Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#179Reader Mode

#179

Seojun could hardly believe what he was hearing, but Levi didn’t even blink. Her violent suggestion came without hesitation, cool and matter-of-fact, like she was suggesting something as mundane as tossing out the trash.

“Let’s kill him. If that really is the doctor from those ghost stories, then he’s just that idiot who cracked his skull doing something dumb on the stairs, right? I don’t know what turned him into this, but he was already garbage when he was alive. I doubt he’ll mind if we put him down again.”

“Wait, Levi—you actually believe us? You really—”

“No, that’s not it. I trust you guys. That’s different. And both of you better remember this: that doctor has an accomplice somewhere in here. If you want to stay alive, start questioning everything. Everyone.”

McCullan made a move toward her again, probably to get clingy, but she pushed him back with a glare that made her warning hit even harder.

Seojun stood there, honestly stunned. He’d expected her to laugh the whole thing off, at least until she saw that Nurse with her own eyes. But she was rolling with the supernatural like it was just another Tuesday.

Maybe that’s what happens when you gather people from an occult forum. Their brains are already wired for this kind of thing.

Even so, Seojun couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his gut. Levi being on board didn’t change the facts. They were still in deep trouble: a vengeful insane doctor possibly back from the dead, a Nurse who couldn’t be taken down by normal means, and now a mystery accomplice hiding somewhere nearby.

Seojun stood frozen, face drawn and eye unfocused. He knew he had to move—do something—anything. This wasn’t the time to shut down. But the situation felt hopeless.

Hold on.

A thought struck him. If the doctor from both ghost stories was the same person… then maybe there was a way. Seojun thought back to the Factory Manager at Happy Pig Factory. If this unhinged doctor really had died by tumbling down the stairs, maybe they could beat him by recreating that death. And didn’t Seojun have pepper spray? The very thing that caused the original fall?

Color rushed back into Seojun’s face. His obsidian eye lit up with sudden purpose, the shift so startling, like a flower blooming in the dead of summer, that Levi instinctively stepped back. There was something deeply unnerving about watching someone get excited over a murder plan.

But before Seojun could say anything, the moment was gone. His shoulders dropped. The light vanished from his eye. He’d given the pepper spray to Luciel.

All we have to do is just stroll past that walking arsenal of a nurse, retrieve the spray, and make it back in one piece. If it was that simple, we wouldn’t be stuck here in the first place.

His brief spark of hope fizzled out completely. Seojun felt like his legs were trapped in tar. He couldn’t bring himself to move. And even if the plan worked on the doctor… it still left the Nurse. He had no idea how to deal with her.

Maybe if we take out the doctor, the Nurse will vanish too…

Yeah. When had anything ever been that convenient?

While Seojun stood there frozen, Levi scratched furiously at her head, lips pushed into a frustrated pout.

“Okay, so I thought the doctor was just some guy, right? Get enough of us together, rush him, boom, problem solved. I didn’t know we were dealing with a ghost.” She shrugged, completely unfazed. “But if he’s already dead? Even better. I’ll feel less bad about beating his ass into the floor.”

Why is she so violent like this?

Seojun kept his horror internalized. Meanwhile, McCullan—who seemed to have drowned whatever pride he had in a pint of beer—was quick to jump on board.

“She’s not wrong, Seojun. It’s him or us. We just do what we did to the Factory Manager.”

He said it like it was some kind of solemn vow, but Seojun almost laughed. As if McCullan had been the one who did anything back then. Still, instead of calling him out, he decided to drag them back to reality.

“Right. Because we handled Samantha so well. She had us scrambling like terrified rats, remember?”

“I—well, that’s…”

Yeah, McCullan had nothing.

Now that Seojun thought about it, that Factory Manager had been pretty pathetic. Dead or alive, the guy was the same screwup. According to the worker’s journal they’d found, he’d failed at literally everything—his job, his haunting, you name it. But maybe he wasn’t totally useless. Fighting him had taught them something: you didn’t need to be a trained exorcist to fight back. Just stubborn enough. Seojun had figured out how to banish a ghost from that experience. Maybe that was the key.

So the plan was simple. Avoid the Nurse. Find Luciel. Get the pepper spray back. Use it to finish the doctor.

All that was left… was figuring out how the hell to avoid the Nurse.

Still, even having the rough outline of a plan felt like progress in this hellhole. Seojun forced himself to hold onto that. Better than his usual spiraling. He shoved aside the nagging thought that one of them might be working with the doctor. And the memory of stupidly refusing the pepper spray when Luciel tried to hand it back? Yeah, best not to dwell on that either. If he did, he’d probably end up slapping himself in the face.

Seojun’s stomach twisted in a tight cramp. He pressed a hand to it, forced himself to breathe, and managed to speak.

“Let’s head further in. We’re cornered here. If something comes for us, we’re screwed.”

They moved deeper into the hospital, tired, each footstep heavier than the last. The silence was unnerving, but Levi couldn’t stay quiet for long. Barely ten feet in, she broke it.

