Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#135Reader Mode

#135

Knock, knock, knock…

Barely a sound, that knock. More nervous than anything else. Seojun held his hand flat against the wood, but a shiver of apprehension started working its way down his back. The wall behind him was bare save for faint stains, but the feeling wouldn’t leave him… that something was behind him. Watching. Every muscle tensed, urging him to turn around, but he fought it.

He knocked again. This time, the rhythm faltered—slow, quick, then a rushed tap at the end.

Nothing.

His tongue felt heavy, his throat dry.

“Camry? Leimia?”

He barely managed to croak their names. Too quiet. They wouldn’t have heard him if they were inside. Seojun paused, then made up his mind. He reached for the handle.

The door wasn’t locked, but it creaked loudly as he pulled it open, the warped frame scraping against the floor with a nasty, grinding sound. Why did doors in places like this always sound like a bad omen? He shook off the thought and carefully tilted his head, peering through the narrow gap.

Seojun’s breath caught. His mouth, despite his best effort to stay composed, parted slightly in shock.

The infamous Red Room, the subject of so many gruesome rumors, wasn’t…red.

“…This is…”

To call it red was absurd. More like an abyss. A vast, black floor that seemed to drink the light, as if a container of black paint had been overturned and left to soak into the grain. Yet, a faint, coppery tang of blood lingered. Seojun knew, without a single step forward, the source of that dark, viscous shine on the floorboards.

No windows. No airflow. The stifling air kept the scent trapped inside. Maybe the cabin’s reputation wasn’t so undeserved after all.

Seojun lifted his arm, pulling his sleeve over his mouth as his gaze swept the room. Stale air pressed against his skin, thick with something unspoken.

It was empty. No Leimia. No Camry.

But they had been here. And they hadn’t left.

His steps carried him forward without hesitation, his long legs closing the distance quickly.

Against the right wall hung a mirror—the very thing that had turned this abandoned house into a whispered legend. Even knowing better, it took effort not to glance at it, to resist the pull of his own reflection. His heart wasn’t strong enough to test the weight of those disturbing rumors.

Instead, his focus settled on a bag perched atop a dust-covered dresser in the corner, tangled in cobwebs.

No doubt about it. That was Leimia and Camry’s bag.

They wouldn’t have left without it. Which means they’re still here.

The worst-case scenario felt unlikely. If they were somewhere inside, finding them wouldn’t be difficult. Exhaling quietly, Seojun ran a hand over his chest, as if steadying the lingering unease that refused to settle.

They were probably just in one of the other rooms on the second floor.

Still, rifling through someone else’s bag—especially when its owners were missing—felt like crossing a line. He decided to wait. Once he found Camry and Leimia, he’d let them know about the swapped vitamin bottles, and in return, he’d get the teddy bear back.

Simple.

With that expectation easing the tension in his shoulders, he turned around.

Then—Crack.

Something shattered beneath his foot.

Seojun jolted, his foot snapping up instinctively as his heart kicked against his ribs. Had the rotting floor given way, like the old staircase?

No.

The crunch beneath his sneaker wasn’t wood splintering or debris shifting underfoot. It was something finer, more brittle.

He looked down.

A thin layer of powder dusted the floor, trailing from the spot where his foot had landed. Among the crushed remnants, he caught the distinct shape of a pill—small, round, and crushed under pressure.

Not just where he had stepped.

Now that he was looking, he saw them everywhere—scattered across the room, caught in the corners, wedged between the legs of worn-out furniture. He had been too focused on the dark stains, the ominous mirror, and Leimia and Camry’s bag to notice them before.

But he knew what they were.

These were the same vitamins Leimia had shoved into his hands.

He hadn’t taken a single one. Not out of refusal, just a matter of time. But even having one, he knew their shape well enough to recognize them instantly.

So… why were they scattered all over the floor?

His rational mind whispered. Urged him.

Take off the gloves. See what really happened.

