Chapter 34: Risky Missions and Vegetable Overload

“Ugh… damn president…”

What kind of lunatic boss sends an ordinary employee into the lion’s den? I threw my resignation letter in his face, protesting his order to deliver tonics to a suspected criminal, but he just smirked and refused to accept it.

“Deliver tonics to the worst possible criminal in person? Are you out of your mind?”

I don’t want to do it. I finally survived the crunch period and was looking forward to an easier life, coasting through work. I’m not about to die after all that struggle.

“He’s not stupid enough to send me to my death, so what’s he thinking?”

Then I recalled his words: “Discard bias and don’t judge someone until you know them for sure.”

“Wait, is he sending me into this mess to make me drop my biases? Losing my life to lose prejudice doesn’t add up…”

As he said, writing crime thrillers or crime novels doesn’t make the author a criminal. No one, not even a madman, would commit crimes and then write about them for the world to see.

But ‘The Villain Wreaks Havoc’ is different.

It’s not a crime thriller—it’s a crime novel, and the author’s reputation as a lunatic is widespread. They haven’t denied it, so it’s fair to assume they’re a criminal.

The novel’s content supports this. Why do most crime novels flop? They lack depth in depicting criminals’ psychology and actions.

The subject of “crime” is compelling, but when written by those who haven’t experienced it, the fiction feels hollow, and the emotions and actions of criminals come off as fake due to the author’s limited expression. That’s why crime novels are a dead genre.

Until this lunatic author came along.

Their novel captures the emotions and sensations of committing crimes so vividly—calm yet chilling, sometimes violent and brutal—earning readers’ awe.

The difference between writing about experiences versus imagination is stark. Describing something you’ve lived through imbues it with vividness, while imagining something lacks that spark.

This author’s depiction of crime is so lifelike that they’re either a genius or a criminal. Given their writing outside of crime lacks genius, they must be a criminal.

“Ugh… I don’t want to go, but I owe the president too much to refuse.”

Whatever. He must have some grand plan. I finished writing my will, left it in plain sight, and headed to the airport.

“If that criminal tries to kill me, I’ll beg for a quick death. No way I want to end up like that woman in the novel.”

After walking for a while, I noticed three people tailing me.

“…Being followed?”

Two moved with disciplined, measured steps—cops. The third skulked like a petty thief—a criminal, no doubt.

“This is why being a popular woman is exhausting. They’re probably after me because of ‘that author.’ Better lose them fast.”

Calmly maintaining my pace, I pulled out my phone and called the president. He wasn’t too busy and picked up quickly.

[What’s up, Tonia?]

“Sir? I’m being followed. Any way to shake them?”

[I’ll send a car. Take it to the airport.]

“Moving by car might let the cops tracking me pinpoint my location.”

[…You’re being followed by cops?]

“Would I call you if they weren’t?”

Except in countries run by crime syndicates, stalking is a serious offense. If the two weren’t cops, I could gather evidence, call the police, and report them for stalking to shake them off. But they are cops. Reporting them would only bring more.

[I called it in. A black sedan will arrive near the bus stop in two minutes. Take it to the airport.]

“As expected, you’re quick, sir. By the way, no hazard pay? I’m risking my life here.”

[I’ll pay if you die. Stop whining—you won’t.]

“No, I might actually die this time… Sir? Sir?!”

He said his piece and hung up. I was so stunned that my brain froze for a moment.

“Haha… pay me when I’m dead, huh?”

If I survive, I’m throwing my resignation in his face and quitting.

I’ll make him experience his beloved regret and obsession tags firsthand.

—

“…Ji Yoon?”

“Yeah? What’s up, sis?”

“When we moved, didn’t you bring a ton of meat? Did we already eat it all?”

Something was off. Ji Yoon brought enough pork and beef to last over a week, but the table was piled with vegetables and no meat. She promised meat for two out of three meals—breakfast, lunch, dinner. Was my memory wrong?

“There’s plenty of meat left. Why? Want some now?”

“No, I’m almost done with this meal. Can you grill some for dinner?”

“If you want it, of course I’ll grill it.”

Reflecting on myself, I played with Chunja until dinner. When I checked the table, despair hit again.

“Sis! Eat up!”

“Thanks… you too. But Ji Yoon?”

“Yeah?”

“Just to be sure… is this all the meat?”

Careful not to offend, I asked, and Ji Yoon smiled brightly.

“Sis, they say you need ten times more vegetables than meat to stay healthy! So I prepared a little extra veggies!”

“A little? This looks like way more.”

The vegetables were twenty times the meat’s volume. The few pieces of beef were dwarfed by a veritable prairie of greens. This wasn’t how dinner should be.

“The meat seems too little. Can you grill a bit more?”

“Hmm… you’re right, it is sparse. Hold on.”

Ji Yoon grabbed another pack of meat from the fridge and started grilling. When she brought the plate, I brightened, ready to dig in—until a mountain of vegetables appeared before me.

“Ji Yoon.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you give me all this to eat?”

“You need ten times the veggies per piece of meat. This should be about right, no?”

“It’s not about the ratio—my body can’t handle this much.”

Since becoming this frail figure, my appetite’s grown, but my capacity for one sitting has shrunk.

Is it the difference between eating a lot at once versus eating small amounts over time? Either way, eating all this would turn me from a frail-looking beauty into an actually sick one.

“Too much is worse than too little. Moderation is key.”

I walked to the kitchen, grabbed some ziplock bags, and started packing the excess vegetables.

“But sis…”

“I really appreciate your concern.”

I packed the vegetables until a reasonable amount remained, then stored the bags in the fridge.

“Too much can be poison sometimes.”

I’m not a herbivore or a vegetarian. I eat veggies with meat, but not in the insane quantities or ratios Ji Yoon prepared.

“Everyone eats differently, but no one has the right to force their way on others.”

Have I been too swayed since becoming like this? With so many chaotic events and guilt over worrying others, I’ve just gone along with their requests.

But aside from writing, I haven’t done anything proactively. Thinking about it, I’ve barely acted independently since coming here.

“…Sorry, sis.”

“No need to apologize. Just don’t do it next time.”

She should get it by now, right?

“I’ll make it tastier and easier to eat next time. My bad.”

She didn’t get it. Damn it.

Explaining further would just let the beef get cold and ruin it, so I dropped the conversation and focused on eating.

“Let’s eat. Cold beef isn’t tasty.”

“Yeah, eat up, sis.”

How do I unravel this misunderstanding? I pondered over dinner but found no answers. Cautiously asking God got me a predictable, irresponsible reply.

[I don’t know.]

Tch.