TE 19

After the most exhilarating escapade of her life, Seo-ha found herself on the path back to church.

Belatedly, fear crept into her heart. She had stayed out all night without permission, surely a punishment awaited her – one befitting such disobedience.

However, upon arriving at the church, Seo-ha realized she might just escape this year’s second disciplinary action.

“You’re late,” Pastor Moon said, his tone more weary than angry.

“I’m sorry,” Seo-ha replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We didn’t see you at breakfast either.”

Seo-ha remained silent, her eyes fixed on the ground.

“Hee-jung mentioned you looked tired, so we let you be. But oversleeping is one thing – being late is another matter entirely.”

Park Hee-jung, it seemed, had not breathed a word to her father about last night’s events.

“Just attend the morning service, then go downstairs to work.”

Seo-ha nodded obediently. As Pastor Moon turned to prepare for the service, she stole a glance at Tae-beom.

His demeanor suggested he had anticipated this outcome. Rather than relief, his expression was one of calm indifference.

At the hotel, he had explained that Seo-chan had informed him of her departure. From this alone, Seo-ha deduced that Park Hee-jung had instructed Seo-chan to call Tae-beom. After all, she had deliberately provoked Park Hee-jung by involving Tae-beom.

Seo-ha pondered why Park Hee-jung hadn’t used her father to pressure her again. Firstly, she must fear her own infidelity being exposed. And secondly, perhaps…

She was worried Tae-beom might get hurt.

One wrong word could harm not only her irritating stepdaughter but also the man she loved.

It seemed Park Hee-jung genuinely cared for Tae-beom. What it meant to romantically love someone was a concept Seo-ha struggled to grasp.

Was it an emotion distinct from sex?

Did she sleep with him because she liked him, or did she come to like him because they slept together?

The questions swirled in Seo-ha’s mind, adding another layer to the complex web of relationships she found herself entangled in.

If it’s the former, she wonders what Tae-beom is feeling right now.

Even if it’s the latter, She’s curious about his state of mind.

Does he have feelings for Park Hee-jung? If so, why did he sleep with me?

And now, what are his feelings towards me?

But instead of asking these questions, Seo-ha turned away from Tae-beom and followed her father to worship.

For other believers, worship simply meant sitting and fervently shouting “Hallelujah,” but for Seo-ha, it entailed much more. As the Messiah’s daughter, she was practically revered as a saint.

Whenever it was time for worship, Seo-ha would follow her father into the changing room. He always dressed in an impressive and mysterious white ensemble that exuded authority, and she was expected to do the same.

On busy days, it was acceptable to skip worship, but now that yesterday’s pressing matters were resolved, she would have to diligently attend services again starting today. Although this was a routine she was accustomed to, for some reason, she felt an unusually strong aversion to it today.

The reason for her reluctance was undoubtedly the man she had spent the night with at the hotel.

Tae-beom would see her too. Would he scoff, thinking, “So, she really is the daughter of a cult leader”?

Seo-ha pulled out the pristine white dress and the large, fluffy shawl she was required to wear over her shoulders. She let out a deep sigh that rose from her core, not even attempting to conceal it.

As she gazed at the familiar attire she was obligated to wear, a long-forgotten sense of shame suddenly washed over her anew.

****

The followers of Pastor Moon’s church typically wore white attire for worship. Although not an absolute rule, allowing some to attend in casual clothes when circumstances demanded, the majority of devoted followers, true to their cult-like nature, adhered to the unspoken white dress code.

This practice created an unusual phenomenon where those in everyday clothes stood out like sore thumbs.

At this moment, Ki Tae-beom, standing at the entrance of the chapel, found his gaze momentarily captivated by a particular figure brushing past him.

A man in a classic beige coat strode confidently towards the front rows, close to the pulpit, his long legs carrying him effortlessly. Wearing a cap that seemed at odds with his otherwise refined attire, he settled into his seat with a relaxed demeanor, conspicuously lacking a Bible.

It wasn’t merely his casual attire that caught the eye; even from a distance, his towering height and impressive build were unmistakable. Of course, it wasn’t just the stranger’s proportions that kept Tae-beom’s gaze lingering.

That side profile glimpsed earlier as he passed by…

Though the deeply pulled-down cap obscured his face, there was an inexplicable familiarity about him.

However, Tae-beom’s attention was soon diverted from the man. As all the worshippers took their seats, the lights dimmed, signaling the commencement of the service.

The lowered illumination completely shrouded the seated man from view. Instead, spotlights blazed to life on the stage.

