"The Altar... Doesn't It Seem Strange Now That I Think About It?"
"The altar, I mean. Doesn't it seem kinda weird now that you think about it?"
It was the day the Voodoo Reincarnation Cult fell apart and we found the altar. To celebrate, we'd gone out for a meal, and that's when my uncle asked me that. He was questioning how the altar had vanished.
How Han Su-yeop knew the location of our chapel and where we'd stashed the altar—and timed it perfectly for when we'd be away to steal it. That was his main suspicion.
"Was there an inside man?" Kang Ji-a asked.
Uncle shook his head. "Only me and Seon-woo know where the altar is. There couldn't be an inside man. Seon-woo's out of the question, and I'd be in deep shit without it myself."
"Now that you mention it, yeah. Nobody else knows but you and me. We just shoved it in some storage room or whatever."
"Hm." Uncle paused mid-grill, letting out a low hum. Grease popped and sizzled on the hot plate. Thick smoke billowed up.
His face, tongs and scissors in hand, stared blankly into space, a strange unease flickering across it.
"...That bastard?"
"That bastard? Come on, give me a name."
"You know him too. One of the executives, that fake-smart guy who acts all intellectual despite being empty-headed. Name's Ha, Ha..."
Ha Pan-seok. Uncle couldn't recall his name right then. He only remembered names of a few key people. In that way, he took after me. Come to think of it, my mother was the same. Must be some gene that makes us oblivious to names.
Anyway, that Ha Pan-seok was standing right in front of me now.
He was working hard not to show fear on his face. His expression screamed wariness.
"How's Su-yeong doing?"
I'd asked to ease the tension, but it only seemed to irk him. He stared at me with a furrowed brow for a long moment, then steadied his breath and forced his mouth open.
"She's fine. Thanks to you."
"Is she sleeping now?"
"Yes. In that room over there..."
Ha Pan-seok pointed to the firmly shut door with a finger. I nodded.
"Good thing. Nothing I'm about to say is fit for a daughter's ears."
At my words, Ha Pan-seok swallowed hard, eyes wide with fear, and took a step back.
"What kind of talk are you planning...?"
"I'll ask some questions. Answer honestly."
As I spoke, I peered into the emotions lurking behind his gaze. He was clearly afraid of me. But he wouldn't show it.
I continued. "Did you tell Han Su-yeop to steal the altar?"
Yeom Man-geun knew I'd lost the altar. When I pressed him on where he'd heard it, he confessed it was straight from Ha Pan-seok.
If Yeom Man-geun was telling the truth, Ha Pan-seok had known about the missing altar for a while. That raised another question: how did he know?
Uncle had confirmed he never told the executives. If not from Uncle, how did Ha Pan-seok get that info?
If Ha Pan-seok was connected to Han Su-yeop, the one who stole it—and if he'd egged him on—things lined up.
Ha Pan-seok forced a pale smile onto his bloodless face and opened his mouth.
"Why would I do that? I don't even know the main chapel's location. How could I give orders to Han Su-yeop?"
"You don't know the main chapel's location?"
"No. I don't."
"Not a single lie in that?"
Ha Pan-seok clamped his mouth shut briefly. A short silence fell.
"...None."
"Really?"
As expected, no easy confession. I pulled out my phone and played a video for him.
On the screen: a man sprawled on the floor, body trembling violently. Drool poured from his gaping mouth, eyes bloodshot red. He struggled to lift his head and spoke.
"Ha Pan-seok! It's Ha Pan-seok, Your Holiness. He ordered me to kill you, Your Holiness!"
"My words are true, all true. Just once more, one more spell...!"
"No."
"Aaaah, aaaah... Please, have mercy just once. One more time's fine, right? Can't you grant one more spell? Huh? You bastard, give it to me one more time!"
"...No, I misspoke. Cut out my tongue. Cut out my tongue! No, I'll do it myself. So please..."
The man raised a knife to his tongue. Blood dripped from it onto the blade and floor.
I stopped the video there.
"Mercenary. Sent by someone to kill me."
