An Office Worker Is Good At Exorcism - Chapter 106

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 105
Part 4. Get Out of There Right Now (2)
Kang Hyung-seok’s request to Shin Yoseph had been sudden.
Yet the response came quickly.
The next day during lunch hour.
Pop.
Anticipating a lengthy call, I’d picked up a triangle kimbap from the convenience store and now sat in my car, phone in hand.
Beep beep beep.
The dial tone barely sounded before the call connected, and I propped the phone on its stand before unwrapping the triangle kimbap with both hands.
“It’s me. Can you talk?”
(I wouldn’t have answered otherwise.)
Whether he was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece or not, his voice felt distant, more muffled than usual.
“Did you look into that company? Find anything unusual?”
(Interesting. Where did you even dig this up?)
“A friend of a friend. They work fixed night shifts there. When I checked it out in person, it didn’t feel right.”
(Tsk.)
As I began eating the triangle kimbap, Shin Yoseph’s voice flowed through the phone.
(Baekju Metal Processing Factory, founded in 1998. They bought a cheap factory after the IMF crisis. Cash flow looks quite stable, actually exemplary.)
That wasn’t what I was curious about.
“So?”
(Doesn’t that strike you as odd? 1998 was right in the middle of chaos.)
Fair point.
Even though I was young then, I understood how dire society had become.
Every time the news aired, they reported how many companies went bankrupt, how many suicides occurred.
A time when the entire nation suffered.
(Metal processing of all things. Yet somehow they managed to secure steady work and grow without ever faltering once.)
The undertone in Shin Yoseph’s voice seemed to be saying exactly this:
‘You see it too, right? This isn’t ordinary.’
“Looks like they keep a fixed night shift worker. Did you find anything about that?”
(It was difficult.)
So he had found something.
As I took a large bite of the triangle kimbap, the sound of papers rustling came through the phone.
Shin Yoseph seemed to be flipping through documents or reports while talking.
(It’s an old metal processing factory, nothing spectacular, but they’ve had quite a few industrial accidents. Here’s the thing though—they all share something in common. Any guesses?)
Given the flow of conversation, the answer was obvious.
I took another bite of the triangle kimbap, squinted at the meager filling, and opened my mouth.
“The night shift worker?”
(You already know?)
“Don’t joke around.”
(That friend of a friend you mentioned. Is he the night shift worker?)
Kang Hyung-seok swallowed the triangle kimbap in his mouth before answering.
“Yeah.”
(Tell him to quit. Something’s off. Here.)
“I already told him yesterday. Submit a resignation letter today.”
(Hmm.)
Shin Yoseph let out a groan that betrayed his intentions.
I understand. I know what you’re trying to say.
I’m thinking the same thing right now.
“It won’t be easy. No matter what excuse they make, they won’t let him go.”
(I think so too. These bastards are like they’re offering a living sacrifice.)
Kang Hyung-seok placed his hand holding the triangle kimbap—still with about two bites left—on his lap.
Then he pushed out a sigh through his teeth and nodded.
“That’s probably it.”
***
“Excuse me, Manager.”
It was lunchtime.
Chae Young-sik approached a middle-aged man in the smoking area beside the factory with a respectful demeanor.
A blue jacket, black pants faded to a grayish tone.
His build was round overall, but his upturned eyes gave him a rough appearance.
“What is it? Young-sik.”
Yet contrary to his expression, the Manager had never treated Chae Young-sik harshly even once.
He responded with a gentle voice tinged with familiarity, and Chae Young-sik forced open lips that wouldn’t easily part.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I think I need to quit my job.”
“…What?”
“I’ve already written a resignation letter, but before submitting it, I wanted to tell you first—”
Smack!
The Manager threw the cigarette he was smoking to the ground, and sparks scattered briefly before extinguishing.
An attitude I’d never seen before.
Startled, Chae Young-sik flinched, but the Manager’s eyes were turning menacingly upward.
“What are you saying? Quitting?”
His thorny voice was equally unfamiliar.
As the bewildered Chae Young-sik hesitated to answer, the Manager’s sharp gaze pierced through him.
“Damn it, I’m asking you. Aren’t you going to answer?”
“Well, that is—”
“Hah! Young-sik, if you suddenly try to quit like this, what are we supposed to do? Huh?”
Chae Young-sik swallowed hard.
The situation felt awkward, suffocating—a fear that wrung his heart dry.
“…I’m sorry.”
“Sorry, my ass. A person should have a sense of responsibility. If you just quit without a word like this, who’s going to stand night watch? If there’s no night watchman and the company gets robbed or catches fire, that’s all going to be your responsibility, isn’t it? Huh?”
Chae Young-sik rubbed his damp palms against his pants.
I wondered if simply stating my intention to resign warranted such relentless pressure.
Yet the Manager unleashed a fierce, cutting voice that left no room for rebuttal.
“Are you taking responsibility for this?!”
“…I apologize.”
“Ugh, seriously, this is infuriating.”
The Manager muttered loud enough for Chae Young-sik to hear, then abruptly extended his hand.
Chae Young-sik’s face showed confusion, and the Manager’s fingers snapped impatiently before his eyes.
“Hand over your resignation letter.”
Chae Young-sik passed the envelope with his lips pressed tight, and the Manager tore it open, scanned the contents, then released a heavy sigh.
