Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#099Reader Mode

#099

The Hamon convenience store’s reputation went up in flames the very night its owners, the Frank brothers, went from friendly faces in the community to infamous serial killers known nationwide. With no family to speak of besides each other, no one in their right mind wanted to inherit their tainted business.

During the store’s chaotic final days, a frenzied liquidation sale ensued. Suddenly, their bargain basement meats were either shunned entirely or became a morbid curiosity for some, inspiring a bizarre cult following. Wild rumors claimed the brothers had added a secret ingredient to their products—human flesh. Of course, that was ridiculous. It was the same factory mass-produced ham as always, but that didn’t stop the gossip from going viral.

Seojun emerged from the madness with a box of lemon cigarettes and a hodgepodge of other goods. Most of it had been practically dumped on him by Dr. Eris, who was busy dealing with the fallout from a horrific campground incident. The real score was the cigarettes, though, with the lemon candy a close second. The factory had been pumping out those promotional sweets like there was no tomorrow, so there were plenty to go around.

Seojun, pleased with his cigarette haul, handed the box of lemon candy to Johan, who accepted it with a bow befitting a concubine who had just won the king’s favor. When asked why he wasn’t eating any right away, Johan claimed he wanted to cherish Seojun’s gift, his eyes misting with emotion. Seojun had a hunch Johan’s hesitation had more to do with the candy not being sugar-free.

Still, it was a coincidence, wasn’t it? The candy Tim was offering was the exact same lemon candy that came with the cigarettes. At least, the packaging was identical.

The memories of Gas Mask and Monster X’s looming silhouette crashed into Seojun, resurrecting the same raw terror he’d experienced that night. The once-vibrant Hamon campground, which had been filled with laughter and the warmth of campfires, now echoed with the screams that haunted his dreams. The ache of his own pain and Johan’s lingered, a constant reminder of the terror they’d endured, like a phantom limb that refused to disappear.

That fateful night had cost him his right eye, forever altering his view of the world. The scars on Johan’s hands, Seojun knew, would likely be lifelong reminders as well.

The weight of the trauma should have been crippling. Oddly, it wasn’t. Instead, something inside Seojun had shattered that night, but what emerged was anything but broken. It wasn’t just the physical pain; it was…clarity. A newfound, primal awareness. Losing his eye had stripped away a layer of delusion, revealing a fierce determination that refused to back down.

“Seojun?”

Tim’s gentle, uncertain voice snapped Seojun back to the present. He held out the candy, a small token of gratitude.

Seojun’s dark eye locked onto the hitchhiker. Tim’s skin was sickly pale, almost see-through, and an aura of wrongness clung to him like a bad odor. But it was the teeth, barely visible between Tim’s parted lips, that truly bothered him. They were too perfect—too straight, too uniformly aligned, and oddly rectangular.

As Seojun stared, doubt began to gnaw at him. He bit the end of his right glove and pulled it off with a sudden jerk.

It was time to question the premise: Was Tim really Timothy? And if so, was Timothy truly dead? His gut told him there was more to this story, and as luck would have it, he had a way to find out.

As the cool air hit his bare hand, the pungent smell of rubber filled his nostrils. His fingers, feeling strangely soft and vulnerable, wrapped around his bony palm. Seojun picked up the candy, its yellow foil crinkling under his touch. He knew his psychometry was limited, so he didn’t expect a miracle. But he didn’t need perfection—just a hint, a nudge, in the right direction would be enough. Nothing more.

As the truck slowed to a halt on the shoulder, Tim’s confused voice reached out to him. But before Seojun could react, a blinding white light exploded behind his eyes. His ability surged, an overwhelming wave of energy engulfing him entirely.

A hazy image flickered at the edge of his consciousness—a hand, slender and careful, meticulously wrapping a piece of candy.

Where…?

Seojun’s mind struggled to make sense of it. A kitchen?

