Before the Curtain Rises
"The solution is divided into two phases."
I said, pointing to the solution section I had typed out on the screen.
"First, the short-term solution: overwriting the record."
"Overwriting the record?"
Minhye asked.
"Yeah. The most intuitive way to neutralize this curse is to completely burn away the light of the past—meaning that record—with an overwhelming light from the present."
I explained the specific details of the scenario.
"We set off dozens, even hundreds of camera flashes simultaneously in the space where the curse is active, especially near Room 404. Just like photographic film burns white when exposed to light in a darkroom, the vengeful spirit's power to record the darkness of the past will temporarily falter before a blinding baptism of present-day light. It'll act as a sort of flashbang, buying us time to execute the ultimate solution."
"Whoa... beating up a ghost with camera flashes? That is so like you, Hyung. But man, that must've cost a fortune in production budget..."
Leaving Deokhu's admiration behind, I continued.
"And, the most important part."
I scrolled down to show the next paragraph.
"Second, the ultimate solution. Otherwise known as 'Liberation.'"
"Liberation?"
"What is the fundamental grudge behind this curse?"
"Isn't it that the truth was buried and never revealed to the world?"
"Exactly. To resolve that grudge, we have to finish his record and expose it to the world."
"So we're doing it on his behalf?"
"Precisely."
I explained the resolution process in three steps.
"Step one is opening the firmly locked door of Room 404. It will never open with physical force. Ironically, the key to opening that door... is the voice of the former hospital director. We have to find him and get a confession about the truth from his own mouth. Only when we play that voice to the door will it open."
"That sounds... difficult."
"In horror and thrillers, the harder the progression, the more entertaining it is..."
"True enough."
"Step two: once the door opens, there will be an old typewriter possessed by the vengeful spirit inside the room. I will sit at that typewriter myself and write the final paragraph of the exposé detailing the hospital's corruption—the part the spirit never got to finish."
I heard Minhye gulp.
Wetting my own dry lips, I continued.
"And finally, step three. Otherwise known as 'Broadcasting the Truth.'"
"Broadcasting the truth?"
"Yeah. To put it simply in terms of action: we take the article I finished and broadcast it throughout the entire hospital and to the outside world using the broadcasting equipment you prepare, Deokhu. The moment the unjustly buried record of truth is finally revealed to the world, the grudge will be resolved, and the curse will vanish entirely."
"Whew..."
Once the briefing was over, the first to react was, as expected, Deokhu.
"Hyung, then let's try my idea."
"Which is?"
"Since we have time, let's just pull the problem out by its roots before the disaster even begins."
His next words were remarkably clear-cut.
"Let's destroy it in advance!"
Erasing the very stage where the disaster would unfold.
At Deokhu's words, Minhye, Seyeon, and I stared at one another for a moment.
"Like I said, that actually makes sense," I replied.
I continued.
"We don't fully know all the loopholes in the rules created by the Judge yet, but it's definitely worth a shot. It might actually be the easiest solution."
We grew excited, like students who had just discovered a cheat code for a difficult exam.
"Great! Let's start right away!"
Minhye shouted, clenching her fists.
"I know an older guy who runs a heavy machinery business. Should I give him a call?"
"Hold on, we shouldn't approach this so emotionally."
Seyeon cooled the atmosphere with her characteristic level-headedness.
"First, we need to identify the ownership of the building. We can't just demolish private property on a whim. I'll pull up the real estate registry and building ledger right now. Once we know who the owner is, we can negotiate or find another way."
"Alright. Seyeon, you look into the owner and demolition companies. Deokhu, just in case, check the CCTV or street views around the hospital to see if there are any viable entry routes. Minhye and I will..."
I quickly racked my brain and assigned tasks to everyone.
But...
The wall of reality was far higher and sturdier than we had anticipated.
Seyeon, who took on the first attempt.
She successfully tracked down the ownership information for Namyeong Psychiatric Hospital. It belonged to a medical corporation that had gone bankrupt long ago, and due to various circumstances, it was practically ownerless land, abandoned for decades.
She immediately searched the internet and found the contact information for several of the most reputable demolition companies.
On behalf of the group, I made the call myself.
"Yes, Hanbit Demolition."
"Ah, yes. Hello. I'm calling to inquire about demolishing an abandoned building on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province."
"Yes, sir. What is the address?"
"It's Namyeong Psychiatric Hospital..."
Before I could even finish my sentence, the friendly voice of the president on the other end of the line turned ice-cold.
"Namyeong Psychiatric Hospital? Are you, by any chance, the owner of the building?"
"No, I'm not."
