Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#134Reader Mode

#134

8. The Haunted House Influencer

“Ah, shit…”

Seojun squinted against the midday glare, the brightness stabbing at his eyes. His hands flew to the steering wheel as he twisted the key, cutting the truck’s engine. He’d meant to check in with his parents—just a quick call, maybe even detour to that haunted house from the influencer’s video. But somewhere between pulling over and closing his eyes, he’d blacked out.

I wasn’t supposed to sleep this long.

Now wasn’t the time to be so careless, especially not with that damn teddy bear missing. Blame it on exhaustion all he wanted, but the image of its round, beady eyes sent a sharp pang of guilt through his gut.

If Camry had it, he wouldn’t be this anxious. But Leimia?

His grip on the wheel tightened.

Leimia had it.

They’d barely known each other a day, but that was long enough to learn one thing: Leimia was reckless. And worse—she held a grudge.

And if she knew what that bear meant to him, she wouldn’t be kind.

Seojun scrubbed the last traces of sleep from his eyes before finally giving in. With a reluctant sigh, he made a White Star account. He had never been one for social media—too much noise, too many people. But right now, it was his only way to reach them. No other options, really.

He sent off a message to Camry, the only one who’d been even remotely nice to him. Thankfully, her settings were open to messages from strangers, so he didn’t have to deal with the awkward wait of a friend request.

With that settled, he’d hit the gas and gunned it straight for the haunted house.

Turns out, finding the exact spot Camry and Leimia had been gushing about was easier than expected. But it seemed like the whole craze had already fizzled out. Compared to the glory days of haunted house hunting, posts about this place were practically ancient history the farther down his feed he scrolled. Even the likes and comments had dried up.

Seojun tilted his head, frowning slightly.

Camry and Leimia made it sound like this place was still the hot spot… guess not.

Or maybe that was the point. Maybe they were waiting for the hype to settle before making their move. When something’s trending, everyone scrambles for a piece of the attention. Maybe they figured it’d be easier to grab the spotlight after things cooled off.

Who knows?

Seojun shrugged. Overthinking it wouldn’t get him any closer to an answer. He put his foot down, focused on the road, and floored it toward the destination.

Along the way, a flicker of movement caught his eye—a small sparrow devouring a snake. He did his best to ignore that.

At last, he arrived at the haunted house.

“Whew…”

He let out a long breath and tossed his empty water bottle onto the passenger seat. A moment later, he was out of the truck, landing lightly on his feet.

Deep tire tracks were gouged into the dirt driveway, flattening the grass and exposing the raw earth underneath. This was definitely the right place, but that realization didn’t exactly make him feel any better.

He wiped his damp lips across the back of his hand, feeling the lukewarm warmth seep through the glove. After slipping his phone into his pocket, he started forward, his sneakers squelching a little on the damp ground.

Overgrown weeds snagged at his ankles as he pushed through, their dry stalks brittle against his jeans. A sudden gust tore through the clearing ahead, carrying the sharp scent of earth and wet wood.

And there it was. The infamous haunted house.

Not some grand, gothic mansion, but a simple two-story lodge just… looming there. Isolated. Eerie.

A small murder of crows took flight in the distance, black wings cutting across the overcast sky. The wind followed, weaving through the trees, rustling branches with a hushed, whispering breath. A shiver danced up his spine.

Seojun blinked. Rubbed his eye. Took another look. Huh. The place was actually… in better shape than he’d expected.

That being said, the cabin had seen better days. Peeling paint curled away from the walls, and moss crept hungrily up the wood, sinking into every crack it could find. No one had lived here for a long time—that much was obvious. But it wasn’t the rotting husk he’d braced himself for. The structure still held firm, not teetering on the edge of collapse, not the kind of place that would cave in under its own weight or crumble at the first good kick.

That, somehow, made things stranger.

Well, if this place was actually falling apart, then Philly F—or whatever her name is—wouldn’t have bothered showing up. Why would she take that risk?

Of course, calling the haunted house “better than expected” was like saying a punch to the gut was preferable to a bat to the knee. Technically true, but not exactly comforting. His nerves had settled—slightly—but the closer he got, the thicker the air seemed to grow, pressing in with an stifling, ominous weight.

The front door was unlocked. No big surprise there. The place looked completely abandoned.

Still, when Seojun reached for the handle, something in his expression faltered. His fingers hovered just short of touching the wood, hesitation curling tight in his chest.

Seojun took a step back. Then another. His gaze swept over the cabin again, as a sharp, almost intrusive sense of déjà vu prickled at the edges of his mind.

Somewhere in the depths of his memory, a man’s voice surfaced—muffled, indistinct, but familiar.

