Aftermath and the Bloody Oath
Post-processing is always a finicky, annoying chore. At least, I know I'm not cut out for it. Back in my broke-ass college days, I learned from group projects with those obvious orphans that everyone has their role. The bitch glued to her smartphone during lectures or discussions? She's the freeloader. The pig bastard drooling over wannabe bus fetish bait with lecherous glances? Research duty. The prickly one in the massive horn-rimmed glasses covering half his face? Presentation lead and group head. And me, the only normal one? Stuck making the goddamn PPT. Back then, I was a model citizen—adult enough to hit up the psychiatrist solo for meds to build some social skills. But that first group project poked at my anger issues so hard no pill could hold it back. The only reason I'm still scraping by in society is I didn't kill those three and end up in prison.
At least I didn't make the worst choice and go to grad school, so my life's not total shit.
"Boss, we're here."
"Yeah."
I snapped awake from dozing off at S-man's call and stepped out in front of the dimly lit cemetery. As I stretched my stiff muscles, Kim Hakju's family piled out of the car one by one, their faces finally easing up a bit.
"This the place?"
"Yes. This is... where we buried our daughter."
Even scraping by in poverty, Kim Hakju and his wife Lee Jin-hye couldn't bear to cremate their wrongfully slain girl's remains. They scraped together every won they had—no, didn't have—to buy a coffin and lay her body in the earth. Thanks to that stubborn parental love—"born of the earth, return to the earth"—a tombstone and grave remained to pay respects.
The last one out, the Mad Woman, whistled a shrill whiiiiir! that scattered the grab ghosts lurking around the cemetery. I headed to Kim Hakju's daughter's grave and placed a tiny lump of flesh on her tombstone. Leftover sludge from when the monster devoured Professor Gong Hyeokjin, then self-immolated to achieve Buddhahood.
"I know your soul's already ascended to heaven. All that's left here is a grudge-ridden wisp and an empty husk. So you deserve to witness this."
I sprinkled some incense on the lump and lit it with a lighter. Ghosts love the smell of incense, or so they say. Shamans burn heaps of it and lay out feasts to soothe wandering spirits. This was my special offering for her. As the flesh began to burn, it released a sharp, acrid stench. Luckily, no sparks flew; the meat chunk reduced to a handful of ash on the stone.
With me, the one obligated to see this through to the end, soothing her spirit, it was the family's turn. The father cracked open a soju bottle and splashed it around the grave. The mother laid out a modest funeral spread bought from downtown. And the younger brother knelt silently before the tomb, sobbing. Shedding the nightmare of the past five years, unloading the emotional baggage they'd bottled up with nowhere to vent—that was the rite of passage this family had to endure.
Leaving the rest to the pro, I told the Mad Woman to wrap it up and headed back to the cemetery entrance. S-man followed, offering a smoke.
"Want one?"
"Nah."
"You drink fine, but no smokes?"
"Booze is fair game for sad shit or happy shit. Cigs? Only when you're pissed and life's fucked. You wanna coat your guts in ghost pepper sauce and top it with habanero?"
"...Got it."
Instead of pocketing the pack, S-man crumpled it in his fist and chucked it into the public trash bin.
"Honestly, I figured wrapping up a case always ends well with you, boss. Like when you saved me. But seeing shit like today... the world's not always flowing to a happy place."
"Don't get sappy on me. Looking at reality all cynical and pessimistic doesn't make us cool or edgy. Life's heaven or hell, end of story. Live like total shit, don't believe in Jesus? Hell. Got everything, enjoy it all, then half-ass believe? Heaven. That's how it's always been. Whining poetic bullshit won't change this crap world."
Like sending a 5,700-character rant to a shit novelist won't rewrite their trash story. To fix a shit story, you gotta possess the damn thing yourself.
"I'll stick with you all the way, boss. But aren't you worried? Unlike a sidekick like me, you're the one diving headfirst into this stuff."
"I've flip-flopped through life on shaky sanity. Dealt with parents vanishing with an eight-year-old kid left behind. Relatives swarming like piranhas to snatch an orphan's inheritance. Seen firsthand how many fuckers infest this world, even got blood on my hands. Maybe one day I'll snap like you fear—drooling, shitting on walls. Locked in a psych ward, drowning in meds till I croak."
"......"
"Truth is, I still hear the laughter."
"Pardon?"
"A girl's laugh. Started 'that day,' and it's still going."
I figured if I had a cig, I'd have lit up absentmindedly while scanning the surroundings. The murky cemetery edge was empty save for our rental car, a barebones visitor sign, and a busted streetlamp. Just overgrown trees and unkempt bushes encircling it.
That night the cross fell upside down. The night I beat those punks to death with my own hands. The night I woke up realizing what kind of life I'd been living. Unforgettable memories burst like a busted dam.
"Boss?"
"Get the camera."
"Huh? Oh, right!"
"Film me. Every move, word, glance—don't miss a thing."
"Got it!"
The second S-man pulled out the camcorder and aimed it, an overwhelming weakness hit me, and I collapsed.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I desperately lifted my trembling head, peering up into the dark trees. A black bird perched there, screeching noisily.
Giggle.
"Ssssup, ha. Ssssuhhh... ha!"
My eyes spun wild. The world spun wild. I spun wild. Like riding Disco Pang Pang on a nonstop carousel, tumbling in a drum washer—everything whirled.
Whirl. Whirl. Giggle giggle. Whirl. Tastes like a lollipop's swirl pattern. Does motion sickness meds make it spin the other way? Life's all spins anyway—might as well roll with it?
"Je...sus... hea...ven..."
Nonbelievers Hell. You're a nonbeliever. Hell's prepped for you—ditch heaven dreams. You're faithful. Heaven's yours—fear not hell. Where'd your parents end up?
Thud! Thud! Thud!
I bashed my head, tore my mouth, gouged my eyes, sliced my ears. Leave the nose—it's too prominent. Lone wolf life's got style. Just like your parents ditched you solo.
"YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I ripped out my eyes and hurled them at the cawing black bird. No more whirling world. No more whirling me. Enough spinning. Enough me. Enough you. Enough us all.
"Even Jesus came down in human flesh alone! Why can't I be alone too?! People live alone, die alone—that's human! Cowards cage themselves in society's fence, rubbing flesh like fags! I'm proud!"
No regrets in my life! Always alone, home or out! Behold! I stand tall, overlooking the world! Noah on the ark just staring at the sea? 'Cause lone man's cool! I don't need 'you.' I wanna be 'me' forever. As long as my will holds, I'm alone to the end. So you, grinning demonically. Me. You'll go to heaven too.