Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#166Reader Mode

#166 

The sudden beam of light hit his eye like an act of violence. After cowering in total darkness for so long, the brightness pierced through Seojun’s closed eyelid, sending sharp pain straight to his skull. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing an arm over his face—a useless reflex if someone really was coming at him with a knife, but instincts didn’t care about logic.   

But the blade he was bracing for never came. 

When Seojun finally dared to crack his eye open, he caught a glimpse of a skirt swaying beyond the blinding backlight. And then a voice—quiet but crackling with confidence—hit his eardrums like a jolt of electricity. 

“Come out quickly before the evil spirit returns.” 

“Lu…ciel?” 

Still squinting against the harsh light of her phone, Seojun put a hand in front of his face, trying to block its glare. His heart, which had just about dropped somewhere down into his shoes, began its slow, cautious climb back into his chest. He gestured, wild and desperate, trying to signal her to explain before he even thought about moving. 

“Hmph.”  

But the self-proclaimed fallen Seraph, allegedly a being of great power in her previous life, just jerked her chin at him, a silent, impatient command to move.  

With no other choice, Seojun started peeling himself out of the cabinet, every movement stiff and awkward. After being crammed inside for who knows how long, finding a single part of his body that didn’t hurt felt like too much to ask. He had to brace himself against the metal door just to stay upright. 

And right as he found his footing, McCullan came tumbling out of the cabinet beside him. His face was a ghostly white as he gasped for air, tears and snot a mess on his cheeks. Seojun gave him a glance, half-expecting worse, and sighed in relief when he realized the guy hadn’t pissed himself. He rolled his shoulder with a wince and started rubbing the crick in his neck. 

So he really had been hiding in the cabinet next to mine. But how is he still in one piece? 

Sure, McCullan looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back, but a quick once-over confirmed it: physically, he was fine. No stab wounds. No blood. All limbs accounted for. It didn’t add up. Seojun’s survival made sense; the factory manager had given up on his cabinet and moved on. But McCullan’s door had been opened, hadn’t it? He should be… well, not sitting there crying. 

Brown, who was just now crawling out from under the desk, wearing the same dumbfounded expression, finally said what they were all thinking. 

“McCullan, how are you still alive?” he asked, clearly stunned. 

McCullan’s face scrunched up with indignation. “What, you surprised I’m not dead? Don’t be ridiculous! If I’m going down, I’m taking someone with me!” 

His thick lips trembled, and his brown eyes, bright with tears, looked darker than usual. All that fear and rage twisted his features into something raw and honest. 

Brown flushed, clearly flustered, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “No, no that’s not what I meant. I am glad you’re okay, McCullan. It’s just—I heard the cabinets being opened. I thought…”   

He trailed off, crouching awkwardly to get closer to McCullan, who was still sitting on the dirty floor like a kicked dog, sobbing openly now. 

Luciel cut in with a snort. 

“Do not raise your voices, foolish ones.” she commanded, stepping forward with regal authority. “By heaven’s grace, the evil spirit could not escape divine observation, so there is no need for your pitiful squabbling.”  

By now, they could mostly follow Luciel’s grandiose way of speaking without needing Brown to translate. What she really meant was that she’d seen everything the factory manager had done. And it made sense. Luciel had been hiding behind the door. Dangerous as that position was, it would’ve given her a perfect line of sight on the entire room. 

While McCullan noisily scrubbed his face with a handkerchief, Luciel finally unfolded her arms. Her posture was stiff as a board, tension in every line of her body, but there was a fire in her eyes. A sense of purpose. Without waiting for a prompt, she dove right into her explanation. 

“When the wicked demon entered this place, I successfully concealed my brilliant presence—radiant as divine light—behind the door. All other locations were woefully inadequate for hiding the vessel that contains a Seraph’s soul.” 

Translation: she ducked into the corner the moment the guy walked in. 

Luciel explained how she’d flattened herself against the cold, grimy wall just as the door opened, squeezing into the one blind spot the factory manager wouldn’t see once it swung inward. She gathered her skirt, held her breath, and didn’t move a muscle. The chill soaking through her clothes had been unbearable, but compared to the threat of that knife, it barely registered. 

“Foolish,” she added, with a smirk tugging at her lips. “And foolish again. That creature didn’t even notice when I pulled the handle, just enough to open the path to salvation.” 

Luckily for them, the factory manager’s vision was apparently severely limited in that ridiculous pig mask. He stumbled around the room, completely unaware of whether the door was open ninety degrees or a hundred and twenty. But when he started heading for the desk, even Luciel admitted her nerves began to crack. For all his bumbling, it would’ve only taken a single glance. One look under that desk and Brown was done for. 

“I was beginning to wonder,” she confessed, her voice dropping low, “if a great one such as myself would be forced to fulfill her divine mission…”   

“Luciel! Don’t say such things. Absolutely not!” 

Brown’s usual gentle demeanor vanished. His eyes sharpened, and for a second, he looked less like their soft-spoken friend and more like an older brother about to give a scolding. Luciel flinched at his tone, her shoulders stiffening as she gave a small, defensive shrug.  

“I didn’t do it, did I? Now let me finish.” She huffed. “Anyway, on his way to the desk, that hell-bound creature picked up a beer can stuck between the sofa cushions.”   

“Wait—what? A beer can?”    

