Chapter 17: Suspicious Bodyguards (2)
“Even if I delay your promotion by a year or two, this should be enough, right? So don’t say you’re going to another company. I wouldn’t be able to face the Chairman otherwise.”
“Thank you, Director! Thank you! What are you doing? Assistant Manager Kim! No, Manager Kim! Hurry and pay your respects!”
“Thank you.”
I was grateful, but it felt way too much. It was excessive treatment for a mere Manager nobody.
But I couldn’t bring myself to grab the director and ask why I alone was getting special treatment.
They say a guilty thief fears his own footstep, right? A pointless question might put me in an awkward position.
It was hard to honestly say I was doing remote work right now.
My teammates knew I couldn’t come up with a plausible excuse, so when I said personal reasons, they didn't ask further.
In that sense, everything ended well. I even got an unexpected promotion—I didn’t need to stir up trouble.
“Wow! Our Manager Kim is rolling in luck today! Rolling in it! So instead of soju, let’s drink the real 90‑year liquor! Kim, go fetch it! No, now that you’re Manager, I should get it.”
“I’ll just go get it myself.”
“Haha! You will?”
“I’ve only had one drink and I’m already drunk?”
“Ah, I’m just in a happy mood, that’s all!”
“By the way, the director already paid, right? Let’s eat beef ribs instead of that disgusting pig skin—beef ribs!”
“You’re on a diet, Manager?”
“Beef is basically a diet food. Boss! Five orders of beef ribs here! No, six!”
And so on our table, the fake 90‑year liquor—with just a bit of beer for color—was replaced by the real thing, and instead of the usual pig skin, we got authentic beef ribs on the grill.
“Korean Manager, eat quickly. When will we get to eat like this again?”
“What’s this, a final supper? We’ll just buy it again with the next company dinner budget.”
“Sure, that’s how our company dinners go.”
Team lead’s tongs diligently flipped meat, putting a thick piece on my plate.
They were good people. The professional distance between coworkers almost vanished.
A workplace I’d given up on, believing I’d never live the same life again, once more became my shelter. And in that shelter were my two team members.
“Ah! Why are you pouring beer into the beer glass?!”
“It’s a special day. Today we can drink. Besides, Manager likes going solo drinking anyway. He drinks better than me.”
“If the manager gets drunk, we have to put him in a taxi.”
A teammate who liked drinking just a bit too much.
***
At the same time, on a road near Namyangju.
Past rush hour, this rural road—which should’ve been quiet—now had an odd procession of cars lined up.
They drove knit‑together as if racing in a competition.
“You can’t step on it more? Let’s just overtake them.”
“This is lane one. Passing would cross the center line.”
“Ah! That damn ticket! This isn’t the time to care about that!”
“You haven’t even filled the tank once, and you’re telling me to push it. Also, the number of people allowed to meet the Mountain God is fixed, right? Even if all of us go, seats are guaranteed.”
“You don’t know, you bastard! When we first came to guard the Divine Tree, the Mountain God gave out sacred items. He said if the spiritual power was weak, we'd be vulnerable.”
“Yeah, and that sacred item is right on your fan—the tufts of the Mountain God’s fur. Even just shaking it emits spiritual power. But why bring that up now?”
“He said pulling it out hurts so he quit.”
“What? Then that MacArthur shaman got wooden chopsticks….”
“If that’s the worst, we’re lucky. Some got can tops from the mountain, hangers, even soju bottles! You gonna wave a soju bottle in the shrine when they read your fortune? We got items already—so it’s your turn now!”
That’s how the sequence went.
Most shamans move in teams like those two, so naturally, one person per team received a sacred item from the raccoon‑dog spirit, the Mountain God.
If the second guardian of the Divine Tree received one, it was expected that his turn had come.
And by precedent, those at the back of the line had a high chance of missing out on a proper sacred item.
“Damn it, you should’ve told me that earlier!”
“Jesus, I told you repeatedly to hurry, but you ignored me!”
“Hold tight. We’re gonna step on it now.”
“You should’ve done that earlier!”
The Monk‑Agent pressed the accelerator fully.
– Vroooooom.
The heavy engine sound echoed throughout the car. Yet the speedometer struggled to climb past 64 km/h.
The determined pace barely exceeded the limit by 4 km/h.
“Cheap bastard.”
“I’m a Buddhist doing my best. You don’t get it, but in our Dharma realm, precepts are everything. Only someone like me can go +4 km/h. It depends on how much virtue you’ve built up…”
“That damn virtue, ugh!”
“Hey, hey. Why all of a sudden? Pull it together!”
“Haa, don’t you see that?”
“What?”
With trembling hands, Haedong Sinyuh pointed ahead. There was only a dilapidated old building.
The Monk‑Agent, who looked at Haedong Sinyuh quizzically in the rearview mirror, slowed down.
“I’ll pull over now.”
“No! Just go!”
“What are you talking about, looking like you're about to die!”
“This is a test. A real test to determine the guardian of the Divine Tree. That light means just that.”
“What kind of light in the middle of the night… huh?”
