The Goddess's Cruel Bargain and the Flooded Tomb
In the final dungeon, a goddess—perhaps the main deity herself—looked down at me. When she offered to grant one wish in exchange for my most precious possession, I muttered a request to be taken to a peaceful world without dungeons or monsters. After a brief pause, she replied, Very well—and the world before my eyes turned white. Then I became a eunuch.
"Fuck this shit!"
Waking from the nightmare that had stolen my precious joy, I cursed out loud as I shot up from my chair. The office manager beside me narrowed her eyes.
"The employee's busting her ass working hard, but the boss sleeps like a log and wakes up spewing curses."
"Fine, you be the boss then. I hired you with my money—you gotta earn your keep."
I spat out the words of a president of a crappy little company before reclining my chair again. It wasn't wrong, so Hyeon-a, who held the title of manager, just clicked her tongue once and dove back into her paperwork. With the name "Detective Agency 28" on the door, she was busy compiling info pouring in from all sides, sorting videos and photos from jobs, and handling everything. I'd told her to keep all the YouTube revenue, so she was more fired up about editing videos than the actual work.
"No new jobs come in?"
"Nope. Just some Vtuber wanting personal info dug up."
"Block anything that smells like a crime. We don't want to get dragged in."
"Got it, boss."
Thinking of her brother, the other manager who was diligently handling the adultery cases, I leaned my chair back again. I adjusted it to block the sunlight filtering through the window past the "Detective Agency 28" lettering. It felt good having just my eyes in the shadow while the rest basked in the sun.
"If there's really no work, you should join the Detective Agency Alliance or the Shaman Association like my brother did."
"With ten thousand agencies and a million shamans, you think they'd let us in? They'd hog all the good stuff and toss us the garbage. And the dues are insanely expensive."
"That garbage can net you a few hundred thousand won if you use it right."
"I don't wanna get stabbed. Dealing with psychos who come back for revenge after one job? Pass."
The criteria for accepting work at a detective agency start with money, but as you age, you check the client's mental state first. Ever since someone casually found an ex's address for 600,000 won, only for it to turn into a murder case that landed them both with four years in prison, it's been like that. Anyone desperate enough to hire a detective agency is already unhinged—you have to be careful.
"So that's why you just do lost pet cases?"
"Find one cute little thing, pocket a few hundred grand per job, and you get to post it on your favorite YouTube. Win-win."
"Fair point."
Rrrring!
As I fidgeted lightly in my featherweight body—free of any traces from my past life—the desk clock blared its alarm. Startled by the sudden noise, she glanced at it. Realizing it was lunchtime, she kicked it off with her toe.
"I'm heading out for a bit. If I don't come back today, just go home first."
"...You have something today?"
"Family stuff. Mom and Dad want to see me—might crash there."
"Got it. I'll use the company card for lunch."
"You know it's under 20,000 won per person, right?"
"Today I'll make it 40,000 including yours. Oppa won't eat, so maybe 60,000. Hehe."
"Planning to hog premium beef solo?"
I shot a glance at the manager scheming to siphon cash without backing down an inch. Anything over 20,000 comes straight out of her paycheck.
"Tidy up moderately before you go. Call me if anything comes up."
"Sure."
Leaving the manager—who'd lost interest at "family stuff" and buried herself in video editing—I stepped outside. A delightful landscape free of life-threatening dungeons or monsters greeted me. In a world where even the strongest weapon from my old realm couldn't match a mage's fireball, it was little more than a massive sanatorium for me.
"Might as well enjoy it to the fullest while I'm here."
Losing my dick was a huge bummer, but dialing back the libido for some rest sounded fine... or so I thought, until that notion got threatened right at my grandfather's gravesite.
"You seeing any guys lately?"
"Guys who follow shamans around are all con artists."
"So that's a no."
I could see my mother's desire to pair up her single daughter oozing out. There were compound reasons: she wanted me to quit this personal detective gig, get a proper corporate job after a good university. Whatever.
"She takes after me, so pretty-faced, but why's her personality so twisted?"
"Dad!"
There was no winning against a university lecturer who lived by her words, so I sidled over to Father, standing a bit away. He was digging up the grave for reburial, his face grim amid the relatives' tense expressions.
"Hey, daughter. You made it."
"How's it looking?"
"Just like you said. We barely cleared the mound, and the soil's soaked—doesn't look good at all."
The mid-slope land used as our ancestral plot had turned from a heavenly site into a cursed wasteland no beggar would touch, thanks to a golf course and resort messing with the ley lines. The resort's water management was one thing, but those artificial bunkers and ponds had ruined the lower graves. Sure, good drainage could've prevented it, but if Korean contractors did it right, they wouldn't make headlines for shoddy work.
At coffin depth, it wasn't mud or sludge—it was pure water, the casket burst open. Father's face flushed red, along with the relatives'. Especially Second Uncle, who'd insisted on this prime spot; his old temper was flaring.
"Who the fuck built this shit?"
Even as an old man, the thug who'd cracked skulls with beer bottles in his youth hadn't lost his edge. I'd heard his own construction firm was supposed to handle the liability.
Hmm... Normally, you'd loop a cable around the excavator to lift it, but it looked ready to shatter and spew corpse chunks, so the workers eyed each other warily.
"Wanna back off a bit?"
"Yeah, Dad."
He patted my shoulder—meaning no need for a young woman to see this horror. Half-rotted and bloated by water, it was hardly a "corpse" anymore. More like a gooey melted blob?
"Thanks to you, this old man's saved some face. Been having nightmares nonstop."
"Face? Hey, I take the allowance gladly."
"Body holding up these days?"
"Same as always."
Since childhood, famed shamans had insisted my body was fit to house a spirit. If I didn't, I'd fall ill and die young—they'd harped on it so much, even skeptical Father checked on my health occasionally. I hadn't told the family, but they were half-right. I'd landed in the body of a necromancer who'd wielded spirit possession as her main weapon, after all—prime ghost bait.
"Heard you took over the office next door. Ex-cop starting an agency?"
"Yeah. Met him on a job—solid guy."
"Tch. Still wish you'd join my company."
"Give it to your kids who actually care about entertainment. Someone like me would tank it fast."
"Hmm..."
He'd inherited the planning agency and cable network I'd acquired recently—thinking we needed ads for our products. Father, passionate about the field, was thrilled and bowed out of the group chairman race early.
"Got something to say?"
"Heard you started the agency—someone wants an intro."
Rumors about me had always spread big, but no one seriously considered hiring me for cash. Figured the chaebol daughter was just playing house solo. But with two employees now, it looked legit.
"Uh, adultery cases are kinda..."
"They want to talk details in person, but it's not heavy like that. They'd use someone else for it."
"Then I'm in. Good chance to network."
"I'll call right now."
Adultery's iffy for shaman types, and it's light work—probably lost pet retrieval. Workers swarmed to scoop every last bit from the pit without spilling. Burst coffins could be replaced, but cleanup would take ages. Grandma's grave was right next to Grandpa's.
"Let's head down for a bit. Too many eyes make it chaotic."
"Sure."
"You go rest too. Let's keep it dignified."
"Shouldn't you stay, dear? He's your father."
"Mmm..."
They glanced around the gravesite. Thanks to the potions I'd snuck them, my parents—fifty but wrinkle-free, mid-thirties looks—blended right in. Plenty of people milling about; no one would notice us slipping away.
"Handle the kids over there too. This is youngest's job."
"Got it. I'll be at the cafe by the resort."
"Okay."
Funeral directors and construction execs were speeding up the hill, faces like thunder. I could practically hear them muttering we're fucked—couldn't help but smirk.