotions. You regret. You suffer. You awaken. You don't die. And you... endlessly reincarnate.
"Fun."
This was a massive group project to pool strengths into Buddhahood. And group projects? Nothing beats trolling them to pieces.
Han Daeri's seeding operation! The fallout would be epic.