My Success Era Kicks Off at Seoul's Bullshit Cult Uni – Boing Boing with Park In-ha
As Park In-ha and I arrived at Namsan Town after my stint at that phony Seoul cult university, a chilling aura hit us first instead of the usual human bustle. Most folks think you only catch that thick scent of people in warm, affectionate rural spots, but in truth, no place reeks of humanity more than Seoul. Come on, it's a metropolis crammed with ten million souls—short of crawling into the sewers, how could you not feel the traces of people everywhere? Even the apartment complexes, sacred ground for the middle class that makes up most of the city's population, buzz with chatter and food smells day and night, lit up like some mega-corp headquarters.
But Namsan Town wasn't a place for humans anymore. It felt emptier and colder every time you realized what you'd thought was a house was just a rundown shed storing rusty farm tools. Was this giant concrete anthill ever really an apartment complex? Or had winter frozen all the ants, leaving just the skeleton behind?
As I mulled that over, Park In-ha slipped the lock on a nearby laundromat and emerged with a few neatly cleaned outfits. I shot her a sidelong glance asking how the hell she'd pulled that off, and she calmly explained she'd spotted the fingerprints on the electronic door lock's keypad and nailed the password on the first try.
"So what's with these clothes? My perfect long-coat look too embarrassing to roll with, so I gotta swap into some stranger's rags?"
"You're planning to infiltrate Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe, right? Then you need to look ordinary, not flashy. Obviously, I'm changing too."
"Why not just barge in and fuck 'em all up?"
"Nah, we gotta do it this way. Your style just makes shit more complicated."
"How so, exactly?"
"The cult fanatics reject your 'style' and mass-suicide on the spot."
Suicide, murder, idol worship—these are top-tier sins in Christianity, the kind that damn you no matter how devoutly you've served God your whole life. Even the most pious soul drops straight to hell if they off themselves in a rage. Sure, there's the rare 'self-sacrifice' loophole, but that's extremely exceptional, so let's set it aside.
These Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe bastards had already racked up murders, kidnappings, idol worship, blasphemy, and every filthy crime under the sun. Top it off with mass suicide? Fuck no, I can't let that slide. Jesus himself would be smashing the Enter key on "Send this fucker to hell? YES."
Truth be told, setting aside everything else, Park In-ha had nailed the one thing even I couldn't stop: sinners voluntarily offering up their souls. Fools seduced by demons into trading souls for insane deals, souls devoured by evil ghosts or gods, idiots who say fuck heaven and slit their throats for the express train to hell. No hope for them unless I drag my ass back to hell's basement and haul 'em up myself.
And I've only got one body.
Nothing I could do about that. I'm not some planarian worm splitting in half to spawn identical copies of Han Daeri. In the end, I concluded I'd have to slink into the cult like a sneaky bitch, gauge the vibe with Leonardo DiCaprio-level acting, then step up at the dramatic moment and smash the cult leader.
"That's not proper Jesus Heaven Nonbelievers Hell......!"
"Quit the weird talk and change already."
Park In-ha was already stripping, her sweater barely containing those boing-boing assets as she threw on a plain coat and muffler for a more ordinary vibe. She ditched the pricey jewelry and stuffed her luxury handbag into a plastic laundry bag. Just a quick wardrobe swap, and the elegant high-society babe morphed into a down-to-earth commoner hottie. Still a knockout beauty, but the aura and impression shifted completely—low enough barrier now that random guys passing by might think, "This one's approachable enough to hit on."
I hated ditching my long coat, but when she offered to dress me herself, I grudgingly complied. Wrapped in this plebeian trash that couldn't hold a candle to long-coat fashion, I shuddered like I was having an allergic reaction all over. This... is clothing?
"Let's stash the laundry bag in that unmanned delivery locker. Write the address and contact, and the couriers will pick it up and deliver it."
Korea had evolved from basic parcel lockers to ones that auto-ship your stuff once you drop it off. How insanely advanced can this country get? National pride overload incoming.
Even though the clothes fit perfectly size-wise, the cheap fabric felt so wrong it was messing with my head. The only reason I didn't flop on the street kicking and screaming like a brat denied a toy was Park In-ha clamping my arm with her massive watermelon grip, dragging me along. Marshmallow bitch.
"Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe doesn't know about you, but they do know about 'Han Daeri.'"
"No twenty questions—just get to the point. I'm too pissed about this cheap-ass fit for games."
"...They know about Han Daeri, but not that you're him."
"All my stalkers gathered here? News to me."
Autograph their Bibles and they'd probably cream themselves. Whatever. Park In-ha scanned Namsan Town's streets with just her eyes, twisting and turning like she knew exactly when to veer for some event trigger.
Sure enough, we soon bumped into a middle-aged woman rounding the corner right in front of us. She was the classic "deaconess" type from mid-sized churches—padded coat, muffler, and a massive leather bag stuffed with bulky stuff like Bibles. Seemed warm and ordinary at a glance, but churchgoers like her get that telltale glint in their eyes. The kind who knock door-to-door preaching "Good news from the Lord!"
"Oh my, what are young folks like you doing here in these scary times? Everyone around here's already off to see the Savior."
"Scary times?"
Park In-ha played dumb with a blank face, and the woman halted, eyes sparkling, like she'd hooked fresh meat to drag to her "Savior." Drooling already.
"Silly me—I thought I'd shared the good word with everyone nearby, but missed you two. Haven't heard the news?"
"What news? We were out partying hard last night and are just heading home."
"Tsk tsk, partying's fine, but pay more attention to the world. It's all over the news and papers—how do you not know? The end comes in 2026!"
"Pfft, no way~."
Park In-ha waved it off like nonsense, but that only egged the woman on fiercer.
"You didn't notice anything weird coming here? Young folks must lack instincts. Know how many are prepping for the end?"
"Prepping how? Yeah, it's kinda empty..."
"It's a divine punishment too vast for sinners like us to fathom. The Almighty's closing the human era after 2025 to cleanse this chaotic, filthy world. But our pitiful Savior took mercy on fools like us and built an ark for the new age. Only with Him can we usher in the millennium and be saved—don't you know that common sense?"
"No way, we had no clue... What do you think, babe?"
I was about to snap "Why the fuck am I your babe?" but she pinched my side, forcing a pivot.
"Whoaaa, the end times? That's scary as shit......"
"You look tough, but kinda timid?"
"...My girl's a bit fragile. Been through some rough stuff lately, mentally wrecked, so I'm babysitting her~."
"Aw, then come with me. Can't stand thinking of clueless youths getting zapped by lightning. I'm past my prime, but you've got bright futures—marry under the Savior's blessing, pop out kids, all that jazz, right?"
This time I pinched her side—squishy and soft, unlike mine. Luckily, Park In-ha just nodded dumbly instead of rambling about weddings and followed the woman.
Tailing her, we looped through Namsan Town's maze-like paths far more than necessary before finally reaching a building.
Perception-obscuring spell in place. Pretty serious setup for a smooth-talking scam cult.
That's why it wouldn't have shown up even if we'd come straight here. Sure, I could've brute-forced the spell or Park In-ha pierced the illusion with her eyes, but we'd have been suspicious as hell. This place was rigged so only cult insiders or fresh converts could find it. Randoms busting through the barrier? I'd hook 'em too and yell "Grab these fuckers first!"
So Park In-ha's circuitous route was to "coincidentally" run into this guide at the perfect timing. One pouch for prophecies, the other for smarts? Theoretically, if I bulked up my pockets from excess, I might get smarter too.