"Can you see me?"
"Yes. I can see you."
"You... you can hear my voice too?"
"Of course I can hear you."
"Oh... ohhh!"
The ghost let out a wail. Unlike before, it was mixed with a sigh of relief.
"By any chance, are you a shaman?"
"I'm just someone with better intuition than most."
"Ah..."
"Of course, I'm not heartless enough to ignore a wronged spirit."
"Ah!"
"Will you tell me? What happened to you?"
Passersby whispered, treating me like a madman, but I ignored them. They were just fleeting acquaintances anyway—they'd forget me by morning.
"Sob... it's like this..."
The ghost lamented his plight.
"My name is Shin Youngmun."
He was a factory worker in his mid-thirties, a guy whose hobby was watching internet streams.
"Coming home from work, watching streams, and falling asleep—that was my routine. But a few years ago, I came across a game through the streams."
The game was online mahjong.
"You know how streams suddenly blow up with a trend? That was the trend back then."
At first, it wasn't fun. He didn't know the rules, and they were so complex he didn't even want to learn.
"But I kept watching my favorite streamer's broadcasts, and the rules just stuck in my head. So I tried it myself... and I was hooked."
For years after that, he steadily played mahjong, watched mahjong streams, studied and researched it.
"I wouldn't say I was a mahjong master, but I was proud of my skills. Around then, I started wanting to play offline mahjong for real."
But there's a saying in mahjong.
"The hardest part of mahjong is gathering four people—and it's true."
Online mahjong had auto-matching, so no problem. But offline? Impossible.
"That's when I found out about this place."
The ghost's gaze turned to the building behind us.
Jackpot Mahjong Parlor
"There are places called mahjong parlors where you can play mahjong. You don't even need to gather four people—you can play with strangers. So I rushed right over."
"Something happened there, didn't it?"
"No problems at first."
The people were friendly, and the mahjong was fun. Then one day, a mahjong buddy he got close to brought up a secretive story.
[Our cafe has a secret room.]
A room you could only enter on a referral from someone in the know.
Drawn by curiosity, he went in...
"It was a gambling den where they bet real money."
If he'd run then, no problem. But he didn't—he got hooked on illegal gambling.
"There are tons of comics with mahjong themes, and a lot have scenes where someone gets rich off underground gambling. I wanted to be the protagonist of one of those stories."
"But you failed."
"No, I could've won. I could've won...!"
Shin Youngmun's eyes turned blood-red.
"Those bastards ran a scam. They planned to fleece me from the start!"
By the time he realized, he'd lost his house deposit and every penny he'd saved.
"I had debts I couldn't pay off reasonably, so I scrambled around trying to fix it... and ended up in a traffic accident. When I came to..."
"You're like this now."
"Yes! P-please... avenge me, Seung-hoon! Sob!"
"Scam gambling, huh."
They say spirits ascend once their grudges are settled.
"I'll come back tomorrow."
"S-Seung-hoon!"
The next day, I stuffed a bag with cash from the bank and returned to yesterday's building.
"I brought some money. Is this enough to get into the illegal gambling den?"
"H-how much?"
"2.5 million."
"You're really going in?"
"Yes. If I take those scammers' money instead, you can move on then, right?"
"Oh..."
"But you were hanging out in front of the parlor instead of your house or accident site. Must be quite the grudge."
"Honestly, staring at the guys who scammed me inside has become my daily routine. But no matter how much I glare, I can't do anything, so I ended up out here."
The parlor was underground. As I headed down the stairs, Shin Youngmun followed, asking:
"But do you know how to play mahjong? If not, I can coach you from behind! Ghost Mahjong King!"
Mahjong, huh.
"I know the rules. Never played, though."
Basics are all you need.
"I don't think I'll lose."
The rest is just instinct.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The parlor inside was cozy. No smoke-stinking old men, no flickering bulbs or cobwebs, no shady guards in black suits standing watch.
'Pretty normal.'
Normal people playing mahjong normally—that was my first impression.
'Where's the illegal gambling?'
Didn't take long to find.
"Ahh! That's the guy!"
The ghost behind me pointed out the one who arranged illegal games.
"Go to him and give the password—he'll send you down! Passwords change periodically, but I know the latest one! It's..."
I followed his words and whispered to a guy munching snacks while watching others play.
"Vampire."
"Bat."
"Ramen."
"Claw."
The man casually replied, glanced at me, and nodded.
"Who referred you?"
"Shin Youngmun."
"Ah, that guy?"
His smirking face made Shin Youngmun yell from behind.
"That fucking bastard! Look at him treating me like a sucker!"
"Did you bring the money?"
"Want to see?"
I opened the bag to show the cash. He nodded and led me to a room inside.
"Go down this way."
The room had stairs leading underground. Down them, a hallway appeared.
'Guards.'
Big guys—maybe ten or so—were posted along the corridor. Shouts came from rooms lining it.
"Hahaha! It's out, it's out!"
"You cheating bastard!"
"Cheating with an automatic table? Make sense, idiot!"
"This way."
Following the suited man's lead, we entered a room at the end of the hall on the right. People waiting there greeted me.
"Whoa, finally got a full table of pros."
"We're starting late today. Isn't this place winding down?"
"New face—who referred you?"
"Shin Youngmun."
Shin Youngmun's trembling voice came from behind.
"These three—these three fleeced me too!"
"Ah, that friend? Haven't seen him lately. Doing okay?"
"He's been busy, so I haven't seen him much either."
"Haha, no wonder! Got cleaned out last time!"
We sat, and amid the clatter of tiles, they explained the rules.
