Chapter 38
Chapter 38
Black-Haired Investor Awakened as a Superhuman – Episode 038
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Sunday, April 5th.
Palm Sunday, the first day of the week leading up to Easter, had returned again this year.
Around this time last year, Mom and I were in Brooklyn.
That day, the streets of Brooklyn leading to Prospect Park were different from usual.
The silence that had been scattered in every alley was gently lifted by hymns sung in young voices, and a procession holding palm branches illuminated the streets.
The reason that day remains in my memory is because of Mom's smile as she looked at me in that procession.
Mom was also holding a palm branch that day. It was a genuinely bright smile for a fake believer.
Mom mentioned that day and said,
"Son, I'm thinking of going to church this year. How about St. Patrick's Cathedral?"
When we lived in Brooklyn, we went to a church called Holy Name of Jesus, but this time it's a cathedral.
This marks Mom's third conversion.
Once Catholic.
Once Protestant, and now Catholic again.
Every time we moved, Mom's faith naturally changed to match the neighborhood atmosphere. The neighbors didn't know, but Mom had never sincerely believed in any church or cathedral.
For Mom, religion was simply a convenient tool used to meet new people and build relationships in a new land.
And the atmosphere here was a cathedral.
"Won't it be far?"
"I'm going to walk for exercise. It's a waste to just look at such a prime location."
Mom said, looking out the window.
Her gaze rested on Central Park.
The heart of this city and a place that symbolizes the luxury we enjoy in this neighborhood.
To go to St. Patrick's Cathedral every weekend, we have to cross that landmark.
I examined Mom's expression once again.
She was smiling as if imagining St. Patrick's Cathedral, which was not visible in the distance, against the backdrop of Central Park.
"I don't need to be baptized again, do I?"
To my question, Mom playfully shushed me with that smiling face.
When Mom used to go to church, her baptismal name was Vivianna.
Back then, I was only physically grown, but still mentally immature. Perhaps that's why I wanted to have a baptismal name too.
Archangel Gabriel or Raphael.
Or names like Julian that evoke handsome men just by their sound.
I thought I would become a more important person if I had such a cool name, and I wanted to be called that. My self-esteem was that low.
But I couldn't get a baptismal name.
I couldn't go to church either.
That was also the same reason why I maintained my Korean name. It was because of Grandfather's request to Mom.
'You can change your nationality, but…'
Anyway, if I had broken Grandfather's request, my brain would not have Awakened as a superhuman.
Perhaps I would have faced and met a fate of being devoured by things that don't exist in the world of the living, whether by the Hangi Spirit or by wicked Evil Spirits.
A death that no one would recognize, with no honor or gain…
Damn it.
I avoided Mom's gaze and moved towards my room.
"Why? Should I not go to church?"
Mom's voice crashed into my back. I tried to make a bright voice, afraid that my true feelings would be revealed.
"I'm the only one who doesn't have one. A baptismal name."
The words I blurted out as if I were acting like a child for once worked.
I heard Mom's laughter bursting out.
Relieved by that sound, I said again.
"It's Corona. There won't be any services or events."
Corona stopped everything.
Not just religious events.
The Major League was also postponed. It had even taken away my only pleasure.
It was originally supposed to open on March 26th.
They're saying it's postponed to mid-May, but in my opinion, that's too early.
Based on all the data, it'll be late July at the earliest. Even then, it'll start with games without spectators.
'A baseball stadium without spectators.'
I finally escaped from the Goldman Sachs slave pit.
Now I have money and time.
Going to the baseball stadium and cheering has been postponed indefinitely again.
So when will Corona end?
The World Health Organization, global pharmaceutical companies, and major countries have started to shift the funds they had invested in treatments to vaccines.
So when will vaccine development be successfully completed and vaccination become widespread?
Crackle!
My mind flashed.
Hundreds, thousands of data points spark like neon lights.
Vaccine efficacy graphs, transmission rate figures, and emergency approval reports surge like waves, rising from the depths.
Vaccine development speed. Average development time. Pandemic situation. mRNA technology.
Words and images are linked in a chain. Then they race towards a single goal.
Whoosh—
At that moment, I felt an intense stimulation as if my eyes, which were already open, were opening again.
"Second half of '21."
That's when the vaccine will be commercialized.
But there's a variable.
Trump can't just wait until then.
What if he forces emergency use (EUA) for political purposes, even if the vaccine isn't perfect?
"20… end of this year?"
Of course, starting vaccinations doesn't immediately mean returning to normal. But it could definitely be the starting point.
