Devil's Seed (1)
Saturday. On my way home from work, I picked up some yangnyeom chicken just as the instructions on my smartphone demanded.
No fried. They said fried chicken is a hard pass. When I asked if it was just a matter of taste, the reply came back that fried chicken came from America, but yangnyeom was our own unique creation, so it was fine. This world really was bizarre. A place where fried chicken cost more than yangnyeom—whoever heard of such a thing? Everything felt profoundly twisted, traces of distortion everywhere, and yet I had to live in it.
Librarian by weekday. But on weekends, an executive of Imae Mangnyang known as Dokkaebi.
Ding-dong.
I stood at the door and pressed the doorbell. I placed my Taeguk Watch against the electronic panel on the front door, sending my personal info to whoever was inside, then waited for it to open.
"......."
The door didn't budge. The chicken in the bag felt like it was cooling fast, but the person inside who should have opened it wasn't moving.
Just barge in? This wasn't my house. Since it wasn't mine, all I could do was wait quietly outside—until the woman inside decided to let me in.
"With bones."
"Draft."
Footsteps echoed from inside. Sounded like dragging slippers, and soon the door swung open.
"Hey, honey?"
The woman who opened it was a redheaded foreigner.
"Brought what you asked for. Come on in."
"Pardon the intrusion."
I shut the front door behind me and stepped inside right away.
"First time actually meeting face-to-face like this?"
"Yeah. Felt it from afar, but you're pretty decent-looking. Dokk—"
"Do Jihwan."
"...Right, right. You're so careful. Got it. Do Jihwan-ssi."
The woman who'd nearly called me Dokkaebi took the yangnyeom chicken from me—
Clunk.
—and shoved it straight into the fridge. Not even cooling it first, just tossing it in warm. The indescribable horror hit me like a gut punch.
"Yangnyeom chicken's best for breakfast. National rule."
"...Putting it away untouched feels kinda wrong."
"We're not eating together right now anyway. Right?"
"Fair point, but still."
I'd brought the chicken, but not to share. It was just camouflage—like visiting a friend's place—to dodge prying eyes.
"Dinner? Want some hot pork soup?"
"Yangnyeom chicken?"
"Don't mess around."
"Kidding. Not hungry."
I pulled a protein bar from my pocket.
"Don't like eating heavy before a mission. Let's get to it. [Jumo]."
She looked like any redheaded foreigner, but her codename in Imae Mangnyang—her title—was Jumo. A woman who'd infiltrated Sejong Island ages ago for the organization, serving as my local agent linking me to headquarters.
"Love a guy who takes care of himself. Alright, mission brief."
Jumo clapped her hands lightly, and the talismans plastered on the walls began to shimmer.
"...Barrier up. Lasts 20 minutes, so let's make it quick."
She handed over a stack of papers. I took them and sank onto the sofa. All handwritten, start to finish. Pure analog—no digital traces, no networks to snag on.
"Devil's Seed, huh."
"Yeah. You saw it during the Red Scarf thing, right?"
"Not the real thing. President's dogs took him out first."
"Huh. Looks like this, roughly. Check below."
Under the paper, a still-life sketch like some Western painting showed the Devil's Seed. Drawn straight from a photo, letting me see its shape for the first time.
"Looks like a starfish."
"Long-legged kind. Real size? About a 500-won coin. Tentacle legs vary."
"500-won size? Hard to spot wherever it latches inside you."
"Better than a 10-won coin."
Bigger meant wider strike zone—easier to hit. Nail the Devil's Seed, and the rampage stops cold.
"So my job's finding and wrecking the facility making these?"
"You catch on quick. Heard a hint?"
"Nah. Just a guess."
The problem? The research and production site for these Devil's Seeds was right here on Sejong Island.
"Lamp's always darkest underneath."
"Exactly. Underground or wherever—there's a lab. That's where they cook up Devil's Seeds, turning ability users into demons with this mystery shit."
"...One thing bugs me."
The root question.
"Made on Sejong Island, but why Devil's Seed?"
"Wondering why not Yokai Seed? Simple. Call it Yokai Seed, and we'd have to demonize our traditional yokai as evil spirits."
"...Western devils are fair game, though?"
"Not just West."
Jumo shrugged, gesturing all around.
