You Go Alone
I turned around and found a club member standing there.
Another kid whose name I still didn't know, of course.
"Um... everyone says we've pretty much covered the whole place, so they want us to regroup on the first floor..."
"Yeah, alright."
I gave a rough nod and climbed down the metal ladder. By the time I reached the bottom, the member was already gone — still too awkward around me to stick around after delivering the message, apparently. I rolled my tingling shoulder and headed down the stairs.
Massaging my left shoulder as I walked, I spotted the club members clustered around the sofa. They'd been chattering among themselves, but the moment they noticed me, the room went dead silent.
As if determined to break the tension, Yeom Sang-hyeon stood up.
"How about we start by checking what everyone found?"
That was all it took. The members began fishing items out of their pockets and bags, setting them on the table one by one.
A letter and a couple of sheets of paper. A half-broken candlestick. A kitchen knife. And... a small tin of oil.
Most of it made sense enough, but—
"Who brought the broken candlestick?"
"..."
Without a word, the vice president's trembling fingertip rose toward the ceiling. I waited in silence, and eventually a voice crawled out of him like something dragging itself across the floor.
"I... thought we might need a... weapon..."
"..."
Every eye in the room settled on the battered candlestick. Then they drifted to the old kitchen knife sitting on the table. The vice president's face went scarlet.
Was that embarrassment, or was he pissed off?
...Please tell me he's not planning to use that candlestick on me.
"..."
Yeah. No way.
I changed the subject fast.
"The letter and the papers... who found these?"
"Oh! That was me! I could read some of it, so I brought them along!"
Ah. The member who'd been laughing and chatting with a friend earlier, completely oblivious to the mood.
"Ah... right. So what did they say?"
"Basically stuff about where this place is? What it used to be? From what I've read so far, it seems like some kind of religious village they built a long time ago~ Maybe a cult? That vibe is pretty strong~ Oh! I'm not saying it was a cult, exactly~ Just that the whole atmosphere of control feels really different from normal religions, you know~"
"Ah... okay. Keep working on that. Next up... the kitchen knife."
It looked old, but the blade was sharp. Facing an actual weapon that could actually kill someone, the whole group went quiet. The president raised a hand without speaking, claiming it as his find. I nodded and asked,
"Was there anything else? We might all need to arm ourselves at some point."
"No. That was it."
The president shook his head, face bone-white. Even in the dim house, that pale complexion stood out with nowhere to hide.
Ah... this is bad.
I forced myself to look at the oil can instead.
"That one's mine too."
I picked up the tin without a word and gave it a shake. Through the cold metal, something sloshed inside.
"By the way, senior — you didn't find anything? You were wandering around longer than any of us, and you spent forever in the study."
The president's question had an edge of suspicion to it. I dug into the side pocket of my bag and silently pulled out a letter opener — the kind with a horse's head carved into the handle.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the president's gaze glinting with something cold and sharp.
...I knew it.
"So about that knife—"
"Alright, everyone — you all got those little notebooks they handed out in the paper bags, right? Pull them out."
The president had been about to say something, but I cut him off cold.
"From now on, we should get in the habit of writing down everything we find and everything we figure out."
The members hesitantly produced their pens and began scribbling notes into their palm-sized notebooks. I scrawled something down myself as I kept talking.
"And the member who found the letter and papers?"
"Yes!"
Eyes bright enough to be almost oppressive locked onto mine.
"Translate what you can and write the contents in your notebook. There might be more clues in there. I'd like you to handle that."
"Yes!"
Bolstered by the sense of having been given an official assignment, the member answered even more brightly and started writing with renewed intensity. Not to be outdone, I kept talking while my own pen flew across the page even faster.
"Then for weapons—"
"The kitchen knife should go to you, oppa."
The president cut in.
...I can more or less see where this is going, but...
...Hmm.
"Fine."
"Because if we can't arm everyone, then thinking about who protects the rest of us—"
"...Wait, what?"
