Chapter 195
Chapter 195
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 195
Chapter Title: The Cult (6)
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“Chairman’s here, everyone at attention! Salute!”
“Ah, cut that out. Please.”
The next day, back at the Ammunition Automobile Naju Research Institute.
The moment I stepped inside, employees lined up perfectly on both sides, standing at attention.
I had no interest in savoring the vibe of some organized crime boss. Waving both hands, I dismissed the staff and gave the institute director a light scolding.
“Don’t waste your lives on pointless ceremonies. Just get back to work.”
“Heh heh heh, but our employees can’t contain their respect for you, Chairman.”
“Enough. Let’s head straight to the vehicle production line.”
“Yes, sir! Loyalty!”
The institute director even threw in a crisp salute.
The guy had talent, but his eagerness to suck up was a clear flaw.
Following his fawning lead to the deepest part of the institute.
“This is the truck test production line. From tiny one-ton toppers to 300-ton dump trucks used in mines.”
Every vehicle produced by Ammunition Automobile passed through this Naju institute at least once.
Especially the heavyweights like trucks and construction equipment—the ones Ammunition Group excelled at—were displayed here one by one.
“Not this one, this one’s too small, this one’s big but the width, length, and height are way off.”
Starting with a pint-sized blue truck that could pass for a pony cart, my eyes passed over each vehicle.
Just as the massive machinery typically seen only at specialized industrial sites caught my attention, one truck halted my steps dead.
A black behemoth, eight meters wide, eight meters long, and eight meters tall—like a three-story detached house.
Perfect for what I had in mind… nothing could be better.
“This the one for mining?”
“Yes, sir! The pride of Ammunition Automobile. A monumental presence befitting your achievements, towering like Mount Tai…”
“Skip the embellishments. It’s definitely huge. Where’s this headed for delivery?”
“Well, it was supposed to go to an Australian coal mine, but the guy running the operation tanked his company and bought a one-way ticket to the afterlife… Ahem.”
From what I gathered, it was a massive mining truck with no buyer lined up anytime soon.
Thud, thud. I lightly tapped the hefty metal monster with my fist and said,
“Anyway, no buyer right now, huh.”
“The buyer’s in a coffin. We’ll hustle to find a sucker—I mean, a new customer—as fast as possible!”
He must’ve thought he was getting chewed out. The institute director bowed deeply, frozen stiff.
Straightening the overzealous man’s bent back, I replied,
“Take it slow. No one’s buying this as a brand-new vehicle anyway.”
“Pardon? There’s no site in Korea that could even use this thing…”
“There is in Korea. I’ve got a use for it. This week.”
The institute director tilted his head, looking baffled. No need to spell it out for him.
Right on cue, my aide Yoo Se-na approached and smoothly cut into the conversation.
“Chairman. A report.”
“Ah, Aide Yoo Se-na. How’s the fireworks stock? Sufficient?”
“Yes. All prepared in pink. Matched to peach as closely as possible. No issues with the visual effects production either.”
The annual summer fireworks show near the Ammunition Building in Yeouido.
Sadly, there wouldn’t be one this year. All that stock was earmarked for this operation.
As real explosions to shatter their fake miracles and false faith.
“Good. Well done.”
“Hina the Princess put both her favor and ire into it. Didn’t feel like work.”
Even Aide Yoo Se-na found the whole thing absurd, it seemed.
Her teeth gritted, face flushed with anger.
With everyone united like this, the plan couldn’t fail even if it tried.
I pointed straight at the mining dump truck and issued orders to the institute director.
“That one. Repaint it. Spruce up the exterior nice and pretty. Make it sparkle like a spring-semester freshman.”
“Uh… Chairman? Exactly how…?”
Turning that hulking black beast into a twenty-year-old coed overnight? Fair enough if it didn’t click.
The institute director stood there with a giant question mark over his head. Instead of explaining, I recalled the recording from that cleaning lady last time.
-The Second Coming event? How’s that go down? Heh, their doctrine makes it obvious they’ll stick to the usual script.
A doctrine for [The Lord’s Garden] pieced together from scraps of Catholicism, emerging religions, and their own inventions to make it sound legit.
-The Peach of Eternal Life. Eat a peach blessed by that cult leader hag every Sunday before you die, and you’ll live happily forever in the Lord’s Garden! Total bullshit.
Even for their Second Coming event, this cult obsessed with peaches as their symbol couldn’t let go of their flimsy dogma.
“The Peach of Eternal Life, huh.”
If so… all the better.
If their religious symbol got smashed to pieces right before everyone’s eyes, the psychological blow would be beyond imagination.
Pulling a fountain pen from my jacket’s inner pocket, I instructed the still-clueless institute director.
“Let’s go pink. With the dump truck’s massive size and even proportions, slap some structures on the outside, and it’ll look just like…”
I sketched the exterior structure on the spot. A big, round pink thing—like a baby’s bottom.
