Chaos in the Prison
The warden's office at Micheon Prison.
Ten minutes before Jeong Huidan was twisted into oblivion by Daeryeok Geosan.
Two middle-aged men sat across from each other on a pair of leather sofas, sharing tea in hushed tones.
The man in the seat of honor was Choi Pansu, warden of Micheon Prison, clad in his crisp dress uniform. Seated diagonally across from him was Shin Sejin, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed above a modest dark suit. He was the husband of Eun Sunhui.
"Professor Shin, do you really have to dirty your own hands?"
At Pansu's heavy question, the teacup trembling in Sejin's fingers clattered against its saucer.
"If I drop word to the death row inmates that he's a rapist, they'll take care of it for you. You don't need to put yourself at risk like this."
"..."
"Come on, Sejin. Think about it, my friend." Choi Pansu set his cup down and leaned forward, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper.
"No." Sejin finally spoke. His lips parted with visible strain, his voice emerging raw and raspy, as though dragged across coarse sandpaper. "Word has already spread that he's the ruling party leader's nephew. Who in this place would dare lay a finger on him? No... this is something I have to do myself."
"Still..." Pansu bit his lower lip.
"Pansu. If anyone asks, just tell them you arranged a private visitation as a favor to an old friend. That's more than enough for me."
"..."
Anxiety clouded Pansu's gaze. His closest friend's family had been ruthlessly butchered. He desperately wanted to help him exact his vengeance, and the monster responsible was currently locked behind bars right here in his facility. This prison was supposed to be Pansu's personal kingdom, his private chessboard. Yet the piece he needed to manipulate belonged to an entirely different league of powerful men.
Caught between duty and friendship, he had found himself paralyzed. And now, the victim himself—Shin Sejin—was stepping forward to shoulder the burden alone. Pansu felt ashamed to even call himself a friend. But reality was an unforgiving beast; unleashing death row inmates on a politician's kin would spark a political firestorm that would consume his career whole.
"Hey, Pansu."
"Y-Yeah?"
"Don't make that face. Who knows when we'll ever see each other again? I'd hate for my last memory of an old pal to be so gloomy."
"..."
Choi Pansu lowered his head. Arranging a clandestine face-to-face meeting between Shin Sejin and Jeong Huidan was the absolute extent of the favor he could grant. Even this small discretion risked drawing the ire of the political elites in Yeouido, though for now, public sympathy was firmly on Sejin's side, providing a shield behind which Pansu could hide.
Their conversation drifted off, swallowed by an oppressive silence. The rhythmic ticking of the wall clock was the only sound echoing through the warden's office.
Thump, thump!
A frantic pounding rattled the office door.
"What is it now?" Pansu's brow furrowed sharply in irritation. "I specifically gave orders that I wasn't to be disturbed."
"S-Sir... My apologies, but this is an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention!"
A uniformed prison guard burst into the room, panting heavily as he dragged a damp sleeve across the sweat dripping down his neck.
"What's got you making such a damn fuss?"
"I-It's..." The guard hesitated, his tongue seemingly tied by shock.
"Spit it out, quickly! We're busy here."
"It's Inmate 3427, sir. The one sent to the shower room."
"3427? Who was... Wait. What?!"
Color drained rapidly from Pansu's face. The shift wasn't one of realization, but sheer disbelief—giving way instantly to raw, unadulterated panic.
"What happened?" Shin Sejin asked, studying Pansu's expression as he read the sudden shift in the room.
"Pansu?"
"Haaah..." Pansu slumped, burying his face in his hands. Only when Sejin gripped his knee and gave it an urgent shake did the warden lift his head.
"Sejin, this... this might be..." Pansu broke off, waving a hand toward the guard at the door. "I'll be out in a second. Wait outside in the hallway."
"Understood, Warden!"
The guard slipped out, pulling the door shut. Pansu turned to Sejin, his voice barely a breath.
"Jeong Huidan... that bastard is dead."
"What?!"
Sejin's eyes went wide. He was supposed to be the one to tear that monster apart, to watch him writhe in agony with his own two eyes. And now, even that chance at retribution had been stolen from him.
"Seeing how the guard looked terrified to say where it happened, it has to be the showers," Pansu muttered.
"Did someone else get to him?"
"Impossible. Absolutely not. At this hour, no inmate can move an inch without direct orders and an escort from the guards."
The two men traded glances—one filled with a flicker of bizarre relief, the other swirling with turbulent confusion.
"Can I... can I come with you?" Sejin whispered. "I just need to see how he died, Pansu. Please."
"...Alright. Let's go."
Choi Pansu pushed himself to his feet, and Shin Sejin followed close behind.
