Chapter 1
"Son, aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?"
"It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m perfectly fine. I’m so sturdy it’s a problem."
Jeong Jik-han laughed heartily while talking to his mother on the phone.
"My Jik-han, I’m so proud of my son."
"Haha! I’m not that great."
"You never complain, always stay positive, and I always feel sorry because I haven’t done much for you."
"Ah, come on. You’ve done plenty."
"Have you been eating well?"
"They give me so much food here, it’s a problem."
He wiped the dirt off his hands onto his pants and used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his upper lip. He was drenched as if he’d just showered. Despite the chilly weather, his body radiated heat after working since morning.
"Hey! Jeong Jik-han!"
The foreman’s shout from afar made Jik-han spring to his feet.
"Mom, I’ll call you back later."
"Okay. No matter what, health comes first. Got it?"
"Got it. How’s Suhye?"
"Your sister aced all her mock exams again."
"Haha! Who’d she inherit those smarts from?"
"Who else?"
No parent would dislike a child excelling academically, but Jik-han’s family couldn’t fully celebrate. Sensing his mother’s anxiety through the phone, he changed the subject.
"Mom! Gotta go!"
"Alright."
"Take care of yourself, and tell Suhye to keep studying. Wouldn’t it be great if someone from our family got into S University? Don’t stress about money."
"……"
"Bye!"
Jik-han hung up and rushed to the foreman.
"Who kept you so long?"
The foreman asked as Jik-han rubbed his neck with a wry smile.
"My mom. She worries."
"Tsk. Move the kerosene cart to the sixth floor."
"Yes, sir!"
"Hurry! The cement’s setting!"
The foreman didn’t chastise him. Everyone knew Jik-han’s story—how he’d shouldered family debts since high school after his firefighter father died. Construction gigs, deliveries, odd jobs—he did anything paying.
Three hundred million won.
The number fueled him. Today’s wages would finally clear the debt. His sister’s tuition? A trifle compared to this mountain.
Pulling the cart uphill, Jik-han grinned, imagining the samgyeopsal feast he’d treat his family to.
Thud! Clatter!
A strange rumble echoed from above. The dump truck driver yelled, "It’s rolling! Move!" Workers scattered like ants, but Jik-han—mid-cart maneuver—couldn’t dodge fast enough.
Crash!
The overturned truck buried him under dirt.
Where…?
Blinking in a white void, Jik-han heard footsteps.
"Jeong Jik-han?"
"Who’re you?"
"The one and only goblin, Kang Moo-chi." The sharp-eyed figure puffed his chest. "Last memory?"
"…Did I die?"
"You died."
Jik-han laughed bitterly. After years of struggle, this was his end? He’d slap God given the chance.
"I get it," Kang Moo-chi said, reading his mind. "Your father—Jeong Soo-han—saved people in a tunnel accident 15 years ago. I couldn’t save him then. Now I save you."
Before Jik-han could protest, the goblin pressed his trapezius—"A talisman."—and explained:
"Your name was on Death’s ledger. I erased it. Work at the Cafe of the Dead. Earn good deeds there—better than any earthly virtue."
"Am I alive?"
"Neither dead nor alive. Underworld reapers are coming. But first—"
Thud! Jik-han gasped awake to heart monitor beeps.
"Stable!" a doctor declared.
Two weeks later, discharged but penniless, Jik-han reassured his red-eyed mother and sister:
"I’m fine! Built like a tank!"
"Oppa, no more dangerous jobs!" Suhye scolded. "Debts are gone. Live your life."
"I’ll get scholarships," she insisted.
He laughed—then clutched his chest.
"Your heart stopped for two minutes!" Suhye snapped. "Rest!"
After seeing them off at the terminal, Jik-han’s smile faded. He turned to the pale man in black trailing him since the hospital.
"Let’s talk."
The underworld civil servant stepped forward.
