#120
Seojun’s feet moved forward on their own, like a ghost had taken control of them, pulling him along without a care for what he wanted. The door creaked open, its rusty hinges groaning into the silence.
#119
The CCTV camera’s lens shone with an obsessively polished gleam, reflecting a pair of dark, pitch-black eyes. If the camera had been installed after the typhoon, that left a new troubling question:
#118
Seojun jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his chest heaving as though he had just surfaced after being held underwater for far too long. His body convulsed, limbs thrashing wildly against the rough, dusty floor beneath him. Gradually, his senses returned, and with them came the disorienting realization that he had finally escaped the grasp of the past.
#117
Why was Seojun the only one bearing all the weight when there were two brains between them? The realization hit him like a stroke of genius, and he clapped his hands, a small swell of pride rising in his chest. Sure, the burlap sack and gloves muffled the sound, but he wasn’t about to let that ruin the moment.
#116
Seojun’s face stiffened at the Wizard’s teasing words. For once, he was actually grateful for the rough burlap sack hiding his expression. He never thought something so annoying could bring him comfort, but here he was, oddly relieved by it.
#115
The Wizard’s words clung to Seojun like a thick glaze of honey, sweet at first but quickly turning sour. “Lucky for you?” The words felt wrong. Seojun had never considered himself lucky, not even once in his entire existence.
#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.
#113
Do shared birthdays imply shared fates? Both of them seem to be severely cursed.
Though the exact time was impossible to determine, Seojun couldn’t help but sigh at the tragic lives of S and T. Born on the same day, yet locked away, enduring one cruel experiment after another. His own misfortunes weren’t insignificant, but imagining what they went through made his chest tighten with horror. He shook his head, clicked his tongue, and forced himself to refocus on the remaining notes.
#112
Seojun could practically hear the shameless voice of the middle-aged man echoing in his mind, a faint yet lingering like an unwelcome memory. He imagined a woman with pale, almost bloodless fingers, gently caressing the puffy, red corners of her eyes. Her hand floated weightlessly in the air, while beneath the harsh, cold moonlight, she wept silently. The night swallowed her sobs, leaving them unheard.
#111
Has he lost his mind?
The thought barged into Seojun’s mind, stubbornly refusing to leave even after the Wizard’s maniacal laughter finally died down. The sound still echoed in his ears, leaving a chilling residue of insanity. Amusement clung to the Wizard’s voice like static as he spoke again:
#110
The news that D had managed to become invisible hit Seojun harder than he expected. He’d already heard the story from Tim, so he knew it was only a matter of time before she was able to do it. But there’s a world of difference between knowing something in theory and seeing it with your own eyes. The impossible had become real, and no amount of mental prep could dull the surreal feeling that came with it.
#109
“Uuugh…”
Seojun let out a pained groan, frowning as he tried to work out the kinks in his back and shoulders with his gavel. He’d been so engrossed in the notebook that he hadn’t even noticed his muscles tensing up, protesting every time he moved. No surprise, really. Getting kidnapped by someone who knocked people out without a second thought and then tying them to a chair was far from a relaxing spa experience.