The Four Monks
The Sajung — four mages who had once been monks. The name itself was the group's calling card, and they were not the least bit ashamed of their origins. They didn't hide it, either. That was exactly why the survivors had taken to calling them the 'Psycho Monks' — men who wandered the wastelands dressed as monks, killing without hesitation or remorse.
They weren't outlaws or gangsters, though. They were legitimate freelancers based out of a Shelter — Named mages, no less — and by all accounts they honored their contracts to the letter. In short, they were exceedingly capable Named mages. The infamy that trailed behind them came from their cruelty.
They never left a target alive. When a contract said "dead or alive," their first instinct was to kill. And with monk robes on their backs and monk mannerisms in their behavior, the rumors had spread far and wide — how could they not?
"Sayeoong. Master Hye-bong. We've arrived, sa-yoong."
The youngest of the four, Jeongseon, spoke with utmost deference. The eldest, Hye-bong, lay sprawled across the back of the second brother, Jeongsun, snoring in his sleep — blindfold on, earplugs in.
Officially, the four presented themselves as equals. In practice, it was Hye-bong who decided everything and did as he pleased.
"Sayeoong. It's time to wake up. Sayeoong."
Tap.
Hye-bong raised a hand, and Jeongseon's voice cut off mid-syllable.
Thud. Thud.
Jeongsun lowered Hye-bong gently to the ground.
"Jeongseon-ssi?"
Hye-bong peeled off his blindfold and addressed the youngest.
"Yes. Sa-yoong."
"Did we not teach you to say 'master' when we are outside?"
"……!"
"Am I wrong?"
"F-forgive me, Ma... Master."
"There you go again... Jeongseon-ssi. The Buddha left us these words: 'Anger is a flame that burns the one who holds it.' Jeongseon-ssi?"
"Yes. Mas-ter."
"Why do you kindle a flame in this humble one's heart?"
"……."
THWACK!
No warning at all. Hye-bong drove his fist straight into the center of the boy's face.
"When we are OUTSIDE, you must mind your image! You! Must! Your! Old! Brother! Has! Spent! So! Much! So much—!"
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
It was a merciless beating, but the other two monks did not so much as twitch, and Jeongseon did not resist. He barely let out a whimper.
Hooohhh......
Hye-bong exhaled a long, slow breath and mastered himself.
"We are the last of the ascetics, Jeongseon-ssi. Do you see how many heretics and charlatans infest this world? To save the suffering masses, we must first stand upright ourselves. Jeongseon-ssi."
"Yes. Master."
"Act like a monk. Like a monk."
"Yes. I will bear it in mind, Mas-ter."
"Jeongjin-ssi?"
Hye-bong called for the third brother.
"Yes, Master!"
"You seem to be in a rather relaxed state of mind, Jeongjin-ssi?"
"Thank you, Master."
"Did that sound like praise to you?"
"……?"
"It means: if you came here to work, then work. What exactly are you doing right now? What — are you trying to kindle a flame in my heart as well, Jeongjin-ssi?"
"F-forgive me, Master!"
They were monks who moved fast once the stick came down. Watching them scatter, Hye-bong bellowed across the camp.
"There are still so many souls left to save — how can you dawdle like this? Was last time's courtesy call to the World-Honored One not humbling enough for you all?"
The Sajung began moving as if someone had strapped thrusters to their backs. The 'courtesy call to the World-Honored One' Hye-bong spoke of meant being beaten to within an inch of death — and then rising again.
Geosan headed to his office in high spirits, loot distribution freshly pocketed. This quarter's performance had been good — or so he believed.
Running a business that dispatched pathfinders barely dripped pocket change. Unless the job was a truly big one, touching actual Gold was never easy. But this time, he'd been cut in on a hefty share simply for showing up to a fight. He hadn't even played a major role in the battle — the mains had done all the real fighting, and side crews like his had done nothing but fill out the headcount. That role mattered, if you wanted to call it important, but the plain truth was he'd earned far more than the blood he'd spilled was worth.
Sign's looking pretty old, though... Maybe this is the time to swap it out?
