Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#177Reader Mode

#177

Seojun’s first instinct was to freeze. For a split second, he thought Nurse Samantha had found them. But no, the footsteps had been completely silent. That ruled her out. With those blade-like limbs, she scraped against every surface like nails on glass. This… this was someone else. Another survivor trying to make it through the night? Or something far worse?

Whatever was pressed against his back was cold, hard, and merciless. A gun? A blade? Either way, it wasn’t the start of a friendly conversation.

Seojun couldn’t breathe. His knees buckled, and the world tilted sideways as a violent tremor took over his hands. Panic hit him like a riptide, pulling him under before he could think. His vision tunneled, his good eye overwhelmed by static-white noise. It felt like a boulder had dropped square on his chest, squeezing the air right out of him.

I really should’ve written a will before leaving Wraithwood.

Even April—that broken ghost from the cornfield—had clawed his way back from death just to deliver one last message to the living. Seojun wasn’t nearly that dramatic, but damn… if he’d actually prepared for this moment, maybe he wouldn’t feel so completely powerless right now.

He should’ve told his parents he was sorry. For everything. Told them he really, truly loved them. Should’ve come clean to Stefan about those “ultra-rare” sneakers he’d been obsessing over. They weren’t limited edition anything. Just Seojun’s weekend art project, some fabric paint and too much free time. Stefan was probably still scouring resale sites, desperately searching for shoes that didn’t exist.

He should’ve gotten at least one good swing at Golden’s cocky face. Should’ve properly thanked Christina for everything she’d done.

Bobby? Bobby could rot. That asshole got exactly what he deserved.

And Johan…

Heat burned Seojun’s face like a fever. What he’d said at Hamon Campground. How he’d ran away afterward, drowning in shame. He could still feel the words he should’ve said, stuck somewhere between his lungs and throat, tangled until his brain just shut down.

And yet, somehow, through all the panic and regret, one absurdly simple thought floated to the surface:

I should’ve told him not to cry if I don’t come back.

When they finally let Seojun out of the hospital after the Hamon Campground incident, Johan broke down crying. Seojun could still feel those strong arms wrapped around him, holding on too tightly. Johan’s whole body trembling with grief he couldn’t control. The sound of him sniffling… that would never leave Seojun’s memory.

Their relationship had always been complicated. Maybe that’s why the thought of seeing Johan cry again was unbearable. He just didn’t want to see it.

Johan would absolutely show up to his funeral. That was a given. And when he did, he’d probably recite every dumb thing Seojun had ever said, every moment he’d screwed up—because Johan never forgot anything. Not the good stuff, and definitely not the bad.

A single tear slipped down Seojun’s cheek, hot against his skin.

“Good. That reaction seems genuine enough.”

The stranger spoke, and to Seojun’s shock, they stepped back the instant he sniffled. The icy pressure on his spine vanished. Seojun didn’t waste a second—he spun around. Behind him, McCullan stood rigid, pressed against the doors as if trying to melt into the background and avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

But Seojun’s attention locked onto the woman. She’d already retreated into the shadows, her face mostly hidden. Only the pale curve of her jaw caught the dim light.

“You won’t be able to reach Mina.”

Before Seojun could get a word in, she cut him off.

“Are you McCullan and Dennis?”

“That depends. Who’s asking?”

She didn’t look like she was about to attack anymore, but considering she’d just had something cold and deadly pressed to his back, Seojun wasn’t exactly feeling trusting. He lifted his phone and aimed the flashlight straight at her face.

She flinched, squinting against the sudden glare, but to his surprise, stepped forward into the light.

Seojun’s eyebrows rose. Definitely not what he was expecting.

Her hair was a wild shock of auburn, hacked off unevenly at the neck like she’d cut it herself in a hurry. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose, and her green eyes had a soft, downturned shape that might’ve looked gentle… if she hadn’t been threatening his life seconds ago. She raised both hands, palms out, red rubber work gloves flashing in a clear I come in peace gesture.

She wore worn denim overalls over a black tank top, her arms bare—and those arms were no joke. Solid muscle, the kind built from lifting real weight, not dumbbells. Her shoulders were sharply defined, like she knew exactly how to throw someone twice her size. The only delicate thing about her was the tattoo winding up her right forearm: a trail of flowers, curling like ivy.

Her voice was low and cool, but her face was almost… sweet. It was a weirdly disarming mix—those soft features paired with a body that radiated coiled strength.

A faint smile tugged at her lips as she spoke.

“First time meeting in person, isn’t it, McCullan?”

At the sound of his name, McCullan’s chin quivered. His eyes locked onto the baton in her hand. Catching his stare, she gave a casual shrug and slipped the weapon into her pocket.

So that’s what that was.

Then she extended her now-empty hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Californifornia.”

