Assault at Manbo Trading (1)
The following day, I made my way to the university where Eun Sunhui's husband held a professorship.
"Excuse me, where is the College of Social Sciences at Daehan University?"
"Are you looking for the Social Sciences building?"
"Ah, yes."
I nodded. Three female students were looking back at me, each wearing a bright smile.
Did they win the lottery or something?
Thinking that youthful exuberance was its own kind of happiness, I caught the eye of the student giving directions. Seeing her cheeks flush a faint pink stirred old memories within me.
I used to have times like that too. Back when my heart fluttered just looking someone in the eye while talking.
The unbidden nostalgia made me want to quicken my pace.
"...Just turn the corner at the end of the hall, and you'll be right there."
"Thank you for the help."
Just as I gave a polite nod and turned away, someone caught my sleeve. It was the girl standing beside the one who had guided me.
"Um, are you on Starstagram?"
"Pardon?"
"If you give me your handle, I'd love to follow you."
Starstagram. Follow. Words that felt infinitely distant from the life I lived.
"I'm sorry. I..."
I raised my left hand, showing them the back of my ring finger. The students let out quiet sighs of disappointment.
"Take care, then."
Turning around once more to resume my walk, my legs felt as heavy as if I were wading through deep water. And from somewhere buried deep in my memories, a long-lost, beloved smile surfaced faintly before fading away.
The office of Professor Shin Sejin, Department of Mythological Folklore.
Is this the place...?
The moment my hand reached for the doorknob, an ominous disturbance rippled from within the office. It was the distinct wavelength emitted when a human being stood on the precipice of death.
The spiritual shockwave a human discharges right before dying carries an intensity equivalent to half a ton of TNT. Put simply, it was potent enough to reduce this four-story Social Sciences building to spiritual ruins.
Of course, it possessed no physical concussive force. The real danger lay in the secondary calamities it invited, acting as a beacon for wandering specters and wicked spirits eager to feast upon that dying agony.
I gripped the knob. It was unlocked.
Apparently, he held some lingering hope that his body would be discovered quickly after the deed was done.
Screeech—
The door swung open to reveal Professor Shin Sejin dangling from the ceiling, having just kicked the chair out from beneath his feet. Had he truly lacked the will to live, he would never have thrashed with such frantic desperation. A person resolved to die goes completely limp, clamping their carotid arteries shut and passing out almost instantly—anyone who experienced the choking game during military service knew the mechanics well.
Shin Sejin had kicked the chair away while keeping his fingers wedged stubbornly between his neck and the noose.
"Excuse me, Professor Shin."
"Gh—gack! Urgh! Ack!"
"I came to deliver a message from Eun Sunhui. Would you like to hear it while hanging there?"
Eun Sunhui had already ascended to the afterlife, leaving me with only the obligation of delivering her parting words. Since we had never specified the manner of delivery, this arrangement was technically sufficient.
"Urgh! Hrrk!"
"Or would you prefer to listen in comfort?"
"Ghk!"
Shin Sejin nodded violently amid his convulsive thrashing. For a fleeting moment, it was hard to tell whether he was intentionally nodding or merely spasming from asphyxiation.
"Changgwi."
【Yes, Big Brother.】
The undulating silhouette of Changgwi severed the cord anchored to the ceiling beam. In the same fluid motion, it neatly sliced through the noose coiled around the professor's throat.
"Cough! Hack, wheeze, hork!"
Shin Sejin collapsed facedown onto the linoleum floor, retching violently. It looked as though he might heave up his entire stomach, but I simply walked over and sat on the couch, waiting patiently for his coughing to subside.
"Have you calmed down?"
"......"
Shin Sejin peered up at me with eyes violently bloodshot and rimmed in red.
"I've stood at that exact edge myself, so I didn't particularly want to intrude."
"......"
Perhaps shaken by the revelation that I shared his dark experience, Shin Sejin rose awkwardly and stumbled over to collapse onto the couch opposite mine.
"Pineapple."
"......?"
Shin Sejin knitted his brow, tilting his head in bewilderment.
"She mentioned it was a safeword."