The idea wormed its way into his thoughts, demanding attention. Prying into someone else’s secrets. Looking. Knowing.

A cold dread tightened in his chest. The powder was so white, a jarring, unnatural brightness against the dark, stained floor. It appeared to have absorbed the blood, leaving a luminous, almost sinister sheen. That stark contrast…it sparked a deep sense of foreboding.

His gloved fingers moved before he could stop himself, sweeping lightly over the surface.

Seojun stared at the fine dust clinging to his fingertips.

Most humans feared the sight of blood. Not just because of what it was, but because of what it meant. Pain. Death. Proof that no matter how strong they thought they were, they could still bleed. They could still break.

Seojun, though? He was no stranger to fear, to that gnawing unease.

He’d seen things that could drive a man to madness, horrors that made people abandon everything just to escape. He understood the desire to give up, but he refused. Not because he was brave, but because his will to live burned hotter than his fear ever could.

To put it simply, Seojun wasn’t complicated. He was a practical man.

If there was a choice between a fresh salad and a steak, he wouldn’t think twice about eating meat. A stiff, scratchy bed? Why suffer when a soft one existed? He respected the effort of handmade things, but why wait when you could get something mass-produced right now?

And when it came to his abilities? No hesitation. He used them whenever, however, as often as he liked.

And yet, there were moments when he felt sick of it all—sick of questioning, sick of searching, sick of the endless cycle of doubt.

How many more times would he have to dissect the truth, pick it apart piece by piece, just to convince himself it was real?

Seojun knew what people called those like him—those who couldn’t let things go, who had to see proof with their own eyes before they could sleep at night.

Paranoid. Delusional. Insane.

For now, he could tell himself this was different. That this wasn’t all in his head. That something about this place was wrong. That he had a reason to keep searching. But if he kept going like this…

One day, he’d go too far. One day, he’d lose sight of what was real and what wasn’t. And when that day came, he wouldn’t just be questioning reality.

He’d be trapped in a mind that had turned on him.

Slowly, Seojun crouched down, curling into himself like something small and defenseless. His fingers locked behind his head, his breath slipping out in a shaky exhale. His gaze drifted to the slick floor beneath him.

“This… this isn’t what I wanted…f*ck.”

He hadn’t asked for much, just a little happiness. A life where safety wasn’t a luxury, where terrifying things stayed on TV, not bleeding into his everyday.

But the world, it turned out, was a far more cruel place than he’d imagined.

His heavy eyelids fluttered shut. He was just so tired. It would be so easy to let go… just for a moment. But he gritted his teeth and forced them open again.

I have to check. How the hell can I ignore something this suspicious? Even if I lose my mind tomorrow, I have to make it through today. F*ck!

His dark eye burned with the fire of defiance, his anger smoldering like embers refusing to die.

Closing his eyes didn’t bring relief. It only confirmed what he already knew—darkness was everywhere. It stretched endlessly before him, vast and empty, swallowing any hope of a future.

But self-pity wouldn’t save him. Only moving forward would.

Seojun inhaled sharply, forcing himself to his feet. Determination surged through him, a jolt of pure energy. He reached for his glove—

Something touched him.

Not wind. Not the cold. Fingers.

Slender. Deliberate. They skimmed the back of his neck before drifting along his cheek, light as a whisper. A scream lodged in his throat, terror pressing down on his chest like a vice. He couldn’t turn around. He wouldn’t.

The air thickened, damp with the scent of decay. The smell of rot seeped into the wood, the walls, the very air he breathed. He swallowed hard, but his jaw still trembled.

Then close enough to chill him to the bone… soft laughter. A voice he recognized.

“Seojun! Oh my god, what a surprise!”

That voice. It was rougher than he remembered, but there was no way he could ever forget it.

His mind, already tangled in a web of worst-case scenarios, went into full-blown panic mode. He spun around so fast his vision blurred.

Just a step behind him, there she was—Camry. Same beauty mark over her eyelid, same dazzling smile.

