Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

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#003

Seojun’s mind wandered through daydreams of traveling through America in a truck. His striking features were etched in a distant gaze, fingers absentmindedly tracing the surface of a lemon. Suddenly, the convenience store door swung open once more.

“Man, I swear I saw a military truck yesterday! Damn, with Butcher Bren, huh? I was in the alley hooking up when I saw it.”

A shrill voice reached Seojun’s ears. A cheeky youngster sauntered in, arrogance oozing from every pore. His elongated chin and gaunt cheeks hinted at a somewhat unsavory character, perfectly mirroring his distasteful personality. His friends, just as unpleasant, had an equally poor reputation.

Joining the scene with his rough manner of speech was Brass Steve, sharing no resemblance to his model-student brother, Richard Silver. Lastly, Golden Casey, flaunting bleached blond hair, walked in. This trio was jokingly referred to as the Gold-Silver-Bronze trio.

Of course, it was a nickname quietly whispered where Golden, Richard, and Brass couldn’t hear. Golden, with his strikingly blond locks, smacked Brass’s unkempt head with a hard thump.

“Why would the military bother with this godforsaken place? Oh, wait. They must be here to nab our esteemed prophet, huh?”

If Bobby was a mere irritant, Golden was downright violent. His eyes, a deep pool of brown, often reflected a dangerous crimson under the sun’s glare, as they did now. Golden chuckled sinisterly, his ruddy gaze fixed on Seojun as his fingers gripped and tightened around his collar.

“So, Fortune Teller, what’s the forecast today? Ah, but keep it vague, yeah? Wouldn’t want the government slicing you open for a juicy prophecy, now would we?”

Seojun’s face twisted under the choking grip. When he was younger, struggling to reconcile his past life’s memories with his present knowledge, he’d been incapable of hiding his visions. Thanks to this, he once found himself as the sole knower of the whereabouts of Golden’s bicycle—purchased with money stolen from his father’s wallet.

Possessing such knowledge was far from beneficial. The memory of a broken nose and the accompanying blaze of pain served as a harsh lesson. Since then, he’d tried maintaining a healthy distance from Golden, but that was easier said than done.

So, for a while, Seojun, along with Stefan, the heaviest boy in town, found themselves as prime targets for the Gold-Silver-Bronze trio.

Luckily, as their hot-blooded teenage years passed, a smidgen of sense seemed to have permeated Golden’s thoughts. Now, their interactions were somewhat civil. Still, Golden’s temper could still erupt unexpectedly, much like a rainbow following a storm.

Seojun moistened his parched lips, attempting to shake off Golden’s hand. Against his formidable frame, Seojun—who was practically skin and bones—had little impact.

“Bring an umbrella.”

His soft warning had an eerie undertone. Startled, Richard and Brass stopped their snickering and stole a wary glance at the sky.

“.……”

Next to the brilliant sun was an utterly cloudless sky. It was a ridiculously clear summer day.

“Damn, you scared me!”

Brass, swaying towards Golden’s side, swung up his hand. Instead of leaving a bruise on Seojun’s pale skin, he began wreaking havoc in the store, rattling display racks and sending items tumbling to the floor. Seojun’s earlier satisfaction from tidying up evaporated instantly. Brass’s muddy boots mercilessly trampled the fallen items, his mouth unleashing a torrent of racially charged taunts.

“You, Eastern fortune-teller! Go join a circus! What’s your game here? Oh, wait, are you some kind of undercover spy? Come on, show us your true colors!”

“Yeah, just like this banana!”

Richard’s laughter echoed through the convenience store as he snatched a banana from the display, peeling it with gusto. Brass hoisted the banana aloft with exaggerated drama.

“Behold, this creamy flesh!” Brass declared, eyes bulging. “It’s as pale as Stephanie’s breasts!”

Brass brought the banana to his nose, inhaling the sweet scent with a sigh of pleasure, his face lost in memory. “Ah, such splendid breasts they were, even heftier than Bren’s. Meanwhile, this alien is just too skinny. He should have enjoyed the tomatoes that Golden gifted him.”

