Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie
#191
#191
After Johan’s pointed remark, Kira rubbed her sore wrist and turned her attention to Seojun. He took a moment to size her up right back. He’d heard the name Kira plenty of times, but this was the first time they’d actually met. Sweat dampened the short hair at the back of her neck. Her face was pale, nearly haggard. She had the bruised-looking shadows under her eyes of a chronic insomniac, but unlike a certain someone he knew, she didn’t seem burdened by that relentless exhaustion.
Kira’s sharp eyes dropped to the bouquet Seojun was still holding. Her brows furrowed momentarily, her eyes darting to the tall man looming behind him before snapping back to Seojun. A moment later, her cheek twitched, the exact face a person makes after biting into a sour persimmon.
Ah, Seojun knew that look far too well. He’d been stared at like that more than enough times back home. It was the kind of look people gave scammers and unstable weirdos, usually while making sure there was plenty of space between them.
“……”
Indignation sparked hot in his chest. Seriously? He was the one who had just been attacked, and now some stranger was looking at him like he was the suspicious one here? Before that irritation could take root, footsteps echoed from farther down the corridor.
Seojun’s head came up fast, but the wariness in his shoulders eased when he spotted the familiar figures. It was Luciel, leaning heavily on Brown as she limped her way toward them.
Her ankle had been wrapped properly this time—tight and neat, not one of those flimsy loops she usually let trail behind her for dramatic effect. The bandage was clearly working because she was already back to her usual lively self, throwing up a cheerful wave that sent her twin ponytails bouncing.
“You’re alive! I knew you’d make it, O’ Obsidian Eye!”
Brown was doing his best to keep Luciel from putting any weight on her bad ankle as she practically bounced with excitement. He managed to throw Seojun a quick nod, eyes lingering on the dirty floor briefly before he finally looked up.
“Glad you’re okay, Seojun. And… I’m sorry. For what happened back there.”
“Mm. Uh, yeah.”
Seojun’s response was half-hearted at best. To be honest, if all this had happened before they’d express-shipped Samantha to the basement, he might’ve been able to get on his moral high horse and given Brown a piece of his mind. But given recent events? Not so much. He averted his gaze from Brown’s remorseful face and shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Life happens. What goes around comes around, right?”
Problem was, karma sure had boomeranged back fast. His eye flicked toward the dark, ominous elevator at the corridor’s end behind Brown, then quickly back to Luciel for no particular reason!
“How’s the ankle holding up? That fall looked pretty bad.”
“Mm,” Luciel pointed a thumb at Kira. “A marvelous crossing of paths! It seems even mere mortals have their moments of usefulness.”
Kira’s expression soured instantly, accompanied by a dismissive snort. It was then that Johan, quiet until now, decided to step forward, placing himself squarely between Seojun and Kira.
Gone was the easy warmth from his voice. “Kira. When you nearly kill someone, the polite thing to do is apologize.”
“Whoa, Johan.”
The switch was so jarring that Seojun’s hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of the back of Johan’s “No Miracle, Yes Chance” shirt, tugging him back gently. Johan complied obediently, but without his usual smile, he seemed a stranger— all sharp edges and unforgiving lines, like a flawless statue chiseled from marble. The grim set of his lips and the steely look in his eyes… oddly enough, suited him.
But while Johan’s heart might have been in the right place, did he really have to stand like that? Right in front of Seojun, all protective and gallant… didn’t it make them look like they were dating? Seojun appreciated the gesture, he really did, but Johan’s shameless boldness was sometimes a bit much. It almost felt like they were about to enact a scene from a cheesy romance movie, and it was giving Seojun goosebumps. To make matters worse, Kira kept glancing between them with this knowing look, like she’d figured something out that definitely didn’t need figuring out!
Luciel suddenly popped up between them, like she’d just sprung out of the ground.
“He speaks only the truth, Kira! You who cannot perceive what lies before your eyes! This is the Eye! The Bearer of the Star of Utmost Darkness is vouched for by none other than myself. He is a colleague, a brother-in-arms, a comrade bound to our sacred cause!”
In her own unique way, she was clearly trying to help, laying the praise on thick by dusting off Seojun’s full, grandiose title she usually abbreviated. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t really sway Kira. She fixed Luciel with a sharp look.
“It’s your judgment that’s the problem here, Luciel. That blind, completely unfounded confidence of yours… I envy it sometimes. How you keep it going in this dumpster fire is beyond me.”
“Confidence is a state of being that blooms only from the rich soil of self-belief. Mere envy will never cause it to sprout within you, Kira. Not ever.”
“With that arrogant attitude… seriously, who raised you to be like this?”
“My father was a magnificent man!”
Luciel’s grin widened, practically glowing with pride, utterly immune to the subtle jab.
Kira let out a frustrated huff, tipping her head back to glare at the dark, busted ceiling tiles. She ran her fingers through her hair with the same rough impatience she seemed to apply to everything. When her gaze finally dropped back down, her sharp eyes locked onto Seojun.
“Sorry. I’ve been on edge since those creepy things in rags started showing up. I overreacted.”
Straight to the point with no excuses, just an honest apology. Seeing as his head was still attached to his neck, Seojun felt generous enough to accept it.
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Good. We’re good, then. Name’s Kira. You’re Seojun?”
“That’s me.”
The perpetual scowl on Kira’s face relaxed slightly, her mouth hinting at something that wasn’t quite a smile. It had a bit too much edge, but it was a start. After slipping her folding knife back into her pocket, she rummaged around and pulled out something else.
