The Death of Jack O'Lantern

It was fortunate the young man had only struck with a thin, controlled chop. Had he swung with everything he had, the boy's neck would certainly have snapped.

"Cough—cough!"

"Does it hurt? We're nowhere near finished. Anyone who praises death ought to praise pain as well. Can't you even live up to the aesthetics you yourself preached? Hmm?"

The young man's tone was gentle, yet thick with murderous intent. Only then did the boy understand he had chosen the wrong path. This man would kill without hesitation—child or woman, it made no difference if the situation required it. Such people were rare in Korea; that was why he had let his guard down. He never should have followed him in the first place!

"Aaaah!"

The boy tried to scream. Another slap exploded against his face, this time from the opposite side. Another molar shattered; the inside of his mouth ruptured and flooded with blood.

"What? Online you were an adult. So why, the moment you have to take responsibility, do you start crying like a child? Trying to call for help? Don't make me laugh, you little bastard."

The young man drove a low kick into the boy's leg.

Crack!

No child's leg could withstand such a vicious blow. Agony surged through the thigh, instantly paralyzing the lower body and forcing him to wet himself. Hyun-woo collapsed where he stood, urine soaking his pants.

This was not ordinary violence. It was violence steeped in killing intent, violence that made one feel death pressing close—to the boy, it was death itself. He was not dead yet, of course, but for a child who had never faced death before, it was more than enough.

"Kh… S-stop!"

"Why should I listen to you? Jack O'Lantern? Ah, right. I do get the urge to kill myself sometimes."

The beating paused.

"But I'm not about to layer your words over my own suicidal impulses. If I die, I'll die because I want to. I have no intention of dying just to satisfy some intellectual vanity of yours."

The assault resumed. The young man never delivered a blow that would knock the boy out. If only the first slap had rendered him unconscious—there would be no more merciful strikes like that now. Another low kick from the opposite side… stomping, kicking, stomping…

"Does it hurt?"

The young man's voice was flat, devoid of flavor. No guilt over beating a child, no pleasure at catching Jack O'Lantern, no shame at the abuse, no thrill of violence. He beat the boy with the mechanical air of a man simply doing what needed to be done.

"Come on, speak. The right to decide your own life is yours, isn't it? Tell me. Do you want to die? Or do you want to live?"

"…"

"Hitting you in the throat doesn't silence you right away. The vocal cords are protected by the larynx. Unless you stab and crush them properly, a chop to the neck strong enough to steal your voice should already have taken your life."

"…"

"So if you don't answer, I'll take it as acting. Here."

He stomped his combat boot down on the boy's already swollen thigh. A hoarse scream tore from the child's throat.

"Aaaaagh!"

"Just a little longer and you'll actually die. Hurry up and answer. Do you want to die? Or do you want to live?"

Like a merciless tyrant, the young man pressed the question relentlessly. Even through the pain that kept jolting his fading consciousness in the dark parking garage, the boy understood exactly what it meant.

If he answered that he wanted to die, the boy named Hyun-woo would die and Jack O'Lantern would live.

If he answered that he wanted to live, the boy named Hyun-woo would live and Jack O'Lantern would die.

He was being forced to answer in order to survive, yet the choice still belonged to him. Whichever he picked, someone would die—and that death would be a suicide. The boy hesitated for a moment… but the violence gave him no time to waver.

"I-I want to live!"

"…"

The young man's attacks stopped. He snorted a laugh at the boy, then walked toward the parking garage exit.

"You've got a phone, right? Call an ambulance yourself, rich little young master."

"…"

"Brat…"

The young man muttered something more after that, but the boy's consciousness cut out.

"How did it go?"

Silvester made no effort to hide his interest in the matter; he was waiting with his car parked out front. Se-geon climbed onto his bike, rolled his neck, and answered.

"I killed Jack O'Lantern."

"Not great. I'll give you twenty points."

"That's a harsh score."

Se-geon protested, yet he knew perfectly well that what he had just done was no different from some pathetic adult beating a kid after getting an item stolen in an online game. Still, his opponent had long since stopped being a child in any mental sense.

He could not forgive the idea of letting the boy walk free simply because the law considered him underage. Where were the families of those who had lost their lives to a child's hands supposed to turn for redress? Of course the law existed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for order, not for revenge. But what moved human beings was eighty percent emotion.

Taking that into account, Se-geon had been more than rational by stopping at a thrashing, harsh as it was. Perhaps that was why he grumbled with open regret still plain on his face.

"It's a little disappointing that the law won't punish him at all, but after the beating I gave him he'll be looking at a full eight weeks of recovery. His thinking should change some. When you kill people by fooling around with words on a computer monitor, maybe human lives start looking like a joke… but a guy like that… he just doesn't know real darkness."