She'd clearly expected me to refuse and had a whole pitch prepared. The look of pure confusion on her face was almost funny.
"Yeah. I'll take it."
"Then the letter opener—"
"Then Sang-hyeon should take the letter opener, right? Best physique in the group."
Take it. Now. Sang-hyeon.
If you don't grab this, I might actually smack you.
Whether he heard my silent screaming or not, Sang-hyeon glanced around, read the room, and nodded.
"Yeah, uh... I'll take it."
The president's expression was a masterpiece. Bone-white and utterly blank.
"Hmm... but the president needs something to defend herself with too, doesn't she?"
I tossed the line out casually while still writing. Her face lit up for a split second.
Happy about that, are we?
I pushed one of the items on the table toward her.
Scrrrape—
With a light scrape of wood, the object spun once across the tabletop and came to a neat stop right in front of her.
"Take this for now."
With trembling eyes, the president reached out and picked up...
...the candlestick snapped cleanly in half.
Behind her frozen expression, the vice president clenched a small, triumphant fist.
Ah. So he's just happy his find actually helped.
I'd been writing nonstop the whole time — talking, glancing around, eyes flicking between faces — and by now the page was satisfyingly full. I closed the notebook and wrapped things up.
"Alright. The translation work can happen in the second-floor study. Two members should stay up there and help the one doing the recording.
As for the rest of us — the president, the vice president, Sang-hyeon, and me — we'll go look for a car."
Everyone nodded and stood up.
—Thud.
Something hit the floor. Everyone looked down. One of the little notebooks they'd been issued was lying alone on the ground.
"Sang-hyeon, you dropped your notebook. Keep track of your stuff, seriously—"
He looked like he wanted to protest, but I steamrolled right over him.
"Everyone — write down whatever you figure out, constantly. Don't forget. Even guesses and theories. There might be something in there that saves our lives when things get bad. So check your notes regularly. Got it?"
I said it with a dead-serious face, and Sang-hyeon nodded like he'd just caught on to something.
We split into two teams — one for the second floor, one to search for a vehicle — and went our separate ways.
Our group, the car-hunting team, swept the first floor one more time. Aside from a single locked door tucked beside the staircase leading to the second floor — right by the front entrance — there was nothing of note.
That one's probably the basement.
We checked the back door, the front door, and every window in the living room and kitchen. Through the glass, we could make out what looked like a small garage space just ahead.
And when we looked out at the village beyond, we saw them — those bizarre human silhouettes, scattered like dark freckles across the distance.
Even ordinary people standing still on a dark street can look unsettling. But these things clustered in twos and threes, occasionally seizing up in spasms, or suddenly snapping their heads at impossible angles to stare at the sky — watching them made my skull start to throb.
"Ugh—"
One of us actually gagged, whipping their head away. Looking around, everyone else was clutching their temples too, faces tight with the same splitting headache.
The one silver lining: none of the figures were heading toward this house. Still, we agreed to be extremely careful about looking outside from then on.
The problem with reaching the garage was the single suspicious person lingering on the dark road right in front of it.
...Suspicious person, my ass. That's a murderer.
We huddled up and talked it through. The plan: two of us draw attention, two of us make a run for the garage.
...This might actually be better.
While we'd been discussing, Sang-hyeon had been flipping through his little notebook over and over, hunting for some kind of solution. Now he looked up.
"I'll go to the garage. My... uncle's a... mechanic, so I know a bit about cars."
"Yeah. I'm good with that."
"Sure."
"Same here."
The three of us, myself included, had no objections. The president spoke up right after.
"Alright, then for who goes with him—"
"Oh, about that. How about the three of us draw the aggro while Sang-hyeon goes alone?"
The words came out of my mouth right on the heels of hers. Sang-hyeon's eyes — eyes that had trusted me completely until this exact second — started trembling like he'd just been stabbed in the back.
"...Hyung?"