"......?!"
"She assured me you would believe whatever I had to say once you heard it."
"......"
Shin Sejin's Adam's apple bobbed heavily. His eyes stretched wide enough to expose the whites on all four sides as he stared at me in stunned disbelief.
"She asked me to tell you: 'Please don't spend the rest of your days carrying all this sorrow for my sake. You really are a wonderful man. I want you to live a long, full life in my place and our daughter's, experience so many beautiful things, and only then come meet us again. And even if you remarry—well, can't we still be dear friends in the afterlife?' That was what she wanted me to convey."
"......"
As my words settled, Shin Sejin's head drooped entirely into his lap.
"H-Huuu... sob..."
The weeping of a grown man—especially a broken, middle-aged father—could not have sounded more harrowing. Though he clamped his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound, the stifled sobs leaking through sounded like the agonizing groans of someone mortally injured.
"If you intend to honor Eun Sunhui's final wish, having a tug-of-war with your ceiling cord probably isn't the best approach."
Shin Sejin remained hunched over, his shoulders trembling under waves of tears. I addressed the back of his head in a level tone.
"Eun Sunhui has ascended to the afterlife in peace. She likely felt her vengeance had been properly satisfied."
At that, Shin Sejin lifted his head. His face was drenched in a glistening mess of tears and mucus, flushed crimson from leaning so low against his knees.
"Eun Sunhui's revenge. I was the one who carried it out."
"......!?"
I confessed to him plainly that I had slain Jeong Huidan. Though shock washed over his features, beneath it flickered a profound, obsessive curiosity.
Changgwi was right after all.
When Jeong Huidan perished and his demise was uncovered by the world, my familiar Changgwi had been lingering on the premises.
Have I secured a worthwhile ally?
Relying exclusively on sorcery and occult entities had distinct, glaring limitations in modern society. I needed capable human collaborators who could grease the wheels of the mundane world while I moved in the shadows.
My first step toward that goal was Professor Shin Sejin—a distinguished scholar holding a prestigious chair at Daehan University, with established connections across every echelon of high society. I hadn't gone out of my way to deliver a deceased spirit's final words out of sheer charity.
The National Assembly Annex in Yeouido.
Behind closed doors, Party Leader Jeong Wang-i presided over a covert assembly attended exclusively by ruling Jaju Party lawmakers belonging to the Legislation and Judiciary Committee.
"In any case, once our committee reports the bill out to the plenary floor, our majority caucus guarantees it will sail through without a hitch."
"Public opinion is trivial to manipulate, isn't it? As long as we report only the curated facts that suit our narrative, the ignorant masses swallow it whole as absolute truth."
"Besides, the rabble have the attention span of a boiling pot. With the stock market teetering right now, every eye is glued to their portfolios—nobody spares a single glance for legislative dockets."
"Ramming through bills favorable to our party during moments like this is the only sensible course of action."
"Spot on. And regarding the Prison Modernization Act the Party Leader proposed, who on earth is going to scrutinize the budget breakdown? Even if we funnel a trillion won into a remote county with barely forty thousand residents, the general public won't bat an eye."
The lawmakers adorned with gold parliamentary pins erupted into raucous laughter.
"Ah, and regarding the Summer Olympics after next—we've already finalized arrangements with the Ministry of Culture, Sports, and Tourism. My provincial district gets the official naming rights, while Seoul shoulders the actual venues and construction!"
"Magnificent work!"
"Haha! My eldest daughter is getting married soon and my coffers were running a bit thin, so this is an absolute godsend!"
"These days, watching retail ants on the finance forums obsess over whether a stock is a goldmine or a disaster never fails to entertain."
"Naturally, naturally! The fools of this country live their entire lives without the faintest clue of what truly transpires here in Yeouido."
"And if any of them ever dare stick their noses where they don't belong, make an example out of a few squealers and the rest will scurry back into line like whipped dogs!"
"Hahahahahahaha!"
The room dissolved into another burst of arrogant merriment.
SLAM—!
Jeong Wang-i struck the leather armrest of his chair with a heavy palm.
