Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#019Reader Mode

T/N: Happy Halloween! (¬ ´ཀ` )¬

#019

The guardhouse was completely empty and had an eerie quietness to it. What’s more, the door, notorious for its squeaky hinges, was unexpectedly unlocked. As Seojun turned the handle, it swung open easily, and to his relief, there was no sign of an ambush from someone in a gas mask or any tentacled monster. Feeling a bit more at ease, he let his tense shoulders drop a notch.

Seojun shone his lantern around, taking in the small interior of the guardhouse. The place was compact, making for a straightforward layout.

The rectangular building was split into two main areas: an outer lobby for dealing with visitors, and a smaller, more private room in the back. Despite being indoors, the outer area had a somewhat airy feel to it, thanks to the large windows and the door.

There was a telephone sitting there, and just as he expected, its line had been cut.

“……”

Seojun pressed the buttons on the now useless phone, not really expecting anything. Of course, there was no dial tone. Johan, looking serious, put a hand on Seojun’s shoulder.

“It’s really frustrating, but let’s just go with the idea that the caretaker is the one in the gas mask.”

“That damn Gas Mask….”

In a fit of frustration, Seojun chucked the phone. He had braced himself for this, but actually facing the reality of the situation was still a bitter pill to swallow. His frustration quickly turned to worry, though.

They had lost time because of their run-ins with Gas Mask and the monster. And now, Christina, who should have gotten here before them, was nowhere to be found.

Johan was flipping through the visitor logbook. The faint light from the lantern threw shadows across his face, highlighting his chin, mouth, and the lower part of his nose. His deep voice filled the small space of the guardhouse.

“If Christina had been here, she would have left some sort of clue. But there’s nothing.”

There was a pen right next to the logbook, but as Johan checked from the first page to the last, there was no sign of Christina.

One thing was clear: Christina had never made it to the guardhouse.

Regret washed over Seojun. He rubbed his forehead with his relatively uninjured left hand. Should they have gone to check out the source of those gunshots instead? Had he made a serious mistake?

His legs felt shaky. He knew all too well that without the protagonist, they stood no chance against the monster or Gas Mask. This world was designed that way.

“We need to find Christina, and fast.”

He tugged at Johan’s arm, causing the short, musty mop, the logbook, the pen, and the disconnected phone to scatter across the floor.

Kicking the mess at his feet in frustration, Seojun clung to Johan like someone desperately seeking solace in a deity. Johan, his eyes filled with concern, spoke softly.

“Jun, you’re really scared, aren’t you?”

“I……”

Seojun looked up, ready to glare at Johan, but instead, he found himself at a loss for words. Johan looked back at him, his eyes filled with nothing but genuine concern. There wasn’t a trace of mockery or disdain.

The disdain he often felt from Bobby and the trio—Gold, Silver, and Bronze—was completely absent. Johan’s deep concern was clear and undeniable.

Seojun couldn’t wrap his head around Johan’s behavior. Why was he looking at him like that? They were just acquaintances, not even close friends. Yet, here was Johan, wrapping his arms around Seojun, whispering,

“How about we just run away together?”

His voice was filled with pain, yet it was gentle and hesitant. Seojun took a deep, shaky breath, overwhelmed by Johan’s words. He had managed to overcome his fear of being hit by a truck, but the fear of death still lingered.

Johan’s suggestion was tempting, almost too tempting. For a fleeting moment, Seojun felt irresistibly drawn to his words. However, his slender arms, fragile like the branches of a tree, did not return the embrace.

He pulled away from Johan, lifting his head in the confined space filled with the warmth of their bodies and the scent of sweat. The cool night air brushed against his skin. Seojun, who had been staring at the ground untouched by moonlight, began to speak slowly.

“That’s not possible.”

The idea of leaving Hamon Campground had its appeal. But for a stage prop to leave its theater meant it was destined to be thrown away. His eyes, a mix of skepticism and trust, met Johan’s.

“Bobby called me a crazy cultist fortune-teller. And he’s right, Johan. I’m a madman. A prophet who foresees an ominous future.”

He remembered his past life and believed in body possession. If that wasn’t madness, what was?

The future he believed in wasn’t a vision that sporadically invaded his mind, but a grainy black and white screen. It showed a close-up of the protagonist, ‘Christina,’ screaming in a high-pitched wail. Seojun trusted his foresight enough to be tormented by it. It wasn’t just a prophecy. It was an absolute certainty.

He didn’t see himself as a 21st-century Nostradamus.¹T/N: “Nostradamus” whose real name was Michel de Nostredame, was a French astrologer, physician, and reputed seer who lived in the 16th century. He is best known today for his book “Les Prophéties,” a collection of 942 poetic quatrains often said to predict future events. Nostradamus has been credited with predicting various major world events and his works have been widely studied and debated by supporters and skeptics alike. His prophecies are often cited in popular culture, especially in times of crisis or when major events occur, although they are typically vague and subject to varied interpretations. He simply believed in a predetermined future.

