Humanity Protection Company

TL/Editor: raei

Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None.

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In the shrine's spacious courtyard, people bustled about, moving tables, cooking rice, grilling meat, and preparing for the feast.

The elderly stood with hands clasped behind their backs, pointing here and there and offering unsolicited advice. Young people moved about sweating, while children ran around shouting and chattering excitedly.

The atmosphere was lively and festive.

In contrast, a club member and Lee Yeonwoo huddled in a corner, quietly observing the commotion.

"They could poison the food."

"The meal itself might trigger the anomaly. There are stories about eating food from the underworld preventing your return to the land of the living."

"On the other hand, refusing could also cause problems."

Yeonwoo and the man exchanged words effortlessly. They communicated well on matters like this - predicting and dealing with dangers.

Not just any investigator, the man thought as he looked at Yeonwoo anew and called over a club member.

"We brought our own provisions, right? Let's hand over about 20 portions. As if we're contributing to the feast. Include the chocolate too."

"Understood."

Yeonwoo also admired the man's judgment.

"So we'll just eat what we prepared."

"Not we, but what we... Never mind."

Just then, several burly farmers entered, arms full of sickles, pitchforks, and the like, dumping them in a corner of the courtyard. The pile of low-quality farm tools clattered noisily.

Yeonwoo wore a puzzled expression. "Why would they bring those to a feast?"

"They might have their reasons," the man replied. Though out of place at a feast, he analyzed the situation coolly. "They wouldn't throw a feast without purpose. This is a small village dependent on farming, ruled by a shaman. There's likely some mixture of agriculture and religion at play."

This implied that the emergence of unique customs wouldn't be strange. And the influence of anomalies tended to be behind the unique cultures of anomalous cities.

Something feels off, Yeonwoo thought. He slipped his hand into his pocket, grasping the eraser. Confidence surged through him. A sense that he could protect himself safely.

"You mentioned earlier that this so-called god would demonstrate its power at the feast. What kind of anomaly typically gets called a god?"

"It's just a label. Call it a god and it's a god, call it an artwork and it's an artwork. Demons are a bit different... Anyway, judging by how it organizes and rules the village, we can negotiate with it."

Suddenly, the man grinned greedily. "If I could make this village my client and sell them longevity. Hehe. I could make quite a profit."

"Client?"

"It's no different from an ordinary business. Buy here, sell there. Broker services from one place to another. Take a cut in the middle."

There was still time before the feast began. Checking his wristwatch, the man explained the club's structure while making small talk.

"Money doesn't just grow on trees, you know. High-ranking members each run their own businesses. And rankings are determined by business profits. Simply put." The man curled his fingers into a coin shape. His wristwatch gleamed. "It's all about money. Whoever makes the most money is on top, that's all there is to it."

"Seems simple enough," Yeonwoo replied. He nodded absent-mindedly, then asked another question out of boredom. It was just to pass the time.

They chatted about the man's business, security services and anomalous city exploration, why Yeonwoo didn't join the club instead of being a risky investigator, and some vague details about contracts.

After a while of meaningless chatter, the feast preparations were complete.

Each table was filled with mixed grain rice, side dishes, and meat. The villagers, clutching sickles, pitchforks, and rocks, waited for the shaman to arrive.

Their eyes were dark and sunken, the air charged with tension.

"The atmosphere is a bit..." Yeonwoo hunched his body. Like a compressed spring, like a beast ready to pounce. Turning his head like a meerkat, he saw the shaman emerge from the shrine.

Jingle, jingle, the sound of bells rang out. The sound grew louder and closer until the shaman stopped in their midst.

The shaman's sharp voice cut through the air. "Today we offer death. Everyone ready? No one missing?"

"Yes, yes. Of course," came the trembling replies. Hands gripping sickles and pitchforks shook. Eyelids clenched shut.

The shaman whipped their head around. Eyes fixed on the guests. The man calmly met that gaze, rubbing his stomach as if hungry.

The shaman smirked. "Guests, stay right where you are. Watch closely and feel the power of our god with your own eyes."

"I look forward to it," the man smirked back. They held each other's gaze for a moment.

The shaman snapped open a fan depicting a hazy image of the god of the River Styx. The fan swept upward with a flourish. "Begin."

The fan spun down in an arc as the shaman leapt and twirled like in a gut ritual. The decorations on their clothes unfurled, and the bell sounds rang painfully loud.

And then, blood sprayed.

Thwack! A sickle sliced a throat. A pitchfork became a spear, stabbing someone. A rock smashed down on a head, while another head cracked from a thrown stone.

Crash! People collapsed with groans of pain. Carefully arranged tables overturned, while intact ones were stained red with blood.

Yeonwoo's pupils dilated. This was real. Not pretense or acting, but inflicting fatal wounds. The stench of blood grew thick.

"No, this is insane," he muttered. His legs moved on their own. Creeping along the courtyard fence towards the wide-open main gate.

At that moment, whoosh, the shaman pointed at Yeonwoo. The villagers' heads turned in unison to look at him.

"How dare you try to leave during the feast?" the shaman shrieked. The bell sounds stopped, as did the sounds of killing and dying.

The shaman, villagers, and even those collapsed on the ground glared at Yeonwoo with eyes clouded by black smoke. Even those on the ground, gasping for breath, coughing blood, and groaning in pain, all focused their gazes on him.

That murderous atmosphere. Sickles and pitchforks stained red. Humans drenched in blood. The air thick with killing intent.

