The First Curse
The First Curse
Manual labor is a fucking nightmare.
You'd think everyone would know that by now, but sometimes you still run into people who don't get it.
'Manual labor? Isn't that just working out? Getting paid to exercise sounds like a dream.'
Obviously, that's complete bullshit. And no, I'm not just talking about the physical exhaustion. Carrying bricks, hauling heavy steel plates up flights of stairs—yeah, it's tough, but you can deal with it. A broke-ass rookie like me doesn't have many options if I want decent pay.
But when your foreman shows up drunk every day, speaks more Chinese than Korean, and has the temper of a rabid dog, the difficulty level skyrockets.
It's not just the physical strain—now you've got mental hurdles too.
"You motherfucker! What did I just tell you?!"
"Uh, sir, I just had lunch."
"FUUUCK!! I told you not to give me that bullshit!!"
The guy screaming in my face, his face red as a tomato, is the foreman I just described. And no, he's not pissed—he always looks like this. I didn't even do anything. He just shows up drunk every single day.
How the hell does he not get fired?
Anyway, today he's extra unhinged. Not that he's ever not unhinged, but today's tantrum is particularly vicious. His broken Korean stabs into my ears like rusty nails.
"I told you to make me coffee earlier!! You ignoring me, you little shit?!"
"I already made you some."
"You fucking bastard! Who the hell talks back like that?!"
This is ridiculous. I saw him chugging down the sweet instant coffee I made for him. And now, in the middle of work hours—not even break time—he storms over to yell at me.
"You wanna get kicked off this site?! You think you can mouth off to me?!"
"Haha, of course not. Do you want me to bring you more coffee now?"
"Fuck off, asshole! You think I can't cut your pay?! You're fucking dead!"
After enduring this drunken foreigner's tirade for a while, I finally started to piece together why he was targeting me today.
"Hahaha. Hey, remember that offer you made me last time? I think I've saved up enough to take you up on it now."
"Offer?! What offer?"
"You know, the one where you said if I lent you money, you'd double it through gambling."
"Gambling?! It's an investment! I've got my hands on a surefire deal!"
I took a shot in the dark, but it seems I hit the mark. I'd politely turned him down the last time he asked to borrow money, which must be why he's extra pissed today.
"So when are you giving it to me?"
The foreman, now done yelling, puffed out his chest like I'd already handed him the cash. I forced a smile.
"Probably in about two weeks."
Obviously, I have zero intention of giving him anything. But I had to say something to calm him down. If this bastard decides to dock my pay, he will do it.
Labor board? Look at the guy standing in front of me. A foreign laborer running the site as foreman. This isn't the kind of place that gives a shit about labor laws.
So if I want my full pay, I've got to play along.
"Tch. Should've saved up sooner."
Having gotten what he wanted—the promise of money—he left with a nasty smirk.
"Haah..."
Alone again on the worksite, I let out a quiet sigh. Who the hell said manual labor was easy? I resent myself for falling for that lie and ending up here.
"I just want time to hurry up..."
Two more weeks, and I'm done with this place. No more dealing with that fucking foreman.
Again, obviously, I'm not giving that gambling-addicted bastard a single won. There's no way this certified loser is winning anything, and even if he did, I know damn well he'd never pay me back.
Just gotta collect my pay and get the hell out.
As I slumped my shoulders and got back to work, someone sidled up to me.
"Yo. You just got reamed."
Blond hair, flashy piercings, and a swagger that screamed delinquent.
"What's that Chink's problem with you?"
"Wanted to borrow money."
This guy's name is Gu Se-chan. Despite his looks, he's actually pretty reliable. He's got some weird hobbies, but he's the only one here around my age, so we've gotten close.
"Ugh, that crazy bastard. Still hasn't learned his lesson. You're not actually gonna lend him anything, right?"
"Hell no."
"Good. Guys like that borrow money and never pay it back. Smart move."
For all his rough edges, he's got a solid head on his shoulders. Se-chan noticed I wasn't too shaken and grinned, clapping me on the back.
"Alright! Let's get back to work."
"Yeah."
We exchanged smirks before grabbing the sacks of cement on the ground and hauling them up the stairs. Fourth floor—drop off the cement—back down—grab more—up to the fifth floor—repeat. And it wasn't just one spot. We had to deliver these damn things all over the building.
"The fuck? Why do we have to carry these to every floor?"
Se-chan grumbled as he hefted a sack. The guy's freakishly strong, carrying two 40kg bags like they're nothing. Meanwhile, I'm sweating bullets just lugging one on my back.
"Isn't this just how manual labor is?"
"What kind of manual labor makes you do shit like this?"
"Every site I've been at was like this."
"Haah... You've got the worst luck."
Se-chan gave me a pitying look. Not that I needed it. The pay here was good, and I was fine with working hard for it.