“Here. They said this was yours. Found it back in that haunted house.”
“Ah.”
She held out a small soiled teddy bear. The tiny thing fit snugly in her palm, its black button eyes vacant and simple—plain, basic, yet somehow still undeniably cute. Now that he considered it, this little bear had sort of set off the whole terrifying chain of events…
“……”
For a moment, Seojun felt a strong urge to hurl the innocent teddy bear against the wall and stomp it flat. But instead, he took it gently from Kira’s hands.
“Thanks.”
Seojun did his best to pretend he couldn’t feel Johan’s intense, almost melodramatic stare burning into the side of his head. He bought himself a few seconds by fussing with the teddy bear, unzipping the fanny pack at his hip and tucking the little thing away with exaggerated care, making sure it wouldn’t get lost again. Just as the zipper snicked shut, Kira spoke.
“You smoke?”
“Yeah,” Seojun replied. No sense pretending otherwise.
“Cool. Last one I’ve got.”
With a flick of her wrist, something sailed over. Seojun managed a clumsy but successful catch. It was a single cigarette. Not his go-to brand, but here, in this hellish place, it might as well have been a gift from heaven. Johan, unsurprisingly, looked like he’d been gravely insulted with this particular peace offering.
“Smoking is bad for you,” he murmured, just loud enough to ensure nobody missed it.
But even the small rush of gratitude Seojun felt was soured by a passing thought as he examined the lone cigarette in his hand.
I know I smoke, but really? This is my near-death experience compensation? One measly cigarette? Not even a full pack?
Kira must’ve seen the look on his face, because she shrugged and pulled out a lighter, flicking it open with a crisp click.
“Hey, this might be the last cigarette you’ll ever have,” she said dryly. “And it’s my last one, so quit acting like that before I change my mind.”
Her hand was trembling. The little flame wavered and jumped, leaving faint ghost-trails of light in the dark. And that was when her words finally hit him, really hit him. The last cigarette you’ll ever have. She wasn’t being dramatic. She meant it. And the more Seojun thought about it, the more it made sense.
I’ve been way too casual about being in literal hell.
The reality check hit Seojun hard. He’d been running on autopilot, too swept up in the chaos to really let the truth of his situation sink in. This wasn’t a video game or a dream. This was an abandoned hospital crawling with nurses—zombies, ghosts, whatever the hell they were—and every single one of them wanted him dead. This was, in the plainest possible terms, hell on earth.
The fact she’d nearly taken his head off earlier meant Kira still had some fight left in her, some stubborn will to keep breathing. But up close? It was obvious her hope of making it out alive was running low. Now, Seojun really saw her: the slight tremor in her hands, the blueish tint to her lips, how drawn her face looked from stress and exhaustion.
“No lighter?” she asked, snapping hers open and shut repeatedly. “Want me to do the honors?”
It was a peace offering, rough around the edges but sincere. But instead of accepting, Seojun carefully tucked the cigarette away into his fanny pack next to the bear. He met her gaze directly.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’ll save it for when we get out of here.”
After a brief hesitation, Seojun added, “I’ve got a carton sitting in my truck. I’ll spot you a pack once we’re out. Can’t promise you’ll like the taste, though.”
“You…”
Kira’s heavily-shadowed eyes widened for a moment before narrowing into focused slits, as if she was just now really seeing him. But before Seojun could process her reaction, Johan chose that exact moment to grab his shoulder and spin him around.
“Jun, just look at me,” Johan said, his cheeks puffing out in the most ridiculous pout Seojun had ever seen. “This is what peak physical health looks like. Clean lungs, Jun. Keep that in mind.”
Johan had apparently taken offense to the fact that Seojun and Kira had bonded over cigarettes, because he immediately sank into a full-body sulk. It would have been childish if it hadn’t been so obviously deliberate. Johan was a grown man, after all. His blue eyes even started to mist over, as if he were silently begging Seojun to rethink his life choices.
“I’m not going to say this is all thanks to strict exercise. Comparing an athlete’s body to everyone else’s would be unfair. But I can say this much with confidence. My body is completely tobacco-free. Zero nicotine.”
Seojun and Kira had just shared something sincere. A silent vow to make it out of this hell alive. And somehow, Johan had dragged the mood all the way down to Seojun looking like some addict who couldn’t stop thinking about cigarettes, even while his life was on the line.
“……”
Had it really been less than ten minutes since Seojun felt actually moved by this guy? Since he’d felt that warm, fuzzy feeling? How was his heart already back to being stone cold? Any good vibes had completely evaporated. When it came to emotional whiplash, Johan was undefeated.
Seojun was about two seconds from whacking Johan with the bouquet when the door to the room where Dennis and the others had been hiding from Samantha flew open.
Out came Dennis, who had apparently been in there the entire damn time. The second he saw Johan, his face crumpled with obvious disgust. His glasses were too smudged for Seojun to see his eyes, but he could imagine the look just fine.
Probably the usual full-face grimace. Eyes, nose, mouth, all working together for maximum contempt. Bastard’s so predictable it hurts.
As expected, Dennis completely ignored Seojun’s existence. Not that this surprised him. Keeping an accusing glare locked on Johan, Dennis strode over to Luciel’s side like a bodyguard reporting for duty, then immediately started scolding Brown.
“Luciel’s injured, Brown! What are you doing? Support her properly!”
Honestly, the guy sounded like he’d been Cinderella’s wicked stepmother in a past life.