Chapter 59
Chapter 59
Phantom
(Gasp!)
After a fierce battle with the monster, Sergeant Kim Woo-jin, who had died with his stomach pierced, shot his eyes open. He gasped for air, his gaze darting around.
Why am I alive? Sergeant Kim Woo-jin fumbled at his stomach. The place where he’d been impaled was perfectly healed, new skin in its place. Was I dreaming? No, the sensation had been too vivid to be a dream.
(This is······.)
Just in case, Kim Woo-jin took off his shirt to inspect his body and let out a hollow laugh. Red spots spread from the center of his chest—proof he was infected with the virus.
(Haha!)
A laugh escaped him, a mixture of absurdity and anger that he hadn’t just been left to die. Tears welled in his eyes, his expression one of hollow despair. After a moment of choked sobs, he steeled himself. He grabbed his gun and staggered to his feet.
(Sergeant······ that······.)
When Kim Woo-jin rejoined Sergeant Park Ji-won and Sergeant Lee Hyeon-jun, he saw the wariness in their eyes and gave a bitter smile.
(Don’t worry. I’ll handle it myself.)
The tension in the film mounted, caught between the unidentified monsters outside and the threat of Kim Woo-jin, who could turn at any moment.
(Shouldn’t we get rid of Sergeant Kim?)
(What if he suddenly turns on us?)
The other soldiers following them remained on high alert around Kim Woo-jin.
(Stand down. I’ll take responsibility.)
Only Sergeant Lee Hyeon-jun, who had been in the SSU with him, defended him.
(Go on ahead.)
Sergeant Kim Woo-jin, gradually becoming a monster and wielding superhuman strength, used his new power to aid Park Ji-won and Lee Hyeon-jun before dying a heroic death.
(Go! Now!)
Lee Hyeon-jun sent Park Ji-won ahead as well, before falling after a desperate fight with the monsters.
The last one remaining, Sergeant Park Ji-won, finally made it inside the communication room and locked the door. He was the only survivor. After crying for a long time, he staggered to his feet and tried to make contact.
The screen went dark for a moment, and then the communication room door was suddenly thrown open.
“Gasp······!”
Park Ji-won, who had closed his eyes for a moment in relief, hastily aimed his gun.
“Over here!”
Seeing the support troops, he let out a sigh of relief and lowered his weapon. As he headed outside, he stared blankly at the bloodied, fallen form of Lee Hyeon-jun and the grotesque, tentacle-like growths piercing Kim Woo-jin’s body.
Aboard the lifeboat, Park Ji-won watched the White Tiger grow smaller in the distance. The camera zoomed in on his empty eyes as the film ended.
As the grand OST played and the end credits rolled, the lights in the theater came on. The audience remained seated, waiting for the stage greeting.
“Wow······ that movie was good.”
“The action was seriously amazing.”
In some ways, the story was predictable. The unidentified monster attacking the ship and the virus-infected soldiers were reminiscent of zombies. However, with Yu Yeon-seo performing his own stunts, a skilled action director, and competent editing, it was reborn as a well-made action film.
While the audience buzzed with their thoughts on the movie, the entrance in front of the screen opened, and the director, Park Ho-jin, walked in alone.
“Hello. I’m Park Ho-jin, the director of ‘White Tiger.’”
He introduced himself into the microphone. The audience cheered but looked puzzled when no actors followed him.
“You must all be surprised that I came in alone. Our actors have been with you since the movie started.”
“Really?”
“Where······ They’re in the back!”
At someone’s shout, everyone turned around. It was Park Min-woo, Lee Han-gyeol, and Yu Yeon-seo, standing up to make their way to the front.
“The three of them said they wanted to see the final product in a theater, so they watched the movie with all of you.”
Ushers and security guards led the actors from the back seats toward the stage.
“Huh.”
“Aaaah!”
