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.
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.
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:
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.
“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.
The Invisible Man’s Mansion... it’s this place?
Seojun stared at the diary, disbelief twisting across his face. He could still hear Tim’s voice in his head, the details hazy, but the feverish tone unmistakable.
It was an odd sentence. Seojun’s fingers hesitated above the paper, barely brushing its surface. At first glance, the words seemed to carry a hint of concern, but the sharp, stretched handwriting had a distinctly cold undertone. Could you really get a sense of someone’s personality just from the way they wrote? Or was his mind playing tricks on him again?
The Wizard’s hands and feet were still untied, and his head wasn’t covered with a sack or anything. So, maybe he could still escape by trying out different codes, right? Seojun hoped he could get out first, call 911, and report the kidnapping. Still, it was always wise to hear someone out, even if they weren’t speaking in Korean.
The voice that cut through the dead silence of the courtroom was far from human, amplifying the eerie stillness that gripped the room. Seojun’s room had no windows, its heavy doors locked tight, trapping him in a suffocating, claustrophobic space. The air was thick and cold, buzzing with a sense of dread you could almost touch.
Click, click. Click, click...
The grating sound of metal scraping against metal, followed by a soft rustling, assaulted Seojun’s ears. Every inch of his body ached—neck, shoulders, back, waist, arms, legs—there wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t in pain. His throat was parched, and his tongue felt like sandpaper. His eyelids were heavy and gritty, and his chest was so tight that even breathing had become a struggle. When he tried to move, his joints groaned like rusty machinery in desperate need of oil.
Johan, thankfully, was strapped in tight. His seatbelt dug into him as the car fishtailed, saving him from a smashing into the dashboard. He gripped the wheel, knuckles bone-white, wrestling the car back under control. Outside, the world was a dizzying blur, his mind a scrambled mess of thoughts.
Tim swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a buoy in a storm. It was a dead giveaway that he was nothing like the vengeful ghost, Timothy, from his made up chilling tale. Johan’s words tightened around his throat, choking the air from his lungs like an invisible hand.