Chapter 772
In the old building, Park Jinseong gazes out the window.
“Indeed.”
He looked like someone who had just emerged from a mud pit, his body smeared with thick layers of mud.
The tips of his hair bore signs of having been singed, carrying that distinctly unpleasant burnt smell that comes when hair is scorched.
The irregularly curled ends of his hair resembled fishing hooks, with mud caked upon them as if they had brushed the ground before returning empty to their master.
As if he had struggled, several fingernails were missing, and beneath the remaining ones, dried clots of blood and flesh were stuck. It seemed that these, hardened by being mixed with mud, could not merely be washed away but would require a sharp object to scrape out.
Splash. Splash.
There was so much dried mud on his body, yet…
Each time Park Jinseong moved his feet, it sounded like wet mud slapping against something.
As if the muddy foot was rubbing clean earth, marks were left everywhere, and crimson liquid seeped and spread, eager to expand its territory. The reddish mud scattered throughout the room exuded a strong iron scent from the fresh blood that had yet to dry, and the water pooled in the crater-like depressions silently awaited the mosquitoes ready to lay eggs.
“Perhaps because of the central point of religion, there are many firewoods available.”
Covered in mud and blood, Park Jinseong looked out the window.
He watched the people outside.
“—”
“—”
The window was a divide that blurred the lines between inside and outside.
A window that separated the surface from the deeper depths.
The glass walls Park Jinseong had built clearly delineated simple interior from even deeper interior.
If one were to consider the symbolism Park Jinseong assigned to the building, it had even more profound significance.
Hadn’t he transformed the building into something that made the above akin to heaven and the below to hell right after acquiring it?
Then what would a typical interior be considered ‘hell’?
What would an even deeper interior signify?
“—!”
“—!!!”
The glass he had crafted served as a boundary separating hell.
It was a mark that further deepened and solidified the symbol of ‘hell’ granted to his building.
The thin glass he gazed upon was made of sugar and resin, making it weaker than regular glass. It was the sort of prop that could be found in movies or hidden camera setups and, due to the lack of special chemical treatment, was even more fragile.
With just a slight hit from a child, it would shatter into a million pieces.
Yet paradoxically, its fragility and thinness made it all the more fitting to demarcate the boundary of hell.
It seemed passable but kept its barrier; it looked breakable yet remained intact, and what awaited beyond any crossing was another hell!
It contained all the properties of hope and despair, certainly something unmatched.
Especially considering it was crafted by Park Jinseong’s own hands, how special that symbolism must be!
Look.
Look at those people outside.
The sight of those captured in ‘the deeper place.’
“—!!!”
They were there, continuously shouting cries that would never reach beyond the boundary.
Caught deep within hell, in a place shallower than the abyss, they remained stuck.
People wearing turbans on their heads.
They had long hair or exotic features and were present there.
Sikhs.
But not from India, rather Sikhs who had been living in Korea were present there.
“Hoo boy. Quite speedy, aren’t they?”
As far as Park Jinseong knew, there were two Sikh temples in Korea.
One was located in Pocheon, Gyeonggi Province.
The other had been built in Paju, as part of the government’s religious support policy post-North Korea’s collapse.
And the ones captured in Park Jinseong’s building were from the latter.
They had come from the Paju temple.
“Right. I recall hearing stories. Those dispatched to the DMZ are often extreme radicals…”
The ghosts that had run rampant in the old North Korean regions were a level of trouble that could not easily be managed by conventional means.
Having heard the term ‘Magic Desert,’ it was even more certain.
Thus, the Republic of Korea decided to strategically deploy religious figures, convening them with various benefits to send them to the DMZ. It had proved quite effective, successfully preventing the southward movement and invasion of ghosts.
However, religious figures are still people.
Naturally, they would be terrified at the prospect of fighting against ghosts.
A slight lapse in mental strength could lead to possession by evil spirits eager to toy with humans, or the desire to tear apart with physical force from evil entities, along with invisible ghosts that were hard to even perceive.
Who could say it was easy to face such adversaries?
That was precisely why each religion carefully selected those with strong wills and courage to send toward the DMZ.
Among those, there were many labeled ‘radicals.’
It was unavoidable.
Courage and drive often had a proportional relationship.
When it crossed the line, it turned into recklessness and obstinacy.
The same went for Sikhs.
In the gathering place filled with personnel ready to enter the DMZ, in the Paju temple, there were many radicals.
