Game 18: Beware of Old Men and Dog-Head Statues
Here's a free piece of life advice: if an old man starts quoting poetry while pointing his finger at you… duck.
Because the next thing out of that fingertip is never going to be a handshake.
The muscular man's eyes widened. He stumbled back, pointing a stone finger at Park Min-jae.
"M-magic!!" he exclaimed, the word caught halfway between awe and terror.
But before he could finish the sentence, before the crowd could even register what they were seeing, the old man tightened his knobby fingers.
The air split apart.
KRAK-BOOM!
Bolts of lightning spiraled out, twisting and dancing like furious dragons. They wrapped around the muscular man, snapping and whipping with ear-splitting cracks. The scent of burning flesh filled the air, sharp, acrid, almost metallic. Smoke poured off his stone arms as the enchantment cracked like shattered pottery.
His scream was swallowed by the roar of thunder.
By the time the light dimmed, he wasn't a muscular man anymore. Just a fried silhouette, still twitching, blackened like yesterday's barbecue.
Park Min-jae lowered his hand with the same casualness as someone turning off a desk lamp.
His voice echoed, quiet but cutting:
"Your mouth… brought harm upon yourself."
The silence that followed was the kind that could make your heartbeat sound like a war drum.
From behind the old man, footsteps tapped lightly on the marble. A middle-aged man with sharp features, robes tied neatly, and a smile that could sell insurance for triple the price stepped forward.
He clapped his hands, almost cheerfully.
"Oweee~ lightning magic truly is formidable! I'm glad I made the wise decision to join your group, sir."
Han Tae-yang, still crouched behind a toppled vase, squinted. Wow. Look at this guy sucking up faster than a vacuum cleaner on discount day.
Park Min-jae didn't answer the flattery. Instead, he turned to the young girl at his side, Kim Roji.
"Have you obtained the item?"
Her lips curved into a sly little smile, like a kid about to unwrap forbidden candy.
"Yes," she replied, voice sweet but with a bite of mischief. "Leave it to me."
From her small satchel, Kim Roji pulled out a statue.
It wasn't just any statue. Black stone, polished smooth, with ruby eyes that glowed faintly even under the dim museum lamps. Its shape was unmistakable: the lean body of a man with the jackal head of Anubis, Egyptian god of the dead.
Han Tae-yang's jaw went slack. Wait… is that Anubis? Why is there an Egyptian god in the National Museum of Korea? Did customs just… wave this thing through?
Kim Roji crouched, setting the jackal-headed idol gently on the marble floor. Her small palm pressed against its back.
The air chilled instantly.
A black aura seeped from the stone, coiling upward like smoke from a funeral pyre. The ruby eyes flared, bright as fresh blood under moonlight.
And then.
Crack! Creak! Snap!
The statue moved. Stone tendons stretched. Limbs bent.
It grew taller. Broader. Stone joints grinding, torso twisting, the black stone body mutating into something alive. The jackal snout snapped open, revealing jagged obsidian fangs. Its red eyes burned like twin embers, scanning the hall with a predator's hunger.
What stood there was no longer a statue. It was a guardian, an Egyptian deity reborn in stone and fury.
Kim Roji brushed her hands together, almost like dusting off flour. She looked at the crowd, the resurrected jackal towering beside her.
"From now on," she said, voice sharp and clear, "anyone who moves… will be considered an enemy."
She tilted her head, let the threat settle, then added with chilling sweetness:
"I'll let it chew off your heads."
The jackal's jaw clamped shut with a sound like a guillotine.
The crowd flinched as one.
And then Kim Roji… smiled. Not a sinister smile. Not an intimidating smile. An adorable one. Dimples, wide eyes, the kind of smile you'd expect from a kid offering candy in a playground.
"Shall we cooperate nicely?" she asked.
The mix of threat and cuteness hit the room like a sucker punch.
The once chaotic mob of players broke. Their screams were gone. Instead came the defeated groans of gamblers who'd just realized the house always wins.
"Damn… there are so many tough guys here…"
"Yeah, and every one of them awakened their powers already. We can't beat that thing."
"So what now?"
"We surrender. Give up the weapons. Ask for a truce before it rips our heads off."
One by one, weapons clattered to the floor. Swords, spears, axes, all abandoned like toys in a kindergarten cleanup. The same people who were just minutes ago swinging at each other were now lined up like school kids awaiting punishment.
A burly man muttered through clenched teeth, "I'll give up the map… and those other relics too. Not worth dying over."
Another sighed, "Yeah, I like my head attached to my body, thanks."
Kim Roji clapped her hands once, delighted.
"Thank you!" she chirped.
But just as she was about to celebrate her perfect coup…
Footsteps echoed from the far hall.
Not rushed. Not cautious. Just casual, lazy even, like someone strolling into a convenience store to buy milk.
Every head turned.
And there, hands in pockets, expression annoyingly relaxed, was Han Tae-yang (한태양).
He yawned.
"…Yo. Did I miss the party?"