1
Chapter 1
Tap.
A white envelope came to rest on the mahogany desk.
It wasn't thrown. It was an impeccably polite, terrifyingly silent landing.
Yet that tiny sound pierced through the hum of the office air conditioner and struck Manager Kim's eardrums with perfect
accuracy.
"...Assistant Manager Kang. What's this?"
Manager Kim's brows drew together.
His flushed face looked like a time bomb that could explode at any moment.
I stared back at him calmly.
It was a face I had grown sick and tired of, one that had gnawed away at my soul for the past three years.
"It's my resignation letter."
"Are you kidding me right now? Did you think I'd just say, 'Oh, sure, go ahead,' because you handed me this piece of
paper?"
Just as expected.
Manager Kim had always believed he was the center of the world.
With my hands behind my back, I answered in a dry voice.
"I've already emailed the handover documents. All the files have been organized too."
"Hey, Kang Seojun!"
The manager slammed his desk.
"You think you'll become something if you leave this place? Do you even know what the economy is like these days? You
think some company is going to hire someone like you?"
His roar echoed through the office.
I could feel the other employees holding their breath as they watched.
Some were probably sympathizing with me.
Others were probably laughing at me.
But I didn't care.
At that moment, I heard something snap inside my head.
"Manager."
The moment I interrupted him, Manager Kim flinched.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
"If no company wants me, then I just won't work."
"W-What?"
"It's my life. Whether I fail or succeed, I'll deal with it myself. So stop yelling. Your blood pressure is going to
rise."
To think I was worrying about my manager's health on the day I quit.
Even I found that ridiculous.
I gave one final bow and turned around.
Behind me came a near-scream.
"Hey! Y-You crazy bastard!"
But I didn't stop walking.
The moment I opened the office door and stepped into the hallway—
Whoosh.
Instead of cold air-conditioning, the lukewarm air of early summer filled my lungs.
I pressed the elevator button.
My reflection appeared in the mirror.
My tie was crooked.
Dark circles hung beneath my eyes.
Kang Seojun.
Twenty-eight years old.
And now officially unemployed.
'...That feels refreshing.'
It was a lie.
Behind the liberating feeling of escape, a sticky, unpleasant anxiety slowly crept upward.
As the elevator descended toward the first floor, I quickly ran the numbers in my head.
Severance pay.
Savings.
This month's credit card bill.
Seoul's murderous rent and living expenses.
'Even if I do nothing but breathe, six months.'
That was the expiration date of my freedom.
After six months, I'd either be crawling through another hellish office looking for work...
Or checking the temperature of the Han River.
Ding.
The elevator reached the first floor.
I loosened my tie roughly.
Let's not think about anything today.
No matter what, I didn't want to live as office worker Kang Seojun today.
As I wandered aimlessly, sweat trickled down my back.
"Huff... Huff..."
I found myself in a park in the middle of the city.
Normally it would have been crowded with office workers on lunch break.
But it was three in the afternoon.
An awkward time.
The park should have been quiet.
Yet today was different.
"Cut! Cuuut! Hey, lighting! You're casting shadows!"
"Sorry!"
"Reset the actors' positions! Touch up the makeup!"
The place was absolute chaos.
The central plaza had been taken over by black vans and filming equipment.
It looked like a drama shoot.
The staff bustled around like ants, while a man who appeared to be the director shouted through a megaphone.
'A drama...'
A completely different world from mine.
The glamorous lights and handsome actors I'd only ever seen on television.
But seeing it up close, reality was far from glamorous.
The staff looked utterly exhausted.
Crushed cigarette butts and empty water bottles littered the ground.
If anything, it was an even harsher battlefield than the office I had just left.
I sat on a bench and watched absentmindedly.
I had nowhere to go and nothing to do.
Since I had just become unemployed, I decided to waste some time like a proper unemployed person.
That was when it happened.
"Damn it! I'm done! I can't do this anymore!"
A sharp shout erupted from one corner of the set.
Turning my head, I saw a rough-looking supporting actor throwing his wig to the ground.
"Director, I'm not doing this! What kind of script changes five minutes before filming? There's a limit to these
last-minute revisions! You expect me to memorize all this right now?"
"Hey, wait! Mr. Park!"
"I don't care! Figure it out yourself!"
The actor tossed his script into the air and stormed away without looking back.
The assistant director hurried after him, but it was already too late.