The image sharpened, snapping into focus. But this was no ordinary kitchen. This one reeked of money – dark, heavy furniture gleamed under designer lighting, and the floors shone with an almost obsessive polish. But it was the scattering of white powder across the immaculate dining table that made Seojun’s stomach drop. Sleeping pills. He recognized them from his own past, a dark time where severe hallucinations had nearly broken him. These pills, though, were ground to a fine dust, leaving white trails on the polished wood.

Tim’s soft humming filled the air as he worked, surrounded by a collection of framed photographs that seemed to tell a story of happiness and love. Smiling faces gazed down from the walls, showing Tim laughing with his arm wrapped around someone Seojun assumed was a lover, and in another, sitting with a happy family, with parents, grandparents, and a gaggle of relatives. In one picture, Tim knelt down, his hand scratching the chin of a fluffy dog, grinning at the camera. They were ordinary, precious moments, frozen in time.

But Seojun’s attention was drawn to one particular photo, an anomaly amid the sea of warmth and light. Focusing on the image, he saw a pair of lifeless legs splayed out in the dirt. The blond-haired woman’s body lay face down, her thin sweater and shorts torn to shreds.

The photo was a blurry, grainy mess, blown up from what must have been a tiny original. But that somehow made it worse. The legs seemed to glow with an unnatural, almost diseased whiteness against the dark, pixelated background. It was a jarring stain on the otherwise cheerful backdrop of the other photos. Yet, despite its disturbing nature, the edges of the photo were worn smooth, the corners dulled from countless touches… a sign of obsession.

Tim, finished with the candy, glanced up. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes…

“Seojun?”

Tim’s hand, clammy and lukewarm, landed on Seojun’s shoulder, jolting him back to the present and banishing the disturbing vision that had gripped him. Seojun jerked backward, shoving Tim away. Surprise flashed across the hitchhiker’s face before melting into a slow, lopsided grin. Tim’s gaze intensified, taking on a predatory glint. Fear squeezed Seojun’s chest, stealing his breath. There was a hunger in Tim’s eyes, feeding off the panic rising within Seojun.

Even though Tim was straight, there was something strangely alluring about Seojun’s terrified beauty. The raw vulnerability, usually hidden beneath a carefully constructed facade, was now laid bare. His face, slick with sweat, screamed his fear. Every part of him trembled, radiating a perverse magnetism that made it impossible to look away.

Seojun’s fingers wrapped around the candy bar, his grip so tight his knuckles turned white. His voice, when it finally emerged, was a raspy whisper.

“I’m fine,” he choked out. “Just… tired. We need to keep going.”

The truck rumbled back onto the road, its engine groaning as it gained speed. The road stretched endlessly ahead, disappearing into the black maw of night. As dread coiled in Seojun’s stomach, a terrifying realization began to take shape. The fragmented visions of the past were clicking into place, forming a horrifying picture that left no room for doubt.

Tim wasn’t some random ghost hitchhiker. He was something far worse.

He was the killer.

Well, I can’t be absolutely sure, but… the odds are pretty damn high.

Seojun’s lungs filled with a deep breath, dissipating some of the suffocating fear that had gripped him moments ago. In its place, a grim determination took hold. With a firm pressure on the gas pedal, he gunned the engine, and the truck’s roar filled his ears. The world outside blurred into streaks of green and black as the trees flew past in a blur.

“Oh, look! Another dead crow!” Tim’s voice, a chilling mix of amusement and something darker, slithered into his ears.

Seojun saw it too – the dark splatter of feathers on the asphalt. But instead of feeling the same dread that had paralyzed him earlier, he just felt a flicker of pity for the bird. Tim was right; this road was littered with dead crows. But that wasn’t what mattered now. This was his chance, with Tim distracted and focused on the road ahead.

He slammed his foot down, the engine screaming as he pushed the truck to its limits. The crow, a tiny speck just seconds ago, disappeared under the tires in a burst of black feathers and a crunch of flesh and bone.