“So? What’s the plan?”

“I want to find the keys to the emergency exits. Keeping all the doors locked is killing us.”

“Seriously? You want to waste time looking for keys in this place?”

McCullan cut in, voice sharp with disbelief. He wasn’t wrong. Finding a tiny key in an abandoned hospital—especially in the dark, with ghosts actively trying to kill them—was a long shot. Seojun grimaced but kept his tone steady.

“There’s one place I want to check. Just one. If it’s not there, we move on.”

“Move on to where?”

Levi pulled the collapsible baton from her pocket, snapping it open as she spoke. Her eyes swept the hallway, alert. The baton looked solid, more reliable than anything Seojun was carrying. He found himself wishing he had one too.

“I say we retrace your path, Levi. Head up to the second floor, then try the emergency stairs to the basement. You said you didn’t check if the basement exit was locked, right?”

Levi nodded “Yeah. Didn’t really see the point.”

“If the basement exit’s open, we might be able to link up with Luciel from there.”

Levi wrinkled her nose, clearly less than thrilled at the idea. The reaction caught Seojun off guard until it clicked.

Right. I never told her about the pepper spray.

From Levi’s point of view, why would she want to reconnect with a bunch of strangers she barely trusted? He opened his mouth to explain, then spotted the emergency exit up ahead. Still locked. Of course it was.

Seojun’s face fell. Nothing about this was going to be easy. Not that he’d expected any different. They’d broken into an abandoned hospital like idiots, and now the place was eating them alive for it.

“You thinking the same thing?”

“Hm?”

Levi’s voice cut into his thoughts. He looked down to find her watching him with those sharp, searching eyes.

“Regretting coming here?”

Crap. Had he been talking out loud again? Heat crept up Seojun’s neck as he fumbled for a reply, but the words didn’t come. Levi let out a quiet sigh and turned her gaze away.

“Well, I regret it. Whoever suggested this place, I hope their phone’s busted so they can’t ever post again. Why here of all places? If I had my phone, I’d be tearing them apart in the comments. Mina’s probably thinking the same thing.”

Levi kicked at a piece of debris, scowling.

“Should’ve just stayed home doing push-ups. If we’d done that, we’d all still be living our boring, normal lives. Same as always. Peaceful.”

“Maybe.”

Seojun’s voice came out quieter than he expected. Something about the bitterness in hers had reached him. He looked around at the ruined lobby, the cracked tiles and overturned chairs. He licked his lips and winced when it stung.

“Or maybe not. Just because today’s peaceful doesn’t mean tomorrow will be.”

Levi looked up, brow furrowed. “What are you, a pessimist? Or one of those fate people? Like, everything’s already written? That this whole disaster was bound to happen? That me hauling 165 pounds of muscle up and down stairs was, what, destiny?”

She sniffled a little, trying to play it off, but her misery still showed through.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Seojun nudged a plastic baby doll across the floor with the toe of his shoe, sending it spinning beneath the waiting room chairs.

“I’m just saying… the future isn’t fixed. The world’s not some prewritten movie script.”

Levi gave him a look like he’d lost his mind. Why was he suddenly talking about movies? The expression stung. It put him on the same level as McCullan, and that was not a comparison he could stomach. Flustered, Seojun tried again.

“Look, just… don’t end up like that doctor, okay? Even kids’ books get this stuff right. Like PipiPepe’s Neighbor Edition or whatever. Be decent. Watch your mouth. Don’t be a jerk. It’s not that deep.”

Levi stared at him like he was an old man who just recited a fortune cookie.

“Morals from a picture book? Seriously?” She squinted. “I mean, yeah, sure—don’t be a jackass. Great advice. But now feels like a weird time to go all PBS on me.” She crossed her arms. “For the record, I am a model citizen. I recycle.”

And with that, their philosophical detour was over. She wandered back toward McCullan, who was still spooked and waving his phone flashlight around like it was a torch in a dungeon. He was mid-whine about his battery percentage when he spotted her and immediately puffed up like he’d just led a successful charge.

Seojun let them have their moment. He turned toward the reception area, picking his way through broken tile and scattered junk. When he’d scouted the first floor with Luciel’s group earlier, this had looked like the best spot to find staff belongings. Maybe even a set of keys. Behind the reception desk was a small office space, or what remained of it.

Can’t tell if it never had a door or if something just tore it clean off.

Seojun leaned in. A busted copy machine sat against the wall beside a row of dented metal lockers. His flashlight swept over the gloom, revealing dust-coated desks, a warped whiteboard, ceiling panels with wires dangling like vines. An old landline phone hung crookedly on the wall, useless.

Lockers and desk drawers. That’s where he’d start. At least someone had already knocked over the pen holder saving him the trouble. Seojun pulled his shirt over his nose, bracing against the dust, and stepped inside—

Scrape. Click. Scrape…

His blood went cold. He knew that sound.