Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#122Reader Mode

#122

Johan straightened up from his hunched position over the low desk, his shoulders catching the faint, pale-blue hallway light that slipped through the cracked door like frost. The room was all sharp angles and harsh lines, shadows slicing through it like surgical blades, stripping it of any warmth or humanity. It felt nothing like Corpus, where old grudges simmered beneath polite surfaces, and conspiracies lurked in every shadowed corner, waiting.

His gaze lingered on the blank screen. That scarecrow man who always seemed to flail about unpredictably was gone without a trace.

“Why was he in such a hurry…?” Johan murmured, a faint note of disappointment slipping into his deep, steady voice. He’d been counting on Oz to handle the aftermath, but now that chance had vanished, leaving a subtle ache of regret. He shook it off, letting a relaxed smile return to his face as his gaze dropped to the floor.

“Well, I guess that’s just the way the cards fell.”

Before him lay a half-naked man sprawled out on the cold tiles. His hair was a wild mess against the floor, a fresh purple bruise blooming on his forehead where he’d hit something. The spot still radiated faint warmth, and a smear of dried blood was crusted beside his nose. The “Wizard” label on his rumpled shirt looked almost absurd, especially with his stomach half-exposed.

Johan’s sharp blue eyes narrowed as he studied the unconscious figure—the kidnapper, the so-called “real” Wizard, who had that peculiar feature: an extra toe.

“Hmm…”

The smile faded as Johan looked down at the disheveled man, left in such an awkward, funny state, a mess of Johan’s own making. Scratching the bridge of his nose, Johan couldn’t help but feel slightly troubled.

Johan had told Oz he’d searched the guy thoroughly, and he had. But seeing him lying there completely naked had been more than his eyes wanted to handle, so, reluctantly, Johan had redressed him for decency’s sake. The white coat the guy had been wearing was now covering a puddle of vomit in the corner, and Johan had even gone so far as to pull his socks back on.

Still, any random person stumbling upon this scene would be in for quite the shock. The man’s limbs were splayed at odd angles, giving the unfortunate impression he’d been caught mid-masturbation.

Despite his best intentions, the clumsily redressed man looked, well, highly suspicious. The mere thought of being mistaken for some kind of pervert was enough to make Johan wince. He sighed, realizing his meticulous effort to avoid direct contact with the guy—for hygiene’s sake, naturally—might just end up making things look even worse.

But there was no use dwelling on it. With a casual push of his foot, he rolled the limp figure into the corner. Sweaty, slumped, and pale, the man looked barely human anymore—a lifeless heap. Losing interest, Johan turned back to the bank of monitors, his fingers tapping briskly over the controls as he scanned each screen.

“Did I get caught after all?”

Johan’s gaze landed on a glaring red button helpfully labeled “Open.” At first, he’d assumed it controlled the door to the CCTV control room, pressing it repeatedly, expecting the door to unlock. But when nothing happened, he realized his mistake: This button wasn’t for this door at all. It served a different purpose entirely. With a small nod, Johan acknowledged his own deception. He hadn’t lied about searching the kidnapper, but his true intentions had been far more self-serving. As it turned out, that button opened the doors to the courtroom.

In other words, Johan had the power to release the young man bound in burlap right from the start.

A single press would have spared him from all this, but Johan had chosen not to. After all, why should he trust Oz enough to set him free? If Oz escaped on his own, Johan would be left behind—trapped in this place, rotting away, separated from Seojun forever. Just the thought made his nose sting, and he felt his eyes mist over. Pressing the back of his hand against his reddened eyelids, he fought to hold himself together.

When Johan had first woken up in this bizarre place after the accident, he’d been just as lost and disoriented as Oz. At the time, he hadn’t even realized he’d been kidnapped. As the haze lifted from his mind, his eyes fell on a stranger crumpled on the floor nearby. Even Johan, never exactly known for his empathy, was startled by the man’s horrific condition.

The stranger’s head was a mess of wounds, deep gashes cutting across his scalp, and he clung to life by the thinnest thread. The blue light from the monitors cast an eerie glow over the room, one feed even showing a pile of bodies, disturbingly dressed like scarecrows. Johan, dazed, almost wondered if this was some kind of messed-up prank.

But as he staggered through the cramped, shadowed room, snatches of memory resurfaced: the blaring horn, that brain-rattling collision, the sharp bite of the seatbelt against his chest…

And then, slipping through his waning consciousness, a voice cold as death itself hissed,“I knew you’d come back.” It was as though the words were waiting for something—demanding something unfinished to finally be put right.

Johan’s icy blue eyes, catching the monitors’ cold glow, shifted to the pitiful figure of his kidnapper. A faint smile crossed his face as he lifted his own shirt to inspect his chest. Just as he thought, a long, bluish bruise stretched across it. Meanwhile, the kidnapper’s abdomen was pale, as colorless as a slice of flounder. Johan’s gaze lingered on the man’s ridiculous “Wizard” T-shirt before letting it drop.

Apparently, this guy had been reckless enough to cause a crash without even buckling up. After hauling Johan to this room, he’d collapsed from exhaustion and his injuries.

“See? Always wear your seatbelt.”

