<103. Shock and Terror (1)>
It was shock and terror.
Actor Kwak Dochul hadn't been able to sleep properly for days. The anxiety that had consumed his mind ever since his wife's ultimatum was to blame. He regretted underestimating her and berated himself over and over.
But there was no way to undo what had been done.
He had thought she was an easy woman—weak-willed, unattractive, and lacking in resolve. He believed that if he got on his knees and begged, she would forgive him, just like before.
But this time was different. Kwak Dochul felt both fear and anger.
"Damn it, can't a person just fall in love?"
He recalled what his wife had said.
"I'll keep it brief. I'll give you one last chance. Go and confess to the reporters yourself. Expose how you've been fooling around with that half-elf woman and show them what a despicable human being you are. Then I'll settle for a quiet divorce."
When his wife caught him in the middle of a tryst with his latest lover, Kwak Dochul did what he always did—he begged for forgiveness.
His wife had cried and screamed, but the situation was somehow smoothed over. She seemed half-resigned and told him she would let it slide this time, but that it would be the last.
But just a few days later, Kwak Dochul arranged a new hideout, complete with talismans to ward off any snooping ghosts, and met with his lover again—only to get caught once more.
He never imagined that the seemingly dim-witted woman would hire a private investigator to track him down.
This time, his wife truly threatened divorce. However, she added a condition that Kwak Dochul found unacceptable.
A press conference to confess his affair.
"It would be in your best interest to do as I say. I'm giving you this last chance to repent and reflect on what you've done. Otherwise, I'll release photos of all the other women you fooled around with before I caught you."
The record of his past misdeeds loomed over him like a blade at his throat.
"And don't forget, I'll also expose your illegal gambling, drunk driving, and all those times you assaulted people while drunk... all the things my father covered up for you. I'll reveal everything."
It was the worst-case scenario.
Just the scandal of the affair alone would be enough to end his acting career. But his wife had even more damning cards to play.
He anxiously bit his nails.
He was begrudgingly relieved that, despite her high-handed attitude, she was giving him a "chance to repent." As much as it galled him, at least this bought him some time to come up with a plan. If she had gone straight to the press, there would have been nothing he could do.
"What should I do?!"
A divorce was inevitable. If he held the press conference, his father-in-law would explode in fury. Although his wife hadn't yet told her father everything, it was only a matter of time. With him being at fault, he'd be thrown out with nothing, unable to claim a cent of the assets held in his wife and father-in-law's names.
The only reason he had pursued his wife was for her money. He had also calculated that her father's influence would benefit his career, which it did. He had never loved her. But he didn't want a divorce either. He couldn't afford to end up broke and jobless.
With bloodshot eyes, Kwak Dochul racked his brain for a way out of this crisis.
"...!"
Then, an idea struck him.
If he was willing to abandon a few trivial things—like conscience, morality, and humanity—it was the most efficient solution.
This marriage was doomed. That much was certain. But there was a way to end it without losing his wife's wealth or being blacklisted from the industry.
There was no need for his father-in-law to know about this situation. The media didn't need to know either. With his wife yet to file for divorce, the timing was perfect.
Having made up his mind, a few days later he sat in front of his computer.
With a nervous expression, he accessed the dark web and entered the address. It had cost him a small fortune just to find out how to access this site. But if this worked out, an even larger sum would be required. He had even taken out a loan in his wife's name to prepare for today.
Kwak Dochul connected to a website that had nothing but a single chat window on a white screen. He blinked anxiously. Had he reached the right place?
Before he could hesitate any longer, the other party initiated the conversation. Since the company was based abroad, the operator used English.
An awkwardly translated Korean sentence appeared on the screen.
-Operator: Hello. Thank you for contacting Helper Services. How may I serve you today?
The general meaning of the message—"How can we help you?"—came through. He hesitated, then typed a simple Korean sentence.
-Me: I would like to place an order.
The response came quickly, as if his message had been translated.
-Operator: Excellent, sir.
Kwak Dochul was momentarily taken aback by the unexpected compliment, but he quickly realized it was a mistranslation of "Excellent, sir."
The operator continued typing.
-Operator: We will need a detailed explanation. We always do. We have various services and options for you to choose from. What service do you require?