"..."
"I can control the intoxication spell's intensity. As I mentioned at the meeting."
Ha Pan-seok's eyes were glued to the phone. His half-open lips were parched dry.
I went on. "First, I addict them to the intoxication spell, then cut it off. Withdrawal hits. Know what that's like?"
He shook his head silently.
"Feels like ants clawing under your nails, crawling through veins to your heart. Extreme anxiety and depression manifesting as phantom pain."
"..."
"Only way out is breathing in the spell's mist again. Soon, they're fully dependent."
"...What are you getting at?"
"That's how I pried his mouth open. He confessed it was all on Executive Ha Pan-seok's orders. What do you think?"
The mercenary was sent by Ha Pan-seok to assassinate me. Meaning he knew our chapel's location. So slipping info to Han Su-yeop to steal the altar? Entirely possible.
Ha Pan-seok stayed silent, deep in thought.
"I don't know."
His face was serene as he met my eyes. Ready for any punishment? Or just playing dumb to the end? Unclear. But a firm resolve glinted faintly in his gaze.
If he still wouldn't confess after this... no choice.
"Ogoun."
I summoned the Loa.
[I am iron.]
His sharp, chilling voice filled my mind.
Ogoun, Loa of iron and war. Brutal, but never lies. That's why he despises liars.
Anyone lying before Ogoun gets pierced through the heart by metal. Even me, the prophet.
Believer, cult leader, prophet—no exceptions. All must be honest in his presence.
[I am covered in iron.]
Rrrrrumble—!
Vibrations started the moment he spoke. Nearby metal trembled with eerie sounds.
Forks and knives on the table, hiking stick, even my phone—anything metal shook without regard to type.
"Executive Ha Pan-seok. You know of Loa Ogoun?"
"...Vaguely. He hates lies."
"No need for more explanation, then."
If he knew, this sped things up. I pressed on.
"You really know nothing?"
"..."
Ha Pan-seok glared silently. Couldn't lie before Ogoun, so silence it was. Wise choice—Ogoun hated lies, not silence.
I'd anticipated a slick operator like him invoking the right to remain silent. And prepared accordingly.
I pulled out my phone again, showing a photo.
"See this?"
His face hardened. Lips quivered, whites of eyes veined red. The serene resolve in his gaze shattered into abject terror.
It was a photo of Ha Su-yeong.
"Voodoo punishes treason with zombification. If you won't talk, Executive, I'll have to zombie your daughter per the rules—"
"What the—! ...What nonsense is that? What treason has Su-yeong committed?"
His voice trembled despite suppressing rage. Bloodshot eyes bored into me like daggers. Mentioning his daughter lit him up. I eyed his fists shaking on his knees and flashed a feigned relaxed smile.
"She had a habit of saying 'I should've been the cult leader.' If that's her own will, not influenced, it's ideological treason."
"..."
He paled, gulping. Lips quivered half-open. Pupils lost focus, chasing nothing. Clear signs of agitation.
"Feeling like answering now?"
"I... I..."
He finally spoke. Fear mixed into his turbulent gaze. Tableware rattled nonstop, volume irregular.
"I know noth—"
Ogoun's verdict rang out as Ha Pan-seok spoke. A knife lifted from the table, hovering before aiming at his forehead.
Thud!
It shot toward his brow but veered past, embedding in the wall. The handle wobbled. A drop of blood welled from his grazed earlobe, hitting the floor.
"Again."
His face drained ghost-white against the blood drop. I spoke.
"Executive Ha Pan-seok, you're uninvolved in everything I mentioned?"
*
"I..."
A fork on the table snapped up the instant he spoke, "prongs" aimed right at him. No eyes on it, but he felt it glaring. Pointed dead at his eye.
No next time. One more lie, and death—or maiming—was certain. Instinct screamed it. He shut his mouth.
"Go on."
But the cult leader urged him. Couldn't defy the man holding his daughter's life. Lie? No. Silence? No. Checkmate.
Brain blank.
"I."