Seeing the actors descend the stairs, the audience screamed and snapped photos with their phones. Lee Han-gyeol, with his idol experience, waved familiarly in response to the cheers, and Park Min-woo, following behind, copied him. Yu Yeon-seo, though appearing indifferent as he passed, made eye contact with each camera pointed at him.
As the actors lined up next to the director, flashes went off from several cameras. Yu Yeon-seo furrowed his brow. He still wasn’t used to camera flashes like these.
“Me?”
A member of the audience in Row A enthusiastically waved a bouquet of flowers. The person’s gaze was so intense that Yu Yeon-seo pointed to himself. The fan nodded rapidly. Looking to his side, he saw that Park Min-woo and Lee Han-gyeol were also holding bouquets and dolls handed to them from the front row.
“Thank you.”
Yu Yeon-seo approached the fan and accepted the small bouquet. The fan, holding a phone in one hand to record a video, gasped in delight.
‘This is the first time I’ve ever received flowers.’
In the year 2207, there weren’t many species of flowers left. It was more practical to grow food than flowers, making them a luxury for the upper class. As Yu Yeon-seo smelled the bouquet in his hand, more flashes went off around him.
“We’ll begin once those people are seated.”
A staff member gestured for the audience members who had stood up in the front to sit down.
“Now that things have settled, shall we give our official greetings? Hello. We are the ‘White Tiger’ team.”
At the director’s introduction, the audience erupted in applause and cheers.
“Hello, everyone. Did you all enjoy the movie?”
“Yes!”
“Thank you. We hope you’ll continue to show your support. You’re not here to see me, so I’ll keep it short.”
The audience chuckled at the director’s joke. The microphone in his hand was passed to Park Min-woo. The cheering grew even louder.
“Hello. I’m Park Min-woo, who played the role of Sergeant Park Ji-won. What did you think of our movie?”
Shouts of approval came from all over. Park Min-woo smiled, pleased, and briefly shared an anecdote from filming and mentioned which scene they had worked on the hardest.
“If you enjoyed it, please spread the word. We worked really hard on this.”
The microphone was passed to Lee Han-gyeol. The cheers grew so loud it was almost deafening.
Standing straight with his hands behind his back, Yu Yeon-seo calmly observed the audience, his eyes narrowing at a certain point.
“Uh······.”
In the third row from the front, right in the center, a woman was looking at Yu Yeon-seo’s face through a pair of binoculars. Isn’t Row C close enough? You should be able to see just fine without them.
The woman, who met his gaze through the binocular lenses, gasped.
“Can I have a look at that too?”
“Yes, here······.”
The woman, stunned by the eye contact through the binoculars, blankly passed them to the person next to her. The woman who received them also met Yu Yeon-seo’s eyes and gasped. They were passed down the row like a relay.
‘What are those people doing······.’
The binoculars became public property, passed around by everyone in the center of Row C.
“While watching the movie with you all earlier, I was a little intimidated by how well the two gentlemen standing next to me did······ How was I? Was I okay too?”
“You were amazing!”
“So handsome!”
Regardless, Lee Han-gyeol was expertly handling the event beside him. He hadn’t wasted his years as an idol.
While waiting for his turn, Yu Yeon-seo casually glanced back at the last row where he had been sitting. His eyes widened. As if he’d seen something he shouldn’t have.
‘What······ is that.’
Something that shouldn’t be here was visible. Yu Yeon-seo hung his head low.
“Gasp······.”
Despite the noisy cheers from the audience, the sound of his own heart pounded in his ears. A ringing started, and his breathing grew ragged. The bouquet in his hand dropped to the floor with a soft thud. Yu Yeon-seo covered his ears with both hands.
Lee Han-gyeol, who was about to hand the microphone to Yu Yeon-seo, picked up the bouquet instead. Sensing that something was seriously wrong, he placed a hand on Yu Yeon-seo’s shoulder.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
“Yeon-seo, did you see a ghost or something?”
Park Min-woo leaned back and whispered.
