Drug-Friends #071
Humans always yearned for paradise. That was why they sought out personal fantasies to escape the grind of daily life. Watching TV shows, playing video games, losing themselves in religious rituals, or simply consuming whatever caught their eye. Fulfilling the self’s desires through all these different outlets was practically hardwired into human nature.
But even if it was nature, not everyone looked on it kindly. Some viewed human nature with cold mechanical detachment, seeing it as the root of inefficiency in society’s vast machinery. Others regarded it as the very force that generated the chaotic energy of that cursed invention called civilization. Whatever the case, it was never simply a waste of time. The human mind was finite, after all, and chasing desire was how finite beings stretched their limited resources as far as they could. Emotional highs, therefore, were a net positive. Once tasted, the memory lingered. Even after time passed, the craving returned. On that addictive foundation, humans healed. They escaped the curse of pain and pursued the world’s beauty.
The only problem was that it never lasted long enough. And so a blessing was granted to humanity: a compound born from nature itself, a key that flung the gates of paradise wide open. A truly marvelous substance that surpassed mere human will. It let people feel the future against their skin and see reality with intuitive clarity. It revealed that this world was not hell at all, but merely one corner of heaven.
Of course, nothing that opened could stay open forever. Humans were mortal, and mortals were meant to remain anchored to the present. Inevitably, they were dragged back down from that paradise they called heaven. Yet it was precisely because of that fall that humans craved paradise even more. They were the race that had built the Tower of Babel in their reach for the sky. Surrender was not in their vocabulary. To prove that will could triumph, they began manufacturing artificial compounds. Artificial bliss reopened the gates once more, and the lambs drifted slowly toward heaven.
Naturally, those who had always chased nature had arrived there long ago. Drugs had always worked that way. They showed humans illusions and plunged reality into ecstasy. From the age of pharaohs and emperors to the present day of S-rank Hunters and Grand Sword Masters. And the substance nicknamed “leaf”—Gwangjeungcho, the Madness Herb—was the chemical happiness that sat halfway between natural and artificial. In its raw form it did nothing, but with the slightest processing it produced effects indistinguishable from LSD. No, comparing it to something like LSD was almost insulting. This was a substance that belonged in the same conversation as low-grade filth like desomorphine. More vicious. More lethal. It did not merely guide humans into an empire of sensation. To list its harms would take all day.
Severe hallucinations and tactile hallucinations, diarrhea, headaches, vomiting, lethargy, anxiety, depression, dizziness, terror, exhaustion, sleep disorders, delusional disorder, blackouts, memory distortion, cognitive impairment, chromatopsia, muscular abnormalities, reduced physical ability, reduced magical ability, and countless others. It was no coincidence that experts ranked it among the worst influences Shareltea had inflicted on Earth every single year. The fact that it was not particularly difficult to obtain only made the problem worse. A quick search online was enough to find it. With a little cryptocurrency, even an elementary-schooler could score some. Political entanglements and limited social oversight meant it was rarely caught and even more rarely punished.
The single saving grace was that most ordinary people at least understood how dangerous it was. Of course, knowing and deliberately ignoring that knowledge were two different things.
“Huu… huu… Why the hell do I keep doing this…”
“Hana, you feeling really bad?”
Lim Hana and her circle were textbook examples. Even though the future was painfully obvious, they kept consuming Gwangjeungcho. It was hard to imagine anyone more foolish. On top of that, Lim Hana was neither rich nor from a particularly good family. She was simply the eldest daughter of an ordinary middle-class household. That meant that no matter how talented she might be, she had no room to indulge in social distractions.
“Here. Have another leaf.”
“Yujae, hold on. Hana, I got some new high-grade leaf recently. Want to try this instead?”
“They must have added some weird chemicals during processing. The taste is off and the aftereffects keep getting worse.”
At least her friends held relatively high social status, but even they were not all that different. Not a single one came from a true conglomerate or chaebol family. They were merely children of hunter guild executives or heirs. Whether large or mid-tier, they were still just “hunter guilds.” Not diversified corporations that generated profit across industries, but armed organizations limited to the hunter sector—like private military companies. Of course, that very limitation had made them highly specialized, far beyond anything the hunter divisions of regular corporations could match.
“Haa… Wait, wait. I think I should head home early today.”
“Yeah? That’s probably smart. I’ll walk you back, Hana.”