Seojun recalled a time when tomatoes thrown had narrowly missed his head. Fortunately, he had dodged them. Otherwise, his mood would have soured for the entire day. Of course, because he sidestepped them, Bobby took a direct hit, but that wasn’t Seojun’s problem.

“Enough of this pig’s ass stories!” Golden interrupted, his face twisted in disgust. “I’m not into guys…it’s enough to make me hurl like the day I lost my bicycle.”

Golden made a gagging noise, and Seojun wished the man would just take an antacid and be done with it.

“Poor Golden!” Brass joined in, feigning sympathy. “So delicate in his tastes. But look around this store! They sell milk with this idiot’s face on it. How is this considered customer service? Can I punch you between the eyes? Huh?!”

The verbal abuse gradually shifted back towards the convenience store worker again. It seemed they had just remembered that Golden’s stepmother was also Korean.

Brass, who had been mimicking shooting a gun, threw a milk carton printed with Bobby’s face onto the floor. The milk splattered and began to seep into the cracks. The thought of having to clean it up made Seojun’s head throb.

As he glumly imagined the mop in his hand tackling the mess, a lengthy shadow stretched across the convenience store’s entrance, followed by a stunned, quivering voice.

“What… what has happened here?”

There in the doorway stood none other than Fred Frank, the owner of the convenience store. He was also sporting the bright red cap and vest like Seojun. His round glasses and immaculately groomed mustache gave him the look of a comedic character straight out of a bygone era.

Fred stumbled in, his eyes ballooning in shock. He normally didn’t visit often, despite being the owner. It was just his luck that Fred decided to visit on this chaotic day.

“Boss…”

Seojun’s voice faltered as he spoke, but Fred seemed lost in his own world, his hands trembling as they stroked his mustache.

“G-get out, all of you! What have you done to my beautiful, precious store!”

Truth be told, Fred’s connection to the convenience store was somewhat superficial. Aside from paying Seojun a meager monthly salary, he kept his distance. Keeping these thoughts to himself, Seojun just kept his mouth shut and nodded his head in agreement with Fred’s lamentations.

Considering we get fewer than ten customers a day, I can’t really complain about being paid minimum wage…

Seojun looked at Fred with sympathetic eyes. The owner of Hamon Convenience Store, Fred, was a fairly stout man of considerable age. But his quivering voice, fogged-up glasses, and somewhat disheveled appearance only fueled the amusement of the bullies further.

Brass burst into laughter, guffawing right in Fred’s face. He stomped a banana into the floor, his malicious grin stretching wider.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, sir. But until my jaw¹T/N: He is sarcastically saying that he would have to lose all sense of taste (i.e., his jaw would have to fall off) before he could ever consider the convenience store “precious.” falls off, I can’t possibly call this dump as ‘precious.’”

“If this convenience store is excellent, then my brother’s an alien,” Richard added, piling onto Brass’s mockery.

Fred’s face blanched, and the tips of his mustache quivered. Unable to endure their ridicule any longer, he shouted back firmly.

“If y-you continue this nonsense, I will call the police!”

Golden’s shoulders stiffened at the manager’s stern warning. Whether Fred knew of Golden’s father being a police officer or not, the threat hit its mark. Golden spat disdainfully on the floor.

“…Let’s go.”

While they obeyed Golden’s command, Richard and Brass continued their jeering until the very end. Seojun let Brass’s relentless taunts breeze through one ear and out the other, a puzzled frown knitting his brow.

“Why on earth did those guys come here?”

Sure, people usually came to the convenience store to buy something, but this chaotic interaction was far from a typical customer-employee exchange.

“Fred, are you okay?”

“Uh-hmm, urgh….”

Fred blew his nose carefully to prevent any snot from sticking to his mustache. He shoved his snot-soaked handkerchief back into his pocket and blinked his reddened eyes.

“You can head home early today. Ugh.”

“Wow, really?”

