Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#145Reader Mode

#145

“I’m not sure if malice tastes sweet or salty. Never tried it.” Johan said, his face giving nothing away. “But at my house, stuff that questionable wouldn’t even make it onto the menu.”

“Ugh—”

The sound was wet, like a squashed frog. Madison’s eyes shot wide open. She looked down, bewildered, at the knife handle sticking out of her chest, then at the hand wrapped around it. Her gaze trembled, like she just couldn’t process it. A moment later, the knife slid out smoothly, and then she screamed. This was the same Madison who’d been smiling and playfully poking her own wounds earlier, now just shrieking in agony.

“Aaah! Aaagh! It hurts! It hurts!”

Was this another act? Hard to tell with her. Johan stabbed her again just in case. Her chest was already riddled with holes and gashes, making it easy for the blade to find purchase, sliding right back into an existing wound like it was coming home.

“Y-you… you bastard—ugh!”

Her dark eyes blazed, fixed on Johan. He had a firm grip on her right shoulder, holding her upright, so she couldn’t collapse, just had to endure it as he stabbed again. And again. Once, twice, three times… Madison lost count somewhere around ten before she finally screamed out words.

“How—how could you try to kill someone like this?!”

Maybe it was the sheer pain finally kicking in, but Madison was trembling violently now, unable to put up any real fight. All she could do was scream and accuse him. The absurdity of her question must have shown on Johan’s face as he kept methodically stabbing around her chest, letting out a sigh.

“Why act surprised now, Madison? You had no problem telling me to die earlier,” he said, sounding almost bored. “Geez, this is becoming quite the chore.”

“Y-You…!”

That faint, awkward smile on his face seemed to be the last straw. Madison shrieked, a raw, furious sound, and clawed at Johan’s arms with broken fingernails.

“You disgusting chicken-fucker! I’ll crush your balls and kill you! I’ll upload everything—your face, name, age—all of it! I’ll plaster it all over the internet! Everyone will know you’re a murderer, condemned forever!”

Johan tilted his head slightly. “Is murder really that big a deal? Everyone acts like it is. Okay, well, becoming a murderer is serious, I guess. Socially, it’s a major problem. I’d really prefer to keep it to just the one, if possible. But, Madison…” He blinked slowly, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “You said you weren’t a living person, remember? So, technically, this can’t be murder. Maybe corpse desecration, or property damage, something like that?”

The knife kept plunging, twisting, digging through tissue. Strangely, no blood welled up from the mess of mangled muscle and ruined veins. Just a wet, metallic rasp mingling with the groans forcing their way past her damaged vocal cords. Madison’s split lips twisted as she gasped out, “You… son of a bitch… dog-fucking bastard! Didn’t you say we could—ugh—talk this through?! Aagh! It hurts! It hurts so damn much! Aaah, ahh, ugh…”

“You refused to talk, Madison. Don’t twist things. Besides, I’ve thought it over. Jun might show up eventually. Can’t really leave a ghost problem lying around for him, can I?” Johan replied easily, like he was talking about spraying for cockroaches.

He sounded so reasonable, so practical. A dizzying, cold terror gripped Madison, a dread that felt terrifyingly familiar, almost like the moment she realized she’d been murdered the first time.

Then Johan leaned in, his serene face way too close. Normally, Madison would’ve hated that perfectly smooth, actor-handsome face on principle. But staring into those bright blue eyes, Johan’s rosy cheeks flushing hot, a shiver cut straight down her spine.

“Look, Madison,” he said, his voice low but clear. “If you don’t want this to get worse, you need to give me something better. Enough with the swearing. I need something useful. Like… where’d the teddy bear go? Or maybe you’ve had it safely tucked in your bag this whole time? That’s the kind of thing I need. So, think hard. You really don’t remember?”

If pure agony had a sound, the kind you make right as you finally die, it would probably sound exactly like Madison’s screams. She ripped them out again and again until her lungs felt like dried-up husks. Johan just watched her ravaged face, looking genuinely puzzled, like he couldn’t quite wrap his head around how you actually killed someone who was already dead.

“Hm.”

Of course, Johan hadn’t just jumped into this with no plan. His blue eyes held a cold reflection of the gleaming knife blade. Still, thinking about it… hacking through bone four times with this little thing? Seemed like a massive waste of effort. His cold, methodical train of thought wasn’t lost on Madison, who was apparently just as shameless as he was. Even with her chest slashed wide open, swaying on shaky legs, she caught on. She’d been making these awful whimpering sounds, but now she forced her throat to work, pushing out something that vaguely resembled words.

“Hnngh… I—I know. The… the teddy bear… I know. Saw it! Swear I did… a woman, dressed all in black, she—”

Even though she was long past dead, the words tumbled out, desperate to make the pain stop. Her eyes were wide, practically begging. Johan just gave her a sunny smile and stabbed deeper into her chest cavity.

“Oh no….”

“Uuuughh…”

Okay, this time, Johan honestly hadn’t meant to. His hand had just sort of moved mechanically, following the cuts he’d already made, and it was just… that spot’s turn. Pure coincidence that the last place the knife slid into was the exact same spot where Camry had first stabbed Leimia.