He folded it in half and tucked it into his inner pocket.
“I’ll hold onto this for now.”
“Um, M-Manager.”
“Young-sik, listen to me carefully.”
Surprisingly, the Manager’s tone softened to its usual gentleness.
“I spoke harshly because I was shocked, but this isn’t right. It’s not proper etiquette.”
“….”
“Why are you trying to quit? Is the work too difficult? Is the salary insufficient?”
“That’s not it. It’s just….”
“Then there’s no problem. Young-sik, you seem exhausted—I’ll explain things to the higher-ups, so take the day off.”
“Manager.”
At that moment, the Manager’s thick hand descended onto Chae Young-sik’s shoulder.
“When your body is worn down, such thoughts can creep in. But I know how hard you work and how valuable you are. Are you really going to betray all that trust? You’re not that cruel of a person.”
His tone was gentle, yet the atmosphere was coercive.
Weighed down by the oppressive air, Chae Young-sik clenched his jaw and nodded heavily, while the Manager patted his shoulder reassuringly.
“That’s right, rest. Don’t worry about anything today—go downtown and get some fresh air. Come back when you have time.”
“…Yes.”
Chae Young-sik turned away with a sunken expression.
He began walking heavily, and behind him, the Manager’s gaze clung like a shadow.
“Damn it.”
As if he’d crammed every grievance in the world into his mouth, he furrowed his brow and pulled out his phone.
***
“I’m going to actively prevent his resignation. The executives will be notified as well.”
Kang Hyung-seok spoke in a low voice inside the car, which reeked heavily of triangle kimbap.
From far across the parking lot, the faint sound of employees chattering and laughing drifted over.
It was lunchtime, and since Kang Hyung-seok had taken a half-day off in the afternoon, he could have joined in the peaceful and leisurely atmosphere.
But he couldn’t, because the conversation was growing increasingly heavy.
(What about his age?)
“Similar to ours.”
(Then they’ll just use rank to suppress him.)
“Heh.”
Kang Hyung-seok let out a short laugh that made his belly shake.
It wasn’t that he disrespected Shin Yoseph, but someone born with a silver spoon finds it hard to understand.
The feelings of those forced to endure unreasonable treatment based on rank within a company.
“By now, he’s probably already brought it up.”
Either right after arriving at work, or during lunch break.
These are good times to report unusual matters like resignations.
(No contact yet?)
“He doesn’t seem like the type to do that.”
From what Kang Hyung-seok observed, Chae Young-sik was the type to struggle alone in silence.
The situation is dire.
Korean Shamanism is fundamentally rooted in prayer and supplication.
That’s why most practices take the form of hoping for things to go well, or wishing for the peaceful ascension of those who died unjustly.
But the opposite also exists.
There are also sorceries of the form where one uses others as sacrifices to ensure one’s own success.
‘A company using its employees as sacrifices….’
Suddenly, that phrase he’d seen online—”employees are slaves to the company”—came to mind, but this was far more serious than that.
After taking a deep breath, Kang Hyung-seok felt a peculiar bitter taste forming in his mouth.
(What are you going to do? If things go wrong, we’ll be holding a funeral.)
Shin Yoseph spoke as if casually asking about his schedule after work today.
“I have to go see for myself. There’s definitely a Shaman involved in this.”
(True, you would.)
Kang Hyung-seok leaned forward and spoke as if sighing.
“You’re similar yourself.”
Though their paths differed, they were the same kind of people.
Kang Hyung-seok and Shin Yoseph.
A Shaman and an exorcist priest—both serving the divine, both acting righteously in this land.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll handle the rest.”
(When will you move?)
Kang Hyung-seok checked the time on his wristwatch before answering.
“Now.”
Then he started the engine and gripped the steering wheel.
Vroom.
As I pulled out of the parking lot, I found the factory where Chae Young-sik worked in the navigation’s recent destinations and tapped it.
***
Rustle.
Executive Office.
The man who received Chae Young-sik’s resignation letter from the Manager with a respectful bow read through its contents and clicked his tongue.
“This bastard, I thought he was some pushover.”
“I’ve already talked him down quite a bit, Director.”
Three people were gathered inside.
One was the Manager, and the other two were in business suits—the Company Representative and Director Kwon respectively.
Director Kwon was a gaunt man like dried kindling, but his eyes held a peculiar gleam that dispelled any sense of approachability.
“Director Kwon, we need to stop this resignation, right?”
To the Company Representative’s question, whose build was relatively sturdy, Director Kwon simply nodded in response.
The atmosphere was strange.
Both the Manager and the Representative seemed to hang on the man who held the title of Director.
“Where is this bastard right now?”
“I sent him downtown to get some air. I told him to come back at night.”
“You need to keep him at the company as long as possible.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
It was after the Manager spoke, shrinking his neck.
Director Kwon folded the resignation letter in half and waved it toward the Representative before opening his mouth.
“I’ll handle this well.”
“Right. I’m counting on you.”
That didn’t mean he would accept the resignation.
Rather, it meant he would use the handwritten resignation letter for something else.
The gleaming eyes of Director Kwon spoke to that.
“We have exactly two weeks left. If we keep him in check until then, you and the company will be secure for three years.”
The Company Representative nodded rapidly, as if he had found great comfort.
The Shaman who had helped from the beginning when acquiring this factory.
That was Director Kwon.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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