Johan couldn’t help feeling a slight glow of pride at his own law-abiding habits, flashing a smug smile to nobody in particular. But his satisfaction didn’t last. When he turned to the door of the CCTV room and tried to open it, it wouldn’t budge, no matter how much he wrestled with it. His smile faded, giving way to frustration. Meanwhile, Seojun was probably off somewhere enjoying a peaceful vacation.

Johan had always entertained the fantasy of a destined reunion with him, but he knew better than anyone that relationships fade without actual face time. Worse yet, they weren’t even officially dating.

In a fit of desperation, Johan started punching random numbers into the keypad, each attempt met with an annoying “access denied.” He tried a few more combinations, but the outcome remained the same: failure.

“Hmm…”

For a brief, absurd moment, he pictured himself crawling through the air ducts like some Hollywood action hero. But reality set in quickly—he’d practically have to slice off his shoulders and even more to fit. He chuckled at the thought, letting the foolish idea go.

As he considered his next move, his gaze wandered over the monitors until one screen caught his attention. A tall, lanky figure had stumbled into view, moving like he was trapped in a silent film, flailing this way and that. The odd angle of the CCTV made him look almost cartoonish, and Johan chuckled at the poor guy’s bewilderment. Another unfortunate victim kidnapped like him, maybe?

Johan’s grin widened, a spark of inspiration lighting up his mind. He could almost hear a choir of angels singing at the opportunity. Why not use this unexpected “scarecrow” to his advantage? With the control room as a dead end, it was time to broaden his search. Picking up the mic, he spoke into it with relaxed, friendly cheer.

“Did you sleep well?”

From that moment on, they actually made a pretty solid team. Oz had his quirks, sure, but he didn’t slack off—not with his life on the line. Johan, meanwhile, was more than happy to avoid the buttons marked for poison or sleeping gas. Deciphering Oz’s messy handwriting was a minor hassle, but he let it slide.

Once Oz had gathered enough intel in the courtroom, Johan decided it was time to expand their search. He opened the back door, giving Oz the green light to explore. In hindsight, Johan realized that was probably when Oz began to suspect him.

But really, what other option was there? Johan just shrugged it off. If he was going to escape the CCTV control room, Oz had to pull his weight, and fortunately, the scarecrow-like guy did. He diligently collected every scrap of info, even cracked the code, and as a thanks, Johan unlocked the front door for him.

Up until then, Johan had thought their partnership was running smoothly…

“Guess I was wrong.”

He felt a bit regretful as he stared at the now-black screen, but he quickly pushed it aside. He knew his strengths, and staying focused on his priorities was one of them.

Johan crouched beside the still-unconscious kidnapper.

“Honestly, I don’t care if you’re the real Wild Mutt, S who thinks he’s the Wild Mutt, the Wild Mutt who thinks he’s S, or just some thrill-killer with no ties to the Invisible Man’s Mansion. And that journal…who’s to say it was even written by those tormented lab subjects? For all I know, it’s just a story you made up. Maybe Amy died, maybe she escaped, maybe she got swept away by a storm. You wanted us to ‘prove your innocence,’ but… was that really what you were after?”

Had he and Oz really been the only ones to figure out the truth about Amy? Had all those bodies left in that room gone to their deaths, clueless until the end? He recalled the kidnapper’s gravelly voice, seething with a resentment that seemed impossible to appease. Johan leaned down and whispered to the unconscious man:

“Just know, I’m leaving you here. I won’t bother reporting you.”

Not that Johan’s “generosity” was for the guy’s sake—it was pure convenience. He had more pressing matters to handle, like catching up with Seojun. But it sounded grand, as if he was offering a parting gift, a little mercy he was graciously giving.

With a spring in his step, Johan strolled down the dim hallway, the soft glow a welcome break from the suffocating darkness he’d escaped. Light was easier on the eyes, after all. He cast one last glance back at the room that had held him captive, if only briefly.

“Hm?”

His gaze snagged on a crumpled, dark piece of paper stuck to the half-open door of the CCTV control room.

“A lab closure notice? Oh…”

Johan’s blue eyes lit up. Looked like Caput had left him a little souvenir after all. Smiling in satisfaction, he folded the notice and slipped it into his pocket. Was it proof of the Invisible Man’s existence, or just an odd keepsake? Whatever it was, it left him with a warm, happy feeling.

As he continued down the hallway, his steps took on an almost carefree rhythm. With only one path to follow, he didn’t have to worry about getting lost. Humming to himself, he passed a series of strange, unsettling rooms: one filled with corpses, another lined with rows of perfectly arranged shoes, and yet another displaying shelves of severed hands. Finally, he reached a heavy, icy door, pushed it open, and stepped out into freedom.

Caput House, unlike the warm Corpus mansion, was a bleak, plain building buried deep within the woods. Only a single story stood, with no basement below—a lonely structure that felt less like a home and more like a cell, shrouded in a silence so dense it seemed to swallow any sound. Johan paused, an uncharacteristically introspective look crossing his face, as if even he could be moved by a place like this.

But the moment he stepped into the clearing, any trace of that poetic thought went up in smoke. He rubbed his eyes, hoping the scene might somehow shift into something more hopeful. But, no, it remained as grim as ever.

His heart plummeted as he took in the sight of the wrecked little yellow car—the toy-like, beloved thing that was supposed to bring him back to Seojun. Now it lay there, mangled and crumpled, utterly beyond saving.

With a gasp, he clutched his cheeks, letting out a tragic howl.

“Noooo!”