"Then we cannot proceed with any further consultation."
"What? No, we can pay whatever it takes. It's, well... for a public interest purpose..."
"Sir."
The voice over the receiver began to lecture me as if I were pathetic.
"There may be no such thing as a free lunch, but there is absolutely no such thing as a free demolition. We need an official demolition request from the owner, a building deconstruction permit issued by the district office, an asbestos survey report, a waste disposal plan, and so on... By the way, how old are you?"
"Why does my age matter...?"
"Sigh... Without the documents I mentioned, we can't even lift a shovel. Do you realize that a civilian calling to ask us to tear down someone else's building could be considered instigation of property damage? If this is a prank call, I'm hanging up."
Click.
The call cut off just like that.
I stared blankly at my phone before lowering it.
"As expected... they said no."
"I figured as much."
Seyeon nodded calmly.
"Then on to the next plan. We file a civil complaint with the district office to demolish a hazardous facility. We go through official channels."
She immediately accessed the district office's website. But that was when the strange things began.
"Huh? Why is it doing this?"
Seyeon wore a puzzled expression.
"I can't log in. It says the ID and password are incorrect..."
"Try again. Did you make a typo?"
"No, I'm sure of it. Huh? Now it says the ID doesn't even exist."
She tried several more times, but the result was the same. It was as if someone had wiped her account information from the server entirely. Deokhu tried with his own phone, but he only encountered the same repeated, unexplained errors.
I watched them and let out a sigh.
"Stop, Seyeon. It's no use."
"What? But..."
"Even if the complaint is received, it'll take at least a year for officials to conduct an on-site inspection, run a safety assessment, and allocate a budget. We have less than seventy hours left. And... there's no way no one has filed a complaint like that before now."
Our second hope—resolving this through official procedures—vanished just like that.
"...Then what?"
It was Minhye who broke the silence.
"I guess we have no choice but to go there ourselves."
Her eyes burned with determination.
"We go and tear it down ourselves. If we just collapse a few pillars and make the whole building structurally hazardous, they'll have to take action somehow!"
It was reckless, but there seemed to be no other way.
We clinging to our last hope, we got into the car.
We were just young adults in our early to mid-twenties.
This was the absolute best we could do.
The night roads were empty. We sped toward Namyeong Psychiatric Hospital. But as we drew closer to our destination, bizarre occurrences began to happen one after another.
"Huh? What's wrong with the GPS?"
Minhye, who was driving, spoke in a panicked voice. The navigation screen flickered with static, then began directing us down completely wrong paths.
It pointed back toward the road we had just traveled, or instructed us to turn right onto non-existent streets.
"Let's just turn it off and follow the road signs."
Seyeon suggested, but it was futile.
As we approached the next intersection, Deokhu pointed straight ahead.
"Look... look over there! That...!"
A massive trailer truck had overturned across the road. Spilled steel rebars completely blocked the path. Police officers were controlling the perimeter, diverting vehicles away.
"No way... What are the odds of a coincidence like this?"
Deokhu muttered in disbelief.
The only road leading to the psychiatric hospital was blocked.
"Let's turn back,"
I said quietly.
The reason was simple.
Something was wrong.
An instinctive gut feeling told me that a massive, invisible force was blocking our path.
The moment Minhye turned the car around to retrace our steps—
Sputter.
Clunk.
The car shook violently, and then the engine died.
Every light on the dashboard flickered before plunging into total darkness.
With even the headlights dead, we were trapped in absolute darkness.
"W-what is this?! Why is it doing this?!"
Panicked, Minhye tried to start the ignition several times, but the car remained completely unresponsive.
We were stranded in the middle of the road, trapped inside a useless hunk of metal.
"Sigh..."
Silence fell.
The car was filled only with the terrified, ragged breathing of the four of us.
I looked out the window.
Far off, atop a hill shrouded in thick darkness, the black, grotesque silhouette of Namyeong Psychiatric Hospital loomed.
Its bizarre aura felt as if it were mocking us.
"There's nothing we can do."
I let out a hollow laugh and leaned back against my seat.
And then, I recalled the voice of the Judge I had heard in my dream.
'The author's authority,' 'the director's responsibility.' I felt like I finally understood the true meaning of those words.
"This is just like having a movie release date set—just because you're the director doesn't mean you can burn the film on a whim. Until the scheduled screening time, which is midnight on Monday, the causality of this story is fiercely protected. We can prepare to step onto the stage, but we can't destroy the stage before the curtain rises."
At my explanation, everyone in the car fell silent, as if utterly speechless.
Our brief hope had been shattered to pieces.
Our only choice left was...
To face it head-on.