“And then there’s this abandoned lodge, way out in the woods. No official name, just The Cabin. People say if you look in the mirror on the second floor, second room, you’ll be slammed with this feeling of total dread and rage…”

“That cabin used to be this underground spot for paranormal fans, until some influencer blabbered about it online. Now, it’s probably crawling with tourists looking for a cheap thrill.”

Two-story cabin. Haunted house. Paranormal hotspot. Viral influencer.

Seojun blinked.

…No way.

This was that haunted cabin. The very same one Tim, the Hitchhiker Killer, wouldn’t shut up about.

He wasn’t scared or anything. Just… stunned.

Seriously, America was massive. And yet, somehow, the world still managed to feel ridiculously small.

And just like that, he finally understood. No wonder practically every post he’d seen online was just an endless scroll of mirror selfies in front of that mirror.

So… the second room on the second floor. That’s the spot.

At least that meant he wouldn’t have to waste time tearing through every shadowed corner of this place looking for Camry and Leimia. One less headache in an already awful situation. Everything else? Still sucked.

“A paranormal hotspot, huh…”

The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

For someone like Seojun—someone who had long since been forced to accept that humans weren’t the only ones living on Earth—the term carried a weight most people would never understand.

As if the ever-growing human population wasn’t bad enough, now Earth had become a shared space. People, aliens, ghosts, and devils—crammed together in some strange, uneasy coexistence.

So what if this wasn’t The Murderer of the Bloody Lake? The world he was living in was just as bizarre, if not worse.

“……”

Seojun kept his mouth shut.

He wasn’t one to buy into horror movie logic anymore, but he knew one thing for certain—ghosts were real. And that was enough to make him careful.

The last thing he needed was to say something he really shouldn’t.

This wasn’t some vague premonition or a gut feeling.

It was common sense! Plain and simple!

So, he inhaled sharply, bit down on his lip, and cautiously nudged the door open. The hinges groaned, a long, protesting shriek that cut through the quiet as it swung inward.

He moved forward cautiously, each step silent, his body instinctively tensed for whatever might lurk in the dark. Behind him, the door groaned shut, sealing him inside.

But the first thing to assault him wasn’t the sight of something terrifying. It was the stench.

A wave of damp rot and mold engulfed him, burning the inside of his nose. His stomach twisted, and before he could think twice, his hand shot up to cover his mouth.

It was the right call.

The only thing he’d had today was a bottle of water, and the last thing he wanted was to choke down whatever filth had been festering in this place for years.

Seojun’s gaze swept the room, his expression souring as he took in his surroundings.

At a glance, the building had once been a lodge—or at least, that must have been the intent. But something about it felt… off. The layout didn’t match the cozy, functional design of a typical cabin. It was almost as if someone had built it for comfort but never quite lived in it.

Maybe some wealthy eccentric had turned it into a vacation home.

The framed pictures on the walls weren’t the mass-produced kind, and the remnants of faded wallpaper suggested that, at some point, real effort had gone into making this place feel lived-in.

But that was a long time ago.

Now, the lodge had settled into its new role—one of decay and ruin. A proper haunted house.

The wallpaper hung in jagged shreds, curling away from the damp walls where black mold crept unchecked. The air carried the heavy scent of neglect and, as if the rot wasn’t enough, something more recent had left its mark—crude graffiti scrawled in red, slashed across the surfaces like fresh wounds in the wood.

The portraits were worse.

Once, they might have been dignified depictions of the lodge’s former occupants—now, they were nothing but hollowed-out remains. Someone had taken the time to carve out the faces, leaving behind empty voids where expressions should have been.

Seojun pulled his gaze away and exhaled softly, steadying himself.

He had a rough idea of where Camry and Leimia might be.

That didn’t mean he could skip the first floor.

If there’s a drunk squatter in here or something with actual fangs, I’m in serious trouble.

In places like this, structural collapse wasn’t the biggest threat.

It was people.

People who carried knives beneath their coats. People who didn’t like being disturbed.

Ghosts, on the other hand?

Far less common than horror movies made them out to be. He had seen them before—once, in a cornfield—but that had been an exception, not the rule. At least, that was Seojun’s perspective.

Doade doesn’t count. A devil forced her into being a ghost, so it’s not like she had a say. If anything, she was more of a helpless girl who got tricked… or something like that?

Seojun decided not to dwell on the fact that Doade had never been known to be kind or helpless.

Moving on.

The first floor, at least, was mercifully empty.

No squatters lurking in the shadows. No bears or wolves ready to turn him into their next meal.

The layout was simple—what had once been a living room, a small area with a sink and a few battered kitchen appliances, and a large room that might have served as a bedroom.