Trailing the frantic guard through the labyrinthine corridors of Micheon Prison, the two men finally arrived at the communal showers—and both froze completely in their tracks.
It was a sight that defied every law of reality.
Suspended in midair, without wires, hooks, or any discernible support, hung a human figure. No—to call it human would be generous. It looked like an grotesque modern sculpture.
His arms and legs had been wrenched and twisted in the exact same direction, forming an impossible series of warped curves. The body resembled a dried peel wetted and spiraled tightly around an invisible axis, curled like an excessively wrung-out banana. The floor below was awash with pools of blood mingled with foul fluids that had burst forth from ruptured internal organs.
"What in God's name... is this..." Choi Pansu muttered, his jaw slacked in stunned horror.
Behind him, Shin Sejin took a slow, deliberate step forward.
"Hey, Sejin."
At Pansu's shaky call, Sejin halted.
"Hey, Pansu."
"Yeah?"
"Do you believe in God?"
"What kind of nonsense are you talking right now?!"
"Because right now," Sejin whispered, "I think I'm looking at divine intervention."
"Divine intervention?!"
"Yes. A god."
Sejin slowly turned around. Within his pupils burned a terrifying light of absolute reverence. A mixture of awe and dreadful ecstasy—was this not the return of an ancient power?
"Pansu... this looks like the handiwork of Daeryeok Geosan."
"Daeryeok... what?!"
The corners of Shin Sejin's mouth curved into a faint, uncanny smile.
"A primordial deity from our country's ancient myths. This is his handiwork."
"..."
Choi Pansu fell completely silent. In the eyes of his old friend, a frightening gleam of fanaticism had taken root.
Upon returning home from the prison, Shin Sejin went straight to the bathroom to wash himself clean. Stepping out into the quiet living room, he stopped before the framed photograph of his wife, Eun Sunhui, and their daughter resting on a shelf.
"Honey... I couldn't do it myself. But a god stepped in and passed divine judgment for us."
His voice cracked with emotion, choked with tears held back for too long.
"It's all over now. I'll be joining you both soon enough... Just let me spend one final night holding your memories close before I sleep."
A sorrowful smile touched Sejin's lips as tears finally broke free, streaming down his cheeks in an unbroken torrent, dripping steadily onto the floorboards.
And that night, as he drifted into sleep, his wife—who had never once appeared since her brutal murder—stepped into his dream.
"H-Honey...?"
Eun Sunhui said nothing. She simply smiled at him with profound gentleness. And beside her stood their daughter, Shin Jiyoung, beaming brightly alongside her mother.
"Jiyoung..."
Progress:2 / 108
Reward:Wish Ticket
She finally moved on...
Having listened to details I never really wanted to hear, all I wanted was to turn in for the night. But entities dwelling on the other shore despise waiting. Perhaps because of that impatience, their follow-through was always astonishingly swift.
I took a steadying breath and called out into the quiet room.
"Peddler."
Instantly, an eerie chill drifted through my studio apartment. It lacked the suffocating, crushing pressure that accompanied Daeryeok Geosan's presence, settling instead into an icy drop akin to cranking an air conditioner all the way to freezing.
Footsteps materialized out of empty air, accompanied by the occasional rhythmic clack of wooden sandals. The sound grew steadily louder and clearer until the figure crossed into view.
"Aigoo! Goodman Lee, have you been faring well all this time?"
The figure appearing behind a traditional grinning Hahoe mask was bizarre in every sense of the word. Beneath the wooden edge of the mask, leathery, dark-brown skin wrinkled like a pickled plum. Strapped to his back was an A-frame pack crafted entirely from polished metal, outfitted with high-tech communication antennas that seemed lifted straight from a sci-fi future, topped with a suspicious storage pod. He wore a traditional conical paeraengi hat, impeccably pressed trousers, and an overcoat vest—yet on his feet sat an unmistakable pair of high-end sneakers featuring a silhouette frozen in a midair dunk.
"How's it look, eh? Drip's killer, ain't it? Bout near tore my gut out paying resale for these bad boys."
"..."
"Haha, alright, alright. Seeing that sour mug on you, Goodman Lee, tells me you're doing just fine as ever. Ain't that right?"
"I'm fine. We're both busy, so let's skip the small talk and get straight to business."
"Ayy, you're cold. It ain't like this is our first or second time meeting, is it?"
"I need a Grudge Crystal. Got any?"
"Grudge Crystals? Shoot, I got plenty of them to spare."
"Good. Then you ought to have a Pure Grudge Crystal too."
"Huh? A Pure Grudge Crystal? Well... sure, I got that too... Wait. What?! What in blazes do you need that for? You fixing to summon an arm or a leg of an Asura straight into this mortal realm or something?"
