Taking the Bait

Creeeak!

The footsteps that had been drawing closer came to a halt. Hidden in the brush, Kang Hyeong-seok watched the men coming up the wooden steps.

They ranged from their thirties to their forties. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Their clothes—jeans, shirts, track suits—didn't match one another, and one of them was hauling a huge backpack besides.

Swish, hup, rustle. Every one of their movements screamed that they were searching for something: pawing through the undergrowth, craning to peer up into the trees, sweeping flashlights across their surroundings.

Kang Hyeong-seok watched them with his lips pressed into a hard line, then bowed his head and let out a soundless sigh.

Crazy bastards...

Their pockets bulged in the unmistakable shape of pry bars, wooden handles jutting out above the fabric. And what on earth was packed into the backpack one of them carried, he couldn't begin to guess.

Kang Hyeong-seok swallowed dryly and began to move, slow and careful. Get clear of this spot first—that was the plan. He was just turning toward the steps when—

A chant from one of the men sliced through the air and lodged itself in his ear. Eyes flying wide, Kang Hyeong-seok turned back toward the muttering figures.

That was the incantation of the Baekbaek Cult. They were reciting the chant of a cult that should have vanished long ago.

Cultists. These men were tied to a pseudo-religion. Brow furrowed, Kang Hyeong-seok bit down on his lower lip with a quiet sense of figures.

He wanted nothing more than to wring the information he needed out of them right then and there. But there were three of them—and they were armed. Rush them outright? Or keep watching a little longer?

Fwoosh! The lantern light swept quickly over the brush where he was hiding. He stopped breathing on instinct, but thankfully the lantern-bearer seemed not to have spotted him.

Watch them for now. Without a sound, Kang Hyeong-seok shifted his backpack around to his chest. If it came to that, he could get at what was inside in a heartbeat—and the pack would soak up an attack if one came.

Fwoosh! Rustle, rustle. The lantern light darted this way and that, the frantic search dragging on for a long while. He waited, feeling the blood dry in his veins, until at last the lantern went dark.

Brrr-drr-drr-drr. Then, in the dead silence, he caught the faint sound of the men dialing someone.

"Evangelist? Yes. No, sir—we haven't found him."

The call had gone through.

"No, I don't think that's it. Yes, yes."

It was a voice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠far too ordinary for a man with a blade in his pocket out hunting someone. That was exactly what made it so unsettling—he sounded like someone you might have brushed past on the street, in a convenience store, in some café or restaurant, without ever giving him a second look.

"Ah, yes. Then we'll split up and keep looking. Yes."

The man hung up, clicked his tongue, and started talking among themselves.

"The Evangelist says to split up."

"Is this really worth going this far for?"

"It's the Evangelist's word. We do as he says."

"I know, it's just..."

"I'll take this stretch, so you two head on down. When it's all wrapped up, first round at the pub is on me."

Things were turning in his favor. Two of them went back down the creaking wooden steps, and only one man was left behind.

Creeak. Groan. Kang Hyeong-seok waited until the footsteps had faded completely. Only then did the last man put a cigarette between his lips.

Click, click! The lighter's flame lit the man's face for a heartbeat, and Kang Hyeong-seok readied himself to explode out of hiding at any moment. The perfect opportunity was about to present itself—once, and only once. He could not miss it.

Fss. The cigarette caught, and the instant the man pulled in a deep drag—

Fwoosh! Kang Hyeong-seok came bursting out of the brush, forearm leading.

"Gahk—!"

The startled man choked out his mouthful of smoke with a strangled wheeze. Thud! Slam! Kang Hyeong-seok drove his forearm into his throat and shoved him back into a tree, kicked his ankles out from under him to drop him flat, then bore his full weight down onto the man's mouth and chest.

"Kkeuh—kkuh—kkrruk!"

Having pinned the struggling man down, Kang Hyeong-seok fished the pry bar out of his pocket. At once, bewilderment and terror bloomed across the man's face, and Kang Hyeong-seok growled low, the bar raised high.

"Don't move. I won't say it twice."

He adjusted his grip so that the bar's pointed end faced the man. A great blazing moon hung at his back, and the moonlight caught the rusted head of the pry bar, drawing its silhouette in sharp relief.

"Mmmf. Mmmf. Mmmf." The man nodded with short, chopped breaths.

Kang Hyeong-seok was breathing hard himself, knuckles white around the bar. Intimidation was all about presence—the moment you looked even slightly weak, the interrogation failed on the spot. So he deliberately lifted his gaze and fixed the man with a ferocious glare.

"Why were you looking for me?"

"Mmph. Mmm."

"Answer with your eyes. One blink for yes, two for no. Got it?"

The man blinked once. He was shaking so hard that the tremors traveled straight up through Kang Hyeong-seok's forearm.

"Were you planning to kill me?"

The man's eyes only contorted; no answer of any kind. Kang Hyeong-seok glanced briefly over his shoulder, then fixed his glare on the man again and leaned his weight into his chest.

Grrruk.

"Ghhhuuugh!"

"I'll ask once more. Why did you bring this?" As Kang Hyeong-seok re-gripped the pry bar, the man blinked his terror-stricken eyes over and over. He looked like he couldn't breathe, so Kang Hyeong-seok eased some of his weight off the knee pinning his chest.

"Answer me properly. You brought it to use if you had to—am I right?"

The man weakly blinked once.

"...Why?"

Kang Hyeong-seok had done nothing to them. All he'd done was enter the village, ride one bus, and climb up here. And still these men had treated him—an outsider—with the utmost suspicion.

"Did the Evangelist send you?"

