The Mad Woman's Recruitment
"Hah, I had a feeling you wouldn't listen even if I told you to get lost, so just come in already."
"About time!"
We stepped into the shrine, catching the faint glow of candlelight and the scent of incense wafting from beneath the lamp as we laid out cushions and sat. Inhaling that aroma made me feel like some ancestor at a ritual table. What the hell do spirits like about this smell that they huff it like cocaine? Bluntly put, wouldn't it be better for everyone—ancestors and descendants alike—if we burned weed instead of incense? Funerals would be a lot less grim; everyone could forget their grief quick and it'd be a win-win.
"Man, this place doesn't even offer guests a glass of water. People these days got no manners."
"Here, have some Shine Muscat juice."
"At least you know what's up. Quicker on the uptake than a shaman."
We cracked open the box and chugged the Shine Muscat juices one by one, then eyed the Mad Woman across from us as she lit a fresh cigarette.
"Instead of holing up in this house praying all day like some old hag past her prime, how about joining us for some wild supernatural resolution adventures?"
"It's passion pay, but meals are on the company card—and they're damn good."
For the record, our office's company card is S-man's personal credit card.
"Let's see... We give you every holiday off, but if a case pops up, you're on call. No holiday bonuses, but we'll throw in some well-wishes."
"Not bad terms."
"Plus, we'll cover all expenses for case resolutions. Even if you go full mental case with your rituals and set up a massive ancestral table, we'll swipe the card."
"Solid benefits package."
"No four major insurances due to the job nature, but I'll personally guarantee coverage for any physical or mental risks as your boss."
"We'll even sing hymns by your bedside till you're back on your feet."
"And we're a cutting-edge workplace pursuing total gender equality, so no sexual harassment, no power-abuse gender violence, no mansplaining—zero tolerance."
"Ours is the only office in Korea that doesn't tilt one way or the other."
The Mad Woman listened quietly to our pitch, then stubbed out her cigarette in an elegant jade ashtray.
"I've never met punks like you in all my years, and it's killing me not to clear up my curiosity. Even the elders I serve don't seem to know, so I'll ask straight: Do you even grasp what the hell you're doing? The consequences of it all?"
"Good deeds. Giving everyone a shot at equal salvation. Call it volunteer work."
"Doctors Without Borders would bow to us."
S-man and I high-fived with an "Yeeeah~~~!" but the Mad Woman just pressed her fingertips to her forehead and pressed on.
"You know how blasphemous and sacrilegious that is, right? Sure, I'm a shaman, but I don't diss other faiths' gods or pretend they don't exist. Every religion has its deities, and there's one supreme God above all. What I do is just borrow a sliver of divine power to do my duty. But you two... you're turning everything upside down."
"Are we?"
"Dunno. Doesn't ring a bell."
If even S-man's sharp mind drew a blank, it didn't happen.
She scowled at us and snapped, "Sinners deserve retribution for their crimes! But thanks to you defying fate and thwarting heaven's will, those sinners aren't going where they belong! In the real world, criminals go to prison— that's justice. You should've executed the death-penalty types, but instead, you shipped them to pure, innocent paradise! Don't you get why that's wrong?!"
"Why's it wrong, then?"
"Because it's the natural order! Defy that, and laws crumble; laws crumble, and the world turns to shit. In a shit world, how can anyone uphold morals or live faithfully? The world flows right because it's ordered. In chaotic imbalance, who could live their given life in peace?!"
"You're snapping like your blood sugar's low. By boss authority, issuing candy to the employee."
"Grateful to the president always."
S-man slid a Shine Muscat juice across the smooth table; it stopped right in front of her. Her mouth parched from chain-smoking, she squeezed and downed it without hesitation.
"Whew. Looks like you're missing something essential to humanity. Like morals, conscience, humanity, social skills, ethics—pick one."
"That ain't bad, is it? We're not hurting innocents from the start."
We're just running a quick-delivery service to heaven for the guilty.
"A proper world where everyone lives their assigned life faithfully. How arrogant and contradictory is that? Everyone has the right and free will to live as they want, but gods and their fanboys slapped on arbitrary rules, turning us into machines. Sinning machines, goody-goody machines, believer machines, nonbeliever machines. Am I wrong?"
