Chapter 78: "What the Hell is This Stray Dog Bastard? You Crazy?!"
A man decked out in fisherman's gear—waterproof boots, gloves, and an apron—came stomping toward me, fuming. The moment he got close, a wave of that classic seaman stench hit me: stale cigarettes, booze, and fish guts. For these sea dogs, booze and smokes were inseparable from life itself, so it was just their natural aura. Hell, you could call it professional dedication—worthy of praise, even.
"So it's fine for a bunch of burly tough guys to gang up on one shaman like whiny kids?"
"This little shit... Who the fuck are you anyway? You look like some lazy bum here for a fishing trip, throwing your weight around in our spot?!"
These days, even country bumpkins know that manhandling someone in public can land you a fine or jail time. Sure, the old-school hotheads swinging first have died down with the times, but in their place, rural folks have ramped up the sneaky, underhanded harassment tactics.
The guy in front of me was clearly dying to smack my face but holding back with every ounce of willpower.
"Sounds like you've got some unresolved issues. But if problems always sorted themselves out perfectly, wouldn't that be the real problem? Life's a crapshoot—even a minor illness that a quick hospital trip fixes can kill you if your luck sucks. And these guys swarm in whining because one ritual didn't pan out? If once doesn't work, try twice. Twice fails? Go for three. Think it through, damn it."
"What the hell do you know?!"
"I'm that shaman's boss."
"...What?"
"I'm that shaman's boss. She's my office employee."
S-man helpfully pulled out a business card for the Supernatural Phenomena Resolution Office, Han Daeri—gold-embossed and all—and handed it over. The fisherman took it with a blank stare, glancing between me and the Mad Woman.
"Son of a bitch! So it was a cult after all! We called her because she's supposed to be legit!!!!!!"
"How the fuck would you know, you discriminatory prick! All you do is wake up, chug a bottle of soju on an empty stomach, chain-smoke, and dive off your boat for fish!"
Calling a certified shaman a fake cultist while spouting classist bullshit about job hierarchies? I lost it right there. Unofficially, I'm the president of the Supernatural Phenomena Resolution Office—but officially? Unemployed as fuck.
"Those women are the ones jumping around like lunatics on mats for hours, setting up ancestral tables, just so assholes like you come back from sea with your holds full and limbs intact! You think that's easy?!"
"W-well... we paid for it!"
"Fine, I'll pay you top dollar to get beat to death. That cool? Paying means they can shit on you however they want?"
Cancer patients shell out astronomical sums for treatment, knowing they're dying slow—but they don't straight-up threaten to kill the docs. They get that the doctors are busting their asses for the cash.
"Pay the right price, and it has to work 100%. Results have to satisfy. That basic logic only flies with one guy in this world! Know who?"
"Wh-who?!"
"Who else? Jesus, dumbass! Just believe, and boom—100% heaven express! No buyer's remorse, no defects! Believe and you're golden—straight to paradise! You believe in Jesus? Nah, doesn't look like it. Start now! He parted the Red Sea—who says he won't pull off a South Sea miracle?!"
The shaman's tied to some weird office, and her boss is ranting about Jesus like a fanatic—the fisherman's eyes were spinning like slot machines. Just a bit more, and he'd bite. But then the Mad Woman jingled her bell.
"That's enough. What're you doing picking on civilians?"
"Uh, wha—?"
The guy, already dazed, felt a light dizzy spell and backed off. I was plenty satisfied.
"Even in this equal-opportunity era, I can't tolerate hate speech or discrimination. Especially not against my employee."
I stepped suavely in front of the Mad Woman, and suddenly all that seaman menace turned on me full blast.
"Let's not embarrass ourselves here. If one ritual fixed everything, I'd have kidnapped every shaman in Korea and locked 'em up for 24/7 rituals by now."
"What about our losses?! We trusted your shaman, shut down fishing big-time for that ritual day! You know fishing's as seasonal as farming?!"