“A peach. Even if zealots devour it endlessly, eternity’s off the table.”
* * * *
“Those who call the Prophet Mother’s name shall find salvation♪”
[The Lord’s Garden], chapel for novice believers.
Back in his military days, he’d lip-sync the national anthem or military songs while glancing around nervously.
But now, even that slimy voice had to belt out praises for cult leader Park Geum-deok.
“Damn it, they foam at the mouth if you even utter the ‘Park’ in her name.”
“Secretary Kim, please be quiet…”
“Hah, did I say something wrong? Never thought I’d end up in a clusterfuck like this.”
Despite pleas from his Ammunition Group intel team subordinates, Kim Won-cheol kept grumbling.
And just as the team predicted, a thick bamboo rod swung toward Kim Won-cheol’s freshly shaved nape with a sharp crack.
-Smack!
“Believer Kim Won-cheol!”
“Ow! Eek…!”
A disciplinarian senior believer enforcing order among the novices.
Kim Won-cheol, smacked by a girl young enough to be his niece, seethed inwardly but plastered on a smile. Always.
“Haha… you called?”
“Chatter during prayer is no different from Satan’s whispers! You, the Prophet Mother’s flock—shut your mouths, close your eyes, and focus solely on faith!”
Her eyes rolling back, foaming at the mouth as she preached.
Catching her breath, she continued.
“From the Apocrypha, Book of the Prophet Mother’s Words, Chapter 4, Verse 4.”
“Ah… is that so?”
“Yes, it is! So shut your mouth, close your eyes, and focus on prayer. Consider this a warning!”
A devil sticker slapped onto his glossy nape.
As the disciplinarian stalked off, an intel team member whispered to Kim Won-cheol, glancing around.
“Secretary, looks like solitary in the prayer room again. They say rats come out there.”
“Fuck me. Never imagined I’d stoop to infiltrating a cult.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Problem is, pure charm doesn’t work here. How the hell do we contact the outside?”
Security tighter than expected. Because of deserters? Or the approaching Second Coming?
All phones from Kim Won-cheol and the Ammunition intel team had been confiscated at initiation.
“No phones left at all?”
“One. Just one. But that’s the issue—no chance to call the Chairman, separated from these fanatics.”
“Yeah. That’s the real problem.”
“Well, we’ll find a way eventually. For now, what we gotta do.”
Hands clasped in mock prayer, eyes half-closed—Kim Won-cheol and the intel team mimed devotion.
Using the bizarre hymns to cult leader Park Geum-deok as background noise, they held their strategy session.
“First, secure an escape route for Hina the Princess and the two Jews in the underground prison.”
“Location pinned: north of the orchard, on the hillside toward the mountain base.”
“Security?”
“Tight. Armed with swords and axes. They outnumber us big time for any force.”
“Figures. Special forces or not, numbers win. So then.”
Options dwindling in the face of harsh reality.
Crossing out choices one by one in his mind, Kim Won-cheol recalled his final chat with the Chairman before infiltrating.
‘If there’s no escape route on every front… report to me immediately.’
‘Huh? What’ll you do?’
‘Strike their weakest moment.’
Their weakest moment.
When all eyes fix on one spot, outer guards slacken, and the festive mood peaks.
‘The Second Coming event. When they’re drunk on madness, we’ll show them real hellfire.’
Kim Won-cheol cracked his eyes open slightly.
Picking up the last remaining final option in his heart, he instructed the intel team beside him.
A bit risky, sure—it’d draw every eye—but guaranteed effective.
“Scrap all prior plans. Go with the final op. Coordinate external support at the Second Coming event.”
“Got it.”
* * * *
Damp, foul air assaulted them on the concrete stairs downward.
Hina the Princess’s legs trembled weakly. She saw light again only after the blindfold was removed from her eyes.
“We’ll remove the blindfold now. Believer Helena.”
Flash—the sudden brightness made Hina the Princess blink rapidly.
“Ugh… so bright. Uh… where am I? Why am I here?”
“Believer Helena! Still haven’t shaken that habit of questioning without faith!”
The brainwashing hadn’t fully taken, apparently. Hina the Princess tossed out her usual questions and got an earful.
Just as Maria’s riding crop—held in her right hand—swung toward Hina’s back.
“Oh dear, our top believer is being a tad too strict.”
“Prophet Mother, you’ve arrived.”
Cult leader Park Geum-deok grabbed Maria’s wrist, the one holding the crop poised mid-swing, feigning benevolence.
“Our believer Helena must now perform a great task before the Lord. Guide her with compassion, not severity.”
“Uh… Prophet Mother?”
Hina the Princess blinked in confusion, clueless. But as the saying goes, no such thing as a free lunch.
Park Geum-deok draped a gentle hand over her shoulder and pointed beyond the iron bars at someone.
Flashing a smile crueler than the devils she’d sworn to hate.
“Come, take a look at this.”
“This is…!”