Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Even If I Fall into a Ghost Story, I Have to Go to Work
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Baek Saheon opened his eyes.
In truth, it would be more accurate to say he hadn't slept a wink.
'Damn it.'
Ever since entering the 'Horizon Lodge,' he'd been on high alert, racking his brain for a way to survive intact and escape.
Half of that had involved reading Kim Sol-eum's moods and sucking up to him.
'That bastard.'
No shame in it. It was all for survival.
...Which was the same reason he was now debating whether to head to Kim Sol-eum's room.
'I need to gather some intel.'
That madman definitely knew something. He had to pry it out of him to secure an ace up his sleeve for survival.
But...
"......"
Was Kim Sol-eum really insane?
More precisely, why had he... let him live?
He knew the truth, really. At the exhibition, Kim Sol-eum could have killed him or used him as bait any number of times, but he hadn't.
Sure, he'd been screwed over a few times, but in the end...
'No!'
He'd done it for fun. Keeping him alive created more variables, more entertainment!
Baek Saheon jumped to that conclusion. He'd never met a freak like that before...
'...Still, he won't lie about the info.'
With that odd conviction, he opened his door...
Something was standing in front of it.
"...!!"
The lodge had already sunk into darkness as the sun set, so it took a moment to make out the silhouette right in front of him.
A man about his height.
...Kim Sol-eum.
'Fuck!'
He freaked out, but honestly felt a bit relieved too.
Better than some stranger.
At least he wouldn't try to kill him.
"Hey..."
Then his eyes, adjusted to the dark, picked it up.
Kim Sol-eum's calm eyes—and the axe in his hand.
"......"
'What?'
An axe.
He nearly rubbed his one good eye, but a plausible guess came to mind.
"You picked that up for protection against any murderers, right...?"
Suddenly, another thought flashed through Baek Saheon's mind.
The texts Kim Sol-eum kept sending.
[Watch out for the serial killer]
Maybe that was...
A warning?
"Goodbye."
The axe came down on his head.
And the next morning.
The couple stepped out of their room amid the pounding rain and realized a familiar melody was mixed in with the downpour.
Hm, hmm, uhmm, hmm hmm.
Humming.
"Isn't this the song that played when my car nav glitched out?"
"Oh, yeah, it sounds like it... You think the local radio's playing it?"
Breathing in the stale pre-dawn air still lingering, they clutched the cassette tape like treasure as they headed down the hall to the kitchen...
"Kyaargh!!"
And caught sight of something shoved into the kitchen stove.
The stove, charred black around the edges like it'd been stuffed with fireworks and toys before exploding, was packed full in a bizarre way.
A lump of charred coal.
And protruding from that dark red charcoal lump were two bent, rod-like things sticking out on either side.
With sneakers dangling from the ends.
Half-burnt human feet.
"Aaah!!"
"Mommy! That's a person!!"
"Oh god, oh god, what is this, oh god!!"
The screams and wails echoed through the lodge, drawing people downstairs one by one.
Who joined in the shrieking.
"What happe— Uwaaah!!"
"Heuk!!"
College kids, middle-aged taxi drivers—everyone panicked.
One even collapsed, face pale as a ghost.
The young office worker who'd claimed his throat hurt too much to speak and used a notepad.
But... weren't there supposed to be two office workers?
'No way!'
The couple pointed at the feet in the stove.
"That young guy who came with him... That's him, right? The one with the eyepatch! Eyepatch guy..."
The office worker stared into the charred sneakers, then covered his mouth and nodded faintly.
"Agh!!"
A person was dead.
Someone they'd been talking to just yesterday!
The realization hit, unleashing shouts and sobs everywhere.
"Call 119 right now!"
"What the fuck is this shit!!"
"This is why you don't mess with old kitchen stoves! One slip and boom, fire, accident!"
But deep down, a whisper nagged.
'Is it really an accident?'
The fire hadn't spread anywhere else, just neatly burned the one person...
In such a gruesome state?
'Maybe...'
Plunged into panic, they rushed for the phone.
And moments later.
A chill ran down their spines.
"Th-the phone's not working. No dial tone!"
"Manager! Where's the damn manager! Someone died here!"
But the lodge keeper who'd promised to look after them seemed genuine—no vanishing act.
Just heavy rain pouring in the dark mountains.
In the lodge, it was just them... and the humming.
"......"
"......"
Hm, hmm, uhmm, hmm hmm.
Outside, torrents of rain battered the windows. Overnight, a landslide had buried the bus stop in mud.
