Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#114Reader Mode

#114

Seojun stared at the slightly crumpled last page of the journal in his hands, the creases and folds hinting at someone’s frustration, maybe even anger. But it wasn’t the condition of the paper that threw him off. It was the message written on it: a love confession.

Blinking in disbelief, he almost rubbed his eye, thinking he might be imagining it. Then he glanced down at his hands, feeling the rough texture of the burlap sacks covering them. No way he was going to subject his precious eye with something that coarse. Instead, he shut them, hoping that when he opened them again, the words might somehow make more sense.

They didn’t.

“Huh?” he muttered, his brow furrowing as he tilted his head in confusion. Who on earth was Amy? The name seemed to come out of nowhere, leaving him even more baffled. And the fact that this heartfelt confession seemed to come from ‘S’ only added to the shock.

Did I miss something? He never acted like he liked anyone…

Feeling somehow wronged by his own obliviousness, Seojun looked through the entries again, his fingers clumsily gripping the notebook. But no matter how many times he reread it, the message remained the same. Amy’s name appeared just once, right at the end, and the handwriting was undeniably ‘S’s. The sudden introduction of this mysterious Amy left him reeling, unable to make sense of the confession or the twist it brought with it.

Wait, let’s think this through. The only women who could fit are T or D.

There was always Ms. Muncie, the dietician, but she was more connected to the research lab than any of the test subjects personally. Besides, ‘S’ had uncovered a deeply personal and horrifying secret about her through ‘L’, making it highly unlikely that he’d suddenly fall for her. The possibility of her being Amy Muncie also seemed far-fetched.

And then there was the phrase that stuck out: “Even if we never meet again…” That line sealed it. Amy had to be ‘D.’ The realization dawned on him slowly, like a puzzle finally falling into place. It wasn’t just about the initials—S, L, T, D—they weren’t real names at all, just codenames meant to hide identities. But even as the pieces started coming together, Seojun’s mind kept spinning.

So ‘S’ wasn’t jealous of ‘D,’ but actually liked her? Since when?

Seojun frowned, his confusion deepening. He had never noticed anything romantic between ‘S’ and ‘D,’ but then again, he wasn’t exactly known for picking up on those kinds of things. Romance had always been an afterthought for him, even after being dragged into Florence’s endless relationship advice sessions as a consequence of exposing Gilbert’s two-timing ways. And if he was honest, he still hadn’t fully processed Johan’s sudden, intense love confession that had blindsided him.

“Ugh…”

Heat crept up his neck, staining his cheeks bright red. And then, like a ghost from the past, his deep voice echoed in his mind, soft and intimate, brushing against his ear like a whisper from that overwhelming moment.

Just minutes ago, his thoughts had been somewhat in order, but now they unraveled into a chaotic mess. Flustered and completely caught off guard, Seojun’s arms flailed in embarrassment, like a baby bird awkwardly attempting to fly but failing miserably.

Of course, Seojun wasn’t a fragile little bird. He was tall, broad-shouldered guy, with long limbs, and seeing him flailing about in such an awkward, panicked state was nothing short of absurd.

His ridiculous display didn’t last long, though. The sharp disapproving “tsk” from the Wizard snapped him back to reality, the sound grating on his already frazzled nerves. Irritated, he threw a quick glare at the CCTV.

Does that damn Wizard grow thorns in his mouth if he doesn’t embarrass someone at least once a day?

Seojun thought bitterly. Still, the snarky interruption had done its job. The flush in his face began to fade as he forced himself to focus on the notebook in his hands. He was more composed now, though the embarrassment still simmered beneath the surface.

The shared journal revealed a startling truth Seojun hadn’t expected. Two men were in love with “D.” One was ‘S,’ whose emotions swung wildly, like a summer storm brewing on the horizon. The other was a shadowy figure, mentioned briefly but described with an intensity that practically leapt off the page—a man known only as the Wild Mutt.

As Seojun sifted through the journal entries, what had once seemed like random, baffling details began to fall into place and formed a clearer picture. The reason for the sack over his head now became glaringly obvious. His kidnapper had mistaken him for ‘S,’ seeing him as some sort of stand-in—and worse, a murder suspect. If ‘D’ had indeed been killed by ‘S,’ there was no doubt in Seojun’s mind who the kidnapper was: the Wild Mutt, a man driven mad by his obsession.