Kwak Dochul hesitated. He had heard that traces left on the dark web were difficult to track. But was it safe to specify certain terms?
Sensing his hesitation, the operator took the initiative.
-Operator: We have an excellent operating system to meet our clients' needs. Among our services, "Storage" and "Cleaning" have received the most positive feedback. Do either of these services interest you?
Kwak Dochul guessed that "storage" likely referred to kidnapping. Given the context, the service he needed must be labeled as "cleaning."
-Me: Cleaning.
-Operator: An excellent choice. We offer the best service in that field.
-Operator: Before we proceed further, we will need payment information. Please provide your PayPal account linked to cryptocurrency.
He followed the instructions.
-Operator: Verified. Now, there are several steps we need to go through. First, we need information on the target. Please submit it according to the following format. Please note that if the target is a troll, a 150% surcharge may apply. Additionally, the contract may be voided if the target is a non-migrant species or possesses special abilities.
He submitted the prepared file. The chat paused as the information was reviewed. Kwak Dochul swallowed dryly as he waited.
Finally, a response came.
-Operator: No issues. Let's move on to the schedule and any restrictions. These factors may affect the fee. First, by when do you want this contract to be completed?
It seemed they were asking for a deadline. Kwak Dochul replied that he needed it done as quickly as possible. He knew this would increase the cost, but he had no other choice.
The operator then asked about any restrictions he had in mind. Kwak Dochul didn't understand what this meant, so the operator began listing options in a similar format as before, as if anticipating his confusion.
-Operator: Do you want to verify the outcome of the cleaning through photos or videos?
-Operator: Is it necessary to minimize collateral damage during the cleaning process?
-Operator: Do you accept the use of explosives during the cleaning?
-Operator: Do you need the target's "body"?
-Operator: Would you like to receive tissue samples from the target?
-Operator: Do you require medical verification documents after the cleaning?
-Operator: Does the cleaning need to take place in a public area? Do you wish for the details of the target and the cleaning to be widely covered by the media?
-Operator: Is there someone you want to frame instead of the real cleaner?
After answering all the questions, the fee the operator quoted was even higher than he had expected.
But there was no choice. If things went wrong, he would be the prime suspect. There was an alternative—he could have gone to an orc community, handed out some cash to a group of drugged-up thugs, and let them do the job. But instead, he had contacted these people because of their reputation for thorough clean-up.
In the end, less than an hour after starting the chat, all the arrangements were made, and Kwak Dochul had to accept his fate.
Arranging the contract killing of his wife turned out to be much simpler and easier than expected.
Minjun was feeling increasingly uneasy these days.
The reason was the lack of progress with the hypnosis therapy during sleep.
What he wanted was to dream about the time before he began his life as a prisoner. But Ymtus had yet to reach that point. As a result, Minjun had dreamed of Dell sixteen times so far. It was an utterly horrifying experience.
He had also had several nightmares dealing with other incidents, but the frequency of dreams related to more recent events was higher.
Ymtus became discouraged when Minjun expressed his dissatisfaction, but the results didn't improve.
"The High Patriarch managed to access deleted memories in one go."
But Minjun had killed him.
The reason the High Patriarch could delve into such deep areas was that his divine power was running wild. And the reason his divine power was running wild was…
Whoosh!
A brilliant light shimmered in Minjun's hand, embodying the most beautiful colors in the world.
"Should I make Ymtus's divine power go berserk?"
At the time, the High Patriarch had been harboring around a million talents within his soul just before he died.
If Minjun took similar measures with Ymtus, the same result might occur.
But he wasn't sure. Was this really the only way? Deep down, something about this option didn't sit well with him. It was an intuitive aversion, like the way he disliked the Elafo-Pra sect's method of awakening the primordial race.
To describe it more concretely, it felt like something was missing. A crucial element needed to regain his memories and awaken his kin. An indispensable key… it was still missing. He felt that he shouldn't act rashly until he had it in his hands.
The maddening part was that he couldn't remember what it was.
Ring-ring!
Immersed in thought, Minjun put the talents away and picked up the phone.
"It's me, brother."
It was Jungpal's drained voice.
"I hear you've been really busy lately. I'm sorry, but do you have a moment today?"
Minjun didn't hesitate.
