"What the Hell Are You People?"
"Wh-what the hell are you guys!"
A modest break room furnished only with a small bed sporting a mounted partition on the wall TV, and a single table. I'd been forcibly laid out on that bed, my limbs bound tight. A man watched the scene impassively, peering down at me with cold eyes as he muttered.
"Looks like you really have no self-awareness."
"Seems like a peculiar case even among the possessed, Father Seong."
"If the evil had truly surfaced into your conscious mind, you wouldn't have even drunk the holy water to begin with. Committing all those atrocities without any awareness at all... it's a bit tricky."
The two men, who had shed their black robe-like coats and folded them aside, wore the sort of black clerical garb you'd see in a cathedral. Only then did it click in my foggy head what was going on. Are these guys seriously thinking I'm some ghost-ridden lunatic and just grabbed me out of nowhere?
"No! Wait! There's some misunderstanding here. I'm..."
"Is that so? Yohan, do you think we've got the wrong guy too?"
"No, Father Seong."
"Then explain why not."
Yohan quietly flicked on the wall-mounted TV and tuned it to a news channel. It was just hitting 8 p.m., so the announcer kicked off with the breaking news.
"This is the 8 p.m. news breaking report. Another serial killing, presumed to be the work of the same culprit, has occurred in XX-dong, XX-gu, Seoul."
"The first victims were four employees from A Security Company: Baek, Kim, Lee, and another Kim. But the killings didn't stop there—a day later, the company president, Lee Jeongseok, was found dead, leading police to suspect the same perpetrator."
"With a total of 12 deaths so far, authorities have launched an intensive manhunt across the region. However, most crime scenes lacked CCTV coverage or had malfunctioning cameras, hampering the investigation."
"Ring any bells now?"
"No, what the... how the hell does that have anything to do with me?"
"Are you still clueless, or just playing dumb?"
The priest clicked his tongue at me, but I kept my eyes glued wide to the screen. The metro task force lead was out, briefing on the Seoul serial killings. Overlaps in murder methods, victim connections, timing at quiet spots—all pointing to a single killer. He vowed to deploy every resource to catch the bastard and urged citizens not to wander alone at night.
That's why the streets were so empty even this early. Normally, folks would be knocking back cocktails by now, but the bar had just these two. Made sense. But how'd they predict I'd show up here? And what made them link me to this shit and grab me on sight? I was fine as hell—why the demon stare?
"Yohan, start the record."
"Yes, sir."
Yohan hauled out a camcorder and tripod from his hefty briefcase, set it up in the corner, and hit record. On the table sat weird tools, a cross, and a Bible—prepped who-knows-when.
"No, wait—I really didn't do anything..."
"Our Father in heaven, deliver this lowly servant, the lost lamb, from evil. Shine your radiant holy light upon the darkness, and with your matchless omnipotence, judge the wicked. Forgive this pitiable lamb's sins. Amen."
The priest ignored me, launching into prayer on his own, then traced the sign of the cross on his forehead and chest. Listen to me, damn it! Why won't anyone hear me out? Why ignore and persecute me? What the fuck did I do? I didn't choose to be an orphan! As an adult, all I did was work my ass off while others played—what crime is that? Why dismiss my words, trample my dignity?!
"Respect me, you bastards!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Crackle! Zzzzap! Bzzzzt! The wall TV cut out with a pop, and the room lights flickered wildly. The kid called Yohan flinched but shrugged it off, pouring clear liquid from a big glass jar into a metal bowl. Father Seong pressed the cross to his forehead, whispering something too low for me to catch. It felt like blatant dismissal—my rage boiled hotter.
How do I handle this unstoppable fury? Let it out. Don't hold back.
"Deliver us from evil."
Splash! The priest scooped water from the bowl with a ladle-like thing and flung it at me. It burned like salt in raw flesh—pain and heat exploding across my skin.
"Grrrrraaaahhh!"
"Crawl before the Almighty God and beg forgiveness."
Splash!
"Argh! Fuck! Graaaaaah!!!!"
Thud-thud! I strained desperately, but all I managed was shaking the bed. A Simmons would've barely budged. But why the fuck was I tied up here getting doused with mystery liquid? Hydrochloric acid? Some terror attack?
The priest set the acid aside and leaned in, whispering.
"XX Hoop Pub, around 7:21 p.m.—you assaulted two security goons in a spat with the owner and bolted. Lucky for you, the CCTV was busted, but we got the owner's testimony. The four guards chased you... and turned up dead in some deserted spot the next day."
"That's... bullshit, they beat the shit outta me!"
