He May Have Ascended

The round table was surrounded by figures draped in long robes.

Faces submerged in shadow waited within the silence.

It was dark.

The only light came from a pillar of illumination descending through a hole in the ceiling. Even that faint glow did nothing more than reveal the bizarre artifact placed at the center of the table.

It was a skull that had never belonged to anything human.

Its jaw, sprouting ivory on both sides, gaped wide open, while crimson lines like trails of blood ran from the eye sockets all the way down to the chin.

As if it were screaming...

The voice was impossibly beautiful. It did not sound like anything that could emerge ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠from a human throat; it carried the resonance of myth itself. Yet the others seemed accustomed to it. No one reacted.

"Yes, Guide. We are all here."

A red pentagram hovered within the shadows of the Guide’s hood. When he gave a slight nod, crimson vapor rose from the symbol, flowing down his neck and across his chest.

He lifted his gaze from the skull and surveyed the table. Then he unleashed his bombshell.

The words crashed over the table like a collapsing glacier. Silent horror rippled outward. Every gaze snapped toward the shadowed figure who had spoken.

"Guide. You’re not joking, are you?"

"Perhaps not."

"What evidence do you have?"

"The activation of the Grand Sorcery was detected."

"I see."

Everyone accepted it at once. If the Guide had sensed a ritual of that magnitude, it could only be true.

"Furthermore, the spirits are currently reorganizing Chairman Jo’s residence, and all communication with his inner circle has been severed."

"They’re cleaning up the new deity according to plan."

"Did Chairman Jo never share the secret rites?"

"Correct. Regrettable."

Yet in truth, not a single person felt any regret. No one seated at this table would ever hand over such forbidden knowledge for free.

After a brief, heavy silence, questions rained down on the Guide.

"Jo Chun-ki tried to sacrifice all of Seoul using that puppet, didn’t he? That little charade failed, correct?"

"Can the puppet be traced?"

"Guide, are you hiding something from us that you only told him?"

The Guide listened quietly to the flood of questions, then slowly raised his right hand. The moment the pale fingers—each knuckle crowded with rings—appeared, every voice died.

One attendee stared at the flickering light of the silent pentagram and spoke.

"Guide. We offered an enormous sacrifice to summon you. Until our plan reaches completion… you are obligated to answer our questions."

The Guide nodded slowly. It took time for the table to fall completely still. Only when the red mist flowing across his chest had nearly swallowed the entire surface did he finally speak from within the silence.

Only one question rose in every mind. A moment later, someone gave it voice.

"How many human souls has he prepared?"

The Guide paused, then answered.

"A great many."

***

"Hand over the phone first."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Kim Hwang-je sighed and stretched out his hand. The spirit beamed and politely placed the device they had been using onto his palm.

This genie uncle actually looks cute when he smiles.

"Mr. Seo Jun-seo. Do you know who owns this?"

"I’ll find out immediately."

Seo Jun-seo accepted the phone in silence. The spirit extended a long finger and pressed a fingerprint onto the screen. Seo Jun-seo worked with practiced efficiency, opening menus and digging through every corner.

"This belongs to Jo Jabon, director of the Strategic Management Office."

"What a name for a rich kid," Kim Hwang-je muttered, scratching his chin. What kind of parents named their son Capital? Were they hoping he’d grow up to be a financier? Though a management director wasn’t exactly a capitalist.

"There must have been a flood of calls, right?"

"Yes. Enough to clearly separate who was aligned with Jo Chun-ki and who wasn’t."

"Copy every last piece of data."

"Understood, President."

"Also, make the media and the public believe these incidents were simply the result of Chairman Jo’s sudden whims."

"I’ll do my best. However, President, the odds of success are quite low. There are no fingerprints…"

Before Seo Jun-seo could finish, one sly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spirit raised all ten fingers. The prints flickered and changed at dizzying speed.

"There we are. This should speed things up considerably…"

"The problem, Mr. Seo Jun-seo, is that we currently have nowhere to run. Thanks to these damn spirits."

He had told them to go anywhere they liked, and they had seized Jo Chun-ki’s entire mansion. When Kim Hwang-je glared, the spirits twisted bashfully at the waist.

"Hehe. Your Majesty, we have simply reclaimed what was meant to be reclaimed."

Only then did Kim Hwang-je grasp their peculiar logic.

"Ah… it’s succession?"

"Of course. It must be offered to the true Great King."

The spirit glanced around before continuing. Now that he thought about it, their conditions for selling items had been oddly specific. They had only taken sofas, appliances, and fireplaces. Not a single antique—especially anything connected to Gaya—had been discarded.

When Kim Hwang-je examined the kept items, the spirit straightened proudly.

"Since these are to be offered to His Majesty the Great King, we cannot leave behind the possessions of those from across the sea. We will uproot everything and restore the residence to the elegant antique style of old Guji Village before presenting it."

Well, aren’t you impressive. Shall I erect a monument to repel foreign invaders for you?

"You all seem to be forgetting something very obvious. They’ll be coming for us soon."

Kim Hwang-je pointed at the massive picture frame still hanging on the wall—a huge family portrait of Jo Chun-ki’s household.

"Huh?"

"What do you mean, ‘huh’? You didn’t consider that?"

"No, Your Majesty. Those people cannot enter."

"…?"

"Even if they somehow arrived, they would be powerless."

