Concessions in Heaven (2)
After finishing the meal, I spent the entire afternoon sprawled out napping. People naturally turn into cats around New Year's anyway, so a little shut-eye wasn't going to raise any eyebrows. Who could possibly stop Han Guwon, the legitimate leader of the Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe and the very embodiment of the sacred lineage from ancient Rome, from indulging in a wet dream through sleep? He was the Antichrist himself. But even a beauty gets boring after three days, and naps lose their edge after three hours. With my head throbbing and my boy servant's limp body in the way, I climbed over him and stepped into the hallway.
The burly bodyguards standing silently at attention in front of the door flinched in surprise and bowed deeply to me. It was kinda funny, like eunuchs groveling before a king taking his precious steps. I asked the meatheads if there was broadcasting equipment in the cult for internal announcements, and they replied in the most reverent tones: "The broadcasting facilities to relay the Savior's jade voice are on the third floor in the Jade Voice Hall." Jade Voice Hall because it's for broadcasting the jade voice? So, the hydroponic veggie room must be the Holy Sacrament Hall since that's where they grow the sacraments? When I asked, they confirmed it. These lunatics were one of a kind.
Without warning, I showed up at the Jade Voice Hall with my entourage of meatheads, and the believers inside handling operations dropped everything in shock, hunching low. One guy wearing headphones, yapping like a DJ, didn't even realize his mic was hot and bellowed, "We greet the Savior!" Thanks to him, word spread instantly throughout the entire cult that I'd dropped by. No big deal, so I shoved the wannabe DJ aside and took his seat. He huffed and puffed with excitement at the honor of me sitting where his ass had been parked.
I tapped the mic to check the sound—"thump thump"—and ordered the tech guy to go live. The little digital panel above the Jade Voice Hall entrance lit up with ON AIR.
"Ahem, ahem, testing one two three, ya!!" Lucky me, my throat hadn't gone raspy from that short nap. My pansori-level vocal prowess unleashed a crystal-clear high note that no singer could match.
"Ahem. Suddenly, but an important announcement for you believers—not gay, the faithful ones."
I paused for two seconds, then laid out the full storm about to hit the Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe.
"Today, during the day, a vile and insolent enemy dared to lay hands on this sacred body and was finally captured. This proves beyond doubt that enemies trying to block the Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe's salvation have poisoned the well. There may be spies among you, but I am the one who came to this land to love and save all my brothers and sisters. Even if there are spies, I cannot punish them with my own hands. Just as I sacrifice for you, so must you find and punish the enemies for me."
Whoa! Apocalypse! Enemies! Holy war! Deus Vult!! I could already feel my loins stirring at the thought of the Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe's breathless Among Us-style witch hunt. Sure enough, the people around me, their faces gripped by shock as they stared, started bolting out of the Jade Voice Hall one by one. I'd just given the official green light for a witch hunt—the spiritual pillar and absolute law of the Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe. No need to guess what the believers were thinking now; it was obvious. Old saying goes the best shows are fires and fights, but watching a witch hunt seemed pretty damn good too. Yeah, everyone make a little concession (with their lives) like that to survive. That's how you meet the self-sacrifice quota for heaven, right? Of course, just watching this guaranteed-fun content remotely would be like licking a seasoned chicken once on your tongue and tossing it—like total waste.
I grabbed the karaoke mic used for sermons and headed down to the chaos below.
"Grab that bastard! He's gotta be the spy!"
"Why me?! Who believes in Him more devoutly than I do?!"
"You fucking liar!!!!!! I saw you sneaking ramen in the middle of the night, not satisfied with the daily bread the Teacher provides!"
"Ha! The Savior, overflowing with mercy and tolerance, wouldn't get mad at his child for eating a little ramen out of hunger! You're the one twisting His will—you're the spy!"
"Name the ramen you scarfed that night."
"Shin Ramyun, mild flavor."
"SPYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Believer A threw his whole body into it, wrapping his arm around Believer B's neck in a rear naked choke. That ultimate squeeze was a killer move in grappling—perfect for taking the back and finishing strong. It cranks the carotid artery to cut blood flow to the brain, forcing a tap or blackout. Even pros can't escape if it's locked in tight; it's one of the most dangerous when your back's taken. Hell, it's so badass, it's called the one way a naked human can beat a wild beast.
Believer A, some overseas-trained grappler, locked it in smooth. Believer B thrashed desperately to peel off the arm around his neck. Grappling's zero-distance brawl of strength, skill, and sense—the first to tire or lack instinct loses. A had the edge in all three, clamping down hard on B's carotids with his thick arms. That was checkmate; no comeback unless you're superhuman.
"Guhhhh, nghiiiiii! He... even approves of my taste buds!!"
"Wh-what?!"
"Raaaaagh!!"
The accused spy B summoned superhuman strength, hoisted A piggyback-style, and slammed backward toward the wall. Concrete was coming fast, so A had to release the choke and roll out like a squirrel.
"...Bastard, you've got some slick escape skills. Which sect you from?"
"My body and soul are already offered to the Savior. What meaning's there in my worldly status?"
"True that."
"Glad you get it."
"'True' is the base form of 'let's throw down!'"
Smack! This time, B dropped low in a flash, closing distance infighter-style—not the dancing kind.
"Insane speed!"
I grabbed a believer sprinting by with an iron rod, screeching like a freak, and made him watch the fight. Too good to hog all to myself.
"S-Savior?!"
"Watch closely. That's a deathmatch between two prideful believers."
Not flailing with weapons like you—pure body-as-weapon, the real deal killer arts. But against expectations, their killer arts didn't last ten exchanges. The grappler master exploited the infighter's gap again, twisting into a cobra twist that wrecked every joint in B's body.
Victorious A tossed aside B's foaming, limp corpse like trash. Dead men tell no tales, so B was confirmed impostor and exiled from the mortal plane.
I approached the victory-drunk A and shoved the mic in his face.
"How's it feel to choke out a spy in my name?"
"Feels killer."
"Yeah, you killed him. So, how's it feel?"
"Fucking awesome."
Impressive strength and skill, but vocabulary on the weak side. Overseas training, huh? Explains why he fell for this cult hook, line, and sinker.
I took the winner A and Iron Rod Lunatic A along to change venues. Elsewhere, high-level impostor hunts raged: guys started with logic-laced arguments before fists flew. The women, unlike the men, kept hands to themselves—no scratches. But their verbal barrage was deadlier than ever.
"Sister, your skin's looked amazing lately. Got some secret we don't know?"
"Oh, no idea. Just wash well, eat well, sleep well—isn't that how skin improves?"
"So while we're slaving for the Savior, you were the one washing, eating, and sleeping well?"
"You're twisting my words, sister. I've been serving Him hardest, with all my heart, so His grace touched me and fixed my skin—don't you think?"
"Hmm, but folks said they barely saw you at work. Always off somewhere—who knows what. Was the Savior you were 'serving' from another cult?"
"Whoa, seriously...? A real spy? No wonder she smells like BB cream you can't get here, looking all comfy."
"Holy shit."
"Spy. Total spy."
Unable to beat the logic barrage, Female Believer A shook with rage—uterus quaking overtime?—and collapsed, clutching her neck from a sudden stroke. Just words, and one dead.
"So, grappler bro, wanna challenge that team over there?"
"Uh... doesn't sound awesome, Savior."
My thoughts exactly. That day, the Saecheonnyeon Guwonhoe's self-witch hunt for impostors netted them three skulls.