That said, this place was way more brutal than my previous gigs. And the reason? One person.
The stench of alcohol hit us before the foreman did, stomping over as we carried cement sacks up the stairs.
"Hey! What the hell are you two doing?!"
The gambling, alcoholic tyrant of the worksite.
"Uh, doing what you told us to?"
"You little shit! Watch your fucking tone!"
Se-chan's sarcasm must've rubbed him the wrong way because the foreman's eyes bulged, teeth grinding.
"So what's the problem? We're working."
"Working?! Look how much shit's left! Why isn't it done yet?!"
"How the hell are we supposed to finish this already? And 'so much left'? This is the last of it."
I watched as the foreman's face turned red, veins popping, while Se-chan stood his ground. Was this guy not afraid of getting his pay cut? He'd seen what happened to that old man Kim who got stiffed last month.
"Grr...! Whatever! Just know you've got more work after this!"
Done arguing, the foreman stormed off, leaving us behind. I watched him casually ride the construction elevator up.
"Haah... Why does he always target me?"
"When has he not been like this? We gotta get out of here."
I bent down to grab another sack of cement—but Se-chan stopped me, gripping my shoulder.
"Hold up. I've got something fun to show you."
"What?"
Grinning, he pulled something the size of his palm from his pocket. I squinted at the familiar shape.
"A straw doll? Why do you have this?"
"Heh heh heh! Don't freak out. This is a cursed doll—bought it from a legit spirit medium for a shitload of cash!"
"What are you gonna do with it?"
"Curse someone, duh. That fucking Chink foreman."
His eyes sparkled with excitement. I sighed. His weird hobby was kicking in again. This wasn't the first time.
"Last time, you brought some creepy vase and swore it was haunted."
"It was haunted! I was letting you in on something special!"
"Yeah, right. The 'ghost' was you getting scammed."
"Tch!" Se-chan clicked his tongue and grabbed a hammer from the nearby toolbox. "Just watch. This one's real."
He slammed the hammer down on the straw doll—BAM! BAM! BAM!
"See?! Told you!"
He held up the doll, grinning. After taking multiple full-force hits, it should've been obliterated. But it was completely unharmed.
"You barely hit it."
"Oh, come on. Fine, you try."
He handed me the hammer. I gripped it, eyeing the doll.
Its body was made of rotting straw, the golden sheen long gone, now blackened with mold like diseased skin. The only thing holding it together was a red thread, so vivid it looked freshly dipped in blood.
"Hmm..."
I frowned. Up close, this thing was nasty. How had Se-chan been carrying it around in his pocket?
"Just do it."
Ignoring my hesitation, he nudged me.
'What the hell am I even doing?'
I smirked and raised the hammer. If Se-chan couldn't break it with his strength, I sure as hell couldn't.
I swung down—THUD.
"Huh?"
I hadn't hit it that hard, but the doll was completely crushed.
"Wait, that's not right."
Se-chan crouched, poking at the mangled doll.
"It wasn't supposed to break this easy."
"Told you. Total scam."
I frowned at the wrecked doll.
I'd only hit it once, right in the center. Yet the entire thing was flattened. The red thread holding it together had snapped, now lying limp on the ground.
Strangely, the once-vibrant thread had faded.
"Did I really get scammed?"
Se-chan looked devastated. Muttering to himself, I gathered he'd spent a whole month's wages on this thing. I didn't feel guilty, though.
Se-chan wasn't the type to demand repayment, and honestly, getting scammed was on him. Not that the scammer wasn't an asshole, but still.
As I turned away from his pouting, something caught my eye.
Black liquid oozed from the straw.
Mold juice? I almost laughed. What kind of idiot pays big money for this garbage?
"Look at that nasty sludge. How'd you fall for this?"
"Huh? What sludge? There's nothing there."
"You don't see the black liquid seeping out of the moldy straw?"
"Mold? It's a little old, but it wasn't that bad."
Wait, what? He couldn't see it? I studied his face. He wasn't joking.
So... only I could see it?
Before I could process that, the ground trembled.
"What the—earthquake?!"
"In Korea?!"
The shaking stopped quickly.
But moments later, a deafening SNAP echoed as heavy chains whipped through the air like serpents—followed by a metallic SCREECH.
"Huh?"
I turned toward the construction elevator on the building's exterior.
In slow motion, the platform—meant to descend carefully—plummeted toward the ground.
BOOM—!
I rushed to the edge, looking down. The elevator was crumpled, and the foreman was limping out, clutching his leg.
Not a fatal fall, thankfully.
But then I saw it—a massive shadow stretching over him from above.
"You fucking bastards! Call an ambu—
CRASH—!!
THUD!
Rebar and steel beams rained from the rooftop, crushing him.
"..."
A coincidence?
The blood pooling from the wreckage looked exactly like the black sludge from the doll.