Before Pastor Moon’s grand entrance, a group of remarkably attractive women emerged, beginning a light dance routine with graceful movements. Only those who met Pastor Moon’s stringent standards of beauty and physique were permitted to grace that stage.

Tae-beom gazed listlessly at the women in tight-fitting white sheath dresses with short hemlines. His bored expression only cracked when one particular woman appeared among them.

Moon Seoha stood out, the only one wearing angel wings on her back in a heavenly cosplay.

“Damn it, that’s…” Tae-beom cursed involuntarily, quickly clamping his mouth shut and messing up his meticulously waxed hair.

That bastard Moon Seokho, making his daughter do such things. he thought bitterly.

***

Joo-hyuk, occupying a seat without even a Bible in hand, was tormenting Song, his assistant, with a barrage of text messages. He demanded the hotel room be set to a specific temperature by the time he returned, insisted on pink bed sheets, and made various other unreasonable requests.

Imagining the stress his impossible demands would cause Song made this tedious time somewhat bearable for Joo-hyuk.

As a non-believer, Kwon Joo-hyuk’s reason for visiting Pastor Moon’s church was simple: he merely wanted to scout the territory of the man he planned to destroy soon.

Until the lights went out and a bunch of well-dressed women came out under the lights on the podium, Joo-hyuk’s curiosity was merely piqued about what kind of spectacle this dubious cult had prepared to enthrall its followers.

However, his perception shifted dramatically when a woman adorned with enormous wings appeared at the center.

Her hair, seemingly neglected of professional care for some time, fell in faint waves, almost straight. Her face, devoid of any makeup, was plain yet striking. Reddish eyelids, full lips, and eyes as lifeless as those of a corpse captivated him.

Ah, could it be…

“…an angel?” Joo-hyuk whispered in awe.

Though he had never before pondered the specific form or appearance of angels, if one were to sculpt an angel’s likeness, surely it would resemble this woman.

No, perhaps an actual angel had descended upon this church.

Joo-hyuk, a non-believer, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, wondering if he had fallen under some sort of spell. Yet, no matter how many times he looked, she appeared to be a genuine angel.

“Our Saint looks just like an angel, doesn’t she?” A middle-aged woman seated beside him nudged Joo-hyuk with her elbow, beaming with pride.

“Saint…?” he echoed, bewildered.

“That’s our church’s Saint,” she explained.

Despite the woman’s seemingly irrational statement, Joo-hyuk found himself easily accepting it.

I see, not an angel but a Saint, he thought.

Who, then, is the Holy Father? he wondered.

As the Saint and the women began to sing, all the followers chanted in unison, their hearts and minds as one.

“Moon Seok-ho!”

The name rang out, echoing through the hall.

Though the song they sang was somewhat peculiar, the woman’s beauty remained undeniable.

A melody filled the air, its purpose unclear – whether it was a hymn to God or a praise to the pastor. The prayers and amens of the congregation seemed directed towards the pot-bellied man seated at the back.

Yet, while others fixated on Moon Seok-ho, Joo-hyuk’s attention remained solely on the Holy Woman. He found himself joining in the chorus of praise, but his words were meant for her alone. In his mind, she was the true divine presence in the room.

When asked why he was so enraptured by her, Joo-hyuk’s response was refreshingly honest and decidedly unspiritual. “Because she’s incredibly beautiful,” he admitted without hesitation, his candor a stark contrast to the religious fervor surrounding him.

***

Seo-ha couldn’t bring herself to sing with the same beaming smile as the women beside her. The mere thought of Ki Tae-beom watching her from somewhere filled her with such shame that she wanted to disappear into the tiniest crevice.

Though her eyes were open, Seo-ha deliberately blurred her focus, avoiding both Ki Tae-beom near the chapel entrance and the seated congregation. She sang and moved mechanically, her motions automatic and devoid of spirit. Each minute felt like an eternity, stretching into what seemed like a hundred years of exquisite torment.

Yet, as with all things, even this hellish ordeal had to come to an end.

At last, the song concluded. Now, she would step back, endure her father’s sermon, and then, in her role as the revered “saint,” she would forcibly squeeze out speaking in tongues during prayer. Only then would the morning service finally be over.

As the last notes of the piano accompaniment faded away, an unexpected sound pierced the air.

The sharp staccato of a single person’s applause echoed through the chapel, cutting through the silence before the piano’s final chord had fully dissipated.

This somewhat tactless act drew the attention of the congregation, but the lone applauder remained undeterred. Far from being self-conscious, he cried out in a voice suffused with ecstasy:

“Hallelujah!”

Seo-ha’s gaze fell upon the hat of this unfamiliar worshipper, and a single thought crossed her mind,

Who on earth is this person…?