Storm-Summoning Love Doll Locked-Room Murder Case (7): Knock? You're Knocking? <em>Here</em>?
"Unacceptable."
In my dictionary, knocking has no right to exist. Whether it's even a living thing or not is beside the point.
Whoever's out there, I get it—they've slapped a 'locked room' label on this space itself, setting up some inexplicable murder method that no one can ever explain away.
A locked room is the most basic cliché in the book. Where do people die the most in horror movies? Elevators, bathrooms, bedrooms, basements, tunnels—even inside closets. All places completely cut off from the outside, where being left alone raises an instant death flag.
In other words, any space stamped with the 'locked room' concept is perfect breeding ground for ghost stories or anomalies, regardless of time or place. Especially if there's a human left alone inside—or even a group—it can sow terror and chaos, and carry out a hunt that claims at least one life.
That's why, the moment I laid eyes on this place, I knew it wasn't some altar for offering sacrifices. No, this isn't a ritual site for presenting dead victims. It's more like a playground where they release live prey for the targets to enjoy.
But that still leaves one nagging question.
Why didn't anything like this happen last year?
The Love Doll Experience Event hosted by Demonbozi.com was held at this same time last year, too. Most of the people here with us had participated then. And saying it changed just because S-man and I joined feels off—we signed up right before the event, literally half a day earlier in real time.
No way they prepped a stage this big in half a day. No reason to, either. Which means it was planned this way from the start...
I turned to the group standing rigidly behind me and tossed out a question.
"Anyone here participate two years ago—the year before last? Raise your hand."
No one did.
"Okay, then: I learned about this event from people around me. Hands up."
A few hands went up this time. Mostly folks in their 20s or 30s, not much older than me.
I had them gather in front of S-man. Six people total moved forward. Including me and S-man, that made eight on our side—and eight on theirs. Perfectly split down the middle.
"Now, final question. I made new participants drink with me right away upon meeting them. Hands up."
The six in front of S-man didn't raise theirs. The 40s-to-60s crowd stayed silent.
Men in their 40s to 60s—what we call boomers or fossils—mostly in groups of three or four. The ones who sidled up pretending to be friendly the moment young folks like me and S-man showed up, shoving drinks our way.
"In the honor of the old man whose rice cake soup I spilled, causing his burns, I hereby declare all mysteries of this gathering solved!"
I struck a dramatic pose, and S-man obligingly queued up some master detective BGM beside me.
"First, the secret of this space! It's a forest lodge smack in the middle of the woods. A little spot made for visitors to enjoy themselves, and we call that fun 'the event.' Next, the targets! Who the hell is this event for? Simple: those who feed on pure human blood, fear, and chaos for kicks."
"Then what's the purpose?!"
As the duuun! BGM blared, I kicked the door where the knocking had stopped, sending it flying. Nothing was there. Of course—there had to be nothing out front for some 'terrified someone' to burst out in a panic.
"The purpose? Nothing fancy. They just want us wandering this forest endlessly, getting smashed until the event ends. We're the booze and meat in their feast of wine springs and hanging flesh."
Ju-ji-yuk-rim: artificial springs filled with booze, meat hung everywhere in the woods. This vile game from ancient China let invitees eat, drink, get wasted, and revel anywhere, anytime.
Locked rooms inside the forest, the event, booze and meat. All man-made. And this place?
"A forest lodge at a mountain campsite. Some bullshit 'Love Doll Experience' event. And booze you lot guzzled and passed around like it wouldn't kill you if you drank yourselves dead."
Finally, the meat soaked in booze.
"Us."
Think about it—it's weird. Love dolls are for young guys, right? How did these booze-hounds—who probably can't even get it up anymore—know to show up early, set up their drinking parties?
And the young folks not much older than me? They heard about it 'from people around them.' I got a spam text, sure. But how'd they find out? Not from anyone around them, yet they were here first, acting like they knew all along.
Plus, they kept the drinks flowing nonstop, pushing others to join in. Even when I was rummaging through rooms, weren't most spots packed with drinkers?
"S-man. Was there a drinking party in Room 205 too?"
"Yes. But... it wasn't your standard booze-up. Thick sulfur stench, bottles not filled with actual liquor—it looked like stage props prepped for a fake party. A drinking party to fool people."
Oh dear. My genius brain, certified IQ 150 with bonus points, had already cracked the whole conspiracy.
"Look at them, S-man. Old farts who can't even get hard anymore, gathering here to fuck—not real humans, mind you—a lump of silicone? You buying that?"
"Bodies pickled in booze and smokes, beer guts protruding, wrecked by high cholesterol and blood pressure—no way their dicks work right."
"Exactly. Guys who probably need Viagra just to satisfy the wife, showing up at this mountain lodge to bang silicone? Even a stray dog would laugh. With their yang energy drained and cocks on the fritz, booze whales like them enjoying that kind of fun? No shot."
And even if true, it doesn't add up.
"I tore this place apart—no love dolls, not even an onahole. How the hell were they planning to 'enjoy the event'?"
Which means the event was fake from the jump. But why drag their asses to this mountain for the hassle? There had to be a payoff.
"Demonbozi.com. Luring young guys here to feed the demons' fun, while they get demon pussy as reward."
Didn't that fossil who poured me soju first say something like this, all buddy-buddy?
"Heh heh, you'll get it once you try. This place is heaven on earth—known only to those in the know, open just once a year."
Known only to those in the know = just us. Once a year = young punks get one shot a year. Then they all die. Heaven on earth = demon pussy.
"S-man. What's the age range on the missing people?"
"All young."
"Ooh, so missing and dead are all young folks—and weirdly, only these geezers are fine?"
Come to think of it, they seemed unfazed by the whole mess from the start. Even with a murder in the restaurant, the big groups demanded large rooms, talked about boozing upstairs—steering the vibe.
One by one, the riddles clicked into place. My brilliant deduction nailed them right in the solar plexus. Rhyme popped, bridge burned.
"I'd tell them to open their mouths and spill if they've got the guts, but looks like they've got enough sense to stay quiet."
Realizing they were cornered, the fossils just glared with stiff faces—no moves.
We were the young side, they the old. Eight each. Pure brawn, they'd lose. One stepped forward anyway—their rep, the one who'd shoved soju at me and S-man first.
"Fine, you're right. We're fools who can't forget that once-a-year exquisite taste, coming back. But so what? Reality treats us like relics now. No authority at home, ignored at work, not mainstream anymore. If even we get a shot at courage and lust, what happens?"
That's when his sin fragments appeared in my eyes. By my standards—and his own view of 'sin'—they started seeping out. Peeking into the snippets was easy, especially tied to this incident.
Crack!
"Boss!"
I waved off the shouting S-man, blocking him. My eyes, peering into his sin, burst like a tomato.
Everything went black, like a PC with no power. Self-defense ruled, and the beetle necklace—hit with excessive corruption—shuddered in response.
Energy burst from the necklace, clipping the chandelier on the rec room ceiling. It snapped free, crashing down and pulping two of them. Glass and plastic shattered, spraying red blood everywhere.
"Oh? Looks like the one granting courage to has-beens and hot lust to cold bodies can't shield you from that kinda bad luck."
I know you. I saw you. I felt you. The filthy authority of the brave, booze-loving lord of lust is with them.
"Saleos."
As my sight returned, their bodies twisted grotesquely, merging into one mass of flesh.
"Oh, ooooooh! Will you use us, Lord?! No greater joy..."
Six humans and two corpses fused into a blood-clot giant, one hand clutching a skull chalice, the other a spine-bone sword. It descended.