Like someone had flipped a switch, McCullan’s eyes went wide. He frantically patted the paper bag still clutched to his chest. Somehow, even through all of this, he’d held onto his beer. But now the bag did look noticeably thinner. 

“Shit! One’s missing!” 

He groaned and slumped, letting out a heavy sigh. McCullan must’ve dropped one when he scrambled to hide.  

Luciel, paying McCullan’s personal tragedy absolutely no mind, carried on as if he hadn’t spoken at all. 

“He rolled the can between his hands for a while,” she said, frowning in thought. “Then he tucked it carefully into his pocket of his work clothes. The way he handled it… it was so careful, like it was a treasure.” 

According to her, it was as if the desk and everything under it ceased to exist for the factory manager once he had the beer. But that didn’t mean the danger was over. His attention snapped to the row of metal cabinets.  

The first one creaked open. Empty.  

Two to go.  

The factory manager didn’t hesitate with the second. He grabbed the handle and yanked the door wide, the very cabinet they’d all assumed would be McCullan’s coffin. 

But there was nothing. Or rather, someone was there. Just hidden. 

A beat later, Brown reached into the cabinet and pulled out a large cardboard box, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“My goodness, you’re incredible,” he said, holding it up. The entire bottom had been torn out. “McCullan, you kept your wits about you even in that moment?” 

A flicker of pride crossed McCullan’s face. In a moment of sheer panic and wits, he’d ripped open the bottom of the cardboard box, stomped it out, and yanked it down over himself like a makeshift shell, then carefully closed the flaps on top. Desperate, ridiculous… and it had worked. 

After that, only Seojun’s cabinet was left.  

The factory manager looked like he was about to leave, one hand fumbling for the beer he’d pocketed. That’s when it slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a sharp clatter.  

So that was the sound I heard, Seojun realized. 

“The demon picked up the can and cradled it to his chest like a newborn.” 

Luciel described how the factory manager’s whole demeanor shifted. It was like the hunt no longer mattered—nothing existed for him except the alcohol in his arms. He turned to leave. 

But then, without warning, he pivoted on his heel and drove the knife straight into the narrow gap in Seojun’s cabinet door. 

Luciel’s gloved hand flew to her mouth. The sharp, scent of latex hit her nose as she stared, horrified. It wasn’t just the violence that was unnerving. It was the pointless cruelty of it. The final, nerve-shredding jabs, meant for nothing but the thrill of it. 

She couldn’t look away. 

But no scream came. 

The factory manager let out his signature wheezing laugh, sickly and satisfied, and walked out. His footsteps were disturbingly light for someone so heavy. As he passed into the hallway, one hand reached back and gently pulled the door shut behind him. 

Luciel didn’t dare breathe. 

She tracked his footsteps by sound as he moved into the next room over, but he was out again in half the time—he’d barely bothered to search that one. Luciel swallowed hard, pressed her face to the dirty glass of the door, and watched his shadow retreat into the dark… until it finally disappeared. 

“The last place he went,” Luciel concluded confidently, “was the room Brown said was the manager’s office.”   

Seojun’s eye flicked from her to the dark hallway just beyond the door. A chill crept down his spine. “So, based on all that… you’re telling me that psycho’s still on this floor?” 

McCullan’s face went ghost-white. He looked like he might be sick.  “You crazy girl!” he hissed, voice tight with panic. “Turn off the light! Now, now!” 

“Oh.” 

Looking sheepish, Luciel fumbled with her phone, and the room dropped back into pitch black. Even in the darkness, Seojun could’ve sworn he still saw the blush on her cheeks.  

While Seojun was marveling over this, Brown reached over and rested a calming hand on McCullan’s shoulder.  

“The light wouldn’t reach that far from here. Um… probably. And hey, take it easy on her. You’re being kind of harsh.” 

“Harsh, my ass!” McCullan shot back, but then a new thought seemed to strike him. His panic twisted into a desperate sort of hope. “Actually… wait. This is perfect. If he’s holed up in that office, this is our chance to get the hell out of here.” 

There was a beat of heavy silence. Across from him, Seojun saw Brown’s shoulders slump. It was clear to everyone that McCullan still didn’t grasp the full picture of their grim situation. Brown let out a soft, pitying sigh as he broke the terrible news. 

“McCullan, listen to me. The factory doors are locked. The main doors. Unless we solve that problem first, none of us are going anywhere.” 

McCullan’s sputtering shock was a distant noise, irrelevant. Seojun sank to the floor, resting his forearms on his knees. He drew a long breath of the stale, dusty air. It did little to calm him, but the fear was starting to recede, replaced by something cold and hard. Anger. An anger that was setting inside him like cooling steel. 

Seojun couldn’t stop replaying it: the knife tip, jabbing playfully through the gap in the door. He felt his jaw clench, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Would he be this furious if the man had genuinely been trying to kill him? 

No. That wasn’t it. 

What boiled Seojun’s blood was the casualness. He hated the total disregard of his infinitely precious existence. The idea that his life meant nothing. That it was trash. Disposable. A bug to be swatted. The thought made him sick.    

Seojun gaze swept over the others in the dark: McCullan, mumbling under his breath; Brown, sighing in weary resignation; Luciel, still standing tall, radiating with that strange, unshakable confidence. 

Seojun’s lips, thin and pale, parted. His voice came out soft, dangerously soft. Like a knife unsheathing in the dark.   

“There’s four of us…. how about we just corner the bastard and cave his skull in from behind?”