Way Too Late
Arin dragged one of the office chairs over and placed it right in front of the door, then sat down to watch the silver-suited figures rushing toward her in perfect formation.
She had no desire to feel the agony of burning again, but there was no way out of the office without facing them anyway—so this was her way of trying to at least relax her mind.
And as they closed the distance enough to clearly make out her face through the hazy visors, it was obvious to anyone that they were interpreting her actions differently; they began to show signs of agitation.
The ones holding the flamethrowers didn't just hesitate—they recoiled, unconsciously stepping backward.
Seeing that, Arin quickly pieced together a sudden thought and put on a leisurely expression as she opened her mouth.
“...For Star followers, you guys really suck at your job~”
“How dare a heretic like you speak the name of the Stars!”
“Heretic? Me?”
The sharp reaction that came the moment she casually mentioned "the Stars"—as if by habit—and the flamethrowers suddenly aimed at her made her flinch inwardly in surprise, but she kept up her calm facade and continued.
“Ever floated between the stars? If you let all the tension drain from your body and just drift, it's so cozy~”
“What are you...!?”
“After drifting for a while, you're there but not there, and someone approaches me without approaching... Sorry, can't really explain it in words.”
Her original plan had been to show them the despair of never getting the contract they craved, no matter how many times they killed her unkillable body.
But seeing their shaken reactions now, laced with a different meaning and emotion than before, Arin judged there was no need to take the painful route.
She flashed a slight smile.
“What's with those reactions? Don't tell me you go around calling yourselves Star followers but have never actually met one?”
“...W-Who are you?”
Unable to hold back any longer, one of the believers spoke up first—likely someone of relatively high rank among them.
Someone who had climbed higher than most would probably be good at certain things.
Quick on the uptake, good at flattering others, and naturally better than average at spotting when someone was deliberately hiding the truth or lying.
Unfortunately for him, though, Arin wasn't making any of this up.
'Yellow Door asshole.'
She was just dressing up her real experiences inside it—minus the "Yellow Door" part—to sound plausible, and it was working on these fanatics.
“You think I'd make sense if I told you who I am?”
'Like I'd say I'm a grown man from another world in this body—think you'd get that?'
“Honestly, I don't even know what to call myself.”
'Wearing a school uniform at my age is honestly kinda pathetic... Haven't had the mental space to think about it till now, but wait—I'm wearing a skirt right now...? Fuck... fuck!'
As Arin's words continued, the murmurs grew louder among the hesitating believers.
The clamor mixed cries of "Heretic nonsense!" from the diehards, growing belief from others, and watchful caution from those still on the fence into a discordant cacophony.
Then one voice cut through.
“Don't waver! Don't listen to the whispers of this wicked devil!”
The voice's owner stepped forward and shouted to the believers.
“It's just lies meant to deceive us!”
He turned his head, revealing a small crack in his visor for the first time.
Hard to tell apart in their identical suits, but the familiar position of the crack let Arin recognize him as the one she'd bashed with a steel pipe at the machine earlier.
She had nothing to say, so she just watched.
“If that thing truly had ties to our Stars, They would have spoken by now! And a being that can't even withstand a mere man-made flame...!”
“But I'm alive right here?”
“Shut your mouth! Being beyond death is no different from the charred husks wandering this place—it proves nothing!”
Honestly, she'd expected fanatics like him to spout self-indulgent faith-and-doctrine nonsense that only they'd buy.
So his surprisingly sound logic drew a faint, impressed groan from Arin as she nodded.
“...Tch, not working.”
“Burn the heretic again!”
“Let's make a deal!”
Before the frontliners could pull their triggers, Arin swiftly pulled the bundle of papers from her pocket and waved it in front of them.
The believers recognized it as the contract they sought and lowered their flamethrowers in unison.
Then they all raised their blades.
“Ah, fuck.”
A dull thud, like something from a butcher shop, echoed down the hall along with the girl's scream.
The silver heat suits of the believers encircling her grew steadily redder as they brought their blades down.
Chunks of innards trailed up by the knives splattered against the walls.
The scream that seemed eternal finally cut off.
From the remains that had once been a girl, one believer pried a blood-soaked wad of paper from the corner of her ear.
He unfolded it carefully, as if it were treasure, and showed it to the others.
“At last, all the pieces for the perfect Starry Garden are gathered! Now we can shatter the false faith this heretic claimed—”
The believer couldn't finish.
The contract he'd clutched in both hands for all to see vanished in an instant, as if it had never existed.
And the meat chunks scattered everywhere—not one remained to trip their feet.