Here, in Hamon Campground, on this Independence Day, if he failed to defeat the man-eating monster and the serial killer, running away would be pointless. The moment he stepped out of Christina’s sight, a meteor might just fall from the sky and end his life.

Seojun licked his dry lips, finding the slight moisture strangely irritating. His jaw was tight with tension as he spoke, not really to convince Johan, but more to reassure himself.

“I have to find Christina and get through this together. That’s the only future I’ve seen and believe in.”

His voice was strained to the max and sounded harsh, but Johan just listened attentively with a calm smile and gave Seojun another hug.

“Jun, isn’t that kind of adorably crazy?”

“…..”

Johan’s voice was so warm it made it hard for Seojun to suppress his emotions boiling within. He bowed his head to hide his reddened eyes and leaned on Johan’s shoulder.

“If I ran away, Johan, what would you do?”

Hidden from Johan’s view, Seojun’s eyelids fluttered slowly. Johan, looking at his dark hair, spoke softly.

“I’d really love to go with you… but I need to look for Christina.”

He added with a bitter smile,

“I really do want to run away with you, Jun. Don’t doubt my feelings, okay?”

Johan gently lifted Seojun’s chin with his hand. It was a soft touch. He tilted his head and looked into Seojun’s eyes.

Feeling a surge of anger, Seojun was taken aback by the contrast in the tall young man’s demeanor. Unable to hide his flushed ears and cheeks, he grabbed Johan by his collar.

“Wait a minute! You just said!”

His frustration was clear and undeniable. Seojun glared at Johan, gritting his teeth.

“I should’ve known! You’ve been talking nonsense from the start.”

Johan was undoubtedly a star in “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake.” It was obvious that the unseen forces of the horror movie, trying to get rid of a prophet who wasn’t even a supporting character, were at play.

I should’ve realized it when they started with that ridiculous government conspiracy theory about aliens.

Hadn’t Seojun noticed Johan’s strange behavior? But then again, Johan was known for his nonsensical talks. He was more talkative today, but given the monster, Gas Mask, and the chaos of the day, it seemed somewhat expected.

However, the reality was different. Seojun felt a surge of energy revitalizing his drained body. The rising anger inside him fueled his determination. With both the female and male leads around, going off on his own would surely be a death sentence.

Seojun grabbed Johan by the back of his neck, pulling him close. Their noses touched, and Seojun’s fiery, bloodshot eyes stared right into Johan’s.

“Listen here, Johan Gentil! I plan to get out of here with you and Christina. I’m not leaving alone. Understand?”

Strangely, Johan didn’t get angry at Seojun’s sudden outburst of rage. Instead, tears welled up in his eyes. After several attempts to speak, he finally bit his lip.

“Yes. Let’s do that, Jun. We definitely should.”

After a moment of silence, Johan responded with a voice that was both steady and determined. His expression and voice were unexpectedly enthusiastic. Seojun gave Johan a wary look, then snorted.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Seojun let go of Johan’s neck, and just like that, the heavy, emotional atmosphere in the cramped guardhouse seemed to vanish. Picking up the lantern and knife, he turned to Johan with a question in his eyes.

“Should we go check out where that gunshot came from?”

“Yeah, we should. But if it really was a gunshot, that could be dangerous.”

Johan’s face showed his concern, and Seojun couldn’t help but agree. They were aware of the risks, but they didn’t really have a plan. Seojun gestured towards the inner door of the guardhouse.

“Think there might be anything useful in there?”

“In this room? Well, if Gas Mask really is the caretaker like you think, maybe we’ll find something helpful.”

Johan gave the door handle a try, but just as they expected, it was locked.

“That just makes it all the more suspicious.”

He fiddled with the doorknob a bit more before pointing towards the desk in the guardhouse. Seojun went through it, but there was no key to be found. It seemed like Gas Mask probably had it on him.

Feeling a bit anxious, Seojun bit his lip and gave Johan a nudge.

“Think we could break the doorknob?”

“Well…”

Johan seemed hesitant. He knocked on the door, listening closely to the sounds that followed. After a few rhythmic knocks, he stood back up.

“There’s definitely something behind this door. But just breaking the knob isn’t going to cut it.”

“Hmm.”

Seojun looked at the door to the next room, let out a soft sigh, and grabbed Johan’s wrist.

“Hold on a sec.”

“Uh-huh.”

Johan’s drawn-out response sent a chill down Seojun’s spine, but they didn’t have time to waste on small talk.

Seojun took the severed telephone cord, wrapped it around the doorknob, and pulled it tight. The cord was thin, but after wrapping it several times, it looked pretty sturdy. He handed the makeshift rope to Johan.

“Let’s see what’s inside.”

“Well, if you insist.”

Johan gently moved Seojun to the side and took hold of the cord. With hardly any effort, his arm muscles flexed, and with a snap, the doorknob fell off, leaving a round hole behind.

Johan carefully unwrapped the cord from his hand and stepped back, muttering with a slight hint of embarrassment.

“It shouldn’t have broken that easily… It must’ve been pretty weak already.”