Korean Gamble

How on Earth did I end up on the other side of the planet? It’s quite simple, really; I had to flee Finland because the electric company’s creditors were banging on my door and I had no money to pay my bills. So I borrowed money from a loan shark, bought a random plane ticket, and ended up in Seoul, South Korea.

I’m sitting in a local subway station, writing my book, unable to afford a hotel room for the night. It’s fine, really; in fact, this is actually a rather nice place to work, although it certainly doesn’t hold a candle to my manor. But here, nobody knows me or cares one bit about me, so my undisturbed lonesomeness is guaranteed…

Man in a Suit: Excuse me, may I have a moment of your time?

O.G. Ghostwriter: Huh?

Man in a Suit: I’d like to offer you a wonderful opportunity –

O.G. Ghostwriter: Listen here, buddy, or should I say Mr. Suit? Don't you see that I’m sitting here alone? I do not want any company. I’m also not interested in anything you’re trying to sell me. See this fountain pen? I won't hesitate to splatter ink all over your freshly pressed shirt if you won't stop bothering me immediately.

Mr. Suit: Would you like to play a game with me?

O.G. Ghostwriter: A game? Why? What an odd suggestion… What exactly do you take yourself for? A preacher? A missionary?

Mr. Suit opens his briefcase and shows Ghostwriter a massive pile of cash.

O.G. Ghostwriter: … an answer to all of my prayers? 

Mr. Suit: Let’s play ddakji together. 

O.G. Ghostwriter: Whoa there! We’ve only just met, and I really don’t swing that way. 

Mr. Suit: I assume you’ve never heard of ddakji before?

O.G. Ghostwriter: I really don’t keep up with the youth lingo anymore. 

Mr. Suit: I will teach you how to play this game. It’s very simple. Every time you win, I’ll give you 50,000 won. Every time you lose, you must give me 50,000 won.

O.G. Ghostwriter: 50,000 won? How much is that in euros? I suppose that would certainly help chip away at the electricity bills back home. Alright then, let’s play. I've never heard of this game before, but how difficult can it possibly be? 

Mr. Suit: You may start. Which colour would you like to choose, blue or red?

The pair plays ddakji for a moment. Ghostwriter has no idea of the rules, so naturally, he loses.

O.G. Ghostwriter: Damn it, I lost! Look, my pockets are empty, and I don't have a single won to give you. I could give you my latest novel, even multiple copies since it didn't sell a single copy, but I don't have any money.

Mr. Suit: You can use your body to pay off your debt.

O.G. Ghostwriter: My body? Nature's own credit card? I never leave home without it, but I'm not sure if there's any valid currency on it anymore...

Mr. Suit slaps Ghostwriter in the face so hard he almost falls down. 

O.G. Ghostwriter: ?!&%#?!

Mr. Suit: I will deduct 50,000 won from your debt per slap.

O.G. Ghostwriter: Wait a minute! Are you working for the electricity company, or what is this all about? I haven't been slapped around this much since last weekend's culture section in The Times.

Mr. Suit: Your turn.

O.G. Ghostwriter: This game just doesn’t do it for me. To clear my electricity bills, you'd have to slap me until the cows come home! 

Mr. Suit: Do you want to play or not?

O.G. Ghostwriter: Fine, let's play then. Subway lunatics, always pestering me…

They play for a long time. Ghostwriter never wins.

Mr. Suit: I’m sorry but I have to stop, my hand aches too much from all the slapping. 
 
O.G. Ghostwriter: Are you quitting on me? 

Mr. Suit: I’m afraid so. I have never met such a bad ddakji player!

O.G. Ghostwriter: No matter how hard I try to earn money, I just can't succeed. Should I consider a career change? But… what if success is just around the corner? Should I just keep trying, just one more time? Come on, buddy, keep slapping! 

Mr Suit: Let's drop this game, but as a compensation, I’ll give you a chance to play similar games… 

O.G. Ghostwriter: As long as they don't require skill or luck.

Mr. Suit: ... and earn several billion won in a few days.

O.G. Ghostwriter: Billions of wons? How much is that in euros?

Mr. Suit: We still have a couple of spots left in the game, if you're interested.

O.G. Ghostwriter: Have I understood this correctly? So, here you are, in your well-fitting suit and gel-slicked hair, harassing poor and indebted wretches in the subway, relentlessly slapping them in the face, and after amusing yourself, you send these poor souls forward to play more humiliating games for a possible but highly unlikely monetary compensation?

Mr Suit: Would you like to try playing?

O.G. Ghostwriter: Do you even feel shame? And how can I sign up for the games?

Mr. Suit: Here is an invitation card. Call the number on it and follow the given instructions. Good luck with everything!

O.G. Ghostwriter: What a strange person. Probably bothers the homeless in his spare time just for the giggles. It’s criminal to be that naturally good-looking and just effortlessly breeze through life,
whereas the rest of us have to go around day after day with a bag over our heads.

So I could earn money by playing games.... A blatant exploitation of problem gamblers, but on the other hand... A few billion won could certainly make a dent in my manor’s electricity bill. What does this card say? Strange geometric symbols? And of course I left my Korean dictionary at home. But what have I got to lose here? I’ve only got one ex-life… so let’s gamble it away.  




...



This short story is a parody.