The man's eyes clamped shut for a split second. He seemed to have realized that Kang Hyeong-seok had heard the phone call as well.

Kang Hyeong-seok ground his molars together and pushed hot breath out between them.

"What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the hell are you bastards doing?"

He'd muttered it as if to himself. And yet the man's pupils wavered, however slightly.

Kang Hyeong-seok gazed down at him, let out a faint sigh, and pulled his hand away from the man's mouth.

"Scream, and I make no promises about what happens to you."

Watching the man drag rough breaths in through his nose, he went on.

"What is it you're doing here?"

The words came out low, deliberately restrained. He kept his ears open and tightened his grip on the bar, primed to react to the man's every twitch as he waited for an answer.

The man's mouth opened.

And the instant his tongue darted out to wedge itself between his upper and lower teeth, Kang Hyeong-seok hammered his elbow into the man's temple with everything he had.

Thwack!

With a heavy, muffled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crack, the man's head snapped sideways and he slumped, boneless.

Kang Hyeong-seok flung the pry bar far away into the dark and took only the man's phone.

Ruthless bastards. Looking down at the unconscious man, he found himself thinking of the evil spirit that had possessed Kwak Young-ho back at the valley. Men who don't spare their own lives will take others' without a flicker of hesitation.

Zzip. Phone stowed in his backpack, Kang Hyeong-seok bit his lower lip and turned his gaze toward the village. A village that held men like the one lying unconscious at his feet.

"Shin Yo-sep..."

This is what happened to me. And there was nothing, anywhere, to guarantee that the same hadn't happened to him—another stranger in these hills, just like me.

Texting Shin Yo-sep as he went, Kang Hyeong-seok began to descend the mountain.

Vzzz. Shin Yo-sep felt the phone in his breast pocket buzz. He deliberately paid it no mind and raised his glass with a smile.

Clink! The clear glasses kissed, their contents leaping into the air before settling back down.

"Here's to you, Director—drink plenty!"

"I had no idea I'd be given such a welcome."

"You're a VIP, after all. A VIP! Isn't he?"

"Oh, absolutely."

The man supplying the agreement was middle-aged too, but with his plump face and glasses he cut a rather respectable figure. A local notable and a public official—the pair of them.

Da-da-da-dan, dan-dan. The venue was a bar from whose cheap speakers dripped a monotonous, machine-made tune. "Cabaret" was the word for it—and unlike the local notable, the civil servant wore a distinctly embarrassed look on his face.

"My apologies. This place is a bit much, isn't it?"

"Not at all. I like it just fine."

"That's right, that's right! Our director knows a good spot. He does. You can tell!"

The notable wagged his thumb, then stuck his head out and bellowed, "Fruit plate—where's the fruit plate! Chop chop!" Even his shouting drowned beneath the background noise.

Shin Yo-sep raised his glass to his lips and let out a thin sigh.

Oink. Sqqueeal. Oink! The pig tethered at his feet squealed as though the din itself were torment, and though a text seemed to have arrived from Kang Hyeong-seok, there was no breathing room to check it.

I can guess well enough what he's sent. Still, this is suffocating.

He had a sense for these things, and that was exactly how he knew: these people, who had latched onto him the moment he stepped out of the district office, were keeping him right where they wanted him. Even the way they'd insisted on hauling him out to this basement bar felt like a deliberate move to cut him off from the village.

"So then, Director, sir. However did you come to think of investing in our little village, of all places?"

"It caught my eye. I stopped by once on a scouting trip."

"Do look kindly on it, now. This is a fine place to live, truly—the air's good, the people are good."

The notable, perhaps not born and raised here, spoke in a strange blend of dialects.

"I can't speak for the people, but it doesn't look like a bad place to live."

Shin Yo-sep smiled faintly, and the notable roared with laughter as if that were the best thing he'd heard all year.

"This place, you see—we've even got someone downright famous living here."

Then it happened.

The civil servant, who unlike the notable had barely touched his drink, moved—quite deliberately. He must have nudged the notable's shoe with the tip of his own.

"Oh, aye, that's right. That's right. Mm."

Reading the notable's attempt to paper over the slip, Shin Yo-sep picked at the dry side dishes and opened his mouth.

"Someone famous, you say?"

"Oh, no, no. It's just that he's fond of his drink, so—"

The civil servant cut in mid-sentence, but Shin Yo-sep kept his smiling face turned to the notable.

"I was thinking I ought to pay my respects at least once."

"Ah, he was only famous back in our generation, that one."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, yes. An old-time entertainer. A performer."

The notable grinned until a gold-capped eyetooth showed, and the fruit plate was set down among them.

Tap, tap. The waitress was clicking away in her high heels, and she was young—remarkably so. Watching her go, Shin Yo-sep picked up his fork.

"Oh, by any chance—is there a church or something of the sort around here?"

"...I beg your pardon?"

The civil servant asked him to repeat himself. Shin Yo-sep chewed and swallowed the water peach he'd skewered with his fork, then continued.

"I'll be here through Sunday at the least, so if there's a church, I'd like to sit a service before I head back."

"Our director—you're a believer?"

"Oh, come now, you've received my business card. Looks can deceive—I was raised in the faith, cradle and all."

"Ah—ah, of course! That's right! Yes, yes."

The notable clapped his hands in a flurry of fuss, then traded a short glance with the civil servant. And then he smiled until the corners of his mouth nearly touched his ears, his eyes curving into crescents.

"Our pastor, you see—a truly fine man. Might you care to attend a service?"

Hooked.

Shin Yo-sep flashed a bright smile and lifted his glass. And so two men, each convinced he knew exactly what the other was thinking, clinked their glasses with a long, satisfying ring.