One Is Missing
The three old men who had forced their way into the house crept cautiously up the stairs to the second floor and peeked around the corner. Nothing. The landing above was empty. Without hesitation, they climbed the steps. Perhaps because the floor below had already turned into a muddy mess, their footprints stood out darkly on the stairs. Soon they reached the only room with its light still on—Hwan’s room. The three elders exchanged glances. Each gripped a weapon: one held a sickle, another a small shovel, and the last a thick club.
“We take him down in one go… If he resists, it’ll only get worse! You understand?” one of the old men whispered, swallowing hard. The other two nodded, beads of what might have been cold sweat or rainwater dripping from their brows. Their eyes gleamed with a savage, eerie hunger. They were filled with grim resolve.
The leader counted down. One… two… three!
The door burst open with a crash. The moment they scanned the room—damn it. No one was there.
“What the hell? Where is he!”
The panicked voice of one elder was cut short as the man with the sickle pointed at the window and shouted, “The—the window!”
Rain was pouring in. The downpour was so violent that every gust soaked the notebook lying open on the desk until it was drenched. Something was clearly wrong. The old men rushed to the window and looked out. And there, below—
With a loud thud, Hwan lay sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.
“There! That little bastard! He’s trying to run! Go get him!!!” the sickle-wielding elder roared.
Hwan heard the shout too. He whipped around, face pale as death, and looked up at the second-floor window. Their eyes met—his gaze locking with the old man’s gleaming, murderous stare. The sickle clutched in the elder’s hand seemed to radiate a spine-chilling aura. Hwan gasped, swallowed his fear, and forced himself to ignore the pain. He scrambled up and ran with everything he had, barefoot across the muddy ground.
The old men screamed after him in fury, demanding he be caught.
“Don’t you dare lose him!! Don’t you dare!!!! Get after him right now!”
His lungs burned. He had no idea what was happening. Hwan kept glancing behind him. Thick raindrops hammered down, turning the world pitch black. From within that darkness came the bloodcurdling voices of the old men screaming that he must be caught. Terror drove him forward at full speed. But the village itself was ancient and crumbling, its paths uneven and broken. He tripped over stones again and again, falling repeatedly. And because he wore no shoes, the soles of his feet felt as though they would split open from the pain.
“Ughhh…”
A low groan escaped him. Before long he was limping badly, yet he could not stop. The vicious threats still chased him from behind. His breath came in ragged gasps, and the pain now spread from his feet throughout his entire body, but he had to endure it. A thunderclap split the sky. Lightning must have struck nearby; for an instant the world turned blinding white. The torrential rain showed no sign of letting up.
Suppressing the pain and cold, Hwan ran desperately toward the church. But then—
‘Not that way… you idiot…’
The sudden voice made him freeze mid-stride. Whose voice was that? At that exact moment, a furious shout rang out from the direction of the church.
“What? You lost him, you fucking idiots? How the hell did you lose him! How! Don’t you know how little time we have left? So where is he now? You don’t know? You worthless pieces of shit! You all want to die, don’t you?!”
A string of savage curses followed. It was the first time Hwan had ever heard such vicious profanity in this deathly quiet rural village. The people he had known here were always frustratingly laid-back… but now they seemed like completely different people.
“Do you even understand how important this is? Find him right now! Find him, I said! Damn it! He must not get away! Do you hear me?! Do not lose him! We’ll send more people to help, so catch him no matter what, you stupid bastards!”
Were they really looking for him? Then why? Hwan’s whole body trembled. Soon the old man who had been hurling curses began leading a murmuring crowd in his direction. Hwan didn’t know what to do. He looked around frantically. Flashlight beams were already sweeping from the house behind him—the intruders from earlier were closing in. And from the church side, more voices were approaching. His heart hammered wildly.
Just as panic threatened to overwhelm him, he spotted the orchard beside the path. His parents had planted apple trees there. The branches had grown thick and lush. Hwan ran for it without thinking. A stabbing pain pierced his chest and lungs as if someone were driving an awl into them. He had never exercised much; even a short sprint left him gasping for air. He felt like he couldn’t draw breath no matter how many times he tried. The agony was excruciating.
Then—damn it—he tripped again and fell hard.
“Aaaagh!”
A scream tore from his throat as he tumbled across the ground, rolling over and over. “Ughhh…” It hurt. It hurt so much. Every bone in his body felt shattered. For a moment he couldn’t even make a sound; only a wheezing gasp like air escaping a punctured lung slipped from his lips. He lay there on his stomach for a long time, whimpering in pain.
From far off came the clamor of voices. They were the people chasing him, shouting that he had to be found. Between their yells he caught strange phrases. Do not anger Him. The offering must not be insufficient! What did that mean? Who was He? And what was this about an offering? He couldn’t understand any of it. For a fleeting second he even wondered if the entire village had been built by some cult. To think he had lived here for a whole year without realizing… Tears suddenly burst from his eyes.
But he couldn’t stay like this. No matter how much it hurt, he had to move. Yes—he had to run. Where were his parents? He had no idea. Staggering, he forced strength into his arms and legs. Groaning, he managed to stand, but his legs gave out again and he collapsed against the trunk of a large apple tree. He gasped for air. His body shook like a leaf in the wind. It wasn’t just fear. The relentless rain had stolen his body heat; he was freezing. All he wore was a thin hoodie.
He didn’t know what to do anymore. He had to get up. He had to run. But where? His feet hurt too much. The surroundings were pitch black. The rain showed no sign of easing, and now it seemed like voices were coming from every direction. Those horrifying shouts felt like they were crushing his chest. Hwan curled into a tight ball, sobbing quietly. He missed his parents. Where could they be? Had they escaped? Or had they been caught? Had something terrible happened to them? He didn’t know. He simply didn’t know what to do. Overwhelmed by fear and pain, all he could do was cry.
Then he remembered the smartphone in his pocket. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner? With trembling hands he pulled it out and dialed 112. After several rings, a voice answered. Still shaking and sobbing, Hwan spoke carefully.
“P-please… help me…”
His voice cracked and grew hoarse. The officer on the line seemed to sense the gravity of the situation immediately and began asking questions. Trembling with terror and pain, Hwan tried his best to stay calm and explain what had happened. He described everything, even though he still didn’t fully understand it himself. The officer told him that help was on the way and that he must not hang up under any circumstances.
“Please… please come quickly… Something’s wrong… The villagers have all gone crazy. There’s no time…”
“Hold on, kid! We’re coming right now! Whatever you do, do not hang up the phone. Understand?”
Hwan nodded shakily, still trembling. That was when he heard it.
“Aigoo… you little rat bastard… So this is where you’ve been hiding?”