Wearing a contented smile, Geosan stepped inside.
"Boss, you're here!"
"Yeah, General. It about time to file the market order?"
"Huh?"
"What?"
"You already wrote that out and gave it to me, boss."
"I did?"
"Yep. You were cursing up a storm but laughing while you wrote it, and you told me to submit it the second the window opened. So I filed it yesterday."
Only then did the memory surface in Geosan's mind — the day he'd heard the news that Gong Won-goo was dead, sworn profusely, and scribbled out a market order form. And every single item on it had been mint-chocolate related.
"You filed that one?"
"Yes."
"Hey! Jang Seong-pil! Why would you file THAT!"
"You told me to......"
"Ah! I'm gonna lose my mind!"
Geosan sprinted for the market at an absolutely insane pace. Why? If his own order got picked up this time... he might genuinely die.
"Goddammit! You pig bastard... you TOLD me to file it, you son of a—! Ha... staying alive is filthy work. Honestly......"
Oh Gu-sik was eating a rice ball. In utterly filthy condition.
For survivors living outside, water was everything. Clean water was hard to come by, and so those who lived inside the Shelter and those who lived out in the Field could never help but look different. Oh Gu-sik's current state was a far cry from his days as an executive of Black Shelter.
"You think that's gonna reach your liver?"
At the irritating voice, Oh Gu-sik's brow furrowed.
"You......"
"Heard you've been working hard."
"What do you want, Ttang-gu?"
"Ooh. Been a while — let's get some ramyeon going."
"Not eating? It's your favorite — Jjapaguri."
A huge pot sat brimming with Jjapaguri ramyeon, fresh off the boil, steam curling off it in lazy ribbons.
"You son of a... I just LIKE ramyeon. Jjapaguri's YOUR thing......"
"Judging by all the cursing, sounds like you've done some real soul-searching."
"Why would I reflect on anything? Losing a fight calls for a debrief, not soul-searching. Ttang-gu."
"You can only debrief a fight that was close to begin with. That one? You just plain got beaten. Why? A private Shelter crew getting too big for its boots. You strutted out there without a shred of real preparation, that's why."
"Did you come here just to piss me off?"
Oh Gu-sik's eyes went cold. Won-goo ignored the look entirely and twirled up an enormous chopstick-full of noodles.
The smell of Jjapaguri bloomed beautifully through the air.
Sluuuurp!
Won-goo went straight into full noodle-slurping mode.
Oh Gu-sik watched it all with superhuman patience.
"Not eating?"
"Rat poison's not something you accept lightly."
"It's a pot of ramyeon, not rat poison."
"Just state your business......"
Oh Gu-sik's words stopped dead.
"...Kimchi?"
Because what Won-goo had just pulled out was convenience-store kimchi.
"Where did you even......"
"It hit the Bed market, apparently. Grabbed a few packs. So — still not eating?"
"……."
Kimchi with ramyeon was beyond resistance. Oh Gu-sik picked up his chopsticks.
"Those Bed Shelter bastards must be out of their minds. Coming up with the idea to order kimchi."
"I figure the thinking is: eat it fast enough and it's fine."
Food came from exactly two places — hunting it yourself, or buying it through the Shelter. So most market orders skewed heavily toward long-shelf-life goods. Instant meals and canned stuff, mostly. Ordering anything like kimchi simply wasn't done.
Once he started eating, Oh Gu-sik didn't utter a single word and gave the ramyeon his full attention.
"Director Gong!"
Geum Chul-soo's voice. Oh Gu-sik didn't react in the slightest — just kept inhaling noodles.
Won-goo answered with a look, turning toward Geum Chul-soo instead. Geum Chul-soo signed something at him with his hands.
"Hey. Rain's about to fall. Eat fast."
"I eat just fine in the rain."
"Not 'a bit of rain' — the word is it's going to come down HARD."
They relocated out of the rain's path — to a large tent near Buri Island. The people managing Buri Island lived out of tents and tarps.
They had the manpower to throw up proper semi-permanent structures, but they couldn't. A fixed installation couldn't cope with the Field's mutating weather. Tents and tarps, on the other hand, could be struck in minutes — which made them endlessly adaptable.