“So that’s why I was kidnapped… That son of a b*tch!”

Seojun let out a long, frustrated sigh, muffled by the coarse burlap sack over his head. Of all the unlucky coincidences. His tall, lean body was annoyingly similar to S’s—right down to the traits S used to hate about himself, the ones he swore he’d fix once he got out of the Invisible Man’s mansion. And what had Seojun been doing just before he was snatched? Looking for a lighter, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips—completely clueless that some crazed dog had been stalking him from the shadows, mistaking him for someone else…

Seojun had survived his share of bizarre situations, but being kidnapped just because he looked like somebody else? That was a new low. Frustration bubbled up from his chest, rising into his scalp until his whole head felt like it was on fire. Who needed a heater when you were this angry?

His gaze flicked up to the tiny red light on the ceiling—the CCTV camera. Did the Wizard look like him? If so, he should be grateful that the kidnapper had somehow collapsed on his own. The journal didn’t say much about the Wild Mutt’s appearance, but if the Wizard was built like Seojun, a hand-to-hand fight would’ve been tough. Unless, of course, the Wild Mutt was as small as Tim. Still, something about the whole thing didn’t sit right. It wasn’t just brute strength… there was something else, something that had caught him completely off guard when he was kidnapped.

Seojun surveyed the crumbling courtroom, the air thick with dust and the rancid smell of decay. When he had first woken up here, fear had slammed into him, overwhelming and suffocating. Now, after a few strange conversations with the Wizard and piecing together fragments of truth, the confusion had dulled. But the fear? It still lingered, hanging at the edges of his mind. With a sigh, he placed the shared journal and the test subjects’ file on the dilapidated podium, rolling his wrist to ease the persistent ache. There was so much to write, even if it was just a summary this time.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[So, the real Wizard over there thinks S is responsible for killing a woman named D=Amy. And now, S, who apparently is me, has to prove his innocence.]

— Hmm. So, this guy is probably the Wild Mutt, right?

“Ow, yeah, that sounds about right.”

Seojun groaned, rubbing his aching wrist. Even though he knew the Wizard couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t help muttering aloud, nodding exaggeratedly in agreement. No matter how used to this bizarre situation he’d become, discomfort was still discomfort. Tucking the sketchbook under his arm, he tried to shake the numbness out of his hand.

— The beloved Amy was murdered, but everyone was told it was just an accident caused by a typhoon… He eventually discovered the truth, but by then, all the suspects had been released. So now, as if throwing a tantrum, he kidnaps people who look like S and forces them to prove their innocence?

“That about sums it up, yeah.”

The mansion, once filled with secrets, had been swept clean by the storm—both literally and figuratively. The typhoon hadn’t just wiped out the research records; it erased the bodies, the crimes, and any trace of evidence. In the wake of that destruction, the Wild Mutt must have completely lost his mind. Seojun absently flexed his fingers inside the coarse burlap sack as he flipped through his sketchbook, stopping on a page covered in messy scribbles.

[He probably doesn’t really care about proving S’s innocence. He just needs someone to blame, someone to vent his anger on.]

The murder plot outlined in the journal was too detailed, too premeditated for the Wild Mutt to genuinely be seeking justice. And the room filled with bodies, their faces hidden behind burlap sacks, only deepened Seojun’s suspicions. This wasn’t about uncovering the truth—it was about unleashing pent-up rage. If the Wild Mutt truly cared about justice, he would have known about the shared journal.

— Pathetic… Then again, what can you expect from someone unhinged enough to kidnap innocent people?

[Exactly!!!]

For once, the Wizard had said something sensible, and Seojun furiously scribbled exclamation points in agreement. The Wild Mutt’s actions—kidnapping, assault, and dragging someone as law-abiding as Seojun into this mess—were beyond outrageous. The Wizard’s comment only stoked Seojun’s righteous anger. A soft chuckle echoed through the crumbling courtroom, the Wizard clearly amused by Seojun’s impassioned reaction.

— So, can we assume you’ve gathered all the information you can from there?

Information, huh…

Seojun looked through the podium one last time, rummaging through every nook and cranny. Aside from a gavel rolling aimlessly across the surface, there was nothing of significance. His gaze shifted to the towering bookshelves, their spines warped and waterlogged, as though they might crumble at the slightest touch. Even if something valuable was buried within those pages, combing through every book would take months. He’d probably starve to death before he made any progress. Or worse, loneliness might creep in and finish the job.