"The road... it's completely buried."
"My car!!"
And so they realized.
Hm, hmm, uhmm, hmm hmm.
Something was very wrong.
"Th-that... it was playing over there."
"......"
Next to the corpse jammed in the stove, a small, battered analog cassette player hummed.
Hm, hmm, uhmm, hmm...
Click.
One of the college students turned off the cassette player and pulled out what was inside.
A worn ivory tape.
"...!"
The pale-faced office worker yanked out his notebook and scribbled with trembling hands.
"Oh my god."
That was when the nightmare truly began.
Lunchtime.
There was decent soup and rice—prepared by the lodge keeper, maybe?—but no one touched it, as if by agreement.
Instead, they nibbled on their packed energy bars and snacks while wandering the lodge, hunting for a spot with phone signal.
No luck, of course.
Amid the storm, the gloomy lodge was cut off from the world, isolated and oppressive...
'This is driving me insane!'
One college student, fiddling with a dead SNS app, slumped in the living room and killed the screen in frustration.
"Fuck!"
"Dude's scared shitless."
His hiking club buddies mocked him, shoving each other and glancing at the stove's lone feet.
They even snuck a few photos for laughs, but their appetites were gone—no one opened their calorie bars or chocolate.
Still, they seemed looser than the terrified other guests.
Numbers game.
'We're three strong.'
Even if there was a killer, they wouldn't target the biggest group first, right? Not unless they were idiots.
'They'd go for loners or stragglers.'
That thought eased his nerves a bit.
"Hey..."
He was about to chat with his friends when—
Shove. A peanut chocolate bar appeared before him.
Turning, he saw the office worker, face ashen, holding up his notebook.
"Nah."
Gruff refusal. One friend snickered beside him.
"Dude can't eat peanuts."
The office worker sank back onto the sofa, looking glum again.
Assistant manager, was it? He'd seemed decent at first, but after seeing his colleague dead, he looked frail.
'Scaredy-cat.'
One good hit and he'd crumple, whimpering.
"Yo, wanna smoke?"
"Yeah. Fuckin' dying here."
His two friends vanished for a cig break.
The office worker fiddled with his dead phone, glanced darkly at the stove, then headed upstairs.
Silence fell.
"......"
Left alone unexpectedly.
A chill crept in.
'In movies, this is when they get jumped.'
The student jiggled his leg, scanning warily.
Feeling his pocket jackknife eased him briefly.
'Fuck, why'd they go off alone?'
He finally headed out back himself to find them, gripping the knife tight—back crawling, steps quickening.
He opened the kitchen back door to the rainy yard.
Creak.
Damp, musty water smell.
'Probably under shelter.'
No way they'd smoke in the rain. He'd circle the roofline to the connected shed.
But the farther he went, the weirder it felt.
Something fishy stung his nose.
'Rust?'
Like corroded metal.
Shed full of junk, maybe rain leaking on rust.
Guessing that, he rounded the corner.
"Yo, Park Kyung-soo..."
Then a nose-numbing iron stench hit.
"Wh-what...?"
An old construction shredder in the backyard shed.
And it seemed to work fine on more than wood.
Thud thud.
Minced meat poured from the chute instead of sawdust.
Shredded clothes, blood, flesh, bones—all pulped into a messy pile on the floor.
"......"
What was this?
What... the hell?
For a moment.
His brain refused to process, then lagged a beat and caught up.
He'd found his friends.
Minced.
"Urghhh...!"
As panic-fueled vomit and screams erupted—
Another sound mixed in.
From an old audio player.
Hm, hmm, uhmm, hmm hmm.
Cassette tape.
"Eek!"
The student spun and bolted back into the lodge, terror chasing him to his scalp.
"Hey kid, why are you run—"
"Aaagh!!"
He flailed wildly, slapping away the hand on his shoulder.
"Fuck off, don't come near me!"
"What the—?!"
He looked up.
The puzzled faces of the lodge guests.
And their common thread!
'Tapes!!'
Yes!
If the killer was after the tapes, that explained it!
He dug out his tape and thrust it up.
"Look at this! Here!"
Eyes wild, spit flying.
"I'm tossing this! Take it if you want! I-I fucking quit, okay?! I quit!!"
Smash!
He hurled the tape to the floor and sprinted madly to his second-floor room, slamming the door.
Locked it.
Finally breathed.
"Haaah..."
Anxiety rolled his eyes.
Mashed flesh and shattered bones flashed in his mind, pounding.