Lie and die. Silence and daughter dies. The dilemma pushed him to the brink. Reason strained taut—he finally decided.
"I did it. The rebellion plot, feeding Su-yeong those ideas—all me..."
Confess and face punishment. Traitors become zombies: mindless meat obeying orders. He didn't want that.
But better him than his daughter.
The cult leader scanned his face coldly.
"What's your relation to Han Su-yeop?"
"That bastard? No real tie. Just needed a pawn to steal your altar."
"Why order the theft?"
"...To assassinate you while your power waned, send mercenaries."
No metal flew. Truth.
"Then after killing me? What next?"
"Pu-put my daughter on the throne... as cult leader..."
The cult leader shot up. Ha Pan-seok flinched, puzzled. The leader's gaze fixed on Ha Su-yeong's room.
Ominous premonition hit. No reason to spare a throne usurper.
Thump!
He collapsed, clutching the leader's pant leg. Tears streamed unknown.
"No, not my daughter—me! I wanted to be leader. She's innocent—!"
Stab!
"—Aaaagh! Agh, aaagh...!"
The hovering fork plunged into his thigh. He screamed, writhing. But eyes locked on the leader. Arms reached, but pain-weakened, they flailed short of the pant leg, toward Ha Su-yeong's door.
"Kill me then! Zombie me! Daughter's got nothing to do with—aaagh...!"
Not a plea—a scream. Arms flailing, he begged endlessly. He still vividly recalled losing his firstborn son seven years ago. Losing his last child? He'd shatter.
The leader paused, as if reading his heart, turned back, and approached.
"Hurts a bit."
Squelch!
"Ngh...!"
Casually yanked the fork free. Ha Pan-seok stifled agony. Purple mist from the leader's fingers enveloped the wound; the hole knit perfectly. Restoration spell—flawlessly beautiful, unprecedented.
No time to marvel.
"I'm lying right now."
Thud.
A chopstick from the sink stabbed his back. The leader continued unfazed.
"Can't lie before Ogoun—same for me. Everyone must be honest in his sight."
"...Pardon?"
"Means everything I say now is true."
He pulled the chopstick, healed with restoration, steadied his breath against pain.
"I'm a student at Florence Academy. Goal: become Romanica cardinal, reach the papal underground prison."
No metal flew. All true.
Ha Pan-seok gaped. He vaguely knew the leader wielded divine power, but infiltrating Florence? Suicide, like bare-handed into a tiger's den.
Yet the leader continued nonchalantly.
"Voodoo lost the Holy War due to division. Talented executives betrayed the previous leader and fled; tide turned instantly."
"..."
"You stayed loyal by your father's side during the war, never fled."
Silence fell; thigh's lingering pain faded. Ha Pan-seok straightened, looking up. The leader's eyes were icy, conviction burning.
"I say this because... I want your unshakeable loyalty."
No metal. Truth.
"If the plan succeeds... under the 'starless night,' when the papal forces drag you to the underground prison, I'll find your son."
The leader pressed on resolutely. "No—I will find him. Even if it kills me."
His eyes chased distant nothing. What did he see...?
Enlightenment hit Ha Pan-seok. Peace washed over him, like backed by heavenly hosts. The leader's cold glare targeted not him—the enemy.
"One more time."
The leader spoke again.
"Who does your loyalty serve now?"
Ha Pan-seok knelt on one knee, head bowed. He'd plotted rebellion out of frustration: a leader not resisting Romanica, endless anxiety over his lost son.
But the leader hadn't quit. Just preparing. Risking the enemy's lair.
Knowing that, no reason not to follow the Third Cult Leader.
"I pledge eternal loyalty to the Third Cult Leader. I swear on iron."
Swearing on iron before Ogoun meant lifelong. Betray again? Ogoun's metal would pierce his heart instantly.
The leader smiled satisfied, extended a hand.
"Let's revive Voodoo together."
Ha Pan-seok clasped it, pulled up. Thigh pain long gone. Bloodstains lingered on clothes—his and the leader's back.
He watched the departing leader, black-crusted stains and all.
(To be continued next time)