New Year Doomsday Theory (4)
"Tch." I released my grip on Park In-ha's throat. A little more pressure and her neck would've snapped like a candy stick, but there was no reason to kill her.
"Getting choked by a guy's hand for the first time... does that make this my first experience too?"
"Please, for the love of god, save that nonsense for when you're alone."
The somewhat dim-witted, clueless but pure Park In-ha was gone without a trace. In her place stood a fox of a woman, grinning ear-to-ear and masterfully hiding her true intentions. Not that she had hundreds of sly weasels crammed inside her—no lies whatsoever tainted her actions or words. At least, my eyes, which could discern sin fragments, confirmed she spoke nothing but the truth.
Park In-ha smoothed down her massive, hill-like breasts and straightened her disheveled clothes. Then she sidled up to me again as I tried to go my own way, sticking close like glue.
"Prophets from the old days didn't wander around much. Know why? Nine times out of ten, they got labeled witches or demon-worshippers and lynched. Wouldn't it be smarter for you to just head home quietly?"
"Seems like there's a misunderstanding. First off, I'm no prophet. I'm just playing the part for convenience—really, I'm more of an analyst. Second, you're the only one in the whole world who knows I'm 'Maya.'"
"Yeah, yeah, analyst, Maya, whatever. Just go your own way already."
"Our paths just happen to overlap by coincidence, that's all."
For a split second, I calculated how satisfying it'd feel to smack this woman. One good whack to that perfectly ripened autumn chestnut of a head might even trigger an orgasm.
Whether she sensed my dark thoughts or not, Park In-ha matched my footsteps with eerie precision, like she knew exactly which way I'd turn next.
'Advanced science indistinguishable from magic... perfect analysis indistinguishable from prophecy?'
That's when it clicked why Park In-ha insisted she was an analyst, not a prophet. With those eyes, she couldn't not foresee things—prophecy or prediction, it didn't matter. Like pinching your nose and still smelling the sewer stench down below; it just happened, so she rolled with it.
"You're looking for the New Millennium Salvation Society, right?"
"Yeah. The nutjobs having psychotic breaks over your prophecy or whatever, slaughtering innocent people left and right."
I laced my response with a subtle 'This is all because of you—feel any guilt?' but her face showed zero remorse. Hell, she probably didn't even see it as her fault to begin with.
"I just shared what I knew with the public. I didn't incite anyone, force them, or threaten that doom would come if they didn't act. Whatever they did based on their own beliefs and values? That's on them."
"Your words carried authority."
"What authority? Did science prove me right? Did experts worldwide vouch for me?"
"Authority proven by the faith of the masses. Kinda like religion, in a way."
"Blind belief from a crowd isn't the same as expert verification."
"Sophistry. No expert in the world can verify your prophecies. And you've already demonstrated perfect prior predictions enough times to earn mass belief. You've proven yourself true, so until you're wrong once, your words do carry authority."
Park In-ha chuckled at my point.
"True, if I'm wrong even once, my hit rate drops from 100%, so yeah, I have authority until then. But that doesn't make it my responsibility. I never used that authority to agitate individuals or groups. I just spoke."
She was right, factually. Her prophecies had the power to spark this chaos, but she'd only muttered what she knew, like talking to herself. Snarking 'Your words have pull, so own up to this mess' would be like spitting in my own face.
Not that I minded self-inflicted humiliation. Someone had to call out this self-proclaimed innocent.
"Doesn't change that I'm cleaning up your mess. No guilt at all over that?"
"That's why I'm tagging along, right? Aren't you thrilled?"
"......"
Should I kill the master? No, hold back, my inner three-day hangover.
"What's the difference between a cult prepping for doomsday and one that isn't?"
Random question, but I decided to indulge her curiosity—even knowing she was steering me toward the answer.
"Cults out to scam target loners. Ones at the endgame go after friends, lovers, families, whole groups. They want crowd psychology to brainwash as many as possible into supporting and sacrificing with them."
"That's why I'm with you. Less suspicion for a pair than a lone guy."
"I don't give a shit about that."
Wouldn't wasting time on stealth mean one less cult neck to snap? Or was I missing something?
"Same outcome, but less effort versus more? Rational choice is obvious. Plus, how many guys in the world have walked arm-in-arm with me?"
Before she could drop that cliché 'You're the only one', I raised my index finger at her.
"Shut your trap."
"Mm."
Park In-ha was decent-looking with her mouth shut, so arm-in-arm wasn't embarrassing. But that grinning face, those sly curved eyes sending silent coquetry? Infuriating. With middle-schoolers faking cutesy acts, a knee to the gut sufficed. Park In-ha seemed to need more.
'Time for a calf kick?'
I'd once seen some psycho online ranting he couldn't fathom how women's stick-thin legs worked and wanted to test a calf kick on one. Funny thing: Park In-ha didn't flinch at physical threats. Even when I gripped her throat, her eyes didn't waver. Like death was fine, but she knew it wouldn't happen. Not arrogance or fearlessness from bloated guts—she simply knew there was no reason to fear.
Even if a serial rapist stripped and charged her, she'd barely blink. As long as she knew she'd be fine.
'Paradox: knowing too much means no fear or aversion to most things.'
Just how much did those eyes see? Even I couldn't guess.
Whatever my thoughts, Park In-ha jiggled her Big CuCuYa Breast Dispenser Double Machine and walked silently. Good she obeyed the shut-up order... or should I rage at her refusing to unlink arms even in death?
Then, without changing expression or tone, she spoke flatly.
"Up ahead, right corner: one woman, five men waiting. Woman screams and bolts as we approach; men pretend to chase her and surround us naturally."
"If encircling us is the goal, why bother with the woman?"
"People don't see themselves objectively. Men chasing a woman? You assume they're only after her, think 'Not me.' That complacency lets them snag you before you bolt."
Her assessment: most would sense danger and flee if men charged outright, but accepting the "chase" deletes escape as an option.
And right on cue—her prophecy (prediction)—a woman burst from the corner screaming like a banshee.
"Kyaaahhh! Help! Someone call the cops! Creepy guys are chasing me!!!"
She dashed past us naturally; men with clubs and iron rods "chased" her, encircling us in seconds.
Or trying to.
"You cult scum always say the same shit when approaching folks. 'Do you know the Way?'"
I snatched an iron rod mid-swing, slammed it into a cultist's thigh, then booted another screaming idiot's chest, shattering the encirclement.
"So lemme ask you something too."
I hoisted Park In-ha up, using her killer heels' spike to gouge out another cultist's eyeball, and said,
"By any chance, do you believe in Jesus?"