For all of them to be hallucinating at once, with blood still dripping down the walls from the ceiling splatter, was impossible.
Staring at his now-empty hands, the believer's face twisted as he failed to comprehend what had happened.
The police surrounding the gray-tinged church, blocking people's entry, confirmed the anomaly was spreading from the church building to nearby structures as time passed.
They shook their heads in helpless frustration.
The pain in their calves from getting chewed out by higher-ups for failing to stop civilians from entering had faded amid the growing despair.
“When's that Entry Team supposed to get here?”
“Who knows. They said they're coming, but with the Response Team already here, probably before the day's out?”
The senior officer in charge of the police line gave a vague answer to his junior while sipping coffee gone cold, its warmth long faded.
The anomaly report was less than a day old, but standing guard beside the soot-streaked walls piled high with ash felt like years had passed.
Tsking at the reporters still stationed across from them, snapping endless photos of the frozen-in-time building, the senior drained the last of his paper cup coffee and set it at his feet.
“When's the shift change?”
“Past midnight, so soon?”
“If they try making us pull an all-nighter again over manpower shortages, I swear...”
Muttering his usual gripes, the senior adjusted his cap—then froze as he sensed movement from the church.
He yanked the shotgun from his shoulder strap.
The other officers holding the line slipped fingers onto triggers, sweat beading coldly.
The senior thumbed the safety to fire-ready and pressed the radio button with his left hand to report the situation.
Sensing the sudden tension, reporters began filming frantically.
In the taut silence, the church's firmly shut doors were pushed open from within.
“W-We survived!”
The people emerging through the gap shouted without thinking, flipping the mood on its head.
Led by a student carrying a flaming mechanical device, they streamed out of the church and the anomaly.
The Response Team blocked their path to joyful escape, guiding them into a makeshift white isolation room for physical decontamination, exams, occult prayers, spells, and talismans.
Some churchgoers refused anything religion-related, causing a minor uproar, but soon enough, verified safe, they broke down realizing they'd truly escaped the anomaly.
“Excuse me... there's something I need to tell you!”
As the others collapsed onto cots from relief and exhaustion, only Gaeun and Seoyeong refused rest and grabbed a staffer.
“Witness statements and interviews will be batch-processed later, so please rest for now...”
“It'll be too late by then! There's still...”
“The Entry Team's on the way, ma'am. Don't worry—it'll be handled soon.”
“No, if you don't go in right now... even going in now is too late! Time flows differently inside!”
They tried convincing him: they'd spent nearly a week inside; the ringleaders were still roaming; Arin had volunteered as bait to buy their escape—for everyone's sake.
But the response was just that the entry personnel hadn't arrived yet.
“What do we do... Arin's still in there... Our Arin...”
“Please, can't you send the military or SWAT or anyone...!”
The two collapsed, tearfully begging.
“Ma'am, and miss—could I hear more details about what you just said?”
And in that moment, salvation arrived.
“This sucks...”
Arin, who had stayed behind to buy time for Gaeun, Seoyeong, and the others to escape—facing off against the fanatics—let out a sigh.
It felt like at least a month had passed subjectively.
Using her unkillable body to troll the cultists had been satisfying, but she'd respawned in the warehouse room, of all places.
To get out, she had to pass the lobby where they'd set up their machines—but now, at least four guarded it with flamethrowers, blades, and megaphones, burned once already.
Escape attempts—stealthy sneaking like a infiltration game, or brute-forcing like an action title—had all failed after detection.
Burned alive, limbs severed, guts ripped, throat slit, head crushed—over and over.
They'd shifted from killing to capturing, deeming it pointless.
Once, caught by one, she'd endured rubber-hose cryptanalysis until her body shattered from shock and she died.
Next, they kept her alive for other tortures: water, fire, electricity, unimaginable cruelties—then healed her, repeat.
At first, she'd smirked at their panic over her vanishing corpse and contract each death.
Now, endless torment left her unable even to curl her lips.
At least they treated her as anomaly or monster—no sexual assault—which was small comfort.
“...If I move this arm hard enough, maybe it won't get cut off?”
Worn out from refusing to yield the contract despite torture, they'd bound her arms and legs tight with wire long ago—sensation gone.
Now, she could probably sever her wrists painlessly, bleed out, and reset—twisting her body to test, Arin glanced aside.
“How's the Pastor doing these days?”
The pastor, burned on the pillar long before her, no longer answered.
Like the black shadows endlessly roaming this burnt commercial building, he just turned his gaze and outstretched arms toward any living person nearby.