Chapter 5
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: No More Nightmares
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The text in this novel, including all characters, events, and places, is fictional and may differ from reality.
Scene.5 No More Nightmares
A creaking old sofa.
The glow of the TV, the soccer commentary, the caster's rough voice.
Distorted shadows clinging to the wall.
Cackles of laughter reminiscing about crimes.
Bullshit agreement, saying "that's how it was back then."
Yu-hyeon, who had crept silently down the hall from the kitchen to the living room, checked the layout from behind the corner wall.
*Hoo!*
A single, sharp breath.
Yu-hyeon's figure shot across the living room, and a gleaming kitchen knife sliced across Couchon's neck.
"Gack!"
The man wore a look of 'Huh? What's this?' before blood spurted out in a long arc. He quickly clutched his neck, but that was hardly enough to stop the bleeding.
As blood continuously gushed between his fingers and his body rapidly grew cold, Couchon was seized by terror.
"Sauvez-moi...."
Staggering back, swaying from side to side, Couchon tripped on the edge of the sofa and fell flat on his back.
Alarmed, Couchon flailed his hands, but there was nothing to grab. Blood just splattered with his frantic gestures.
First bewildered, then startled, the other two men immediately spewed curses.
"Merde!"
"Putain! Qui est-ce?"
Whether they screamed or cursed, Yu-hyeon paid them no mind.
What was the reason they'd made this place their hideout?
A secluded spot.
A hidden place.
A place with no people around.
To kidnap, kill, and rape people.
This was the space they'd prepared for that.
*Swish!*
The paring knife in Yu-hyeon's hand cut sharply through the air.
Jang Man-ho, who was picking up a trophy from the stand, was stabbed in the shoulder and screamed, "Aargh!"
The amateur boxing tournament runner-up trophy, the very proof he'd often flaunt while claiming he was once a promising boxer, rolled across the floor along with its owner.
Jang Man-ho, who had collapsed to the floor with a scream, clutched his shoulder and staggered back, but this time, the gleaming kitchen knife plunged into him.
"Hiiik!"
*Thrust! Shlick!*
The kitchen knife that had pierced his abdomen was pulled out and sliced across Jang Man-ho's thigh.
"Aargh! Agh!"
The hand clutching his shoulder moved to his abdomen, then his thigh. He gestured frantically, trying to stop the bleeding just as Couchon had, but it was useless.
As Jang Man-ho unintentionally assumed a half-squatting horse stance, Yu-hyeon's foot flew out.
*Thwack!*
"Ugh!"
Kicked in the neck, Jang Man-ho tumbled to the floor with a crash. He gasped repeatedly, unable to breathe.
Yu-hyeon immediately followed and shoved the knife into his throat.
"Gurgle!"
As his life faded, the question 'Why?' was etched deep in Jang Man-ho's eyes.
Shameless bastard. You really don't know why?
Even in this moment, you have no regard for those who have died or are dying at your hands. You piece of trash!
In an instant, Couchon was down and Jang Man-ho was neutralized.
Yu-hyeon, who had done this to them, looked at Liong with cold eyes.
His eyes wide with shock, Liong quickly drew a butterfly knife.
*Ch-chak! Ch-chak!*
He repeatedly flipped the knife open and closed, showing off the characteristic fluttering of a butterfly knife, but he didn't seem to have the courage to charge at Yu-hyeon.
His eyes, darting all over the place, were focused solely on figuring out how to escape.
The kitchen knife, stained with the blood of Couchon and Jang Man-ho, was aimed at Liong. Only then could Liong get a good look at the person who had wrecked the living room.
A face that looked young at a glance. An ordinary build, of a common sort, and a height of about 170 cm. On top of that, he was Asian.
'We were taken down by a guy like this?'
Liong was dumbfounded. And terrified.
An expressionless face, devoid of even a speck of emotion. Blood splattered red against his pale skin, unusual for an Asian.
The light from the TV screen made Yu-hyeon's appearance all the more grotesque.
"Who are you? What the hell are you doing!"
Liong shouted, swinging his knife from side to side.
"Your past. Ah, or is it your future?"
"What kind of bullshit is that!"
Barging in without the owner's permission, attacking for no reason, and this is what he says.
What? Past? Future? At that age, with that face... if he's the type to spout nonsense.
'He's crazy. Just a psycho.'
Liong spat out his assessment of Yu-hyeon.
"Crazy bastard... fucking murderer."