A ghost? It wasn’t something like that. That would have been better······ Yu Yeon-seo clamped a hand over his mouth. A wave of nausea washed over him.
‘I wasn’t mistaken. It was definitely······.’
The two legs beneath a white skirt, floating in the air as if it were a curtain······ It was the unforgettable final image of Lee Hui-seo.
‘Why?’
Why did I see that? Why now, of all times? Yu Yeon-seo swallowed the blood rising in his throat. The metallic scent in his mouth and nose was sickening, making him feel even more nauseous.
“Uh······ Yeon-seo is feeling a bit······.”
“Before the movie, we were talking about a rumor that this theater is haunted. You didn’t really see something, did you, Yeon-seo?”
Park Min-woo cut off the flustered director, joking playfully. A few people in the audience chuckled. Lee Han-gyeol got a bottle of water from a staff member.
“Are you okay?”
Yu Yeon-seo gave a rough nod and drank the water Lee Han-gyeol offered. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and slowly raised his head. Thankfully, the phantom was gone.
“Hello. I suddenly felt dizzy.”
Exhaling, Yu Yeon-seo forced himself to pull it together and greeted the crowd energetically.
“I’m Yu Yeon-seo, and I played the role of Sergeant Kim Woo-jin.”
But it didn’t last long. A stream of blood ran from his nose, forcing him to lower his head again. He hadn’t even done a memory synchronization today, but with the nosebleed and vomiting, it was a mess.
“This is my first stage greeting, and I’m making a spectacle of myself.”
“It’s okay!”
There were more stage greetings scheduled after this, so they couldn’t delay any longer. Plugging his nose with a tissue, Yu Yeon-seo raised the microphone again.
The audience shouted words of encouragement, but he couldn’t hear a single one. He just wanted to get this over with and escape this place.
“Yes, you all enjoyed the movie, right?”
Forcing his expression into a neutral mask, Yu Yeon-seo could feel the corners of his mouth trembling. The tissue covering the lower half of his face due to the nosebleed turned out to be a blessing. The smell of blood still lingered in his throat.
Bang!
The restroom door flew open violently as Yu Yeon-seo leaned over the sink.
‘Why?’
Why did I see Lee Hui-seo’s final moments?
Yu Yeon-seo continued to dry-heave before turning on the cold water and splashing it harshly on his face.
‘Beta, what’s happening?’
Beta added that the only way to find the exact cause was to increase the synchronization rate.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Young Master.”
Yu Yeon-seo squeezed his eyes shut. Lee Tae-gyeom and Im Seung-hyeon, who had followed him looking concerned, entered the restroom.
“Just a minute······.”
He raised a hand to silence them.
The strange physical reactions he’d felt when he saw Lee Hui-seo’s phantom in the theater were things he had experienced before. His heart suddenly racing even without a memory synchronization. The nausea and urge to vomit. The sudden feeling of being drawn to an empty space.
‘Could it be······.’
Could it be that the hallucination I just saw is a pre-existing condition······ of the original body? That the body was seeing Lee Hui-seo’s phantom, but because my consciousness is Kang Jin-hu’s, I couldn’t see it until now? That as the memory synchronization rate increases, I’m gradually being affected too?
‘Is that it?’
<The memory synchronization is still incomplete, so I cannot be certain, but that is the most likely explanation.>
‘You really are······!’
Yu Yeon-seo pressed his lips together tightly. Lee Tae-gyeom and Im Seung-hyeon were still with him.
‘Then what about coughing up blood and the nosebleeds without any memory synchronization?’
<If your theory is correct······ the real Yu Yeon-seo was seeing his mother’s phantom, and I suspect it may be a conflict between the trauma he carried and your own healthy psyche.>
A suspicion? No, he was sure of it. The original body had been seeing Lee Hui-seo’s phantom.
In that case······.
“Since when······?”
Just how long had the original Yu Yeon-seo been seeing these phantoms?