“Camry?”

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” she teased, tilting her head.

She looked exactly as she had the day before. The same neatly pressed outfit, the same effortless cheer. The only thing different was her voice—huskier, like she’d been shouting or whispering too much.

She must have noticed it, too, because her fingers brushed over her throat.

“How did you end up all the way here? What a nice surprise!”

Her voice was airy, carefree, like they weren’t standing in a place that sent every nerve in his body screaming.

Heat bloomed on Seojun’s cheeks. He was being ridiculous, wasn’t he? Paranoid for no reason.

“Uh, well…” He cleared his throat. “I sent you a message. Did you see it?”

“A message?”

Seojun quickly changed the subject, and thankfully, it seemed to work. Camry looked at him, puzzled.

“You know, the messaging feature on White Star.”

Her face lit up instantly. “No way! You actually made an account? That’s awesome! We should add each other.”

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she added,

“Oh, wait. Shoot. I forgot… We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere here. I haven’t had a signal at all. Can’t call, can’t get online, nothing.”

The excitement drained from Camry’s face, replaced by a disappointed pout.

Seojun discreetly pulled out his phone to check, and sure enough—zero bars.

Not that it really matters. The account was just an afterthought anyway.

Relaxing a little, Seojun slid his phone back into his pocket and loosened his stance.

“By the way, what’s up with your voice? Did you catch a cold?”

“Ah, you noticed?” Camry let out a small laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, a little. Does it sound that bad?”

She glanced at him, almost hesitant.

Seojun shook his head. Even he wasn’t dense enough to say yes to that.

They filled the silence with small talk, but it dried up fast. They’d just seen each other yesterday, so there wasn’t much new to say.

And besides, he wasn’t here for Camry.

He was here for Leimia.

Keeping his tone nonchalant, he brought her up.

“Hey, didn’t Leimia come in with you? I thought you two were together.”

“We were.” She nodded, her voice a little tight. “We came in, looked at the mirror… She was right here. But then she… she just left the room.”

Camry paused, her hand unconsciously going to her throat. A flicker of something – worry, fear? – crossed her face.

“Leimia’s… hiding, I think.”

Something about the way she said it made the air feel just a little heavier.

Camry looked directly at Seojun, her expression troubled.

“And… I think there’s someone else here. In the house.”

Seojun raised an eyebrow, jabbing a thumb at his chest.

Camry frowned and shook her head. “No, not you Seojun! Leimia specifically said it was a woman.”

“A woman?”

“Yes.” Camry swallowed, her fingers tightening into fists. “She had black hair, black makeup, and was dressed completely in black. Leimia said she saw her the moment she stepped out of the room. And…” Her voice wavered. “She was holding a knife.”

The second the words left her lips, she bit down hard, as if she regretted saying them.

Then—

A door slammed open downstairs.

The sound shot through the quiet, sharp and unmistakable. From their spot near the stairwell, there was no missing it.

Camry froze, instantly pale. She reached for Seojun’s wrist, gripping it tightly.

Her next word was barely a breath.

“Hide.”

They scrambled, hearts pounding—only to freeze.

There was nowhere to hide in this so-called haunted house. Unless Seojun somehow managed to fold his ridiculously long legs and squeeze into a dresser, he was screwed.

Camry’s eyes darted around the room, the same realization hitting her.

Without a word, she grabbed Seojun’s wrist and ran.

They tore out of the room and practically skidded around the corner, just as footsteps were heard downstairs. Camry wrenched open a nail-studded door and hauled him into the blackness beyond. The door shut with a soft click, leaving them in a darkness so complete it was almost a physical presence.

They stood there, chests heaving, the only sound the rasp of their own lungs.

And then, muffled by the wood of the door, came a voice.

***

“Hello? Anyone home?”

The old front door creaked open as Johan pushed his way inside.

The greeting was more habit than anything. He wasn’t really expecting an answer.