"I know. That's why the boss showed up personally to fix his employee's mess."
"The cash we blew on that ritual! Now you want more?! You are scam artists!"
"I'd pay you to take my money if you begged on your knees—shut your trap. Or if that's not enough, throw down with me."
I shrugged off my coat and handed it to S-man. My build wasn't some pro fighter's masterpiece—just solidly average for a fit guy in his twenties. But after my body getting smashed, torn, and crushed over and over, that flabby, fat-ridden weakling frame from twenty-plus years had toughened up without me noticing.
I straight-up challenged them to a fight, and the eldest-looking geezer—nearing senior territory—stepped up with a stern face.
"Young man, I get the hot temper, and since our shaman's your acquaintance, the anger makes sense. But to us, you're just some rude outsider who rolled in. Don't take our livelihoods lightly. It's not like we can't throw punches."
The old man's veiled threat landed soft but firm. I shrugged.
"You think I'd pull this shit in front of guys who can actually fight unless I could handle it? No rage issues or crazy here—just big balls."
"Our president has state-certified top-tier rage disorder."
"Hear that? I'm kinda famous in these circles."
"...I see the young man's not quite right in the head. We shouldn't have trusted outsiders. We won't demand a refund—just finish up and leave. Don't come back."
I was geared up to deck the old man first and stare down twenty-plus fishermen in an ego showdown, but he backed off surprisingly easy. The pissed-off crew followed him out of the pier like 80s gangsters straight out of a flick.
I took back my signature coat and approached the Mad Woman, who was blankly staring at the sea.
"So you were supposed to help the Kim Hakju family settle in, right? What the hell kept you holed up here for over a week?"
"Shin-eomeoni asked me to. She's nearly burned out her divine power—no one else to handle it."
I knew shamans treat their Shin-eomeoni-Shin-dal bond like blood family—or tighter.
"Looks like you got tangled with the fishermen?"
"See those pier-huggers avoiding open-sea or island fishing? Lately, incidents targeting anglers spiked around Jindo waters. Fishermen need tourist cash and good rep, so they called a shaman first."
"And?"
"What 'and'? Rituals went haywire—folks lost their minds, jumped into the sea, or got carted off puking blood. Now the local Old Myriad God—who just does light divinations these days—is calling it quits on the shaman path. Says the Dragon King of the sea's pissed, ordered fishermen to halt ops and sea fishing temporarily."
"Your take?"
"Not the Dragon King."
She stated it flat, then whistled softly. Heads bobbing near the pier silently sank underwater.
"Dragon Kings rarely meddle in human shit. They're busy suppressing evil ghosts and water spirits other shamans dumped at sea from dragging folks under."
"So what's the problem?"
"Something nasty's lurking in the sea."
"But the Dragon King's suppressing it?"
"We mobilized locals for a Star Ritual and Dragon King rite to pin down the bad vibes messing up the sea. Fishermen here under South Sea Dragon King's watch dodged it, but outsiders got hit hard. I figured the nasty thing would react first to the suppression and head toward land—waited it out. But the fishermen couldn't hold."
"Livelihoods, yeah."
She'd warned them to stay off the sea till she handled the "nasty thing" for safety. Locals went big on rituals, no more victims, so they agreed to wait. But fishing has harvest seasons like farming. With rival boats and Chinese poachers scooping everything, they got antsy. Couldn't wait anymore, swarmed her to vent since it wasn't fixed. And from their vibe, tomorrow they'd ignore her and hit the sea anyway.
Real-world bills trump everything—she couldn't just bark "Stop fishing!" forever.
"Then just let 'em."
"...You think that flies?"
"Why not? We came here for sea fishing too."
If they go out, we can tag along—perfect! Chill fishing, camping, ramen, grilled fish, knock off my bucket list!
"Catch some parrotfish, boil spicy tang. Perfect."
"As expected, Boss's menu picks are top-tier lololololol."
"Haa."