"Ah, seriously! Catch him! Hey! Find a replacement!"
The director hurled his cap onto the ground.
The set instantly descended into complete pandemonium.
Flutter.
The scattered pages rode the wind through the air.
One of them drifted toward the bench where I sat.
Tap.
A white sheet of A4 paper landed near the tip of my shoe.
I glanced down.
Black letters densely covered the page.
I shouldn't have picked it up.
I should have ignored it and walked away.
But five years of office life had created a terrible habit.
Whenever I saw documents lying on the floor, I felt compelled to pick them up and organize them.
With a sigh, I bent down and grabbed the page.
[S#14. Alleyway (Night)]
[Characters: Serial Killer (Male), Victim (Female)]
As I brushed dirt from the page, I read the text.
And then—
Zap.
A faint electric current shot from my fingertips, raced up my arm, and struck my brain.
"...Ugh."
I frowned.
A headache?
No.
It was different.
This felt like a foreign object forcing its way into my mind.
[Loading data.]
[Role: "The Alleyway Killer"]
[Synchronization analysis complete.]
I heard a voice.
No—it wasn't a voice.
It was more like words being engraved directly into my brain.
My vision flashed.
Then the world changed.
The colors around me faded, while the text on the script glowed crimson.
The letters writhed like living creatures.
The dead words on the page crawled through my optic nerves and occupied part of my brain.
[A switch has been created.]
[ON / OFF]
An image surfaced in my mind.
A crude switch attached to an old fuse box.
It was currently set to [OFF].
'What... is this?'
A stress-induced hallucination?
Did I develop schizophrenia immediately after quitting?
I stared blankly into space.
Yet everything felt frighteningly real.
If I flipped that switch right now...
"Excuse me!"
A frantic shout shattered my thoughts.
Looking up, I saw a sweat-soaked assistant director standing before me.
He was panting heavily, his eyes bloodshot.
He looked at me as if I were a savior—or the last rope keeping him from falling.
"That! The script!"
He pointed at the page in my hand.
"You picked it up, right? Sorry, but could you give it to me?"
I handed it over.
The assistant director snatched it and turned away.
Then he suddenly paused and looked back at me.
His gaze swept over me.
My 183-centimeter height.
My reasonably maintained physique.
My business suit.
His eyes moved rapidly as if calculations were running through his head.
"Um... by any chance..."
He spoke carefully.
"Are you an aspiring actor?"
"No."
"Then a background actor? An extra?"
"I'm just someone passing by."
Despair flashed across his face.
But then the director's shout rang out.
"Hey! Assistant director! Are you bringing someone or not? The sun's going down!"
The desperation in his eyes instantly transformed into madness.
"Sir, please help us just this once!"
He grabbed my arm.
"As you can see, everything's a disaster. The actor ran off, the sun's setting, and if we don't shoot this scene today
we're all dead. You can read lines, right? You know how to read?"
"I can read."
"That's enough! Just stand there and read what's written on the page! During rehearsal, all you need to do is respond to
the other actor's lines! Please! We'll find a way to pay you!"
It was insane.
Putting a complete stranger in front of a camera.
I understood how desperate they were, but I didn't want to get involved.
"Sorry. I've never acted before..."
Just as I was about to refuse—
The image in my mind stirred again.
[Switch: OFF]
What would happen if I turned it on?
It was simple curiosity.
Something I never would have considered normally.
But today I had quit my job.
Today was the day I had derailed my own life with my own hands.
If I twisted things a little more here, what difference would it make?
Besides, my gaze had settled on the lead actress sitting in a luxurious chair.
She sat there with her legs crossed, staring at her phone.
While the staff ran around drenched in sweat, she remained completely indifferent.
As if she lived in another dimension.
I didn't like her.
For some reason, she reminded me of Manager Kim.
And above all—
[The emotions of the role "Serial Killer" are awaiting activation.]
I wanted to understand this strange impulse writhing inside me.
"...All I have to do is read?"
The assistant director's face lit up as if a dying man had met the Buddha himself.
"Yes! Yes! No emotions needed! Just read the text and match the timing! Thank you! Seriously, thank you!"
He pushed me toward the center of the set.
"Oh, what? A civilian?"
The lead actress, Park Juyeon, frowned.
She looked me up and down and snorted.
"Director, are we really doing this? Even a rehearsal like this ruins immersion."