Oh Gu-sik and Won-goo, alone together. And so the survivors who should have been sheltering inside were getting soaked out in the rain.
Everyone grumbled about it, no doubt. But there was nothing to be done. With Won-goo inside that tent, nobody in the world had grounds to complain. At least, no one from the shelters around here did.
"So what's the business? Why would the man who's been working so hard come looking for me? Is this about Ganjeol Point?"
"So you do have working ears."
"Where there are people, rumors travel. Word is you're not on good terms with Ganjeol Point?"
Rumors traveled, but their quality and volume varied. Wrong versions made the rounds too. For Oh Gu-sik, working out near Buri Island, this much information was his ceiling.
"If you've heard the rumors, then this is simple. I've come with a proposal."
"I don't take half-assed proposals."
"The Shelter blacklist. I'm here to offer getting it lifted."
"……!"
Oh Gu-sik's eyes wavered.
Won-goo drew a document from inside his coat — one bearing the signatures of the Shelter bosses.
"All you have to do is go collect the Shelter Director's signature. Do that, and you're free to enter the Shelter again."
"So the fight with Ganjeol Point has grown bigger than I thought, huh? Seeing Ttang-gu come this prepared......"
"That 'Ttang-gu' thing... my mouth picked up the habit somewhere and now it just keeps saying it. Ttang-gu this, Ttang-gu that."
"Ttang-gu is a Ttang-gu."
"Anyway. You taking the proposal or not?"
"The contract."
Oh Gu-sik took the papers and combed through them meticulously.
"Nothing here except your dwelling changing from a ditch roadside to a Shelter?"
"Even that's a big deal, isn't it? What — were you planning to crawl back in with the Black Shelter crowd the moment the stars aligned?"
"……."
"Wake up. The instant you team back up with those Black Shelter bastards, you're done — no more chances. This offer is conditional on you living a new life. That's the deal."
"Isn't that what you were hoping for?"
"……?"
"Using me as bait. You put me out here in the open because you wanted to see whether Black Shelter would reach out. That's what I figured."
Having dealt with him again, one thing was clear: Oh Gu-sik belonged firmly in the clever category. There was a decent chance that cleverness accounted for a sizable share of the power he brought to a fight. A sharper head always fought better — that was simply how combat worked.
"Yeah. Bait was the original plan. But I've changed my mind. Now I'm shoving this at you instead."
"Feels like you're backing me into a corner......"
"And that's a reason to refuse?"
Oh Gu-sik read the contract through a second time. Then he looked up and stared straight at Won-goo.
Outside, the rain was growing fiercer.
"Let my people live inside too."
"Based on how you've been behaving?"
"Do that for me, and I'll work properly."
"Your people......"
"No new problems about to pop up, right?"
Killing intent rolled off Oh Gu-sik in waves. Won-goo batted it away like an annoyance.
"Ugh... fine, you got me there. Listen. How the hell did you brainwash your people? They absolutely will not listen to a word anyone says. Chi-soo already snapped out of it, and the kid hasn't budged an inch. Did you put some kind of hex on them?"
Oh Gu-sik snorted a laugh.
"Ttang-gu. The world isn't made up only of dominant types. There are plenty of people out there who just want someone to lean on."
"You don't want them leaning on you. You want them under you — that's the difference."
"Just give me one small trailer. I'll live in it with my family."
"If you swear you won't pull a single one of your tricks, I'll put in the effort. No pulling your old move — growing your slave collection, and other such dog business."
"All I need right now is my people."
"Well... making a choice you'll regret is your call. But listen, Gu-sik. There's no next time. The only reason you're still breathing right now is that some Black Shelter remnants survived, and you happen to have a very talented kid named Yeong Chi-soo at your side. Next time, I'll deal with all of it — remnants and talents alike. Am I understood?"
For the entire conversation, Won-goo had worn a slippery, mocking grin. Now, for the first time, his face turned grave — and his gaze with it, sharp and burning.
"A contract will be honored. Always."
"Good. That's the answer I came to hear."