“Of course, after cleaning all this up.”

“……..”

The convenience store floor was a mess, littered with milk splatters, banana mush, and various trampled goods. Golden’s spit was the disgusting cherry on top. Seeing the aftermath left by the Gold-Silver-Bronze trio and the sniffling store owner, Seojun heaved a heavy sigh. Instead of a joyful Liberation Day, it turned out to be more exhausting than usual.

Even after the ruffians had made their exit, Fred’s grumbles continued to fill the convenience store. He was a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve. He vented his frustration while clumsily wiping his fogged-up glasses with his shirt.

“Those rotten, damned bastards! Seojun, if this happens again, call the police!”

Seojun knew better. By the time the police could navigate the winding forest road to this remote location, the troublemakers would be long gone, having had their fun. But Seojun, feeling a distant kinship with his bespectacled boss, simply nodded, deciding against bursting Fred’s bubble.

Ever since switching to contacts himself, Seojun felt not an ounce of wistful camaraderie watching the flustered store owner battle with his smudged lenses.

Fred was a different man altogether once he reemerged from the backroom, shoulders squared. But whether Seojun’s aloof pragmatism swayed like a reed in the breeze or not, their working dynamic remained utterly unchanged.

Fred was the boss, and he, the obedient employee.

With a resigned shrug, Seojun picked up the mop from the store’s storage room and got to work. All the while, Fred hovered nearby, his round glasses perched precariously on his nose, muttering as if words alone could fix the mess.

“I want to help too, but I have something to do today.”

“Sure.”

As if. Seojun could easily offer his assistance without any intention of following through as well. Fred continued to stammer out a few more excuses.

“Really, my brother is short-staffed and asked for help. What’s a little brother to do?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m an only child.”

Fred’s presence was proving to be more of hindrance than help. His frantic pacing over the food-smeared floor was making Seojun’s job harder. Hoping he would leave soon, Seojun stared at Fred’s splendid mustache.

“You got your driver’s license, didn’t you, Fred?”

“Yes? Ugh, yes, of course. A car’s necessary for these long commutes.”

Fred gestured with his head towards the store’s secondary door. Without a car, how would one get to this secluded place? Unless one fancied a long bicycle ride, it was common to travel by car. Even Christina’s group, with Johann at the wheel, used a car.

Seojun’s thoughts turned to the six-seater van the group had driven off in earlier and spoke again.

“I also plan to get my license soon. I’ve even looked into some driving schools.”

“A license? Well, it’s about time for you, Seojun.”

Fred looked at Seojun’s slightly ambiguous eyes and slim, yet strong stature with a thoughtful expression. He spoke with a hint of bravado.

“Need help studying? I’ve seen my fair share of roads.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve been studying for the written test from time to time. And besides, I want to drive a truck.”

“A truck?”

Fred asked again, as if the long-held dream sounded a bit absurd. But to Seojun, the idea of being in control of his freedom was exhilarating. Perhaps that’s why he revealed his secret plan, something he hadn’t even shared with his parents.

“Yes. Once I get my license, I’m thinking of traveling by truck.”

“Traveling?”

Seojun nodded, a strange mix of relief and anxiety bubbling up inside him as he voiced his secret desire.

Is this what adulthood feels like?

The soul, already matured from a past life, scratched his cheek at the ridiculous thought. Ignoring the anxiety crawling up his spine, Seojun continued to speak.

“So, I’m planning to quit the convenience store job. I’ll work through the end of this month, but that’s it.”

“What? So suddenly?”

Fred’s face was a picture of shock and dismay, as if the idea of Seojun leaving ‘Wraithwood Warren’ had never crossed his mind. Even as Seojun continued to scrub the floor, Fred’s bewildered expression made him look like a lost child. It wasn’t a fitting description for a sturdy middle-aged man, but his face was that desperate.

Seojun, nose crinkling at the sour scent of spilled milk, stopped his mopping and rested his chin on the mop handle.

This obedient servant now takes his leave. Farewell.