The Shaman Desires Transcendence

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When the warrior fainted, what remained was an unoccupied mountain.

Not a single person dared to resist him, not even on the second floor, let alone the third floor, and Jinseong simply moved about as if taking a stroll, killing the unconscious loan sharks. In his left hand, he gripped the neck of a cat, its mouth opening as if it were alive, and just like before, he harvested another head as he made his way to the manager’s office on the third floor.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

There lay the manager of the third floor, breathing heavily and groaning on the floor, just like the manager of the second floor.

Crack!

Jinseong fed the manager’s head to the cat. Then, he ripped off one of the arms and pressed the fingerprint against the safe.

Bleep!

The fingerprint recognition safe recognized the manager’s print and clicked open, displaying a pile of green and yellow bills before his eyes.

“Ho ho ho, there’s an abundance of wealth here.”

Money.
Money.
Money!

The great King Sejong and the benevolent Shin Saimdang welcomed him with smiles; how could this not be delightful!

Moreover, unlike banks, the loan sharks wouldn’t remember the serial numbers of the bills, and as Jinseong surveyed them, they seemed to carry no energy or thought, meaning he wouldn’t have to worry about being tracked by any special ability. In other words, the bills before him were entirely usable funds for Jinseong.

“ॐ.”

Jinseong floated the money filling the safe into the air and hunched down. With his spell, the money began to rush toward him like magnets meeting on opposite poles, and the moment it touched his black shell, it slid into every crevice of his body.

As his hunched form swelled like a water balloon, nearly all the cash disappeared, and his body transformed into a massive figure. He appeared to weigh well over 100 kg, with a once-vanished lump now protruding grotesquely.

Especially concerning was the bug mask he wore, its black sheen speckled with mold, making it look even grubbier.

“That’s heavy.”

The weight of the golden slime that burrowed into him.
The stacks of bills layered between his skin and shell.

Jinseong thought it truly felt satisfying as he left the room and descended to the second floor.

“Am I seeing a happy illusion?”

He approached a man in the hallway, still with a vacant expression, the mold having settled white upon him. Was he lost in a hallucination or dazed by the carnage? He stared vacantly into space, and the white drool from him had evidently trickled down his chin to his neck.

Jinseong placed a hand on the man’s head.

“You did well.”

The shadow snake writhing on the man’s face swiftly moved as if it were a loyal hound responding to its master, eventually swimming onto his hand, curling up, and disappearing beneath his thumb.

“So I shall ensure your success.”

Don’t burden yourself. This is both a bonus and severance pay.

With those words, Jinseong cast another spell on the man. Then, he vomited an extremely compressed stack of bills from his mouth.

“Wha! Ugh!”

Even in his dazed state, the man instinctively sensed that what was entering his throat was not ordinary, and he kept retching, but the tightly packed bundles forced down by Jinseong ignored all his feeble resistance and kept coming.

And when not a single bundle was left in the air…

Tap.
Tap.

Jinseong stepped out into the hallway with the same tiny sound as when he entered.
But there was one difference: the man’s expression was that of a puppet on strings, and Jinseong’s body was swollen as if he had just eaten something delicious, with a strange man fainted draped over his shoulder.

Just that.

Only that had changed.
Nothing strange about it.

* * *

“Wh-where am I?”

The man awoke in his room, feeling a debilitating headache. As soon as he raised his body, a sharp headache stabbed at his brain, and his entire body was filled with a strange, stiff, and itchy sensation.

“I was definitely with the shaman….”

The man desperately rummaged through his memories.
His last recollection was when he led the shaman into the manager’s office.
At that moment, he had seen the shaman satisfied with the chair, and decided that if it was a huge success, he would buy that for him… and then…

And then.
‘What happened after that?’

There were no memories after that.
It was as if he had drunk until blackout, completely erasing those subsequent memories. The man suspected he had indeed been drinking, wondering if the current headache was perhaps a hangover, and attempted to rise from his position.

“Uh?”

But upon standing, the dizzying sensation forced him to sit back down.
It felt like seasickness.

With that thought, he felt his stomach churn, and something rise in his throat.

“Ugh!”

Uweeeh!

The nausea was unbearable, and the man had no choice but to barf on the floor without even thinking of heading to the bathroom. He raised his head slightly to see the pancake he had made.

“What the hell is this?”

As he lifted his head, what he saw was cash smeared with viscous fluid. The bills, a mix of ten-thousand-won and fifty-thousand-won ones, looked freshly withdrawn from the bank, crisp and exuding a sour scent, as if they claimed to have emerged from his body.

“Ugh!”

Wreck!

Weeek!

The number of bills kept increasing with every heave. With each retch, immensely compressed bundles of cash showed up, and not a moment after hitting the floor did they unfold as if ironed, losing all their wrinkles.

This strange act repeated several times.

“This… how much is all of this?”

Just a glance made it seem like several million won.

“Why is this money…?”

Why on earth did he have several million won inside him?
Why did that money come out when he vomited?

The man stared blankly at the cash.

『 I shall ensure your success. 』

How long did he continue looking?
He recalled the shaman’s eerie voice as he spoke those words, realizing that the money was a gift from the shaman.

A jolt.

‘I must go.’

With that realization came a dull ache piercing his head, and the man felt compelled to return to his workplace.
He believed there would be no shaman there, but instinct whispered to him that there would be answers, answers regarding the money he had received.

The man burst out of his house and headed toward his workplace, following his intuition.

“Why are cops here?”

As he approached his workplace, he was met with police.
In fact, there seemed to be an overwhelming number of them surrounding the area.
The man sensed that something was wrong.

But blocked by the yellow police line, he couldn’t take a single step toward the place he used to work, and could only hear the conversations of the presumed police inside.

“Can you believe this crazy bastard?”

“How many people did this guy take out…?”

“Wow, this lunatic. So ruthless. Not a single soul or hun left. What in the world did he do to create this complete mess?”

“Shit, what’s with this cat? Did it get struck by lightning while being around those bastards?”

The murmurs of the police seemed to echo in his ears, coming from the second or maybe third floors.

“Sir! Look at this! Over here!”

“Holy crap. Did they write with blood?”

So clear.

『 This is both a bonus and severance pay. 』

The man realized this hearing was a gift from the shaman. Thanks to the gift, he understood the cursed reality and vaguely grasped what calamity had occurred inside the building.

Unfortunately.

He became aware.

“Damn, this is insane….”

He realized that the shaman had completely turned his life upside down.

“Aruhm.”

Whether it was in a good or bad direction, he couldn’t tell.

“Thank you for your hard work in capturing the evil of society. The divination has shown a good day.”

But the man instinctively felt that he would lead a decent life from now on.

“I’ve eradicated the collaborators, those who side with Japan. No trace left of them.”

Never again did he wish to meet the shaman.

No, he was too terrified at the thought of living similarly and possibly encountering a monster or someone resembling a monster.

The man sensed the strong smell of blood rising at the tip of his nose.
Before he could hurl on the street, he turned and trudged back toward his room.
On the way back, perhaps feeling a sense of grievance, or perhaps just overwhelmed by the current reality, his lips moved on their own as he uttered a lament.

“Shit. I really wished on a monkey’s paw…”

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