“…Sorry, what?”

McCullan just blinked at her, his gaze flicking from her face to those red work gloves and back again. The name wasn’t computing.

She furrowed her brow. “Don’t believe me? I’d show you my profile, but you know, circumstances…”

“N-no, that’s not it,” McCullan stammered, waving her off. “It’s just—Californifornia never said anything about actually showing up in person.”

Seojun stayed quiet, his eye shifting between the two of them. He was used to usernames like Mina or Kira. Normal internet handles. But Californifornia? That sounded like someone had just mashed the same word together for fun. He was sure he’d never seen it before in his life.

McCullan was clearly spooked, keeping a healthy distance from the woman. She might’ve had a youthful, almost cute face, but everything about her screamed do not mess with me.

Californifornia clocked his unease and crossed her arms.

“You know how over-the-top Mina gets, right? I was supposed to be her big surprise twist.” She sighed, worrying her bottom lip before launching into the full explanation.

As it turned out, she’d actually been the first one to arrive at the hospital—not Kira, and not even Mina. The whole thing had been her and Mina’s idea from the start. Californifornia would show up disguised as one of the local ghost stories and scare the absolute hell out of the Occult Night crew, while Mina pulled the strings behind the scenes.

The plan hit a snag when she got here too early. While killing time and exploring, she’d accidentally fallen asleep… in the fourth-floor laundry room. Of all places. Buried in a pile of moldy towels.

“You actually slept in this place?”

“I’m not exactly a neat freak,” she said, nodding at Seojun’s gloved hands. The jab barely registered anymore.

“I only woke up because I heard… sounds. Muffled screams. A weird grinding noise. The kind of thing you really don’t want to hear in an abandoned hospital.”

Californifornia explained how she’d crept out of the laundry room, an awful feeling growing in her gut. It wasn’t hard to figure out where the noise was coming from. The sharp, tang scent of blood hung in the air like a trail begging to be followed.

“That’s when I saw it,” she continued, her voice dropping. “I peeked through a crack in a door and… there was a body. And this doctor in green scrubs was just brutally dismembering someone. He was covered head to toe in goggles, mask, surgical cap, the works. You couldn’t see an inch of skin.”

Californifornia pressed a thumb to her forehead, as if trying to force the memory out.

“He wasn’t even using a proper operating table. It was more like… a big industrial slab of metal. Yeah, that’s what it was.”

Her eyes went distant. “I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming. Part of me, for just a second, was hoping this was all some sick prank Mina cooked up. But you can’t fake that smell. The blood was real.”

Californifornia’s lips trembled, and she gripped her own forearm. “The guy was about my height. Maybe I could’ve taken him. But I was just… frozen. Too terrified to move. Call me a coward, I don’t care.”

Californifornia’s lips trembled as she gripped her forearm. McCullan stepped closer, his tone unusually gentle.

McCullan took a hesitant step closer, his voice surprisingly soft. “No one’s gonna blame you for that. And if they do, they’ll have to go through me.”

The sudden kindness seemed to make her uncomfortable. She turned from him, fixing her gaze back on Seojun, the words came quicker now, breathless.

“I couldn’t tell if the person on the table was Mina. That psycho doctor had her phone, but from where I was hiding… I couldn’t see the victim’s face.”

“The victim…?”

“Whoever it was, they weren’t moving.”

The silence that followed was heavy. A killer nurse in the basement, a butcher doctor upstairs. This was bad. And Californifornia wasn’t done.

“When the sounds stopped, he picked up Mina’s phone, looked at the screen, and said, ‘So you’ve all gathered as promised. The appointment was kept.’” A visible shiver ran through her. “His voice… it wasn’t right. Like it was underwater. Distorted. I never want to hear it again.”

“‘The appointment was kept’?” Seojun repeated, the phrase hooking into his brain.

Californifornia’s head snapped up, eyes sharp. “Now you see why I came at you like that? I heard everything. I couldn’t trust anyone.”

She bit her lip, which was already swollen from the nervous habit. Her eyes glistened, but she forced a bitter smile.

“Someone from our Occult Night site is working with him.”

The realization hit Seojun at the same time. Despite her paranoia, she’d still revealed herself to them.

“If you think one of us is a traitor, why show yourself at all?”

“Because watching you two freak out about being trapped didn’t seem like an act. At least, I hope it wasn’t. If I’m wrong…” Californifornia shrugged, a gesture that was both resigned and defiant. “Then that’s on me for trusting my gut.”

Seojun met her green eyes. “First thing’s first. My name isn’t Dennis. It’s Seojun. What’s yours?”

He wasn’t asking for her handle.

She glanced at McCullan, a silent question passing between them, before her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Levi Anton. I’m a tattoo artist.”