"Gentlemen, have you still failed to grasp why I summoned you all here today?"
"......"
Jeong Wang-i's sudden rebuke snuffed out the laughter instantly. With every gaze pinned on him, he spoke in a low, gravelly timbre.
"The dog guarding our private storehouse turned up dead last night."
"......?!"
"So, check this very instant whether the individuals guarding your personal slush funds still have their heads attached. And clear your afternoon schedules entirely. We are paying an unannounced visit to Micheon Prison."
Seated to Jeong Wang-i's right was a man who spoke up. It was Ju Gyoju, a four-term senior lawmaker and the Chairman of the Legislation and Judiciary Committee.
"Didn't we staff Micheon Prison from top to bottom with our own loyalists? Why make an official visit now?"
"Take a look at this yourselves."
Jeong Wang-i gave a curt nod toward the aides standing rigid against the office wall. An aide stepped forward, placing an activated tablet before each lawmaker.
Displayed on the screens was the corpse of Jeong Huidan—his body violently twisted along an impossible, sickening spiral, warped into the shape of a dried banana.
"Does that look like the handiwork of a human being to you?"
"......"
Breath caught in every throat. The only sounds remaining in the room were stifled retches and the dry swallowing of terrified men.
"Um, Representative Jeong."
"Hm?"
From the far end of the sofa, a young lawmaker raised his hand hesitantly.
"You're a first-term member, correct? Kim Won-gi, was it?"
"Yes, sir! First-term proportional representative!"
"Good. I appreciate military discipline in a junior colleague. What is it?"
"I once heard something intriguing from an opposition lawmaker serving on the Intelligence Committee."
"The opposition? Who?"
"Lawmaker Kim Seong-mu, sir."
"Ah."
Jeong Wang-i nodded slowly.
In the eyes of ordinary citizens, the ruling and opposition parties were divided into bitter adversaries, but their political roots traced back to the 1970s under one shared family tree. Moreover, Kim Seong-mu was a ten-term veteran statesman—to Jeong Wang-i, he was practically an elder brother.
"During a private conversation, Lawmaker Kim Seong-mu asked me whether I believed in occult forces. Perhaps because of my background as a fiction writer, he broached the subject out of nowhere, leaving me deeply perplexed at the time."
"The Intelligence Committee... The very body privy to the National Intelligence Service and the state's most classified anomalies."
Jeong Wang-i nodded thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth twitching upward before he let out an amused chuckle.
"Why didn't that cross my mind earlier?"
He turned toward his primary secretary.
"Secretary Kim. Reach out to Lawmaker Kim Seong-mu and arrange for him to accompany us to Micheon Prison. Inform him that he's welcome to bring along a few colleagues from the opposition. Tell him I'll brief him on the specifics once we rendezvous."
"Right away, sir."
A satisfied smirk spread across Jeong Wang-i's jowly face.
"Well then, gentlemen. Let us step out for some high-end sushi for lunch."
As Jeong Wang-i rose from the head seat, the surrounding lawmakers stood up in unison like obedient soldiers.
I can use this gruesome incident as leverage to pry open the top-secret projects the Intelligence Committee and the NIS have kept buried under lock and key. After all, we're dealing with an unnatural adversary.
Daehan University Museum.
Professor Shin Sejin had guided me here, insisting that he possessed an offering worthy of my assistance. I followed closely behind as he led the way into the deepest subterranean storage vault of the facility.
"Where exactly are you taking me?"
"Pardon? Ah, well, I was pondering what gift might be appropriate for a master who commands the mighty Daeryeok Geosan, and a specific artifact came to mind."
"Is it permissible to remove university property from the premises so casually?"
"Under normal circumstances, absolutely not. But surely there can be no issue with an item officially cataloged as a counterfeit?"
"A counterfeit? Surely there must still be strict bureaucratic procedures?"
"Ah, I happen to have retained several deaccessioned pieces that were verified as fakes but haven't yet been officially transferred out of our archives."
"Hmm..."
It sounded dubious. Even if procedural loopholes made it technically permissible, a lingering unease remained.