Then I'll be able to watch Major League games from the stands next year.
Next time, with Mom.
Strike while the iron is hot.
I wanted to go out to eat with Mom right away, without postponing it to next year.
But even that was impossible because of the executive order issued by New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio, which forced all restaurants, cafes, and bars to close and only accept takeout and delivery orders.
Cote Korean Steakhouse.
The same goes for the high-end Korean restaurant that received a Michelin star.
I laid out each of the delivered dishes one by one and explained.
A set menu where you can enjoy various cuts of meat at once.
"This is the Butcher's Feast."
Yukhoe dish.
"This is Steak Tartare."
A fusion dish made with high-end Japanese beef.
"And this is Kimchi Wagyu Paella. Those are the names. Unique, right?"
At that time, Mom took a step back and looked at the luxurious feast spread out on the table.
It was essentially New York food disguised as Korean food.
These were unfamiliar dishes to me, so it was only natural that they would seem strange to Mom.
"This is Kimchi Fried Rice? Do they think anything with kimchi is Korean food?"
Mom slightly frowned and watched the sparkling beef and parsley placed on top of the fried rice.
I knew.
The reason Mom was staring at the dish with such discomfort wasn't the dish itself, but the money.
And that was Mom's misunderstanding.
It's not like I want to spend thousands of dollars on one meal.
"It cost $150 in total."
"It's Michelin-starred."
"I know, right? The price was decent. So I ordered it. We haven't really eaten out properly since I became independent. And then Corona had to break out."
Mom laughed.
"You're the last person who should be thanking Corona."
Then, realizing that she shouldn't have said that, she made excuses for herself.
"No, that's not what I meant."
Mom carefully took a spoonful of the New York food named Kimchi Wagyu Paella and put it in her mouth.
At first, her expression was simply one of appreciating her son's efforts, but the moment the bite exploded in her mouth.
Mom's eyes widened slightly.
"There's a reason why Michelin is Michelin. You should try it too, son. Sit down."
Then she asked.
"How did you think of all this? Because you like it?"
"It's a holiday. And I wanted to go out to eat with Mom. But everything's closed. So I just ordered delivery. Strike while the iron is hot."
Hearing that, Mom stopped her spoon for a moment and looked at me.
Her eyes were slightly questioning.
"Strike while the iron is hot?"
Mom laughed and asked back.
"Since when have you been using such expressions? You've been doing that a lot lately. Have you been meeting Korean friends?"
She couldn't be talking about Claire Song.
The moment Mom asked that.
Ah!—
A thought suddenly flashed through my mind, and my face stiffened without me realizing it.
Mom, who had been watching my face, also quickly lost her smile. Mom didn't say anything, but it was clear that we had both come to the same conclusion.
My words and actions had definitely changed since that day.
Strike while the iron is hot.
Not just that proverb, but the very act of quoting Korean proverbs was not my style. No, it wasn't even an expression that Mom usually used.
I had to check before trying to reassure Mom.
Where did I hear the Korean proverb, "Strike while the iron is hot"?
If I have no memory of it at all, then that proverb didn't come from within me.
Then it must have originated from the Hangi Spirit, and I would come to the conclusion that my thoughts are being influenced by that spirit. Another personality?
Words are the beginning.
Saying things you wouldn't normally say is the first behavior seen in a possessed person.
I immediately focused.
I chased the source of this anxiety and regained my composure.
Crackle!
Deeper and deeper, I traced it.
Crackling!—
Soon, a sharp cracking sound began to be heard in my head, as if forcibly opening the door of memory.
Damn it. It feels like the neural circuits in my head are colliding and sparking.
This is the first pain I've felt while concentrating.
An intense pressure pressed down on my forehead, and scattered images momentarily crossed before my eyes in a dizzying manner.
And at that moment—
A memory that had been faintly recalled like a faded photograph quickly became clear.
That's how I saw it.
Lest I fall,
A generous hand holding my small hand tightly…
The warmth of that hand made me no longer afraid.
A composed voice came down from above.
"Strike while the iron is hot. Our little one, today's work is a secret from Mom."
What's a secret?
Father. Father! Dad—
I shouted and kept shouting.
It was a cry that scratched my throat, but there was no response in that world. It only became darker.
Father's generous hand turned me back behind him.
I also buried my face in Father's legs and just panted.
Although my vision was completely obscured, I vaguely knew.
What Father was about to do now…
Because Father never turned away from the poor souls suffering from Evil Spirits.