Faced with that ferocious energy, as if they might seize Yeonwoo and offer him as a sacrifice at any moment, he spoke.

"No, I just wanted a better view. Please, continue the feast. Wow, I've rarely seen anything like this."

The shaman's eyelids trembled. The club member wore an incredulous expression, but as the shaman began leaping again and people resumed killing each other, the atmosphere once more descended into madness.

They killed and died with all their might, neither fleeing nor hesitating. Fighting like mortal enemies, the slaughter ended quickly.

All the villagers lay wounded on the ground.

Gasping and taking labored breaths. The shaman took a deep breath of the blood-scented air, then smiled contentedly.

"The god of the River Styx will be pleased."

The shaman lit some incense. Black smoke rose from it in plumes, flowing into the inner shrine.

At the same time, the people's wounds gradually disappeared. Though spilled blood remained, broken heads, sliced throats, and stabbed torsos healed rapidly. As if they had never existed.

The villagers rose with groans of "Oh my," as if they'd never suffered fatal injuries. Then they plopped down in front of the blood-spattered tables.

But a few elderly villagers, their wounds seemingly not fully healed, hunched over, struggling to suppress their groans and pain.

The shaman blinked their black-stained eyes a few times, then nodded.

"You've worked hard, so eat. Those who offered less death remain. And guests, what did you think? Our god-"

Clap- clap- clap-

Slow applause interrupted the shaman. It was the club's high-ranking member. The man smiled happily, his face flushed red.

"Good. Very good. Excellent. Your salesmanship is truly artful."

Could a product introduction be any more intuitive than this? Who could deny its marketability after seeing this?

An anomaly that not only grants longevity but even heals fatal wounds! This has definite commercial potential!

Of course, he hadn't fully analyzed it yet, but that could be figured out step by step.

"We can have a deeper discussion now. It'll be beneficial for you too."

As the man strode forward, the shaman wore a bewildered expression. This wasn't the reaction the shaman had expected.

Then they noticed Yeonwoo standing by the door. He was frowning.

Not a single sane person here, he thought. The shaman who orchestrated this feast, the club member excited about its profit potential - neither seemed in their right mind. It felt like he was the only normal one here-

Yeonwoo's thoughts were interrupted by the shaman's voice.

"And what did you think, guest?"

"Ah." Yeonwoo snapped out of his thoughts. Faced with the shaman's eerie gaze, he spoke without much consideration.

"It's cliché. Nothing particularly special from what I can see."

Killing each other? That was just behavior forced by the shaman. A disease that kills people is scarier. Regeneration? The zombies from the hair-loss rain were more persistent.

Thus, Yeonwoo actually felt his slight tension dissipate. If this was all, there wasn't much danger.

The boredom was plainly visible on Yeonwoo's face. He just wanted to leave quickly.

His expression even looked bored, causing confusion to fill the shaman's face.

"Mr. Yeonwoo! Come inside too. You should claim your share."

The man strode into the shrine. The shaman followed, tilting their head in confusion, while Yeonwoo leisurely took off his shoes and entered.

The shaman and the man walked ahead inside the shrine.

That smell, Yeonwoo thought. He wrinkled his nose. He traced the path where the black smoke had slithered through the air like a snake. The faint trail of smoke led to a painting of the god on the wall.

Is that painting the anomaly? So the shaman is handling a single anomaly? Two swipes of the eraser should do it.

A black shadow blocking the River Styx. It seemed somewhat faded.

"Hurry up! Every minute counts!" the man called out. "If we start the business a day earlier, we can make that much more money-"

"Yes, I'm coming," Yeonwoo replied.

---

---

A small room in the shrine.

Seated on the warm floor heated by ondol, the shaman, the man, and Yeonwoo continued their conversation.

The man spoke enthusiastically, his body fidgeting. "This... religion? Village? Followers? Anyway, have you considered taking on more people?"

"If you mean guests-"

"I mean outsiders, not us. As you know, we opened a closed passage to get here. That means people can come and go freely."

The shaman looked flustered. The flow of conversation was explosive, like a dam bursting in a flood. Too rapid to keep up with.

"We're saying we'll bring people here, that's what I mean."

The shaman pondered for a moment, then snapped open their fan to cover their face. "First, I need to ask the god-"

"Ah, then please summon that god. I'll negotiate directly."

"What do you-"

"Just as you serve the god of the River Styx, we're people of that side too. Sorcery, blessings, magic, spiritual power, whatever you want to call it."

As he spoke, the man pulled out a special banknote and set it descend with a lighter. As the fiber, seemingly just a 10,000 won note, burned, the man made a pulling gesture and-

Crash-

Windows, doors, and drawers all flew open simultaneously. In an instant, 10,000 won worth of labor was performed according to the man's value.

Outside air and sound poured in. The shaman narrowed their eyes, then snapped the fan shut. The fan immediately fell onto a small table with a crisp impact sound.

"I'll need time to give a definitive answer. Let's talk after the funeral first."

"Will it take long? No, before that, tell me about this god of the River Styx. To explain well to people-"

"Impossible! Wait quietly."

The man rose from his seat with a grin.

Yeonwoo followed him as they headed towards the house where they were staying.

With all the villagers gathered at the shrine, the streets were empty. The man spoke in a low voice.

"Now, let's get down to business. We need to extract information from inside the shrine and keep an eye on the shaman."

"Won't that just raise their suspicions unnecessarily?"

"We have something like your fluorescent vests. Wear that and there's no problem."

In any case, the Goldberg Club was in charge. Yeonwoo, merely a participant, nodded silently.

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