Chapter 39 - I Shouldn't Have Broken the Bro Code
The offer seemed fair on the surface, but Carn's instincts screamed otherwise. His past dealings with ethereal beings had taught him one thing. They were never straightforward. There was always a hidden agenda lurking behind their seemingly innocent requests.
Carn narrowed his eyes, folding his arms as he probed the spirit.
"How many gold marks are we talking about? And what about any hidden conditions or restrictions you haven't mentioned yet?"
The divine spirit offered a gentle smile, raising her hand as golden threads materialized in the air, weaving themselves into a shining tapestry of interconnected strings.
"Ten marks in total for the life of the sinner," she replied serenely. "As for conditions or restrictions, there are none. We simply request that you deliver justice… as you did in the Stone Mausoleum."
Carn's brow furrowed. If she knew about his deeds in Aether World, it meant her connection to those events wasn't coincidental. A suspicion took root.
"Were you there when I died?"
The spirit let out an unsettling giggle.
"No. But we all share memories. Whatever the other divine spirits learned in that world, we know it too."
He sighed, now fully aware of their collective hivemind.
"I see. But let me be clear. Ten gold marks for a life isn't enough. I want one hundred marks per innocent life. Otherwise, I'll simply hand her over to the police."
For the first time, the spirit's expression faltered. Her elegant face twisted, darkening into a grotesque, witch-like visage with hollowed eyes and sharp teeth. Her voice echoed in a chorus of men and women, all screeching in unison,
"No! That wench must die!"
The sudden outburst surprised Carn. While he hated dealing with divine spirits, he had never seen one lose composure so quickly. Suspecting of the mysterious demand, Carn pressed further.
"Did this woman seduce one of your incarnations or something? And if you're so obsessed with killing her, why not ask that detective to do it instead?"
The spirit's hideous face melted away, replaced by her previous angelic serenity. She smiled as if nothing had happened.
"My incarnation is a saint who will soon join the Great Will. His hands must remain pure and clean of sin. Furthermore, we are bound by the Great Will, which bars us from directly interfering with mortal freedom and free will."
Carn laughed as the hypocrisy of her statement was glaringly obvious.
"And yet here you are, asking me to murder someone for you. Very consistent."
The light behind her eyes flickered with restrained frustration as she bellowed.
"You are the one begging for our power. Therefore, we have the right to impose restrictions and conditions."
Carn countered, reminding her of the unanswered questions, "You still haven't answered my other question. What exactly did this woman do to deserve a death sentence from you? Scamming seven men isn't enough to justify this level of obsession."
The spirit's expression soured, her patience visibly waning. When she finally responded, it wasn't an answer but a deflection.
"We can agree to your terms," she said flatly. "One hundred gold marks for the woman's life. No further negotiation."
Carn wasn't satisfied. He pressed again, his voice unwavering.
"And the real reason for her death?"
The spirit's serene mask cracked. Once again, she screeched in a chorus voice, "A lowly demon has no business in our great plans for mortals!"
She silently vanished, leaving no room for further inquiries or negotiation.
Carn shook his head, regretting his decision to try to negotiate with these entities. Still, I got something out of it. Information was priceless, and spending 10 silver marks to peel back the layers of Earth's divine spirits and their petty schemes felt like a worthwhile investment.
He picked up his phone, studying the portrait left behind by the spirit. A quick swipe on the screen revealed additional notes appended by his mysterious benefactors.
"Jasmine Snowcreak," he muttered, reading her name aloud. The file included her home address and a list of her frequent locations. However, there were no crime records, no victim testimonies, and no detailed history to explain the divine spirits' obsessive hatred.
Carn stared at the screen, furrowing his brows. The whole thing felt off.
Why would a spirit get so worked up over a small-time scammer?
Shoving the thought aside, he glanced at his bedroom door, contemplating his next move.
With Han out on patrol, Wong was the only person he could turn to. Though the idea of involving her felt like inviting chaos, Carn knew Wong had a network of friends and coworkers who might dig up the dirt he needed. If anyone can turn this molehill into a mountain, it's Mom.
He swung open the door, stepped into the hallway, and made his way toward the kitchen, where Wong stood at the stove. She didn't even glance at him as he entered, but she addressed him with a flat tone.
"Eh! You come out your room for what? You think you grounded for fun, ah? Three whack later. Go back, lah!"
Carn grinned mischievously, holding up his phone with Jasmine's portrait on full display.
"Mom, I need your help. Can you ask your coworkers to dig up info on this woman? She tried to seduce Dad at church on Sunday."
The clatter of Wong's spatula hitting the counter reverberated through the kitchen. She spun around, eyes blazing.
"WHAT YOU SAY?! SEDUCE YOUR FATHER?!"
Her footsteps thundered as she stomped over, yanking the phone from Carn's hand. She squinted at the screen, studying the photo as her lips twisted into a furious snarl.
"Your father did what? Who is this bitch?!"
"A single mother," Carn answered, feigning casualness while adding fuel to the fire. "She tried to cozy up to Dad. But I've heard from school that she's a catfish and maybe a scammer. She probably targeted him because of his fancy van and suit."
Carn conveniently left out the part where Han had rejected Jasmine outright. Betraying the Bro Code felt wrong, but he trusted that Wong's wrath would eventually burn itself out and that Han's innocence would come to light eventually.
"Scammer bitch, catfish bitch, or single mother bitch. All are the same. Gold-digging bitches are all bitches!"
She turned back to Carn, her anger momentarily replaced with maternal approval.
"Good. You tell me. Grounding cancel now."
Carn chuckled awkwardly.
Sorry, Dad.
But karma struck fast and without mercy. Wong promptly smacked him on the head with the phone and screamed in his face, "Add 20 whips to the three earlier for not telling me sooner! Now, pick the weapon. A wok, a mortar stick, a belt, a broom, an umbrella, my sandal, your father's steel baton, or your father's BDSM wooden spanker."
Carn blinked in disbelief. "Wait, what? Dad has a WHAT?"
Carn had a hundred questions about why Han had a wooden spanker and why Wong knew about it. He sighed and chose something that wouldn't hurt him as much.
"Don't ask questions," Wong snapped. "Choose."
With a resigned sigh, Carn opted for the least painful-sounding option.
"Sandal, please."
Wong's lips curled into a devilish grin as she marched to the shoe cabinet. From its depths, she pulled out a size-22 wooden sandal, thick and solid like a piece of firewood.
Carn's jaw dropped. "No, no, no, no, wait, wait, wait, wait! I meant a regular sandal, not a caveman's club!"
"You should have told me sooner, lah!" Wong cackled, snatching a handhold pan as a backup weapon. "Now, turn around and lift your butt! No resisting or no dinner!"
…
That day, Carn endured the wrath of both sandal and pan, receiving a total of 30 smacks—10 from the iron pan and 20 from the "Sandal of Love."
It wasn't hurt, but his dignity was in shreds.
Karma exists.