That last one made him pause.

The bed was a disaster, its frame collapsed, all four legs broken as if something had stomped it into the ground. But that wasn’t what made Seojun’s skin prickle.

It was the blanket.

Something was beneath it. A bulging, unnatural shape, too still, too heavy.

Seojun stared at it for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he reached for the door.

And shut it.

Seojun had scoured every inch of the first floor. Not a trace of Camry or Leimia.

That left only one option.

His gaze, heavy with reluctance, settled on the rotting staircase.

And, as expected of a haunted house, it looked the part.

Mismatched scraps of fabric draped over the steps, threadbare and covered in faded footprints. Where the tattered carpet had come from was anyone’s guess, but one thing was certain… he had no desire to go up there.

A slow sigh slipped past his lips.

With a half-hearted smack to his waist, he braced himself and started climbing, his expression twisting with discomfort.

Then a thought struck him.

Wait… they didn’t even check the message I sent.

As a man, if I go up and run into them, won’t they freak out?

As his foot landed on the second stair, another thought crept in.

Wait. There are two of them, and one’s still a guy. So it should be fine, right? …Or not? Ugh, human relationships are such a pain…

By the time he reached the third step, all thoughts vanished.

Because that was when he screamed.

“AAAH—!”

The frayed carpet beneath him suddenly gave way, slipping loose like a pulled rug. His foot sank, the fabric sliding out from under him, and for a split second, he thought he was going down.

His heart nearly burst out of his chest.

By some miracle, he managed to yank his foot free before it twisted under him. He lurched sideways, slamming against the wall, breath catching in his throat.

He swallowed hard, pressing a trembling hand against his chest to steady his racing heart. His nerves were already shot—maybe that was why he had reacted so badly.

Then, scowling, he shot a sharp glare down at the traitorous stair.

It had almost killed him.

Seojun barely made it up the rest of the staircase, each step groaning beneath his weight. Then, the second floor came into view. But something about the layout felt… wrong.

Six rooms in total. A wide wall cut through the middle of the hallway, obstructing his view and creating pockets of unseen space. Too many blind spots.

For a moment, his gaze flicked to the rectangular marks on the walls—faded outlines where picture frames had once hung. Maybe the original owner had been obsessed with covering every inch in decor. Maybe they had tried to hide something.

Not that it mattered.

Because what truly unsettled him wasn’t the layout.

It was the silence.

A deep, unnatural stillness clung to the air, thick and heavy, pressing in on all sides. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came from an empty house. It was the kind that felt deliberate, as if something had swallowed up every last trace of sound.

No footsteps. No distant creaks. Not even the usual hum of an old building settling into itself.

And yet…

Somewhere in the distance, just at the edge of hearing, something shifted.

Camry was naturally reserved, sure—but Leimia?

With her restless, chaotic energy, there was no way she would have stayed this quiet.

A flicker of doubt crept in.

What if they already left?

He considered it for a moment, but the idea didn’t hold.

Both Camry and Leimia were glued to their White Star accounts. Even if they had wrapped up their little ghost-hunting excursion and moved on, there was no way they wouldn’t have posted at least one photo.

Recording a video would take too long…

But skipping a photo? Not a chance. Even Florence said it was a must.

Lost in thought, Seojun lifted a gloved hand and rapped his knuckles against the second door on the second floor.

T/N: Omen Lore Bonus! ୧(๑•̀ヮ•́)૭

The Sparrow and the Serpent

Legends whisper of ill-fated signs, but none are as strange as the sight of a sparrow devouring a snake. While interpretations vary slightly across cultures, one truth remains—when prey becomes predator, change is coming. Here are three of the most well-known beliefs surrounding this eerie omen:

⚜ Disruption of Natural Order: The roles of hunter and hunted have reversed, and with it, fate itself has cracked. The snake—cunning and feared—falls not to a beast of strength, but to the tiny beak of a sparrow. A battle it should have won, yet didn’t. This isn’t just strange; it’s a warning. And when the world stops following its own rules, disaster is never far behind.

⚜ Death & Misfortune: In some Eastern myths, a sparrow appearing where it shouldn’t is a quiet warning of misfortune. But a sparrow devouring a snake? That’s not just an omen—it’s an act of defiance, a shift in fate’s design. Some say it means death is near. Others fear it’s the start of something even darker.

⚜ Innocence, Corrupted: A tiny sparrow should not hunger like this. Yet it does. To consume a serpent is to take in something dark, something powerful, something that changes what it once was. Every horror story begins somewhere—with a shift too small to notice, with an unnatural beast, with a world tilting toward ruin.

The warning? Beware the small and unassuming. Sometimes, they are the most dangerous of all.