Chapter 42: "Damn, This House's Japchae is Killer. Now I Get Why Foreigners Call It Korean Pasta."
"Damn, this house's japchae is killer. I see why foreigners call it Korean pasta."
Food's a funny thing—it's everyday grub from a Korean perspective, but a real challenge from a foreigner's. Right now, I was demolishing it from that foreign angle, savoring the nutty sesame oil and roasted sesame, the chewy bounce of the pale glass noodles, and the spinach and fish cake stir-fry perfectly seasoned between bites.
Pouring black bean sauce all over this japchae and mixing it with rice turns it into classic japchae rice. But with the full spread already out, I couldn't bring myself to ask for black bean sauce too. So I just shoveled it down with rice and stew.
Carbs are invincible, and MSG is a god. Right under Jesus. I crammed food into my mouth until my gut was about to burst before finally washing it down with the last sip of this family's traditional iced sikhye.
"Damn, this is fucking delicious. Can I take some home before I go?"
"It's in jars in the ice storage room. Just pack some in a cooler for the car later."
True, if they've got an earthenware cellar, they've gotta have an ice room too. I downed the sikhye—crunchy with thin ice—in one go and set down the fancy teacup that was clearly hand-fired by some artisan.
"So, who's up for Jesus? Sign up free now and get a free angel skin."
I'm no organizer for heaven's free membership event, but isn't giving newbies a free avatar a tradition? Jesus has 2,000 years of Sims playtime under his belt—he'd know. If it were me, I'd throw in a one-use angel trumpet (cash item).
But everyone looked lukewarm, against my expectations. Most were far from Christianity, so they weren't buying Jesus like Peter did.
"Hey, is that guy the big elder of this family? Like a patriarch?"
"Yeah, by lineage he's my great-uncle, but he decides all the family matters, so you could say that."
I picked my teeth with a fancy handmade toothpick and strode over to the old man. He was sweating bullets but glared at me with pure rage, clenching his teeth so hard blood seeped from his frail gums.
"Elder, hop to it! Sitting that long in your frail state will stiffen you up and make you sick."
"Get out of this house right now, you monster...!"
"I'm just looking out for you, and you flip out. Fine, here's the deal. You've sinned so much in life you can't even look up at the sky, so let's beg Jesus for one last mercy. Hands together politely, one verse of repentance prayer. Then I'll leave and never set foot here again."
"Why should I listen to your bullshit... gack!"
"Even if you're heaven-bound, better live out your days first, right?"
I grabbed Lee Chang-gi's neck with one hand and hoisted him up. The room erupted—people cursing me out, yelling to put the elder down, get my filthy hand off, demons in the family. Useless crap, and not one stepped up to help him.
"Gack! Kehuk!"
"One punch from this fist is a critical three-hit combo straight to heaven—easy for me, easy for you. It's 'self-defense' after all."
I shoved the golden knuckle duster right in his face, and his complexion turned even more ashen.
"But I don't wanna attack an elder in front of the direct heirs, my staff, and the kitchen auntie and butler who laid out this killer spread. I still wanna ask for a tub of japchae to go—beating your ass first would kill the vibe."
"You... ugh! Fine! Kill me then! This life's almost done anyway—I'd rather die than bow to scum like you...!"
"Don't bullshit me."
Bam! I slammed Lee Chang-gi onto the table. He writhed with a pathetic groan. Barely tossed him, and he's overacting.
"Like I said, I can see people's sins. I saw that lie just now too. Lucky for you I'm conscientious—if I had less patience, I'd have sized up your yap and custom-made you some dentures. Don't wanna trash those pricey implants? Let's be straight—about 50% honest, not too much."
Guy-on-guy full honesty is too gay.
"You heaven-cursed bastard! Filthy fuck!"
"Wanna believe in Jesus?"
"I ain't believing that shit...!"
Crunch! The grand hall floor caved in, swallowing two people. A bone-shattering thud echoed from the unfathomable depths.
"You wanna live long enough to shit on the walls, right? You've stacked cash—spend your golden years in a silver town, happy till heaven. Or splash for gold town."
Dying broke is embarrassing as hell.
"What... huff... what the hell are you?! Some gutter rat rolling in to shame our family like this?!"
"Hey, ex-S-man. Who are we?"
"Super. Nat. U. Ral. Phe. Nom. Ena. Res. O. Lu. Tion. Of. Fice. Clown."
"Hear that? That's us."
I flashed my business card at Lee Chang-gi and got back to it.
"Other titles: heaven ticket scalper, collect-call to Jesus, coat-wearing loser. Call me whatever."
"You madman!"
"Not getting it? No Jesus, we all go to heaven right here. Gotta grope the kids who went first before you die, yeah? Spill your guts, Lee Chang-gi!!!!!!"
"I WANNA LIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Hallelujah."
I stroked his shiny, tear-streaked forehead and softly sang a hymn. Hundreds in the house joined in unison, belting it out till the final chorus. Only then did I set him down.
"S-man's the witness, and I speak for you all. From today, live by Jesus' word, content with your lot. No bullshit like return the loot or confess crimes—hypocrite talk. You're all sworn believers, forgiven. No need to drag heaven-goers back to hell.
"But if any perjurer picks hell, I'll visit personally."
Nonbelievers and liars flinched at the house call threat.
"I'm taking the ledgers anyway—live normal, die normal. Easy, right?"
Deputy Manager couldn't, but for these sinners, no biggie.
"Now that decision-makers and affiliates are gathered 'by chance,' group photo for memories, then peace out happy. S-man, grab the best camera here."
"Will Canon get me called a pro-Japanese sellout?"
"Korean cameras suck—fact. Just get it."
Japanese-style group shot anyway. I herded hundreds to the wide garden, kicking aside hail and crow corpses for the backdrop.
"Shorties up front, sit! Stack like bricks. You, obvious 169cm pretending 170—sit!"
S-man hauled in huge studio lights and reflectors from god-knows-where, standing by me.
"Korean style chant: kimchi! Double peace—V with both hands, fingers spread! Eyes wide up! Mouth open bold! Tongue out long for bonus!"
Once all double-peaced, I snapped the perfect group shot.
"This is your family portrait now. Double peace means twice the peace love. Eyes up big: gazing at Jesus above. Mouth wide, tongue out: gobbling his holy word."
"Boss as expected."
"Say Jesus. One slip here, and it's cross or pyre."
Photos done, we issued the scatter order. I planned lunch here before heading out.