"Juyeon, sorry. Let's just check the blocking and camera angles. If the sun sets, we're finished."
At the director's urging, Park Juyeon reluctantly stood.
She walked over and pointed at a tape mark on the ground with her chin.
"Mister, stand there. Don't block the camera."
She spoke informally.
To a stranger she'd never met.
I ignored it and took my position.
A crumpled script page remained in my hand.
The lights came on.
Dozens of eyes turned toward me.
The camera lens aimed at me like a gun barrel.
I expected my heart to pound.
Instead, I felt strangely calm.
Like the silence before a storm.
"Alright! Scene 14 rehearsal! Ready!"
The director shouted.
"Action!"
Park Juyeon's expression changed instantly.
The irritation vanished from her face as she became a terrified victim.
"W-Who are you? Why are you following me?"
Her voice trembled.
It was a convincing performance.
But I could see it.
The boredom buried deep in her eyes.
The disdain she felt toward me.
The transparent thought:
'Let's finish this and leave.'
Now it was my turn.
I had only one line.
'Think of it as bad luck. Of all days, of all places, you had to run into me.'
A simple sentence.
I could have read it like a textbook.
That was all the assistant director wanted.
But—
I closed my eyes and opened them again.
Then I imagined the crude switch floating in my mind.
I reached out.
And flipped it upward.
Click.
[Switch: ON]
With a single click, the world overturned.
The sounds of the park vanished.
A dark, damp alleyway spread out before me.
And standing there...
Was prey.
A weak, trembling prey so fragile I wanted to tear it apart.
My heartbeat became erratic.
Everything felt grotesque.
My blood turned ice cold while burning murderous intent surged through my veins.
The corners of my mouth twisted on their own.
I hadn't intended it.
I simply found it funny.
Slowly, I tilted my head.
My gaze locked onto Park Juyeon's eyes.
"..."
Her pupils shook violently.
She instinctively stepped backward.
Not acting.
Real fear.
I took one step forward.
The sound of my shoes echoed unnaturally loud.
"Think of it as bad luck."
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
Low.
Dry.
Like metal scraping against metal.
It came from my throat, but it wasn't mine.
"Hiik!"
Park Juyeon let out a strangled cry and collapsed to the ground.
That wasn't in the script.
But I didn't stop.
I looked down at her with the eyes of a predator playing with its prey.
"Of all days."
Saliva gathered in my mouth.
"Of all places... you had to run into me."
As I spoke the final words, I smiled.
Not with my mouth.
With my eyes.
The serial killer stood there.
"..."
Silence.
Every sound on the set disappeared.
The director.
The assistant director.
The cameraman.
It was as if they had all forgotten how to breathe.
Park Juyeon sat frozen on the ground, trembling.
Her face was deathly pale.
How long did that silence last?
Then a notification sounded inside my head.
[Role execution complete.]
The switch automatically flipped down.
Click.
[Switch: OFF]
With a single click, the world changed once more.
The strange sensation receded like a falling tide.
The murderous intent.
The madness.
The cold excitement.
All of it vanished.
Only the muggy air of early summer and the hum of filming equipment remained.
I was once again Kang Seojun.
Twenty-eight years old.
Unemployed.
My throat felt slightly dry.
Loosening my tie, I looked at the director, who was staring at me with his mouth hanging open.
"I finished reading."
The director shot to his feet.
His chair toppled backward with a crash.
"Y-You..."
Stammering, he approached me.
His eyes gleamed with greed, like a grave robber who had discovered buried treasure.
"Who are you? Which agency are you with?"
A laugh escaped me.
A moment ago he hadn't even glanced my way.
"I don't belong to any agency."
"What? Then theater? Which troupe are you from?"
"I don't do any of that. I told you, I'm just someone passing by."
The director grabbed my shoulder tightly.
Hard enough to hurt.
"Don't lie to me! You expect me to believe acting like that came from a complete amateur? Stop talking nonsense and tell
me the truth. Who are you?"
I looked down at the hand gripping my shoulder.
His fingers dug in as if he had no intention of letting go.
Looks like my first day of unemployment is already going completely off the rails.
"Could you let go first?"
Even after I spoke, the director didn't loosen his grip.
Instead, he leaned closer and asked:
"Your name. At least tell me your name."
With a sigh, I answered.
"Kang Seojun."