Passing through several heavy security bulkheads, a blast of chilled, climate-controlled air struck my face. We had reached the inner sanctum of the repository.
The supernatural currents drifting through the frigid atmosphere were formidable. None of them could be dismissed lightly.
This place is practically an armory of relics.
Yet, there was one decisive difference between these items and the artifacts purchased from the interdimensional merchant Bobusang: their durability.
The wares Bobusang peddled were suffused with unearthly enchantments that granted them immense structural integrity despite their weathered appearances. In contrast, the relics preserved here remained bound to mundane physical laws; subjected to supernatural strain, they would inevitably fracture before long.
"By any chance, Master, do you make use of shamanic bells?"
"A shamanic bell?"
"Yes. Over this way."
Professor Shin halted before a reinforced glass showcase.
"This ritual brass bell is said to have been wielded by King Namhae Chachaung of ancient Silla. Discovered buried deep within undisturbed red clay, it miraculously suffered zero corrosion over millennia. Yet because radiocarbon analysis produced erratic, inconclusive readings, it suffered the tragic fate of being branded a modern forgery."
"I see."
"Or rather, that isn't quite right," Shin Sejin murmured, shaking his head with a zealous glint in his gaze. "Shortsighted fools who failed to grasp its authentic spiritual resonance simply prevented it from seeing the light of day. But perhaps that was divine providence. Resting in the hands of an exalted figure like you, Master, it will finally fulfill its true calling."
His pupils reflected the dim, pale lighting of the underground vault, flashing with an unsettling aura of fanaticism.
"Very well. I will ensure it is put to proper use."
In contrast to our initial encounter where he dangled from a rope, his sudden, fervent reverence was almost disorienting. Whether this behavior stemmed from sheer gratitude for avenging his family or whether this fanaticism was his innate disposition remained difficult to discern.
I cast my gaze downward.
The ritual bell featured a cluster of miniature brass clappers mounted upon a crown, anchored to a roughly carved wooden handle. It was relatively compact—about fifteen centimeters, roughly the size of a modern smartphone.
"The handle is carved from durable birch wood, so it will not fracture easily under pressure."
"Good."
I gave a brief nod and reached down, curling my fingers firmly around the birch handle.
Snap—!
A crisp, pristine voice echoed within my consciousness, reverberating off the walls of my mind like sound refracting through an ancient limestone cavern.
【To think a mere tiger would dare impersonate a man.】
Along with that imperious, haughty tone, a vivid hallucination assaulted my vision.
The number 1417 flashed in my mind's eye, dissolving into the dim, gaudy interior of a high-end private drinking salon.
A young woman dressed in formal office attire shrieked in terror. Dozens of predatory hands clawed and groped at her body.
Her face was completely smeared with tears. Bold red lipstick was dragged messily across her cheek, and melted black mascara had run into dark, muddy streaks across her pale skin.
The guttural, lewd laughter of intoxicated men clashed jarringly against her desperate screams. And cutting through that nightmare was the continuous, rhythmic click-whirr of a camera shutter.
Just witnessing the psychic imprint turned my stomach with revulsion.
Thrusting a traumatic vision upon me the instant I touch it...
Fixing my gaze on Chachaung's Shamanic Bell, I rapidly organized my thoughts.
"Changgwi."
【Yes, Big Brother.】
"Absorb this and keep it nestled within your essence. It won't be fit for my use until its arrogance is properly reconditioned inside pure malice."
【Understood.】
Without a single word of complaint, Changgwi accepted the bell, parting its undulating shadow form down the center and swallowing the artifact whole into its void.
"H-Heavens?!"
Beside me, Professor Shin gasped and sputtered in sheer awe. I paid his astonishment little mind; to an uninitiated mortal, witnessing a shadow swallow an ancient relic would naturally appear miraculous.
More pressing than his reaction was the psychic flashback uncoiled by the bell. Among the vengeful specters currently tuning into my broadcast, the one whose grudge aligned perfectly with that gruesome memory was...
The user known as Manbo Trading Sexual Assault.
You're next in line. Manbo Trading Sexual Assault.