Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#137Reader Mode

#137

Water trickled down bare skin, turning light hair several shades darker. Wet strands stuck to their shoulders and back, outlining a figure that could’ve been mistaken for female at first glance. But the angular pale hips and sinewy thighs made it clear this was a man.

Johan frowned. He couldn’t make sense of it. Who—regardless of gender—would casually shower in a supposedly haunted house? Any way he looked at it, the scene was bizarre, and the person at its center seemed not just odd, but suspicious.

Slowly, Johan reached behind him, fingers slipping into his backpack. He curled them around the multi-tool set Christina had given him. It wasn’t much—one of his few remaining possessions—but it had its uses. Technically, it was meant for mechanical repairs, but Johan had always believed that the key to making life easier was the ability to think flexibly and adapt to any situation.

The androgynous figure kept humming—a low, unpolished tune, rough around the edges. Their voice wove into the steady rhythm of falling water, an eerie harmony that thickened the air with something unspoken, something tense.

With a languid motion, they turned off the shower. The hose coughed out its final drops before quiet took over. The steam lingered, wrapping around them like a screen, blurring reality’s edges.

Then, with one quick movement, they turned their head. Water droplets flew in an arc, cutting through the mist. And in that moment, their eyes locked with Johan’s.

The distance between watcher and watched vanished.

Makeup residue clung to her skin despite the water. A beauty mark sat on one eyelid, moving like a small butterfly when she blinked, hesitant and unsure. Water beaded on her lashes before dropping to gather at her lower lids.

Then her dark eyes went wide as realization hit.

“AHHH! Who the hell are you?! You perverted bastard! Were you spying on me?!”

The scream bounced off the bathroom walls, sharp and accusing.

She quickly crossed her arms over her chest, wet hair falling forward like a curtain. But in her rush for modesty, she overlooked something important…her penis remained completely exposed, dangling freely.

Johan stood stunned, composure gone as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. He stepped back instinctively, eyes darting away.

“…Aren’t you covering the wrong part?”

“Shut up! I’ll cover what I damn well please!”

The humming, relaxed figure from before had transformed into a storm of anger—one that lashed out with all the force of someone who’d just discovered they were, in fact, not alone.

After yelling furiously, she turned and grabbed her clothes in a rush, pulling them on rapidly. A short skirt. A blouse. Then a sequined outer layer that reflected light like crushed diamonds, flashing with each movement.

Johan watched, confused, as she struggled with the damp fabric, fresh from the shower. For a moment, her expression faltered, showing her discomfort, but she didn’t slow down. If anything, it made her more determined.

Despite her obvious discomfort, she took her time. Each button was fastened carefully, every adjustment smoothing the fabric as if she could make it feel less wet against her skin. Finally dressed, she stepped into high heels and walked forward with confidence that ignored the lingering awkwardness. The sharp click of her heels echoed through the room, commanding attention.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and let her gaze drag over Johan in a slow, deliberate sweep—head to toe, as if sizing him up. It was the kind of look that could make a lesser man squirm.

Then it hit him—a vague memory about intersex and androgynous people. The realization calmed him, steadying his thoughts. With newfound composure, he met her angry glare directly, his expression relaxed, almost shameless.

“Who the hell are you? My stalker? How long were you creeping around, watching me?”

If Johan was honest, he still couldn’t understand why anyone would shower in a supposedly haunted house. But that wasn’t the main issue. Right now, he needed answers, and judging by the hostility coming from this temperamental stranger, pushing further would only make things worse.

So he chose the simplest approach: an apology.

“If I upset you, I’m sorry,” he said, calm but sincere. “I just… thought this place was empty. Then I heard running water and it scared. You know how haunted houses seem full of ghosts, right?”

“Hah! Ghosts? You’re scared of ghosts?”

She laughed briefly, her smirk sharpening. The tension in her voice eased, becoming more playful, still pointed, but teasing now.

“What a waste of that big, strong body of yours.”

Johan’s excuse had worked. She wasn’t angry anymore. Or at least, not as much.

Seeing an opportunity, Johan pulled his bright yellow backpack to his chest and committed to the act. “I get scared pretty easily,” he admitted, adding just enough embarrassment to sound convincing.

“Hmph.” She scoffed, but without the earlier hostility. Her gaze stayed fixed on him, and though she had to look up to meet his eyes, her stare was unmistakably intense. Relentless, searching, as if trying to see what he was really thinking.

“You don’t recognize my face?” she asked suddenly.

“…Your face?”

Johan frowned and looked at her more carefully. Wet hair stuck to her forehead, her skin still damp from the shower. Her eyes—sharp, almost fox-like—stared into him with unsettling focus. He searched his memory, going through every face he could recall, but nothing matched.

Finally, he shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t recognize you. Have we met before? Are you a relative from my mom’s side?”

“No, no… I’m…”

The words stumbled, catching in her throat. Just like that, her confident facade cracked, revealing uncertainty beneath. Her eyes darted to the foggy mirror, fixing on her reflection.

For a moment, her expression faltered. A hint of hesitation, as if the person staring back wasn’t quite familiar. A slight shudder ran through her, barely noticeable but revealing, like she was trying to dismiss an unwelcome thought.

Then she quickly recovered. The edges of her lips curled into a deliberate smirk.

“I’m Camry. Madison Camry. An influencer on White Star.”

Johan extended his hand with a friendly smile. “Madison? Nice to meet you. I’m Johan. I’m kind of on a journey right now.”

