Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#155Reader Mode

#155

Luciel made her way over to the guy who’d collapsed on the ground, his head hanging low and hands braced behind it like he was fighting to stay upright. When she was about five steps away, she started digging through her coffin-shaped bag. After a moment, she produced a small bottle that looked like motion sickness medicine and gave it a gentle shake.

“My devoted second wing,” she announced grandly, “I bestow upon you this elixir of restoration, so that you may stand on your own two feet once more!”

“L-Luciel… it’s… truly an honor…”

The guy kept his hood pulled low over his face, probably trying to keep the world from spinning. He clutched the bottle to his chest like it contained liquid salvation, then somehow managed to drag himself to his feet, legs trembling. After a quick, wary glance around, he twisted off the cap and swallowed a couple pills.

Brown had drifted over to stand beside Luciel by then. Seojun figured he might as well join them—they were the only people he knew here, after all. A few long strides brought him to their little group.

“That’s Dennis,” Brown said quietly, nodding toward the still-unsteady figure. “He and Luciel have… history.”

“Ah, I see…” Seojun replied, though calling it ‘history’ seemed like an understatement. Even from here, it was obvious Dennis had been orbiting Luciel forever. Those watery eyes behind his smudged glasses practically glowed with devotion—pale spring-green eyes that broadcast his feelings with zero filter.

Dennis wasn’t bad-looking exactly, but the guy was painfully thin. His cheekbones threw sharp shadows across his face, and his narrow jaw gave him a perpetually tense look. Combined with his hunched posture and still-wobbly stance, he gave off serious ‘keep your distance’ vibes. Yet his puppy-dog devotion to Luciel was so obvious that anyone with eyes could see it. He was basically the kind of person you’d normally avoid on the street.

Well… I probably don’t look much better right now, Seojun thought, suppressing a bitter laugh.

That’s when the owner of the flashy sports car finally emerged, stepping out like he owned the place. With a paper bag tucked under one arm, this guy was everything Dennis wasn’t—polished, confident, impossible to ignore.

His tailored suit fit perfectly, but it was the shirt that really caught the eye. Some kind of sage green fabric covered in cryptic white patterns that could’ve been abstract art or ancient symbols for all anyone knew. The suit jacket had its own subtle flair, catching the light with hints of burgundy that somehow managed to be both classy and attention-grabbing. He folded his sunglasses with practiced ease, slipped them into his breast pocket, and flashed a grin complete with a wink from warm brown eyes.

“Hey there, beautiful people! Didn’t expect you to beat us to the party.”

So the shaky guy is Dennis… which makes this one McCullan, Seojun realized. Unless Dennis is somehow short for Dennis McCullan? No, that’d be ridiculous.

He watched McCullan approach with the easy confidence of someone who’d never doubted himself in his life. The guy ran his fingers through his hair—dark, perfectly styled waves that looked effortlessly messy in that expensive way. Every strand stayed exactly where it was supposed to, probably held in place by some high-end product. Even the single curl falling across his forehead looked intentional, like it had been arranged by a stylist.

McCullan rubbed the bridge of his nose, which Seojun had to admit was pretty impressive, and scanned the area slowly, clearly searching for something. When he didn’t find whatever he was looking for, his face fell into genuine disappointment.

Brown had been watching Dennis with tired patience. He sighed quietly.

“She is coming, but we’re meeting her later. At the abandoned hospital.”

“Seriously?” McCullan sounded annoyed. “Then why did I bother hauling all this beer around?” He lifted the paper bag, which crinkled loudly. Not exactly a mystery what was inside.

Brown frowned slightly. “And how were you planning to drive back after drinking that?”

“That’s what Dennis is for,” McCullan replied matter-of-factly. “If he’s got any sense, he’ll be our designated driver tonight. But wait—” His attention suddenly shifted to Seojun, who’d been standing there quietly. “Who’s this absolute beauty?”

Without missing a beat, McCullan launched into an exaggerated stage whisper, complete with theatrical gestures. It was so obviously meant for Seojun to hear that it was almost painful to watch.

“Brown, my man! You could’ve warned me that someone this stunning was joining us! So who are we dealing with here? DarkLucifer? CaliforniaPony? Please don’t tell me it’s Matteo…Nah, pretty sure that guy’s actually a guy. Not Kira, right? Met her last time, and her style wasn’t bad. Wait, wait—” He snapped his fingers. “Could this gorgeous creature be Angie?”

At that point, Seojun couldn’t pretend he wasn’t the target of this embarrassing display. He’d been half-watching Dennis hang on Luciel’s every word, but now he just pointed at himself with a look of complete bewilderment.

McCullan’s grin widened, his whole face lighting up with what he probably thought was irresistible charm.

“McCullan, dial it back,” Brown cut in, clearly trying to prevent disaster. “He’s new. Not part of Occult Night or anything.”

But McCullan took this as a green light, continuing in that smooth voice that probably worked on people who hadn’t heard it all before.

“Beautiful young lady, you showing up tonight was pure genius, for both of us. We might be in for a seriously wild evening. That little lady over there—” he waved toward Luciel, “—when she’s around, strange things tend to happen. Maybe one time out of ten, but still.”

Those were terrible odds to brag about. Seojun said nothing, just slowly unzipped his blue bomber jacket while looking down at this overconfident peacock. McCullan’s bright smile began to falter as his gaze drifted downward, taking in Seojun’s appearance piece by piece.