I shook my head flatly.
"No. I outsourced some dirty work, and I need to settle the final bill."
"Holy smokes, what kind of job demands payment with a Pure Grudge Crystal? Why didn't you just hire me instead next time?"
"Can you kill someone?"
"Say what?"
"You have to murder someone."
"Aish." The Peddler clicked his tongue and shrank back a step, muttering under his breath. "Did you at least toss coarse salt over your shoulder after finishing the deed?"
"Not yet."
"Tsk, you foolish fellow! Even so, you see blood and don't bother tossing salt? What in the world are you thinking?!"
"The guy who died won't even be able to come here as a ghost. He got dragged straight down to the depths of hell."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah. So do you have one or not?"
"A Pure Grudge Crystal... Well, I reckon I've got one tucked away. Can't let some lunatic rob me and end up summoning an Asura or something worse, after all."
"Then hand it over. How much?"
"For this?"
The eyes behind the grinning wooden mask narrowed into slits. I could practically hear the mental abacus clattering behind his forehead as he calculated the profit.
"Forty thousand. That should do it, right?"
"What?! F-Forty thousand?! That much?!"
"Why? Wasn't that the whole reason you were stalling? Like I said, I'm exhausted and want to wrap this up quickly."
"W-Well... no, I mean..." The Peddler's mouth fluttered under the mask.
"Hand over the goods and be on your way. Unless you feel like hanging around until Daeryeok Geosan drops by to say hello."
"Hiiieeeek!"
The Peddler threw both arms up in sheer, comical horror. Rushing to set down his metallic pack, he scrambled through his compartments and rummaged out the item.
"H-Here, take it!"
Resting in his weathered palm was a small skull carved from flawless crystal.
"The clarity looks pretty solid."
"Well, of course! You won't find shoddy merchandise in my inventory, no sir!"
I reached out and plucked the crystalline skull from his hand. In an instant, a heavy draft of spiritual energy drained out through my palm.
"A fine haul of grudges. Much obliged for your patronage!" With a chuckling clatter of his tongue, the Peddler melted into thin air, leaving no trace behind.
The freezing air dissipated, and the room's temperature returned to normal.
"Phew..."
I stared blankly up at the ceiling.
I just want to go home as soon as possible.
And if possible, figure out who summoned me into this godforsaken place in the first place.
Overnight, the media hub of Sangam-dong was thrown into utter chaos.
Starting early that morning, all three major public broadcasting networks preempted regular programming to cover the unfolding situation at Micheon Prison with emergency breaking news bulletins.
Word spread like wildfire through the halls of Yeouido.
And taking the news harder than anyone was one particular man: Jeong Wang-i, Representative and Party Leader of the ruling Jaju Party, and uncle to Jeong Huidan.
SLAM!
Jeong Wang-i's face flushed crimson as he slammed both fists onto his desk, trembling in sheer rage.
"What the fuck! How the hell were those bastards watching him for him to end up a corpse?!"
"From what we've gathered, sir, it appears he bribed the guards with cryptocurrency to smuggle a woman into the facility."
"And?! Are you saying that call girl butchered him?!"
"Well... they're saying it's difficult to pinpoint a suspect."
"If it wasn't that bitch, it had to be one of the guards!"
"Please, sir... take a look at this first." His chief secretary stepped forward cautiously, reading his boss's murderous mood, and held out a tablet.
Displayed on the screen was a grotesque, nightmarish image.
"What the fuck—get that out of my face!"
Clatter!
With a violent swipe of his hand, Jeong Wang-i knocked the tablet spinning onto the rug.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?! Secretary Kim! What the hell are you showing me this early in the morning?! Trying to curse my entire day?!"
"S-Sir... that's the state Jeong Huidan's body was found in."
"...What?!"
Startled, Jeong Wang-i bent down and snatched the tablet back up. Though his face scrunched in instinctive revulsion, his eyes remained glued to the photograph.
"T-This... you're telling me this thing is Huidan?"
"Yes, Representative. What's more... witnesses report the body was suspended in midair."
"Whaaaat?!"
Jeong Wang-i glared sharply at his secretary. Beneath his furious bluster, an unsettling, guilty terror flickered across his eyes, as though some dark, hidden secret had suddenly caught up to him.
"Shall we arrange transport down to Micheon, sir?"
"Haaah... First, get the Chairman of the Legislation and Judiciary Committee in here right now. Tell the rest of the staff we head down there this afternoon."
"Understood, sir!"
Once the secretary hurried out and the heavy office door clicked shut, Jeong Wang-i collapsed back into his leather chair, staring blankly into empty space as cold dread coiled in his gut.
I'm losing my mind... That little bastard had my crypto wallet on him.