In an instant, Seojun’s hand shot out, a lightning-fast blur that sent Tim’s seatbelt flying open. The already-loose strap, weakened by the bulk of the backpack, gave way without resistance. Tim’s eyes went wide with shock as he grasped his vulnerability, just as Seojun slammed on the brakes.

The truck skidded to a jarring halt, its tires squealing in protest as it teetered on the edge of control. Seojun’s stomach lurched in sync with the vehicle, his world tilting wildly. Blood and gore spattered the road, black feathers clinging to the tires like gruesome decorations.

CRACK!

Tim’s head smashed into the windshield with a sickening thud. His eyes rolled back, revealing the whites of his eyes. A thin trickle of blood seeped down his pale forehead. Seojun felt the seatbelt dig into his chest, the sharp pain lost in the torrent of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

No time to think, no time to catch his breath. Only action. Tim was down, and Seojun had to seize the moment.

With a fierce kick, Seojun sent the passenger door flying open, the metal screeching in protest. Before Tim could even flinch, Seojun’s foot connected with his ribs, sending him tumbling onto the road.

“Gah—!” Tim’s anguished cry was cut short, lost in the night air. He lay crumpled on the blood-stained pavement, clutching his head, struggling to draw a breath.

“Seojuuuunnn!”

The weak, desperate whine was a pitiful sound, one that Seojun ignored as he tossed Tim’s backpack onto the road after him like yesterday’s trash. The contents spilled out – clothes, notebooks, a coil of rope – and among the mess, a sleek black device caught the moonlight.

“You’re one twisted bastard, you know that?” Seojun sneered, flipping Tim off before slamming the door shut. The sound echoing through the stillness like a gunshot.

The frantic pounding of his own heart rivalled the roar of the engine as he floored it, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the sick psychopath as humanly possible.

The endless stretch of empty road ahead of him did little to calm his nerves. Instead, his mind replayed the events on an endless loop, every detail standing out sharply now that the initial shock was wearing off.

Tim’s trap had been a masterclass in manipulation, expertly woven to ensnare him. But Tim had made one critical mistake: mentioning the driver’s perspective in that creepy ghost story. Tim might have played the innocent hitchhiker, but he was the real monster behind the wheel.

“Who the hell drugs someone while they’re driving?” Seojun muttered, the words bitter in his mouth. He gazed down at his clenched fist, still grasping the lemon candy, and his revulsion grew. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the candy flying towards the door, watching as it bounced off and disappeared under the seat. It wasn’t worth the bother.

As he sucked in a shaky breath, the gravity of his situation really hit him. He’d come perilously close to… what, exactly? Being drugged and dumped in a ditch somewhere? Seojun couldn’t even begin to understand how Tim’s sick mind worked. For all he knew, every word out of the guy’s mouth had been a total lie. But one thing was certain… Tim was a malicious son of a b*tch.

Takes all kinds to make a world, I guess…

A shiver went through him, his skin still buzzing with the leftover adrenaline. If he’d mistaken Tim for a real ghost and tried to kill him… it would have been a disaster. His gaze drifted to his bag, his mind wandering to the knife nestled inside. Two centimeters wide, fifteen centimeters long – enough to end a life.

The weight of one kill already hung heavy on his conscience. Sure, he’d gotten away with it, and people had sympathized. But would they be so understanding a second time around? Seojun doubted it. Another heavy sigh left him, the cold, heavy weight of fear settled in his chest.

“Ah, I’m so damn glad I didn’t screw that up.”

T/N Warning: May Cause Jaw-Dropping and Excessive Squealing. Fan Art Alert!

Get ready for some extreme Fan-girling/boying because we just received our first-ever Prophet fan art from the incredibly talented Bikoyaki!

(/≧▽≦)/ Ahh I love them!! I nearly choked on my coffee when I first saw them lmao.

Bikoyaki is just starting out on his art journey, so let’s shower him with love and support! Head over to his art accounts and give him a follow and a like please!

Twitter and Instagram handle: @bikoyaki