Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#049Reader Mode

#049

From the moment six-year-old Seojun saw Christina, her exceptionally familiar cute and adorable face sent a jolt through him. Her smile, bright and full of dazzling teeth, made him feel suffocated. As she effortlessly mastered the alphabet, his unease grew, and when she progressed to numbers and telling time, his world spun. What started as shock soon morphed into fear, and that fear spurred him into action.

Realizing he was trapped in the world of a horror movie, specifically “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake,” Seojun was desperate to find some way to deny it. He needed evidence, anything to prove this wasn’t real.

His first strategy was prayer. Hoping against hope it was all just a bad dream, he clasped his hands, praying and bowing fervently to the sky… But God, as indifferent as ever, didn’t answer the calls of a self-proclaimed atheist.

Next, he turned to self-harm, pinching his thighs and cheeks in a frantic bid to jolt himself awake. But all he got for his troubles were a bunch of fingernail marks on his skin and no closer to an answer.

When these simple escapes from reality failed, Seojun looked for another way out. But each attempt to act just added to his growing pile of problems.

For starters, there was the issue of his age. No matter how mature he acted, he was still in the body of a young child, with stubby arms and legs. It’s hard to be taken seriously when your sneakers squeak cutely with each step. At best, he managed to get a few candies for his mumbled requests with shaky pronunciation.

Then there were his parents. They tensed up whenever he showed interest in accessing the internet. Their smiles, usually so warm, would twist unnervingly, and the skin beneath their eyes twitched as if they were fighting back spasms.

As a kid, they’d scare him with tales of electronic devices spewing harmful radiation. As he grew, they shifted to advocating for a tech-free education. But their ashen faces betrayed their words. Seojun, filled with doubt and unease, would just nod obediently, tension knotting in his throat.

Then an opportunity came unexpectedly. An unoccupied study, a carpet with an intricate pattern, a dark red desk, and a sleek laptop, cold to the touch… Seojun, with a nervous gulp, hit the laptop’s power button. His fingers, damp with sweat, hovered over the keyboard, ready to start his search. Despite a deep-rooted reluctance, his fingers obeyed his brain’s commands.

The screen lit up, revealing a stark, empty page: the search results for “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake.” Staring at the faintly glowing screen, Seojun felt a wave of dread wash over him. The harsh reality hit him like a thousand needles. His thoughts spiraled into negativity, nausea welled up, and his body trembled uncontrollably. Even the soft carpet underfoot seemed to turn into needles.

Instead of facing this dreadful truth, Seojun chose to escape. He left the study, trudged up the stairs, and retreated to his room, diving under his blanket like an ostrich burying its head in the sand. That night, he grabbed his teddy bear, a trusty friend throughout his younger years. The next morning, the bear’s belly was damp with his tears, and Seojun gazed at the dawn sky, his eyes swollen and unfocused.

From then on, he played the role of the obedient child, staying away from the internet, never daring to search those haunting words again.

Having no friends made this self-imposed isolation easier. So Seojun lived a seemingly decent and orderly life, immersing himself in the surface-level culture around him…

As he grew older, his parents’ strictness eased a bit, allowing him to indulge in video games. Yet, “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake” remained an enigma, a movie title he never searched for again.

But now, all of this…

Seojun’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble, his mind a tangled web. He struggled to string his thoughts together coherently. When he finally managed to speak, his words stumbled out.

“Black Lake… What Black Lake?”

Bobby’s face flushed with irritation at Seojun’s question, the redness so intense it looked like he might burst as he angrily snorted.

“The Surprising Truth and Lies of Black Lake, the Murderer and the Beauty!” he blurted out, rattling off the mouthful of a title flawlessly. Seojun, though, past the point of being impressed even if Bobby had performed acrobatics, grabbed Bobby’s neck like a scarf and gave him a vigorous shake. Rationality seemed as absent in him as evaporated alcohol.

“So what is it, exactly? Who is Joe Lompelschtizen?”

“Rompelschtizen!”

Bobby, struggling for air, practically screamed the name. Whether it was a hurried correction or just mimicking Seojun’s words was unclear. But his flailing worked; Seojun’s grip loosened.

Bobby, narrowly escaping being choked to death, wiped tears from his puffy red eyes and protested, “It’s about Tom George, the renowned director of Wraithwood, the genius behind the Rompelschtizen Baby! Rompelschtizen’s real name is Tom George!”

Seojun’s fingers, initially ready to wring more answers from Bobby, paused. He checked his ears to make sure they weren’t clogged; they were fine. He had heard Bobby right.

But the logic circuits in Seojun’s brain just about short-circuited. A character from a movie recognizing its own director? What kind of surreal, mind-bending plot twist was that?

“No, no, Bobby. You’re all mixed up, right?” Seojun’s muttering, edged with hysteria, scared Bobby, who inadvertently stepped back onto Brass’s body.

“Eeek!”

Feeling the disgusting texture beneath his feet, Bobby’s face twisted in horror. The sensation was chillingly soft yet oddly solid – a mix that sparked a flash of anger in him. Despite trying to suppress it, his patience was shorter than a candle wick.

“Why should I take this kind of treatment from you? This is insane! What did I do to you?”

“Bobby, there’s nothing more insane than you still being alive and talking.” Even in his confused state, Seojun couldn’t resist the jab.

“Johan, do something! Keep this lunatic away from me!”

Tears and snot smeared Bobby’s face as he pleaded with Johan. Whether moved by friendship or something else, Johan gently wrapped his arms around Seojun. Seojun’s back pressed against Johan’s solid chest, and the familiar scent of blood pricked his nose.

Johan’s hand softly patted Seojun’s stomach, soothing as if calming a child’s upset tummy. Seojun glanced down at the hand and rasped out, “You know about Rompelschtizen too, Johan?”

“Jun, it’s okay if you don’t know him. Honestly, he’s not some big-shot director… Probably only Bobby is obsessed with him among our age group.”

Since Johan was embracing him from behind, Seojun couldn’t see his face or tell what expression he was making. But instead of turning around, he just closed his mouth, licking his chapped lips.

“Christina is still Christina,” he mumbled, as if the name was his lifeline. It was a name that grounded Seojun.

Her existence had always been imposing. It felt like a weight pressing down on his shoulders, a strain ready to snap his spine. But right now, the simple fact that Christina remained unchanged was the stabilizing force in Seojun’s chaotic world.

Seojun turned towards Johan, his eyes bloodshot and shining with an unsettling, insect-like sheen. His gaze was damp with fear, fanaticism, and confusion.

In a moment of uncontrolled desire, Johan gently pressed his lips against Seojun’s eyelid. Seojun jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, but Johan just held him closer, unable to rein in his growing affection.

With Bobby’s astonishment as background noise, Johan buried his face in Seojun’s hair, damp with sweat and dirt, speaking with an unexpected tenderness.

“Did you know Christina’s name comes from her grandmother? She’s the actress Dolly. Even sends Christina knitted sweaters during the holidays. Her mom named her after a character in one of Dolly’s old films.”

“Christina’s grandmother?”

“Yeah. You’d be amazed how much she looked like Christina in her younger days. Apart from her light brown hair, they could pass as twins.”

Johan’s additional comments about Christina inheriting her freckles from her grandmother seemed to drift into the void, lost on Seojun.

The movie Seojun remembered was in black and white, and he had assumed the not-dark hair color of the leading actress meant that she was blonde. His empty stare collided with Johan’s, who offered an awkward smile.

“She’s pretty well-known around here… But our Jun doesn’t have many friends to chat about these things with, right?”