But Madison wasn’t really listening. Her gaze drifted past him, lost in thought. Johan’s hand hung in the air too long before he lowered it, looking slightly disappointed.

She hardly noticed. Her lips moved as she whispered her own name, slow and methodical, like she was testing how it felt. The way she said it created an odd chill in the room, like a draft from a cracked window.

Then her head suddenly jerked up. Her eyes flashed with an almost frantic intensity as she blurted, “I didn’t take a shower for any special reason. I was just messing around with a friend, got dirty, so I cleaned up. That’s all.”

“I see.”

What he really wanted to ask was how she’d managed to shower in a supposedly abandoned house. But he held back. They weren’t close enough for that kind of probing, and experience had taught him people only opened up when ready. Push too soon, and they’d just shut down.

So he navigated carefully, selecting his next question with precision.

“Actually, Madison, I needed to ask you something. Have you seen someone around here who looks like this? A little shorter than me, slender but well proportionate. Handsome, delicate features… really stands out.”

Madison’s expression soured instantly.

“That’s the most useless description I’ve ever heard. Just show me a damn pic already.”

“Oh. Right.” Johan laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos while Madison tapped her foot impatiently, her attention already drifting.

“Here.” He turned the screen toward her. “His name’s Seojun. Wears an eyepatch over his right eye.”

“Whatever. You’re literally the first person I’ve seen since getting here with my friend…” Madison’s voice faded mid-eye-roll as her gaze caught on the screen.

Johan felt disappointment settle in his chest. Either he’d arrived too late, or too soon.

But then Madison’s eyes fixed on a specific photo—one where Seojun was somehow getting smacked in the face by a guinea pig. Her eye twitched. Her lips pressed together like she was fighting for her life not to laugh. The disbelief and amusement warred on her face.

“Yeah, no one like that has been through here.”

“Oh…”

Johan shoved his phone into his pocket, his shoulders slumping like a balloon losing air. A dull ache settled in his chest, the kind that comes with realizing you’ve shown up at the wrong place at the wrong time. He exhaled softly, already mentally preparing to leave.

“But,” Madison said, almost offhandedly, “I do recognize him.”

Johan’s head snapped up, eyes instantly bright with hope. “You do? From where?”

“Ran into him at this restaurant earlier. There was this whole bug fiasco, like, swarms of them. Everyone ended up teaming up to deal with it. It was… chaotic.”

Johan blinked. “Bugs?”

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, a lot happened. Anyway, pretty sure I mentioned this place to him when we were saying goodbye.”

So, was Seojun really about to stop by this haunted house just to see Madison? Johan’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping in.

“Hold on,” Madison said, squinting at him. “Why are you even looking for him here?”

“Heard Jun might be around,” Johan replied, his tone deliberately nonchalant. “I was in the area, so I thought I’d drop by. You know, just a coincidence.”

“…Are you serious?”

Madison’s frown deepened, creating a subtle crease near the small mark on her eyelid. Then, slowly, her expression transformed. A knowing smile spread across her face, sharp and perceptive.

“Ohhh. I see now.” She tilted her head, eyes glittering with mischief. “That guy… maybe he’s got a thing for Camry.” Her smile widened. “He’s got a thing for me.”

“…What?”

Madison’s voice dripped with amusement, though she barely kept the mockery out of it. She stifled a laugh, but her expression—pure, unapologetic self-satisfaction—completely gave her away.

With a snort, she leaned into the smugness. “I mean, obviously. I am Madison Camry. Some people really need to know their place. Not that it matters anyway.”

Johan swallowed hard, a low, disgruntled sound caught in his throat. He stood face-to-face with Madison, her confidence radiating like she owned the room. His eyes swept over her, taking in every detail with quiet intensity.

He finally broke the silence, his voice naturally deep but now carrying a heaviness, like storm clouds before rain.

“So, you’re saying Seojun’s coming here because he’s into you?”

Madison, still fighting back laughter, dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a dismissive flick of her hand. “I mean, duh? But how would I even know? And honestly, whether it’s Seojun or whatever-jun, I couldn’t care less.”

With that, she stepped out of Johan’s looming shadow and sauntered down the hallway, her steps light and carefree. “My friend’s probably lost without me by now. She’s like a shadow, you know? Always trailing behind, barely functioning on her own. Basic as they come, really. But still…” her voice softened unexpectedly, “she’s the most important person in my world.”

“Your friend…” Johan murmured, his gaze lingering on the obnoxious patterns of Madison’s flashy top. “Well, I haven’t met a single person since coming here. At least, not until I ran into you.”

Madison, who had been walking ahead, suddenly stopped. She wasn’t particularly short, and with her high heels, her lanky frame gave the eerie impression of a mannequin frozen in place.

But she didn’t turn around.

“That doesn’t make sense. Leimia should’ve been in the second room waiting. She wouldn’t just leave.”

With that, she resumed walking and stopped in front of the second door. Johan had already searched that room earlier and found it empty, so he simply shrugged.

“Leimia?” Madison called out, pushing against the weathered wood. The door creaked open with a sound that sent shivers down the spine, but the room looked exactly as Johan had seen it—scattered pills, the sharp stench of something metallic and foul, two neatly packed bags, and a large mirror.

Johan’s gaze dropped to the dark red wooden floor, his face unreadable. The rich dark hue of the planks seemed to absorb the dim light, deepening the room’s oppressive atmosphere.

Madison tilted her head, confusion evident in the set of her shoulders. Her voice was barely above a whisper, uncertainty creeping in.

“This is weird… Where could Leimia have gone?”