"Ten thousand per point, riichi mahjong, no local rules. And there's this thing called ura..."
Explanation over, the game began.
"Seung-hoon! Be careful! Who knows what those scammers will pull!"
The table whirred, tiles stacked up, thirteen in front of me.
"Damn, I win again."
"Chiitoitsu? Tch, not very manly. I'd have gone straight for suu ankou."
"You push too hard and crash."
I adapted slowly for the first three hands. Once I did, things became clear.
Types of fingerprints on the backs of tiles. Remembering what tile had which print from the previous hand.
Tiny scratches—not even worth calling dents—and which tile they were on.
Reflections of opponents' tiles in their eyes as they checked their hands.
"Tsumo."
I revealed my tiles for my first win.
"Next game."
No reason to lose now.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"..."
Silence hung over the table. No one spoke.
"You... you!"
Some from the original table had already gone bust and left; we'd moved to another table to continue, but same story here.
"You bastard! What scam are you pulling!"
"This can't be legit!"
I got their reaction. I'd never discarded what they needed, defended ironclad when my hand was weak, attacked aggressively when strong, securing sure wins.
"Scam? Can you scam on an automatic table?"
"You rigged it somehow! Some program! Wi-Fi hack or whatever!"
"Impossible."
"Don't bullshit us!"
With money on the line, they glared with bloodshot eyes and grabbed my collar.
"Violence isn't good. There's this wonderful thing called talking—why make simple things complicated by striking first..."
"Shut up!"
The guy gripping my collar swung. I pressed his wrist lightly, subdued him, and nudged him aside.
"Urk!"
As he fell, guards rushed in late.
"What's going on? No violence allowed."
"No, this guy's scamming! Never dora-opened once! Never discarded what we needed! Hogged every dora! Wins every hand! How many in a row?!"
"That true?"
I nodded to the guard.
"True."
"Did you pull something?"
"No, just played mahjong. Discard what you don't need, take what you do, complete your hand. Isn't that what anyone can win at with the basics?"
"What's going on?"
"Oh, boss, it's like..."
The boss-like guy who'd heard the guards pointed at me.
"Hey, customer. Take off your clothes. Gotta check for hidden tiles."
"I refuse. This is mahjong, not hwatu—how'd I hide tiles?"
"You think I'm joking?"
He glared and advanced.
"I'm not joking either."
"Tch, was gonna go easy 'cause you're a customer."
I saw his palm swinging. I punched his jaw lightly.
"Gak!"
"Boss!?"
As he crumpled, every guard charged.
"You little shit!"
"Hmm."
This wasn't planned.
"Why is it no one ever listens when I explain nicely?"
Online or real life.
"Shut it!"
Sad how no one lends an ear.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"See you."
"Urgh."
I grabbed my bag and left the basement, ignoring the fallen guards. On the way out, Shin Youngmun chattered excitedly beside me.
"Um, excuse me... are you John Wick?"
"No, I'm not a killer."
"But you're not... how do you grab a knife barehanded and snap it, elbow-strike someone sneaking up from behind to knock 'em out? And beat that many gangsters without breaking a sweat?"
"Grabbed the flat of the blade to break it. Big shock to the solar plexus knocks people out. Crescent kick is the classic for that. And lastly, I'm just in good shape."
"So what do you do?"
"Just a regular guy hustling to survive."
"Regular..."
The bag was heavy. Inside: 1.07 billion in cash. Excluding my original stake, profit of 1.045 billion.
'Big money, but not enough.'
For the survival I wanted, I needed more—way more.
'Guess private gambling's off the table for earning.'
But one experiment came to mind.
"Not ascending?"
"Uh, well... doesn't feel settled yet."
"I see. Oh, you mentioned online mahjong before—did that have skill ranks?"
"Yeah. Starts at beginner, then zakusha, zakukyoku, zakuho, zakushin, up to hon-ten. Each subdivided into one-, two-, three-star."
"What were you?"
He hesitated.
"Zakusha one-star."
"Second from the bottom."
"But! Not my skill! Cheats were rampant when I played, couldn't climb. Then when they died down, proxy AI mahjong trended, so couldn't climb!"
"I see."
"I could hold my own at hon-ten level!"
Getting the picture now.
"By the way, of the zakushas I played today, how many scammed you?"
"All of them! Total scammers!"
"Shin Youngmun."
This wasn't a scam joint.
"Automatic tables can't be rigged."
"Not the table—they conspired among themselves..."
"If they planned to, they'd have done it to me today. No sign of it."
Just a regular illegal gambling den.
"Then what happened to me?"
One reason he lost his money.
"You weren't scammed. You just suck at mahjong."
"...You're saying I ended up like this 'cause I'm shit at mahjong after years of play?"
"In those words, yeah."
"Fuck, I played for years and lost everything, borrowed from friends, got hit by a car 'cause I'm that bad?!"
"I didn't say that."
His state was dire. Eyes fully red, body shifting from translucent to charred black.
'Guess spirits turn vengeful when emotions flare.'
Just like the classic evil ghost image.
"Grurr... grraaah!"
Writhing in agony, screaming—if left alone, he'd cause trouble.
'Hmm, exorcism time?'
Christian way? Buddhist? Japanese?
'Or maybe I can touch him?'
Hanging around ghosts sharpened my intuition.
"I'm so mad... me, bad at mahjong..."
I approached and punched.
"Boink!"
Shin Youngmun fell.
"I can hit him."
Still black and red-eyed— not enough.
"Knowledge gained."
Rich intuition lets you punch spirits to make them ascend.
"Not sure if it'll work yet."
Keep punching, find out.