"Sure, let's meet. It's been a while."
Jungpal arrived a little earlier than typical after-work hours. It had been a while since they last met, and his face didn't look good. A haggard alien, worn out by frequent nightmares, and a gaunt orc sat facing each other.
As soon as Jungpal sat down, he asked anxiously.
"Brother! I know it's rude to ask like this, but…"
"What's going on?"
"Have I… been cursed?"
It was a statement thrown out with no explanation or context. But instead of asking why, Minjun scrutinized him closely.
Then he made a definitive statement.
"No, there's no curse on you."
Jungpal visibly relaxed.
"Phew! That's a relief. I was just worried."
"What happened?"
Jungpal then recounted the details of a recent case he had been involved with.
"You heard the news, right? Kwak Dochul is dead."
Minjun shook his head. He hadn't even had time to turn on the TV lately. So Jungpal explained.
"Actually… I was the one protecting that guy."
But Kwak Dochul had been killed by his wife right before his eyes.
His throat had been slit cleanly in one stroke.
"…"
Minjun frowned, his trauma resurfacing. Although he had never been beheaded, memories of shouting and fighting to have his head cut off flooded back. He forced himself to push those thoughts out of his mind.
"Right after that woman killed Kwak Dochul, she collapsed with all her bones broken. She was taken away immediately. Then, when the forensic team tried to collect the weapon left at the scene and picked it up..."
But then, that forensic officer suddenly lost his mind and stabbed the wizard standing next to him.
The police suspected a curse as the reason for their sudden madness.
A curse can be triggered by contact with something, but sometimes it can affect people just by being in the same place. Jungpal was afraid of that possibility.
"I wanted to come see you right away, but I was pretty much tied up myself."
He continued to lament how thoroughly the internal investigation had shaken things up after that incident. Minjun realized that the reason Jungpal looked particularly exhausted was not just the fear of a curse, but because he hadn't been able to sleep.
For the past few days, one person had been suffering from too much unwanted sleep, while another was tormented by too little.
Seeing his cherished friend's condition in such a bad state made Minjun feel uneasy. He quietly sent a telepathic message to the basement.
Immediately, a formless and colorless sacred power filled the room. The orc, focused on his explanation, didn't notice the sudden surge of vitality in his body.
"Later, they interrogated the forensic officer... He said that the moment he grabbed the sword, he heard a voice in his head."
"A voice? Whose? The sword's?"
"I didn't mention this before, but that weapon found at the scene seems to be an Ego Sword. The forensic officer said that the voice coming from the sword was so reverent, so holy, that it felt like the voice of a god. He felt compelled to do whatever it commanded."
Minjun tilted his head.
"A sword that bewitches the person who holds it? That's not something an ordinary curse can do. That object sounds like a high-performance Ego Sword, something rarely seen on Earth."
"But the wizard who got stabbed said there wasn't any curse on it. It didn't react to the spirit detection magic, so he called it a cheap sword..."
"That can't be right. It's either cursed with an extremely powerful spell, or it contains an incredibly powerful soul. The wizard probably wasn't skilled enough to detect it. I think it's more likely the latter. A soul with mind control abilities might be sealed in there."
Jungpal then looked confused.
"I don't know much about that world, but is spirit detection magic such a difficult spell? Does it often get things wrong?"
"Not really. That's what makes this strange. For the wizard to confidently say there was no soul… But I think I'm right. From what you said about the persuasive speech that bewitched people, it's hard to dismiss it as just artificial intelligence. The soul's presence must have been too high-level to detect. I'd probably be able to see it..."
Minjun stopped mid-sentence. He felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
A speech that's too sophisticated to be just artificial intelligence, yet the soul within isn't detectable by magic—an odd combination, but strangely familiar.
Minjun felt like he was missing something important, like he was vaguely aware that he had forgotten something he shouldn't have. The realization was slow and dull.
"Brother?"
Jungpal asked curiously, but Minjun didn't respond. He was desperately trying to recall what had been erased from his mind.
And then, suddenly...
"...!"
A flash of lightning struck his mind, and sparks flew from his eyes.
Minjun remembered an object he couldn't even gauge how long he had forgotten. And he shouted out.
"…Right, the frying pan!"
< 103. Shock and Terror (1) > End