And among them, some had transformed their excessive courage into foolishness and overconfidence.
Those were the very people.
They had thoughtlessly invaded Park Jinseong’s abode and found themselves trapped.
Truly foolish.
More foolish, even, than an insect caught in a spider’s web.
The Sikh faith teaches to guard against and distance oneself from arrogance, yet they failed to adhere to that lesson, ending up in their current situation.
Though they could become brave warriors or soldiers, they could hardly be deemed proper religious figures…
“Well. If that’s the case, firewood is firewood. Not a person…”
If that could even be called the nature of firewood, there wouldn’t be much to say.
After all, wasn’t the essence of firewood merely to burn well?
Equally, clothing was the same.
“They are clothing.”
Ashtosh Singh referred to people as firewood, while Park Jinseong articulated that people were clothing.
What is clothing?
Something you can put on and take off whenever.
It covers the body, adorns it, and serves various purposes, all while having no relation to the actual physical body.
It’s a convenient item, and at the same time, a necessity.
Then, if that is the definition of clothing, can it not also be said that people can become clothing?
Aaaah-!
A sharp sound that pierced the ears.
At Park Jinseong’s gesture, a black fog began creeping from a distance.
Mosquitoes.
They proliferated repeatedly in stagnant water in the basement, swelling their numbers to such an immense degree that they could be mistaken for black fog.
They were obedient servants to Park Jinseong’s commands, yet simultaneously served as living syringes.
“Go.”
Aaaahh-!
Differing from the usual mosquitoes found in Korea, they took on an uncommon appearance as they obediently threaded through a small gap to float beyond the window.
Though a few of them stuck to the sticky parts created from sugar, struggling and ultimately succumbing, the majority of mosquitoes sailed past the lifeless bodies, almost as if the dead ones had facilitated their movement.
Wherever the dead mosquitoes had stuck was no longer sticky, apparently.
“—-!”
Thus, they attacked the radicals outside the window.
Mosquitoes that thrived only in subtropical regions plunged their stingers into their skin.
Even if they fled in surprise, the mosquitoes would pursue them, and regardless of their frantic movements, they burrowed deep into their clothing, continuously stinging their skin.
And so they fulfilled their role.
They drank blood.
And through Park Jinseong’s command, they played the role of intermediate hosts.
And Park Jinseong nodded in admiration at the brave and devoted display of the mosquitoes.
‘That works.’
They were now infected.
With mosquitoes as the intermediate hosts, they had become the final hosts for the parasites.
They had been superbly infected by ‘Wuchereria bancrofti,’ a roundworm found in tropical and subtropical regions.
Yes.
They had now become the clothing and dwelling of Wuchereria bancrofti.
‘The firewood has not burned away, but within it, insects have laid eggs. Indeed, this is nature’s principle.’
Do dry firewoods exist solely for their own sake?
No.
There will always be beings that take firewood as their dwelling and clothing.
The Teredo navalis, which bores into wood to make it its home rather than having a shell, molds and mushrooms that take wood as their roots, and larvae that feast upon rotten wood, all are examples of this.
From animals to plants, fungi to fish.
This is the principle of the world.
And that principle has now been applied in this place.
They shall become not only the skin of the bancroftian filaria that burrows into them but also the clothing needed for camouflage, all while serving as an excellent dwelling for it.
And they will return to India with no recollection of experiences from this place.
‘Letting them know that they invaded my abode would result in immediate deportation.’
Thus, they would return, explosively infecting others with the filaria.
Especially among the Sikhs.
It would appear entirely natural and raise no suspicion.
Why, you ask?
Because Wuchereria bancrofti is a parasite found in tropical and subtropical regions.
And India is included among those places.
Moreover, the mosquitoes targeting them were of a type found in India as well—
Haha.
Infecting Indians with Indian parasites.
Isn’t that entirely natural?
There should be no room for suspicion here.
‘And it would be lacking in kindness to send back just one.’
Thus, he additionally infected them with parasites commonly found in Korea.
To be precise, it would be right to say they were infected with parasites that could be found before Korea’s successful parasite extermination campaign.
Yes.
They shall be the vectors of infection, contaminated clothing, and living bombs.
And each one of them will serve as a medium through which Park Jinseong can weave magic, while also posing as a calamity that prevents Ashtosh Singh from easily mobilizing the Sikhs…
“Well. Just a light gift…”
