"Slurp. This Joint's Jjajangmyeon is Killer."
"Slurp. This place's jjajangmyeon is fire."
"Slurp. Seems like it."
"A shot of Zhuyeqing would've been perfect, but it's still work hours, so I'll hold off."
Chinese food always came with Zhuyeqing tea and gaoliang liquor like it was non-negotiable. Every time I watched a wuxia flick, I'd wonder about that combo the waiter brings out—thin noodles, dumplings, and Zhuyeqing. But I had my ironclad rule: no booze during work hours (sales calls excepted), all because I valued work-life balance. Booze was best slammed back after everything was wrapped up, when you could savor it guilt-free. Guys who drank mid-task were either total fuckups or rich enough not to care.
'Funny thing is, I'm neither.'
What could I do? Ordering the new guy nothing but a jumbo jjajangmyeon and tangsuyuk set was my fate. But then I got pissed—they didn't even throw in fried dumplings as a service with the jumbo tangsuyuk (40,000 won). Women had their rice belly and dessert belly; men had tangsuyuk belly and fried dumpling belly. Everyone knew that. I was about to summon the chef when my eyes locked with a head peeking from behind the counter.
Dripping wet hair shedding water drops like tears, empty eye sockets, nose and lips mangled beyond recognition like something had ripped them off. The pale skin was bloated taut, ready to burst.
Water Killer Ghost?
One of the nastiest ghosts out there, peeking from behind the counter. I slowly chewed and swallowed my tangsuyuk.
"Hey, you ever get told you had weak energy since you were a kid?"
"Slurp. Huh? How'd you know? The elders in the family hooked me up with all these shamans and priests they swore by. Before high school graduation, I was lugging around rosaries and talismans they insisted I carry."
"What happened to 'em?"
"I'm an adult now. Felt embarrassing hauling around all that junk, so I tossed them."
I turned to S-man, who answered so casually. No surprise that this guy's premature issues stemmed from weak yang energy from birth. But listening closer, if his constitution was what I suspected, it made sense why ghosts heavy on yin energy would stick to him like glue. Yang energy marinated in yin? Like slathering chili sauce on tangsuyuk—exotic, right? Any ghost worth its salt had probably wondered, 'How's this guy in bed?'
Having lived steeped in yin, his yang never properly bloomed—soft, pale skin like a girl's, killer looks, but S-man's quick trigger. And I'd just pinpointed the yin culprit.
Remembering the talisman envelope I'd shredded earlier hit me like a truck. Too late—I'd fucked up. It wasn't meant to bleed me dry; it was payment plus a plea to look out for him. The envelope itself warded off foul energies, helpful at worst, harmless otherwise. And I'd ripped it to shreds thinking it was skinning me alive. What an idiot.
'That's why they babied him from childhood.'
S-man, the ultimate golden boy, had been shielded from the world's nasty shit by the family elders, raised like a flower in a greenhouse. The flower stepped out clueless, got nabbed by an evil ghost last time—bad luck. And now this old-timer had been circling him for a while.
"Bored. How about intro time? You start. Any weird shit from when you were little?"
"Uh... Every Chuseok, the family gathers at the big house in the Gangwon mountains. I must've been seven or eight, went with the adults, and something freaky happened."
"Solid opener. Already hooked."
I crunched my danmuji, nodding for him to go on. S-man's eyes clouded with memory.
"It was... winter, I think. Don't remember the exact date, but snow was dumping hard. The family rented a whole snowplow for days to clear the mountain roads and all met up. Too many adults, so I snuck out. Felt stuffy, and I had no clue what they were yapping about anyway."
"Adults are always like that. Zero consideration for kids. My grandpa once let my cousin steal my toys."
"That sucks. Anyway, bored out of my mind, midday sun, so I made snowmen around the house... then headed to the huge lake nearby. Frozen solid, so kid-me could run wild, no problem. Got even more hyped."
"Classic cliché. At least it's not meta-fiction."
S-man neatly speared a tangsuyuk piece with his chopsticks.
"Mm, yeah... That lake was my massive playground. Grabbed a sandbag from the barn shed for sledding, chucked rocks to crack the ice—tons of fun. Oh, and FYI, my parents were strict—no smartphone back then."
"Common story. Never had one at that age myself."
Parents vanished before I hit eight-year-old Christmas.
"Snuck to the lake whenever, scarfed food at home when hungry, back out. Pretty fulfilling for rural downtime. Then, day before heading home, met a girl I'd never seen by the lake. Thin clothes despite the cold, so I gave her my jacket. Played together."
"Plot's rushing the climax already."
Explains the quick draw.
"Had a blast, promised to play again tomorrow... totally forgot we were leaving early. Never saw her again, straight back to Seoul..."
"And?"
"From here, it's secondhand from my parents. I blacked out after. They said I filled the tub every night, splashing like a maniac."
"Ugly duckling style?"
"Ugly duckling style."
S-man gulped cold water, throat tight, and continued.
"Total chaos after. I'd lose it at any water, so they called in shamans and priests. Nothing possessed, but heavy yin thing lurking around. Did some rites. Snapped out of it around second grade."
"Went through that and still ditched the talismans and beads?"
"Adult now. Figured graduating from kid stuff was part of growing up. Felt lighter after."
And that heralded the return of a 20-year stalker. Would he believe it? Tell him it was just the prologue, he'd probably piss the bed. Instead of truth, I shoveled more jjajangmyeon.
"Cool, manly vibe. No weird implications—don't get it twisted."
"All good. Hear that a lot."
"But looking adult doesn't make your core adult overnight. You think you're a real grown-up?"
"Honestly... I can handle my shit, so yeah."
Couldn't last time—I saved your ass.
Unchecked text messages: 233,265
Sender: 444-4444-4444
I clicked my tongue at the phone, buzzing like a dying vibrator before flatlining. It was scorching—hotter than an army-issue hand warmer.
"A true adult severs childhood grudges, bad memories, weird phenomena completely. Looks like you've got unfinished business."
"Mm... What then? Exorcism?"
"Nothing possessing you—why exorcise? Just cut the sticky shit. You drive?"
"Yep. Ditched the impractical foreign luxury my parents got me for a manly pickup with my own cash."
"Perfect. Keys and gear. Working under me means cleaning up messy pasts and annoying ties, right?"
"Like in movies, where guys drag childhood bedwetting stories to the exorcist for public humiliation?"
"Yep. Tough bastards bring everything. Cut ties clean to avoid leverage."
We left empty bowls, passed the dripping ghost at the counter, and hit the public lot. Piled into the manly pickup (pricey), set nav for Gangwon mountain village XX.
"Wake me at the rest stop."
"Business there?"
"Yeah. Grabbing a Delimanzhu."
Who the fuck road-trips without rest-stop Delimanzhu? I glimpsed the Water Killer Ghost dangling off the rear tire in the side mirror, then shut my eyes. Quietly.