"You remember, but still no awareness. Think those big bruisers could whale on you one-sided and you'd stroll in here unscathed?"
He had a point. I'd be hospitalized, bones shattered—months of recovery minimum. But that's why it made no sense. I was a weak civilian, unscratched, no power to off them. Hell, I couldn't swat a fall mosquito—a pathetic NEET.
"What day is it?"
"...Didn't check the time."
"September 22nd."
Memories flooded back like a whirlwind. September 9th, 9:09 a.m.—woke up bitching about life, hit the store. Bought booze and junk worth 36,200 won for a pity party dinner, headed home. Passed the school, the church... heard weird giggles, stopped. A massive metal cross plummeted inverted right in front of me, punching a hole in the asphalt. Beyond the church spire's electric sparks, I glimpsed something. Tiny, black as midnight, lost in endless murky fog...
"Ah."
"Twelve."
As expected, those four burly security dudes worked for a chaebol's subcontractor eyeing redevelopment—sweeping out the shops. I dragged my bloody ass home, rinsed off, crashed. Woke up, scarfed delivery, went out again. Just moved. Couldn't bottle the rage anymore—not at bullies tormenting innocents for cash, bootlicking the elite.
So I moved. Like I was possessed. Used their ID cards to infiltrate the company, found the boss, beat him dead, slipped out quiet. Home, wash blood, sleep. Next: the precinct chief taking bribes to ignore merchant complaints. Ambushed the drunk fuck stumbling home from a room salon, bashed his skull. Home, wipe hands, sleep. Beard grew—I grew but didn't shave. Next: the journo slinging fake hygiene smears for corp cash. Hit him post-booze fest. Home, do the deed, sleep. And next, next, next—scum sucking dirty money, squeezing despair from the innocent. I knew their pain deeper than anyone—no need to ask. Hesitation? Nah.
Oddly, CCTVs always crapped out, locked doors swung open, prey tripped conveniently. Heaven's gifts, I figured. I was right. Giggles led me—always to trash buffets, stress relief for the eternally patient me. Only one path, so I walked it.
"In the name of our Father in heaven, declare your name!"
"What difference does that make?"
"You'll earn a chance to confess your sins and repent."
"That's no chance. Just another rigged choice."
"Cast out the evil within you and see the world with clear eyes. The Father illuminates all with light and loves without bias—you too can feel that love."
"Illuminates all equally? Looks like an old greenhouse where only a few plants get safe sunlight. Bugs overrun it, leaks everywhere—'Great One' doesn't give a shit. Right now, the canopy's tearing, soil's fouling."
"That's why at the end of all things, stand proud before Him, forgiven, bound for His heaven. Sinners suffer purgatory, burn in hell, forgotten in the abyss—why choose that path?"
Squeeze.
"Why? Your precious Jesus Dad never explained! No one wants the sinner's road! It's the only path laid out, desperately taken to survive!"
"Not all weaklings tread it."
"But no equal path for all! Loves equally, yet no equal roads? 'Respecting free will' with that shit lineup—then punishing choosers for surviving?!"
"All trials, joys, fates—God's plan. To sin and deny Him, or do good and follow? Your will, your choice."
"That 'grand plan'! Innocent butchered? Plan. Guilty die comfy? Plan! Healed by luck? Grace! Dead by bad? Will! Mocking victims!"
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"Believers to heaven, nonbelievers to hell! No hell, evil, sin—no chaos, doubt!"
Endless choices, personal picks. But outcomes? Two: Jesus Heaven, Nonbelievers Hell. This path? Same two. That one? Ditto. Why always two—not one, three? Free will from the Almighty spans such a narrow cage?
"Your 'great god' wants faithful do-gooders and unpredictable free agents—contradictory bullshit!"
I forgot the bonds, thrashed upright, veins bulging like fire. "Don't oppress with that free will excuse! Sinner's freedom must be crushed; saint's is just scripted obedience! You dare speak of liberty?!"
My mind cleared. Vision sharp as autumn sky. True rage? Not oppression's details—but the root fury, forced down.
Riiip! Shrrrk! I tore the restraints, stood tall. Splashed liquid, pressed cross—nothing. I wasn't their 'evil' or 'sin'. Just... me.
"If your high-and-mighty wants mindless zealot bots, I'll help."
I snatched the Bible from the table.
"Send every last one to heaven. Preach Jesus Heaven, Nonbelievers Hell to all sinners."
I strode out without looking back at the statues.
"But skip me from that nauseating farce."
I'll watch them ascend to heaven—and proudly march to hell.