What kind of confidence was this? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The sheer certainty made it sound as though they truly had something up their sleeves. Strangely, Seo Jun-seo seemed to understand more than Kim Hwang-je himself.

He looked at the spirits and asked, "Everyone, has this mansion become your dungeon?"

"Correct~! Clap, clap, clap! Here’s a discount coupon!"

The spirit produced a stamped coupon from its robes and handed it over. Seo Jun-seo accepted it reflexively and read the text.

First visit: 15% off.

Wait. This looked like it was offered to everyone.

"Hehe. Your Majesty, we are spirits who have eaten quite a lot of age and worldly wisdom, thanks to Chairman Jo."

"So if it’s a dungeon, only authorized people can enter?"

"Exactly. Not even an army could force its way in. This land now belongs to us."

Kim Hwang-je scratched his head. Now that he understood, their confidence made perfect sense. They had essentially planted an NPC safe zone right in the middle of Seoul—an ultimate land grab where combat and attacks were impossible.

Land grabbing in Hannam-dong, of all places…

And now they were selling off every last one of Jo Chun-ki’s possessions for cash. Kim Hwang-je could already imagine several important heads beginning to boil.

He turned to Seo Jun-seo. "That’s how it is. We’ll leave this place in their care and strip everything valuable. What can we take without repercussions? Stocks and real estate are out, I assume?"

"Yes, but physical assets should be feasible."

"Now that I think about it, there was an underground parking garage, wasn’t there?"

Collecting supercars was a classic hobby for chaebol chairmen. Grinning ear to ear, Kim Hwang-je led the spirits down to the basement.

The sight that greeted them was staggering. At a glance, more than thirty supercars filled the space.

"Ooooh…"

Kim Hwang-je moved them all into the trade window. With a tremendous clatter, the supercars vanished one after another into the glowing interface. Seo Jun-seo stared in alarm at his employer’s half-rolled eyes.

"President?"

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Never mind."

He wasn’t seriously thinking of driving Jo Chun-ki’s cars on public roads… was he?

Of course not. Kim Hwang-je was simply living out a dream. He transferred every vehicle straight into the courtyard of Adel Palace. He had no immediate use for them, but they were his now. Maybe he could create a legion of elf archers riding supercars? Or maybe he didn’t need to rationalize it at all. He simply wanted them. That was reason enough.

While happily cramming cars into the trade window, a new thought occurred to him.

"By the way, Jo Chun-ki’s family is finished now, right?"

"Yes."

"Didn’t he have any cherished toys stashed away? A yacht, maybe?"

"…I’ll look into it right away."

The spirit truly took after its master. A conqueror’s natural talent for plunder sparkled in Kim Hwang-je’s eyes.

After Seo Jun-seo searched Jo Jabon’s phone and several other executive devices, he located Jo Chun-ki’s yacht hangar, helicopter storage, multiple safe houses, and several secret warehouses.

Kim Hwang-je whistled. "Wow. Rich people really are built different. A private airplane hangar?"

It was like playing a real-life version of a grand theft simulation. Still, anything less would have been disappointing.

Kim Hwang-je was deep in happy daydreams of detailed looting routes when Seo Jun-seo handed him another phone.

"President, you should look at this first. It seems rather urgent."

"Whose is it?"

"The head of the External Cooperation Office. Looking at the files here…"

"Eek!"

Kim Hwang-je recoiled. The screen showed a man beaten to a pulp, tied up and collapsed on the floor wearing nothing but underwear.

"Good grief, why did they beat this poor guy so badly?"

"The details are in the attached files."

Seo Jun-seo passed them over. The documents listed several small and medium-sized companies currently being subjected to what was euphemistically called “external cooperation” or “ritual operations.”

The offenses were simple: refusing to sell patents at a discount, failing to sign away future legal rights as subcontractors, leaking unfavorable stories about Gaya Group to the press, or declining to purchase items Gaya demanded.

"Rich bastards really are the pettiest of all."

Of course that wasn’t entirely accurate. Human pettiness was universal; the wealthy simply had the power to express it with greater cruelty. Still, from his ordinary-citizen perspective, Kim Hwang-je vented his outrage fully.

He read through the rest of the material. "Is this real? They threaten and terrorize companies into handing over patents and businesses?"

"Yes. The man in the photo was beaten and imprisoned yesterday. Without further orders from the department head, he will remain in that state…"

Kim Hwang-je swallowed hard. He didn’t need the rest of the sentence to know what came next.

"They really do things like this…"

"Yes. The head transferred payment to an untraceable external organization, so the situation is unlikely to resolve safely."

Kim Hwang-je felt his stomach churn as he glimpsed the grotesque underbelly of the business world. These were things he had only seen briefly on television current-affairs programs during his days as an ordinary laborer. Yet inside these phones, meticulously organized plans for such atrocities were stacked like ordinary paperwork. For these people, it was simply daily routine.

"Who is this man, exactly?"

"Look here."

The file Seo Jun-seo showed him read:

"He’s the president of a powered-suit company?!"

"Yes. Far more useful than a yacht, wouldn’t you say, President?"

"We’re going to rescue him immediately."

It was the most sensible suggestion he had heard all day. Kim Hwang-je clapped his hands clean and stood up. It was about time the royal castle had its own research laboratory anyway.

"Oh, right."

Before leaving, he glanced at the Gujiga spirit.

"Give me some clean cash."

By now the mansion was piled high with untraceable, pristine bills.