"Soft…"

Calling someone soft after beating a kid badly enough to need eight weeks of recovery would sound bizarre to most people. Yet Silvester delivered that verdict after seeing Se-geon leave the boy alive. Se-geon looked indignant and shot back.

"So there was a better way? Should I have killed him?"

He grumbled on, then checked his watch.

"Ah!"

He immediately kicked the motorcycle to life and hurried. Silvester raised an eyebrow at him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing… I have to go commit suicide."

"Suicide?"

"Cancel my resident registration!"

Se-geon shouted the words and tore off on the bike. Silvester watched him go and let out a quiet snort of laughter.

"Incomprehensible brat."

Silvester drew a breath of the cool air and opened the Corvette's door. Even if the kid was just a little brat, he should have been killed. But if Se-geon had simply murdered him, how would that make Se-geon any different from Sarhyuk?

"It was fun, at any rate… but I don't like being played by someone else's hand."

Silvester muttered the complaint as he slid into the Corvette. The chain of suicides under the name Jack O'Lantern had definitely been the work of that little brat. Yet not every part of the affair could have been his doing alone. The information delivered through white magic was one thing…

Tick-tick-tick-tick.

In the quiet of night, so still that the clock's gears could be heard clearly, Hyun-woo woke in a hospital room. He examined his body. The only place that showed signs of a blade was the inside of his mouth; everywhere else they had simply hung an IV without a single stitch. How thoroughly did someone have to know how to beat a person to wreck him this completely? Severe enough that surgery was barely necessary… But Hyun-woo, unused to violence, simply smacked his lips and looked at the clock.

The wall clock in the hospital room pointed to three in the morning. Fruit and other gifts piled on the table suggested a stream of visitors had come. That meant the media had been and gone. Come to think of it, he half-remembered confessing to the crime while being loaded into the ambulance.

"Tch."

In the end he had admitted that Jack O'Lantern was a mask. Because he had bowed to overwhelming violence, resentment surged up hot. To yield to a man who was not even particularly remarkable—someone who merely held a violent advantage—was such an uncool outcome that the boy who had been drunk on being Jack O'Lantern drowned in fierce self-loathing.

"Kh…"

Yet the final choice had still been his. Die as Jack O'Lantern, or live as Hyun-woo. Forced into that decision, of course he had no choice but to abandon Jack O'Lantern and live as Hyun-woo.

"Still… ah…"

Trying to speak made the inside of his mouth scream. Everything was torn, so of course it did. Was he going to have to live with a feeding tube? Suddenly genuine fear rose. A kid who had nearly died—and who until then had claimed death didn't scare him much—was now terrified of something as small as a tube? Hyun-woo realized once again how foolish he had been.

Kh… Should I just be grateful I survived?

That young man had not been the type to choose a harsh method in order to teach him about life. If Hyun-woo had asked to be killed, if he had chosen Jack O'Lantern over himself, the man would have killed him without fail. He was more than capable of it. So this had been the wise choice.

"…"

What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠happens now? Jack O'Lantern was a criminal. Under current law a minor received no punishment for crime. Instead the record would cling to the human named Hyun-woo for the rest of his life, impossible to erase. After free nationwide advertising like this, how could it be otherwise?

"Huu…"

Nothing came out but a sigh. And the places he had been hit hurt terribly. This was violence of an entirely different dimension from children's fights. No matter how he looked at it, beating a helpless kid this savagely seemed excessive, didn't it? Of course it was rich for Jack O'Lantern—who had killed more than a dozen people—to complain like that, but at this rate he would be stuck in a hospital bed for nearly two or three months.

Whooooosh.

Wind blew in. Hyun-woo flinched and looked toward the window. The window was closed—so where was the sound of wind coming from?

Creeeeak!

The hospital room door opened. Not as if someone had pushed it, but with a naturalness as though the door itself could no longer bear its own weight.

A chill ran down Hyun-woo's spine as he stared at the doorway. Something… something seemed to have moved, yet he could not tell what. What was that? This was starting to feel like a ghost story!

"Soft."

A man's voice spoke from behind Hyun-woo. And then—

Crunch!

Fangs sank into the nape of the boy whose heart had nearly dropped from shock. The thing bit down, lifted his small body, and began to drink. Already half his blood had been replaced by IV fluid; the abused little body had no strength left. Cutting off his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breath took only an instant.

Sluuurp. Sluuurp!

It kept drinking until nothing remained of Hyun-woo but an empty husk. How long did it feed?

Thud.

The shadow that discarded Hyun-woo wiped the blood running down its chin.

"The game went too far, kid."

Leaving only those words, it slowly melted into the dark.