"Humans born by God— we can't meddle in how God judges our lives. And we shouldn't."
"Why? 'Cause we're programmed puppets? Got free will but fuck up and doom ourselves? Or pre-sorted at birth—heaven-bound or hell-bound? If God's truly omniscient, He knows who's sinning to hell or living right to heaven. So why dump us in this mess? Just sort us at spawn."
Bad seeds straight to hell at birth! Good ones to heaven!
"He's omnipotent—knows all, does all, holds all. So why give us this contradictory free will premise?"
"I don't know your doctrine well, but humans can't judge God's will. That's why we live our human lives diligently—because we're human."
"Nah, more like 'lab rats.' Lab guinea pigs get a lifetime of limited, oppressed 'freedom' in their cages. Live like a proper pig, and you're dissected, cut open, drug-tested. Live wrong, and you're carnivore chow."
Proper pigs get merciful euthanasia (heaven); outliers become food (hell). Eerily like human lives, no?
"We deserve a fair 'end.' Fear death, sure—but not what comes after."
Death hits all equally; when it comes, flail in terror or accept it. But fearing post-death judgment on your life—worse pains in hell? Is that true human freedom? It's debtor's prison, no word fits.
"Do good to pay debts. Fail, hell-bound. But paying off for heaven means an unequal, unfair, absurd life—always others first, no real joys. Live that shitty existence, then 'You paid up, rest in heaven.' Everyone cool with that? Hell yeah—they'd be thrilled. Who'd gripe 'I didn't enjoy life enough!' against God's word? They shut up and go heaven or hell."
I pointed at S-man. "Take this guy. Cursed by a vengeful ghost since birth for shit he didn't do, yet he fought for a normal life amid the pain. Grew up privileged, sure, but stayed straight. And he's doomed to get his soul sucked dry by a trans demon ghost before tasting real life? He didn't do anything wrong—no schadenfreude fuel. So I saved him."
S-man wasn't Christian, tangled in ancestral grudge-ghost curse—hell-bound for sure. So I saved him. Repent, believe in Jesus, heaven. Die pointlessly, no chance—so I gave him one.
"You call it 'fate.' I said it before: I don't buy that crap. If the world's that rigged, better off gone. Starts unequal, fine—but equal shots for all, that's law."
"Guess we'll run parallel forever. Your soul's twisting into pitch-black darkness, no light. No mercy from me for unrepentant sinners—repent and take your punishment."
"No worries there. When the time comes, I'll walk into hell myself."
"Talk about easy. Religions agree on heaven-ish places, but hells vary wildly. Why? Human imagination can't capture the horrors. Sinners strut 'Hell? Whatever'—then regret pre- or post-death. I've seen it plenty. If regular hell awaits them, imagine yours. Worse than all worldly pains combined."
"Maybe."
I chugged another Shine Muscat and said, "But that's my freedom too. Worth respecting, no?"
"Not respect—you want one-sided pity. Your words are sophistry, full of contradictions. Deny God desperately or drown in self-loathing—like a loser."
"Those 'losers' are filling heaven already. I'm proud—tears of joy proud."
I dabbed my moist eyes with S-man's handkerchief, Best Supporting Actor style. "Year's finest performance."
"Good, proud of that life? Enjoy your remaining days mulling the hell ahead."
"So, you in?"
"Crazy? Hell no."
"Problem."
I racked my brain for bait, then remembered my ace: "I'll give you my end."
"...What?"
"Literal. My finale's yours. Work with me till then. Process me, and heaven or your paradise awaits."
"No need to dirty my hands. Hundreds of arrows aimed at you already. Why kill a dead man?"
"You know I won't go down that easy."
"......"
I'm Han Daeri. Goddamn Han Daeri.
"As long as I reject death till my missions end, nothing breaks my will—not even gods. So break it yourself at the end. Claim my finale, rest easy. Otherwise, watch helplessly forever."
I'll finish my duties, head where I belong proudly. Even if it costs my life to send you to heaven.
"...Fine."
"Newbie welcome drinks, then."
"I booked a spot nearby!"
"You're one prepared friend!"
Finally, some peace of mind.