As he weighed his meager options, a thought sparked in his mind, igniting a faint glimmer in his eye.

“Ah, that’s right.”

He moved cautiously across the creaky wooden floor, his worn-out sneakers barely making a sound. His destination: the pencil holder where he’d earlier found a colored pencil. With a deliberate yet unceremonious gesture, he tipped the container over.

Just as he expected, a copper key was taped to the underside of the holder’s base. Ideally, he would’ve peeled it off with care, but with his hands still wrapped in the burlap sacks, any hope of precision was long gone. His fingers felt sluggish, as if they no longer belonged to him, melding awkwardly with the rough fabric.

Sighing in resignation, Seojun yanked the key free, tearing the tape along with it. The key itself was plain, unremarkable, with a simple copper loop. He had already told the Wizard where S and L had hidden the storage key, so he didn’t bother with an explanation this time. Instead, he walked over to the CCTV and held the key up, making sure the lens could catch it.

Maybe, just for a second, a small part of him wanted to show off his find. But the feeling was fleeting, nothing more than a brief flicker of triumph.

Click, click…

The metallic sound echoed through the room, familiar yet unnervingly sharp. It stopped Seojun in his tracks. His legs grew heavy, his calves tightening like iron cables, while his shoulders shot up, rigid with tension, much like a cornered alley cat ready to spring. The atmosphere thickened, pressing down on him, as if every muscle in his body was bracing for something inevitable.

Without thinking, his fingers darted to his neck, a reflex more than a conscious decision. His trembling fingertips grazed the cold metal of the lock, and he felt a wave of nausea as his skin turned pale, his mouth flooding with saliva. The ease he’d felt just moments before had vanished, his body now stiff and lifeless, like a corpse frozen in place. Yet, the lock around his throat remained the same… cold, unyielding, refusing to loosen even a fraction.

“Haa…”

The breath escaped him in a slow exhale, carrying with it a fragile trickle of relief. Warmth gradually returned to his fingertips and toes, the numbness fading. He didn’t bother wiping away the sweat gathering at the nape of his neck as his eye darted around the room, sharp and alert. His gaze locked onto the faint quiver of the back door.

The metallic sound had ceased as suddenly as it had begun, leaving no trace. But Seojun remained on edge, moving cautiously toward the door, each step deliberate and measured. Maybe the storage key could unlock it. Yet, when he reached it, he realized something odd… there was no keyhole.

That detail struck him as peculiar. The sound, though eerily familiar, echoed in his mind like a distant memory just out of reach…

Unease filled him as he glared at the door, the sensation crawling under his skin, persistent and unsettling. He couldn’t shake it. Turning back toward the podium, he noticed his hand still trembling. He steadied it with his other, forcing himself to focus. The scratch of the pencil against paper felt louder than usual.

[Do you know what just happened?]

— What’s going on? Why are you asking that all of a sudden, Oz?

Seojun wiped his damp forehead, wincing as the rough fabric dragged against his skin. It took him a second to remember… right, the Wizard couldn’t hear him from this side. He should’ve gotten used to that by now, but the disorientation lingered.

[I thought I heard something at the back door. A clicking sound.]

The Wizard’s response was slower this time, as if he were trying to figure something out.

— Ah… Maybe the door opened?

“The door?”

Seojun’s gaze darted to the CCTV camera, its red light glowing like a tiny, watchful eye. The circular LED flared in his vision, resembling the Wizard’s ever-present gaze. His mind raced. Why would the back door open? He hadn’t done anything to trigger it. The Wizard’s voice, calm but tainted with its usual static, broke through his spiraling thoughts.

— When you found the key, the blackboard shifted a bit. You probably didn’t notice since you were holding the pencil holder, but I saw it.

“The blackboard?”

Seojun turned, narrowing his eyes at the dark green slate across the room. It loomed over him, an oppressive presence casting a shadow that felt almost real. He scrutinized it, searching for any sign of change, but there was nothing. No clue, no shift.

His expression tightened, frustration and disbelief mixing together. It was the look of someone who’d just been told a lie so absurd, it felt insulting. From the other side, the Wizard’s quiet chuckle slipped through:

— Lucky for you.