“What? You guys are leaving already? Can I come too?”
“Aaaah—I thought we’d keep the momentum going! We all passed the exams, we luckily avoided the terror attack—”
“Yuncheon, that momentum you’re talking about? You killed it three weeks ago. Who was the one throwing a fit about almost getting caught in a terror attack again?”
“Khem.”
Unlike certain people living elsewhere, the Drug-Friends of Yakpari Park displayed a strangely cohesive friendship built on mutual respect. They moved as if fused into a single organism, pouring out of their hideout in perfect order. Dressed like typical delinquents out for a good time, they strolled down the street in neat formation. Passersby naturally gave them a wide berth. After all, the group was visibly chewing something while marching in a battle formation that looked suspiciously like they were about to wreck the pavement. The weapons hanging at their waists made them even more intimidating. The only thing that actually stopped them was a red traffic light.
“Tsk. We’re a little late.”
Waiting for a crosswalk was surprisingly difficult for addicts. Faced with a light that refused to change, they eventually pulled out their phones.
The usual headlines flooded the screen. None of them held any real interest. The group swiped over to social media, snapped a stylish photo, and uploaded it with a caption dripping in affection and bravado. By the time they finished, the light had turned green.
They headed in the direction of Lim Hana’s house.
“Huh?”
“What the…?”
“Wait, what is this?”
A massive obstacle blocked their path. Several households were moving at the same time. It was such an absurdly uncommon sight that it almost made them laugh. Not one or two houses—multiple houses moving simultaneously. It made no sense. Logically, there was no reason for it. On top of that, every single mover was dressed in identical black suits. It felt both ordinary and deeply suspicious.
“Some kind of cult?”
“Looks like it…”
“Wait, Hana, were your neighbors cultists?”
“Crazy elves… cults… what the hell…”
Their drug-addled minds, limited by chemical fog, could not process anything more complex. They quickly concluded that a cult was relocating en masse.
An Yuncheon, Lim Hana’s confident friend, stepped forward boldly. He glanced over the documents and boxes cluttering the street—investment reports, tax documents, analysis sheets, financial statements, economics textbooks, and several unidentified volumes. The kind of things ordinary hunters would not even recognize as valuable.
“Fuck this shit!”
He kicked the pile. His foot slipped, and the carefully stacked boxes collapsed with a crash. The noise was loud enough to draw attention. Sure enough, the men in suits turned their heads. A middle-aged man who appeared to be in charge hurried over. His expression hardened, then shifted into something else entirely.
“What are you staring at?”
“……!”
An Yuncheon had casually revealed the sword at his waist. The middle-aged man’s hazy eyes widened in shock. He took a hesitant step back. It was almost comical—clear defeat. In the end, he retreated into the open doorway of the house. A complete rout.
“Hey, the rest of you. Get lost right now.”
The oppressive aura and the sharp edge in his voice made the other employees quickly set down their loads and withdraw. An Yuncheon laughed loudly, reveling in his display of power, and kicked aside more boxes that were blocking the path. Belongings scattered miserably across the street. It was a horrific mess.
“Day laborers moving junk have the nerve to block the road. Spit. Let’s go, kids.”
But their footsteps did not continue. The middle-aged man they thought had fled had come back out of the house. This time he was holding a baseball bat.
“Huh? You wanna go?”
An Yuncheon interpreted the situation roughly that way. He stepped right up to the man and slowly looked him over. An utterly ordinary middle-aged office worker. On his chest hung a single name tag.
NARTICA STRATEGIC MANAGEMENT DIVISION
DIRECTOR SEO DO-HYEOK
He tilted his head. Nartica, Nartica, Nartica. He had heard it was the company the elf bastard Lim Hana hated had begged support from. He had heard it was connected to the woman who treated the elf bastard she hated like a personal errand boy. But a director? That was a fairly high position. What was someone like that doing here?
His mind seemed to stop working for a second. What on earth was going on? The question kept repeating. Then, past the Nartica director’s shoulder, the silhouette of a man with pointed ears appeared.
In the midst of all the confusion, the mysterious man slowly walked out of the house.
“……?”
A chilly atmosphere descended. Silence swallowed the street. The dizzying reality refused to make sense. The man frowned deeply.
He was the quarter-elf who should have been living in the other house. It was Kang Sian.