The Mad Priest of the Slums

Age: 28.

After attending university like everyone else, and serving the mandatory military service as a man born in South Korea, I completed my term without issue, even with the firm grasp of a comrade who had no biases, even towards those with a few disabilities.

After that, I worked a part-time job while waiting to return to school and graduated normally like most people.

Fortunately, the first company I interviewed with wasn’t a bad one but a decent medium-sized business. I worked hard and got promoted from employee to assistant manager.

That’s me, currently preparing to clock out.

“Team leader.”

“Oh, Jinhyuk.”

My boss, who’s in his early 30s with good looks and a confident personality that makes him popular with everyone, regardless of gender, put down his bag that was just packed for leaving and looked my way.

“I’m planning to use my remaining vacation next week. Is that okay?”

“Jinhyuk.”

The team leader, smiling slyly, grabbed his bag again.

“You checked everything before asking, right?”

“Of course.”

“Take it. Don’t hold back, especially you. Last year, you let everyone else take theirs and only used the leftover days.”

I nodded silently since I didn’t feel the need to clarify that I hadn’t really paid attention to anyone else’s plans.

“When next week?”

“Any day during the week works.”

“Alright, submit your request tomorrow whenever it’s convenient.”

“Thank you.”

“No need for thanks. You’ve brought in plenty of deals.”

After exchanging a few words with my team leader, who walked me out in a friendly manner, I headed home.

“Hmmm.”

I plopped down on the couch in my one-room apartment, which was pretty spacious for its type. I pulled out my business card holder and took out one card that stood out with its odd paper texture among the rest.

The paper was divided into four vertical rows and six horizontal columns, each filled with different numbers.

When I scanned the QR code at the bottom center of the paper with my smartphone, a link popped up. Clicking it opened a browser, and bold letters filled the screen:

[First Prize.]

The paper I was holding wasn’t just any paper—it was the winning ticket for a lottery that hadn’t had a first-prize winner for 17 consecutive rounds.

The prize? 13.7 billion won. And that’s after taxes.

“I used to think it was all a scam.”

Lotteries are like that.

If you don’t win, it’s just all fake.

But somehow, the ticket I bought with my team after lunch at work turned out to be the grand prize—not even a minor one.

Democracy is still alive.

“Maybe I should go on a trip.”

I didn’t have much greed for anything in life, so even with this windfall, I felt nothing special. I know that’s not a normal reaction.

I’ve already been aware of being a little different from others, having undergone several evaluations.

I put the lottery ticket back in the cardholder, took a hot shower, and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge.

With every gulp of beer washing down my throat, my dulled senses from the day started to stir, and I felt alive.

“Phew.”

Life’s simple.

As long as you can enjoy good food, that’s all that matters.

I’d already cleared the games I found interesting and wasn’t drawn to any of the new movies or dramas. So I moved from the couch to the bed and pulled out my phone.

“No new updates.”

I checked social media and messaging apps for any life updates from my contacts, but there was nothing notable.

Ding.

I had just planned to check out some new web novels, and a notification popped up on my app. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of notification I wanted.

It was a message. And messages are almost always from writers.

“I’ve got enough money now. I should change my password.”

The reason writers message me is simple.

My lifelong friend—who’s practically impossible to cure of being an obnoxious internet troll—shares my account. The moment something didn’t suit his taste, he’d leave comments that ruined the atmosphere.

I figured the site would ban him eventually, but to my surprise, not even a warning had come in three years.

‘He’s persistent.’

I still wonder why he’s willing to pay me 100,000 won a month to share the account. When I asked, he just gave me some cryptic nonsense, so I stopped questioning it.

[Sender: Observer.]

‘Unusual.’

The username didn’t sound like a writer but more like a reader.

“Whoever you are, I’m sorry.”

Since I enabled this troll to wreak havoc, I always sent an apology when I got messages like this. Of course, it never reached the intended recipient, so it was pointless.

[Sender: Observer.]

If you’re so confident, why don’t you try writing yourself?

“Looks like he said something about writing a story this time.”

Curious about what my friend had said, I clicked on the writer’s name.

Thud.

The phone slipped from my hand.

‘I was fine during my last health check.’

Suddenly dizzy, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I tried to pick up the phone, but my hand was too weak.

‘I should’ve gone to Italy.’

As my consciousness faded, my one regret was not having tasted authentic gelato.

**

“Hm.”

I thought I was going to die, but I woke up normally.

Except this wasn’t my bedroom ceiling—it was a strange ceiling I didn’t recognize. And everything felt unusually real.

I sat up.

“Straight out of a movie.”

A crackling fireplace, a plush carpet of unknown material, and bookshelves flanking the fireplace.

“You’re quite calm.”

I turned to see a woman with long blonde hair sitting at a desk that looked fit for a wealthy executive’s study. Her face was hidden behind a radiant light, and she didn’t seem human.

“May I sit?”

“Of course.”

She gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk, and I sat.

“This isn’t the afterlife.”

“Yes.”

“This is a first.”

Even though I couldn’t see her face, I could feel her smiling.

“Most people either get excited about being in another world or demand to be sent back.”

I could piece things together.

‘Going back doesn’t make sense if I woke up here.’

She covered her face with her hand in a mock wiping gesture.

“Alright. I was going to let it go, but you just made me laugh for the first time in ages.”

This confirmed it—the message was the cause.

“Technically, you and your friend are both responsible, but since you entertained me, I’ll let your share slide.”

“Thank you.”

She tapped the desk lightly with her fingers.

“I can’t send you back. Normally, I’d explain the new dimension you’re falling into and your mission.”

“I’m a complete victim.”

“Pffft… Yes, a perfect victim.”

She stopped tapping.

“You must go to another world. But as a victim, I’ll offer you perks and two options.”

She held up her left hand, extending one finger.

“First, you’ll enter the world of the novel your friend criticized. You’ll know everything about the world and can possess any character.”

It didn’t appeal to me.

“Second, you can enter as yourself and live freely.”

“If I die?”

“You die.”

The choice was easy.

“I choose the second.”

“May I ask why?”

“If I choose the first, I’ll be dragged into some quest.”

I felt her smile.

“Since you’re sure, let me provide some background before we proceed.”