"At least."
".....?"
"To the three of you, that's right. I really wanted to kill you like crazy."
As Liong was about to speak again in response to Yu-hyeon's incomprehensible words, the kitchen knife lunged into the opening. Startled, Liong swung his knife.
*Clack! Ting!*
A handle made to be gripped well by anyone. Compared to the weight and sturdiness of the kitchen knife, Liong's butterfly knife was endlessly light and focused on looking cool.
When the butterfly knife collided with the kitchen knife and was pushed aside, unable to withstand the force, Yu-hyeon's blade immediately slid along its side and lopped off Liong's thumb.
*Slice! Snip!*
The half-severed thumb dangled loosely, and blood welled up.
"Uwaaagh!"
Belatedly realizing the situation, Liong grabbed his dangling thumb and screamed.
Making such a fuss over losing a thumb.
I'd been shot, stabbed, and had my bones broken countless times.
The day I was chased by those African rebels, I had to crawl through a swampy jungle for over half a month.
I'd nearly died from respiratory distress due to poisonous insects biting me more than once or twice.
And yet, the reason I managed to survive and climb out of that hell...
was for one thing only! To get revenge on you bastards.
For me, every single day was hell, and life itself was a curse.
And you scream like you're dying just because you lost a finger?
Damn it!
To think I lost my father to such pathetic scumbags, and on top of that, I groveled under them for a year.
To think I ran away in such a hurry, afraid of guys like this!
I... my whole life!
I struggled with those painful memories, floundering in them...
So you guys were just this pathetic.
Scum who don't care about others' pain, who only think of themselves!
And even as you're dying, all you can say is...
Why? Why are you doing this? You sons of bitches. Is that all you have to say?
He brought the tip of the knife to Liong's throat.
Liong, who had been sobbing while clutching his thumb, trying to somehow reattach it, suddenly reeked of ammonia. He had pissed himself.
"No more."
"Th... that is. I mean. I was wrong. S-save..."
"No more nightmares!"
*Shlick!*
The metallic scent of blood instantly filled the living room.
*
He sat vacantly on the sofa, staring at the TV.
His sense of smell must have gone numb; he could no longer detect the stench of blood.
The commentator's frustrated voice droned on. It seemed the home team had lost.
In my past life, I killed on command. In this new life, I've killed of my own volition.
A complex storm of emotions, both relieved and regretful, swirled within him.
Was it because, while his mind was that of a fifty-year-old man, his body was only that of a sixteen-year-old boy? His hands kept trembling and his breath grew ragged from the unfamiliar sensations.
"Huuuh—"
A long sigh escaped him, as if his lungs were spilling out of his mouth.
Slowly, Yu-hyeon got up, picked up the kitchen knife from the floor, and placed it in Jang Man-ho's hand.
Then he gave the paring knife that had been stuck in Jang Man-ho's shoulder to Couchon, and the butterfly knife to its original owner, Liong.
He moved the bodies, arranging them to look as if a knife fight had broken out between them.
It was pointless to make detailed adjustments since he was going to burn the house down anyway, but old habits made him move that way.
After cleaning up, Yu-hyeon walked to the bathroom. He had to wash off the blood on his body before he could go back.
After showering, Yu-hyeon mixed bleach with water and cleaned the bathroom. The bathroom might not burn completely, so he had to erase his traces as much as possible.
He'd have to throw away the clothes and shoes he was wearing. He moved to the basement storage to find a change of clothes.
The targets of their attacks, chosen simply for being travelers, immigrants, or women.
This was where their belongings were kept.
As he was rummaging through a suitcase, looking for suitable clothes, he heard a rustling sound from the darkness within.
Yu-hyeon grabbed a lantern from a shelf and quickly shone it in the direction of the sound. A woman came into view, her hands and feet bound, thrown on the floor.
The light was too dim to see clearly, but the girl looked to be his age or even younger.
No matter how crazy they were for women, were they going after kids now?
"Liong... pervert, you crazy bastard."
The moment he saw the girl, a curse escaped his lips automatically.
'No one can know I was here.'
For a moment, Yu-hyeon hesitated, wondering whether to turn and leave, or to rescue the girl and leave with her.
'You idiot. If you see someone, you save them! What is there to even think about!'
Shaking off his hesitation, Yu-hyeon started to approach her, but then turned back and rummaged through the suitcase again.
She must be terrified enough as it is; he couldn't approach her naked.