"The bigwigs don't care if Eastern stuff outside Korea gets demonized. Right?"
"Don't care where the name comes from, but hope it doesn't spark international bullshit later."
"Pfft. With all the foreign crap already in Korea, think we can piss off everyone?"
Night crept in. Jumo nodded toward the balcony.
"Sejong Island's got those crosses too."
"...Unlike the mainland, aren't they fully 'hell-ified'?"
"Dokkaebi's the one mouthing off about international issues? Heh. Time's up. Read the ops summary?"
"Every word."
I'd memorized her handwritten pages while we talked.
"Move out when the barrier drops."
"Got it. Wait—one sec!"
Jumo yelled before releasing it.
"Do that thing. You know."
"What thing?"
"That thing from in front of the restaurant!"
"...Transform?"
"Yeah!"
Her eyes sparkled like a kid's.
"Do you even yell 'transform' for regular ones?"
"It's more like mana release than transform. Don't say it normally."
"Only for that Doji Rider form?"
"That's what you wanna see?"
"Can't resist the real deal."
She flashed a thumbs-up.
"Do it. Pleeease?"
"...Fine. Consider it a good-faith gesture for future Imae Mangnyang work."
"Yay!"
Jumo grabbed a beer can and sidestepped. I released mana from my fingertips, forging Dokkaebi's mask.
"You know this is all meaningless show, right?"
"Oof. Feels like a cold splash of reality."
"Transforming's just transforming. Yelling it? Self-hypnosis—to lock in the change every time."
"Kinda...sad."
Jumo fiddled with her can, looking bitter. I spread my legs slightly—no choice.
"Not every time. Only 'cause you asked. Got it?"
"O. Oh...?"
"Here goes...."
Click.
"Ah, hold up. Got Chongsu's permission, so one story first. My 'secret'."
"...Dokkaebi's secret, greenlit by Chongsu?"
Jumo's eyes lit up.
"What level secret...?"
"Chongsu and top four execs only. She said it's fine to tell my local helper Jumo before transforming."
"Ooh...!"
Jumo dropped to her knees.
"......."
"...What's up?"
"N-no. Sniff. It's just."
Suddenly, tears streamed down her face—mixed with smiles, like crying and laughing at once. It creeped me out.
"Getting Dokkaebi intel means... sniff... Imae Mangnyang trusts me that much. Hic, all these years as a foreigner on Sejong Island... weren't wasted."
She wiped her eyes with her hand and beamed.
"Got it. I'll guard any secret with my life. Even if a knife's at my throat, nothing about Dokkaebi leaves my lips."
"Spill if you're dying."
"Huh?"
"Appreciate the loyalty, but losing my Sejong Island contact—who's evaded detection for years—is the last thing Imae Mangnyang needs. If life's on the line, just talk."
"You...."
Jumo grinned slyly, touched.
"No wonder Chongsu and the other execs dote on you. Do Ol bawled when you went independent—defied Chongsu over it?"
"Ancient history. Anyway, about transforming."
I shrugged off my coat.
"Everything I'm wearing vanishes when I do."
"...Huh?"
"Accessories, Taeguk Watch, clothes. All of it."
"...When you undo it?"
"Naked as the day."
I handed her my Taeguk Watch.
"Stash spares here. You know."
"...Treating me like your local girlfriend? To stay off radar?"
"Pretty much."
Saturday night.
"...I clock in Tuesday. Hunker down here two, three days—what'll people think?"
"Ha. Guess I'm never marrying."
"You chose Dokkaebi support."
"...Heh. Fine. Sole supporter to a mighty S-rank villain? Worth it. Not bad at all."
"Hmph."
I stripped fully. Kept my underwear on—last shred of dignity.
"Can take those off? No need to be shy... doesn't seem like it anyway."
"Wearing's eye candy. Removing's eye pollution."
"Bet it'd be candy...."
"Enough."
I donned the mask. The moment Dokkaebi's mask touched my face, massive mana surged from my body.
"Kinda underwhelming."
In the mirror: standard Dokkaebi, suited gentleman.
"Now do that one...?"
"Do it! Wanted to see live."
Whirr. I drew the belt.
READY—!
"Commence execution."
"Sounds cool, though...."
I pointed at the balcony door.
Mission.
Begin.