Next Caller, Please
I clicked the mouse. Just moments ago there had only been five or six viewers, but the number had already surged past double digits and was on the verge of triple digits. …Had this blown up on a community forum?
No. Focus. I decided to handle the people who had sent 500 Moon Balloons in the order they’d donated, noting their stories in my memo pad and giving them counseling one by one. Let’s see…
“Mr. MyGirlfriendIsActingWeird, please share your story.”
Oh, this one was pleasantly ordinary. Nothing about job interviews or life-and-death stakes, just a perfectly normal relationship worry. With my past-life experience I could handle this easily.
But.
The Deity cut in without hesitation.
How did you know my name!? …Oh. I had set my username to my real name. Yoo Seoyeon.
‘Deity, wasn’t that a little too detailed?’
‘Are details not important? I even pinpointed the exact location of the evidence, so be grateful.’
‘Grateful? For what!’
But the chat window had already exploded. If the storyteller was trembling so hard you could feel it through text, that pretty much said everything.
The chat window shook with the power of a single person’s story.
About ten minutes after the storyteller left, the chat lit up again.
“Ahaha, congratulations… or should I not say that right now?”
The donation alerts kept ringing nonstop. I wiped cold sweat from my forehead and glanced at the viewer count. It had already blown well past triple digits.
‘Deity. Am I actually going to succeed at this?’
‘If success finds you, remember exactly whose power made it possible.’
‘…Would chicken be an acceptable offering?’
‘Not bad at all.’
I had just discovered that one fried chicken was enough to bribe a god. At this rate our Deity was surprisingly cheap.
‘Then after the stream I’ll order you one. Seasoned, okay?’
‘Plain fried.’
‘You really know what you like.’
Anyway. Next story. I looked back at the memo pad. The line of people who had sent 500 Moon Balloons had grown into a proper waiting list. A queue forming just one hour after starting the broadcast.
Yesterday I had been throwing a tantrum at my remarried father demanding child support. Thanks to that I now had a place to live and the seed money to start streaming, so I supposed it all worked out. I’d pay him back once I made real money.
“All right, next. Mr. ConfessionAttack, please share your story.”
“Why spend money asking something so simple? Just confess. Or better yet, use that money to get a decent haircut.”
The Deity’s brutal honesty left the storyteller speechless.
“Well… good luck. You heard the Deity. Fighting!”
“I’m trying to give sincere advice but the Deity keeps interrupting. Or rather, another version of me keeps interrupting.”
“Okay, let’s keep going. WillIPassTheExam—”
That was when it happened.
Five thousand? The chat went wild.
A new message appeared under the username Anchoring.
“Ahem. Correct. I am not that easy. There is a proper order and it must be respected.”
“…I can’t even imagine how urgent this is. Shall I take you first?”
I was about to let him go first when the Deity moved faster.
The Deity’s roar left the viewers bewildered. I was just as confused. That voice wasn’t the usual sly, teasing tone. It was low, heavy with fury. I had never heard it during the days I was locked in that tiny room, nor the moment I fled the village.
She thrust one hand forward sharply.
You shall not live a life worth living, and in death you shall suffer for all eternity.
* * *
In an officetel in Gangnam, Seoul, the man sitting in front of his monitor let out a dry laugh.
“What the hell is this crazy bitch?”
Park Seongju worked as an investment consultant, but in truth he was a low-level recruiter for a stock manipulation ring. His job was simple: lure people in with talk of an upcoming IPO, inflate the stock, then dump everything.
All that remained were worthless shares and people who had lost their life savings. How many victims there were or what became of them afterward was none of Park Seongju’s concern.
Entering the broadcast had been a calculated move. He needed a pretty new face to act as a shill. Promote her a little, use her to draw in marks—either way it was a win-win.
But.
“Three souls have perished by your hand. No—four.”
That single sentence sent a chill racing down his spine. No one knew about that. Not the police, not his family, not a single soul.
“Coincidence,” Park Seongju muttered, hand trembling on the mouse. “She just guessed. There’s no way she could know. Impossible.”
At that moment the tiny shaman on screen raised her hand, pointing straight through the monitor at him.
“You shall not live a life worth living, and in death you shall suffer for all eternity.”
Instantly, Park Seongju’s vision went black. A crushing pain like his heart had stopped slammed into his chest and stole his breath.
The glow of the monitor, the fluorescent lights in the room, every light in existence seemed to be sucked away at once. Then, in the darkness, he saw the faces of every person he had ruined staring back at him.
“U-ugh… AAAAAAGH!”
On screen the shaman had already moved on to the next story as if nothing had happened, like she had merely swatted a fly and wiped her hands clean.
“…What the hell. What the hell was that?”
That night Park Seongju couldn’t sleep at all. When he closed his eyes the faces appeared. When he opened them they remained. He heard hallucinations. He saw visions. Days passed, then weeks, but nothing improved. Hospitals found no cause. Psychiatrists were helpless. Even the shamans he visited could do nothing.
And so Park Seongju lived out the rest of his days never truly living.
But that was a story for slightly later.
* * *
‘…Deity. What did you just do?’
‘I gave him a small punishment.’
The sly voice had returned inside my head, as if the earlier fury had never existed.
‘Punishment? What kind?’
‘You need not know. A bad man simply met with a bad outcome.’
I decided not to ask any more. Somehow I felt it would be better not to know.
“Ahaha. Sorry about that. I get like this sometimes.”
I tried to sound cheerful, but my fingertips were still trembling faintly.
“All right, let’s welcome the next guest. Let’s see… Mr. WillIPassTheExam, please share your story.”
This much I could answer with light counseling.
“Well, you see—”
But the Deity couldn’t stay quiet.
This is supposed to be a worry-counseling broadcast!
“Are you not curious why the appointment is delayed?”