Thump.
Thump.
Barricade the door with furniture?
Thump.
No, it'd block his escape.
Thump.
He eyed the ornate mother-of-pearl wardrobe, conflicted, then pressed against the wall beside it, knife ready.
Staring holes through the door.
Thump...
Leaning back, breath steadied.
'Try opening it, I dare you...!'
He'd scream bloody murder and swing the knife. People would come running—what could the killer do!
Just stay vigilant.
"No way, no way..."
As he muttered frantically beside him...
Creak.
Softly,
the wardrobe opened.
And the next morning, the student greeted the others through his wide-open door.
His body swollen like sausage, bulging everywhere.
Allergic shock.
The hiking club was wiped out.
"Aaagh!!"
One office worker and three students turned to corpses in a day, and everyone lost it completely.
"Inheritance! Someone here's killing for inheritance cash, yeah! Kill us all, silence us, snag the tapes easy!"
"Honey, the lodge keeper's sus—that guy's a psycho! Look..."
"Ghosts! We're haunted!! Haha!!"
The shouting middle-aged man raved like a lunatic, shoving past people and bolting outside.
"Agh!"
Rumble.
Thunder crashed right on cue.
Or... something under it.
Boom!
"...!"
"What was that?!"
Stunned by the roar, they peered out the window.
The civil servant muttered grimly.
"...Landslide."
Perfectly timed, another one hit.
Swept up in the mudslide, the deranged man tumbled down the mountain.
Aaagh...
His scream faded into the dirt below.
Crushed for sure.
Rumble... Boom!
Thunder filled the air outside, lightning flashing.
"......"
"......"
A suffocating silence flowed between the frozen survivors...
Second night.
The couple, having scoured the lodge for any way to contact the outside, panted back to their room.
No luck, but they'd noticed something else.
"Eek, hic..."
"Fuck, breathe quieter, you idiot!"
"Agh!"
The husband, who'd introduced her as his wife, shoved her head hard and bolted from the living room up the second-floor hall, eyes trembling.
A man emerging cautiously from his room locked eyes with the bloodshot husband and flinched.
"You!!"
The notepad-using office worker.
He startled, pulling out his notebook to write—but the husband shook his find first.
"This... this gold frame...!"
He'd taken it from the living room wall.
Pointing wildly inside.
"People are dying just like this!"
"...!"
Baked in the kitchen, shredded in the backyard, swollen in the room!
"The keeper or whatever—he's toying with us! This might be broadcast! No, anyway, he's playing us for sure!"
The office worker's eyes widened in shock.
That reaction fueled the husband's certainty. He yelled.
"Next is the living room! Someone's getting sliced here! For sure! We gotta find a way out before—"
"Oh."
......
Eh?
Did he just... speak?
"Not bad observation, Brown."
"Brown?"
Those were the man's last words.
"Awake?"
The man lifted his head amid the throbbing pain.
"Mmph! Mmmph!"
Gag in his mouth—no words came out.
Still, he screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Mmmph!!"
The musty basement stench, the pitch blackness—not the main reasons for his screams.
There was another head beside his!!
Just the head!
"Mmph!"
The dead man's pallid face lay on a tray right by his nose.
He was losing his mind.
Tears, snot, cold sweat streamed down his ruined face as he begged for mercy with muffled cries.
But the gag swallowed it all.
"Mmmph, slurp, mmmph!"
"Scared? Hang in there. I'm enduring too."
A calm, steady voice replied.
The man rolled his eyes, straining away from the head, looking up.
And realized.
'That office worker...!'
A young man in a black tracksuit frowned down at him.
Glancing disdainfully at his bloody butcher gloves, he sighed and slipped them back on.
Then picked up the axe.
"Mmmph!!!"
"Why do people scream first, even knowing heads don't change? Just tires us out."
"Mmph!! Mmph!!"
"Don't waste stamina."
Madman.
This guy was the killer...!!
The man wanted to negotiate, beg, fight back—anything—but tight bonds and the gag allowed nothing.
Tears poured from his eyes.
"Ah, physical and mental pain easing a bit...? Yeah, something like that."
The office worker—no, Kim Sol-eum—checked the blade dryly.
Axe edge slid along the glove's rough side.
"Pretty rational, but I still don't like it."
Used as originally intended.
A sharp swing through empty air.
Thud.
Clang...
"......"
"......"
In the quiet workshop, Kim Sol-eum lowered the axe.
And said in a slightly brighter tone.
"Almost done."