Today’s outfit was simple: a loose, sandy-colored V-neck that showed his collarbones, paired with a black fanny pack around his waist. The shirt hem was tucked under the straps, highlighting his lean frame. McCullan’s eyes moved over the ripped jeans and worn sneakers before returning to those prominent collarbones. His expression shifted from confusion to dawning horror.

Even with the relaxed fit of his clothes, certain details were unmistakable: the flat chest, the sharp collarbones, and most obviously, the Adam’s apple.

“Are you kidding me right now?” McCullan’s voice went high with indignation. “You could’ve mentioned you were a guy from the start! What’s with the whole—” he waved vaguely at Seojun, “—the hair, the lips, this whole… situation? This is unreal!”

He kept ranting, acting like Seojun had deliberately deceived him.

“Wow…”

Seojun touched the hair at his neck, genuinely surprised that anyone could leave him this speechless. Sure, his hair was getting long, but only because he’d been too busy to get it cut. And his lips just happened to look more pink today. That was it. No conspiracy, just genetics and neglect.

“Screw this shit. Should’ve just driven straight to the abandoned hospital,” McCullan muttered, already pulling out his phone. His thumbs flew across the screen.

Seojun was stunned. He’d never seen someone this shamelessly thirsty in real life. Beside him, Brown offered quietly: “McCullan’s always like this. Best to just ignore it.”

Yeah, easier said than done.

“Mina, babe! I was devastated when you didn’t show! Where am I? Right here at the Happy Pig Factory, feeling absolutely lost without you.”

McCullan laid it on thick, playing up his supposed heartbreak. But whoever was on the other end wasn’t having it. In fact, she sounded worked up about something else entirely. Even from where Seojun stood, he could hear shouting through the speaker—Mina was practically bursting with excitement and frustration. If McCullan had been within reach, she probably would’ve grabbed him by the collar and shaken him.

Her voice carried clearly, high-pitched and barely controlled.

Then McCullan’s tone changed, suddenly alert: “Hold up, what? Mina, did you just say Kira brought a guy?!”

Apparently Mina wasn’t his only target, because he jumped on that information immediately. Seojun perked up too. He hadn’t forgotten about the woman who had his teddy bear.

“Is he her boyfriend? Wait, not exactly? What’s his name—John? Johan? Slow down, Mina… Super handsome, you said? Look, attractiveness isn’t everything, okay? What do you mean he’s got an amazing body too?”

McCullan looked down at his own torso with obvious concern. He seemed more confident about his physique than his face, but even that was taking a hit.

“He went to buy flowers? Are we absolutely sure this guy isn’t dating Kira?”

Instead of answering, Mina let out an exasperated “Oh my GOD! Jesus Christ!” and hung up. Clearly, meeting this mysterious new guy was more important than listening to McCullan.

“Mina? Hello? MINA!”

McCullan stood there looking like he’d been slapped, staring at his phone as it mercilessly returned to the lock screen. Based on Mina’s over-the-top reaction, it sounded like she wasn’t the only one excited about a new guy. Other members of this Occult Night must’ve brought new people to the abandoned hospital too. Seojun touched the fanny pack around his waist. He hadn’t only grabbed first-aid supplies at that convenience store.

He turned away from McCullan, who was still muttering while shoving his phone back in his pocket, and nudged Brown with his elbow.

“So I never got the full story on where we’re actually going. Mind filling me in?”

Was this place supposed to be haunted or something? Weirdly enough, the thought didn’t really faze Seojun anymore. If anything, he’d developed a strange tolerance for supernatural nonsense lately. When he asked, Brown looked like he’d just remembered something.

“Oh, right! Sorry about that,” Brown said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re not part of the regular Occult Night crew, so obviously you wouldn’t know. Totally forgot to explain.”

He pointed toward the abandoned building ahead, his expression growing more serious. Seojun had already guessed it was their destination, but hearing it confirmed made it feel more real. Brown started talking in that calm, steady way of his.

“This place used to be called the Happy Pig Factory. Years ago, it was a busy pork processing plant. The whole area was alive with trucks coming in every morning, workers shouting over the machinery, pigs making noise at the nearby farm. But now? Ghost town. And it all started going downhill right here.”

And so, Brown launched into the tale of the Happy Pig Factory:

The Happy Pig Company once owned this entire region. It all began with one man—a butcher by trade, and a damn good one. He started small, just him and his blade, but the man had vision. He’d carve meat and pack orders before sunrise, working with the kind of determination that builds empires. More than business sense, he had grit and could hoist a whole hog over his shoulder without breaking a sweat.

Over the years, he transformed that little slaughterhouse into something bigger. Built factories, knew the market inside and out, and always knew the right time to make a deal. For a while, the Happy Pig name meant quality, meant trust.

But time has a way of humbling even the strongest men. The butcher’s hands, once steady as stone, began to tremble with age. When he could no longer grip the blade, he passed everything to his son.

That’s where the trouble started. The son had inherited the company but not the hunger. While his father had built the empire with sweat and sinew, the son preferred cocktails and rubber stamps. He signed whatever crossed his desk, coasting on a legacy he’d never earned.

But the empire didn’t collapse overnight. Legacies rarely do. Even with this CEO-by-birthright at the helm, the factories kept running, like a car rolling downhill after the engine dies. But every dynasty needs just one good scandal to bring it all down.

And boy, did they get one.

“They found something in a can of pork,” Brown said, his voice dropping low. “Pork that came straight from this factory, processed under Junior’s watch. It was drugs. Carefully packaged, sealed up tight, and shipped out with the regular product. That was all it took. The company that had limped along for years finally collapsed like a house of cards.”