Madison let out one last, tiny groan and just… collapsed. Her legs buckled right below the knees, her whole body folding like an empty sack. Johan actually felt a little flicker of guilt, his eyebrows dipping slightly. Knife still clutched in his left hand, he reached out with his right and gave her shoulder a gentle shake.

“Whoops. Sorry about that, Madison. Total accident,” he said, sounding almost sincere. “Won’t happen again, promise. Come on now, get up.”

It might have sounded like a pretty good offer under different circumstances, but Madison didn’t budge.

“Madison?”

Confused, Johan rolled her over. Alright, this looked… bad. The usual nastiness in her eyes had faded out, leaving them cloudy and dull. Her body, sprawled on the floor, felt weirdly stiff and cold, like a piece of wood. Getting genuinely anxious now, Johan tried again, louder this time.

“Madison, get up! You didn’t tell me where the bear is yet! What am I supposed to do if you just check out like this?”

But no matter how much he prodded or urged, Madison stayed quiet, completely still. Looking at the absolute mess of her chest, yeah, it didn’t seem likely she was getting back up anytime soon.

Johan set the knife down on the floor and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He squatted down beside the body and let out a long sigh.

That’s when he heard a woman scream.

***

The scream tore through the silence just as Seojun reached for the door handle. A woman’s voice, high and sharp with terror.

He jerked his hand back as if the wood itself were electrified, stumbling back into the room.

“Wh—what was that?” Camry’s voice was a choked whisper, her lips bloodless. He barely heard her. How was he supposed to know? His own skinny arms and legs were doing a shaky little dance as he instinctively huddled closer to her. The unexpected coolness of her arm against his was grounding, a small anchor in the sudden fear.

But a scream like that couldn’t be ignored. They stared at each other, eyes wide, the same question tightening their features. Not Leimia. That was the frantic, unspoken consensus. Leimia wasn’t here. Time to leave. Now. Yet, their feet might as well have been nailed to the floorboards. Camry worried her lower lip, her fingernails pressing white crescents into the skin of her neck as her gaze darted nervously to Seojun and back. She looked so jittery, like she might actually tear right through her skin.

“Hey, easy. You’ll break the skin.”

“I, I can’t! Who was that?”

“No idea,” he admitted, trying for a calmness he absolutely didn’t feel. “But… listen, it didn’t sound like… like someone dying, did it?”

The instant the words left his mouth, he knew it was wrong. Camry’s face crumpled. Seojun winced and looked away, all attempts at reassurance failing miserably. He’d always seen Camry as the steady one, certainly compared to Leimia. At least, until they’d stepped inside this haunted house. Now, her composure was visibly fraying.

Well, fair enough. Getting split from your best friend in a creepy place like this? Anyone would be rattled. Hell, even I panicked back at Camp Hamon that time the great Christina wandered off…

Hearts are stupid, jumpy things, fluttering like panicked fish. Since Seojun decided to switch religions, he conveniently edit out those embarrassing moments from his memories.

Anyway, an unspoken agreement held them frozen near the doorway for another long moment, muscles tense. The room itself felt hostile, the silence pressing in. Glancing around didn’t help – the shadows seemed deeper, and the creepy hanging doll next to them wasn’t exactly helping their sanity either. Maybe seeing outside would be better. Slowly, cautiously, Seojun began to edge towards the window.

“Seojun?” Camry whispered, her voice thin.

He gave a small, hopefully reassuring wave over his shoulder. Someone had to watch the door. He wasn’t going far.

Huh. Less dusty than I expected.

Reaching the window, he carefully peeled back a corner of the heavy, grimy curtain. No point yanking it open, announcing their presence—Scared people, second floor, first room!—especially with the jagged hole already punched through the glass. A cool draft slipped through the broken pane, carrying the surprisingly clean scent of damp earth and pine from the forest outside.

The view, however, was useless. Trees and a patch of grey sky. To see the ground directly below, he’d have to force the broken window open wider and lean right out.

Yeah, no. He frowned and let the curtain fall back, the heavy fabric muffling the outside world once more. A glance confirmed Camry hadn’t moved, still huddled near the door, looking jumpier than ever.

Guilt pricked at him for leaving her alone like that. He started back towards her, but his gaze caught on something in the corner: a large ceramic jar. He’d noticed it when they first entered – hard to miss its size – but dismissed it. Too small to hide a person. Now, though, his eye kept flicking towards it.

He realised why. The sliver of light he’d let in from the curtain sliced across the dark room, striking the jar directly. In the gloom, the illuminated ceramic seemed to glow faintly, highlighting the intricate, almost jagged patterns etched into its surface.

Almost on autopilot, drawn by that beam of light, Seojun leaned down, peering into the wide mouth of the jar. He wasn’t expecting Leimia, curled up and holding her breath. He figured, if anything, it held old leaves, maybe random trash tossed in by other thrill-seekers checking the place out.

What lay inside, however, was neither Leimia nor trash.

The colour drained from his face, leaving it chalky.

At first, it registered as a dark, leathery shape. Then his gaze focused. It was a rat, desiccated and flattened, its body split open. Its papery skin was stretched taut over bone, and its shriveled tail curled tightly around something dark and metallic nestled against its dried innards: a slender knife no longer than two handspans.