“That damn bald monk, I guess he’s only seeing it now because his divine power is lacking, ugh.”
It was a massive beam of light.
A huge blue pillar of light had erupted in a place where, just moments ago, nothing had been visible except the taillights of the car ahead and a few scattered streetlights.
And the closer the car got to the beam, the more intense the pain tightening around my chest became.
“What the hell! That’s divine power? Who the hell is blasting such crude divine power? Don’t tell me…”
“This time’s guardian is different from the Mountain God. They won’t accept just any riffraff.”
“Phew, so you’re saying if I get there, my fate will change for the better? Fine.”
As the mage passed by the cars stopping on the shoulder one by one, there was a pure madness in his eyes.
Madness far removed from any kind of piety.
The drinking session didn’t last long.
The beef short ribs, which we hadn’t had in a while, turned out to be greasier than the pig skin and failed to serve as proper drinking snacks.
So we sipped and picked at the snacks for two hours, until finally someone among us raised the white flag.
“Ugh, I can’t drink anymore.”
That surrender came from Manager Lee, only after nearly twenty empty bottles of 90-Year-Old Soju had piled up in a corner of the room.
“You gonna go throw up some gas?”
“Stop saying such ignorant things. Are you planning to skip work tomorrow? Manager Kim, are you okay?”
“I’ve had quite a bit too. Let’s wrap it up here.”
“What about you, Intern?”
“You’re just going to suggest a third round after sobering up again. I’m not going, seriously.”
“I’ll pass too.”
Unfortunately, the three of us were seasoned drinkers.
Especially Manager Lee and I—we didn’t particularly enjoy drinking, but we could hold our liquor like we were born for sales.
Like tonight, when the empty bottles left no room to step.
“Manager, open your eyes and turn on your phone! Are you going to get scolded by your wife and sleep in the car again?”
“Hmm?”
That threatening tone snapped his unfocused eyes wide open.
“Alright, hurry and call a taxi.”
“Oh, one’s here! Wait, are you really leaving? I’ve sobered up now.”
“Your tongue really is back to normal. Then have the second round at home with your wife.”
“Wait a second……”
“Manager Kim, shove him in.”
At this point, it wasn’t even rude.
Like stuffing an octopus back into a tank, I pushed his broad forehead back inside the car and quickly fastened the seatbelt.
And when the next taxi alert came, I climbed into my own reserved cab.
I considered calling a chauffeur, but dropping one off in this countryside and going home alone felt like a crime.
I could just come back tomorrow to pick up the car anyway.
“Oh dear, you’re headed to Namyangju, right? Welcome aboard. You must’ve had a drink and are heading home early tonight.”
“Yes, we wrapped up a bit early.”
“Back in the day, folks wouldn’t even be drinking coffee before 2 a.m., but now it's all 9 or 10 p.m. We get to leave work early too, not bad, huh?”
“Yeah, sure. Haha.”
I missed the chance to pretend to sleep with my earphones in.
I must’ve been his first customer.
So I got to hear all about his grown-up son and daughter, some surprisingly literary life advice, and even awkward questions about political preferences.
After the usual taxi chat looped a few times, familiar scenery appeared on the way home.
But something strange was overlaid on that familiar scene.
“People these days sure drink fast. Look there. Someone parked and is puking. So pathetic. You’ve gotta drink in moderation. It’s all a social problem, isn’t it? Huh? Someone’s puking there too. Was there a company party nearby or something? I hope it’s not all drunk driving.”
It was just past 10 p.m.
Normally, you wouldn’t see many cars out around this time, but today the shoulder was lined with luxury sedans.
And everyone I passed, just as the taxi driver said, was either clinging to a tree vomiting or stumbling like they were about to collapse.
I could easily guess the cause of this situation.
No—there were so many problems, it was hard to pinpoint exactly who or what was at fault.
But it definitely wasn’t alcohol.
“Driver, could you stop here?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Thank you.”
Riding all the way home in the taxi was no longer an option.
Based on the many incidents I had already endured, I might witness something terrible.
So I got out of the taxi, and the closer I got to home, the more serious the situation became.
“Ugh…”
“Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”
Shake, shake.
A firm refusal.
Everyone, for some reason, was trudging with all their might toward the café, with determined faces as if nothing could stop them.
Even if I tried to hold them back, they wouldn’t stop.
If I left them like this, I’d end up with a line of corpses outside my house.
-Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Why won’t you answer your phone?”
And so, without knowing why, I found myself running with them.
The problem was, once they saw me running, the people who had been crawling along began to speed up too.
With faces that looked like they might drop dead any second.
“What’s wrong with everyone? Don’t run if you’re struggling!”
“Huff, huff… Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be first!”
“First? What do you mean…”
“Blegh!”
“This is insane.”
No one seemed able to give a proper answer.
Suddenly, I remembered seeing on the internet that running crews were popular these days as a post-work hobby.
We were probably the strangest running crew of them all.
A running crew made up of strangers in outfits way too flashy to be sportswear.
And leading them, with a stomach still unsettled from a hangover, was me.