9. Witness Your Own Death! (6)
I charged up the slope, legs pumping furiously. My ankles throbbed, and my breath clawed up to my throat.
"Where'd you go? Where are you? Where could you have gone?"
Fur brushed past. Light flickered by. Sounds whispered close.
"Found you. Got you. Got you—!"
A spotted tail coiled around my body. Long hairs like copper wires dragged across my skin down to the ground. Hot, wet breath caressed my earlobe.
But it never quite caught me.
The thing was toying with me.
"Hee, hee, hee, hee, hee."
The laughter wouldn't fade. It was like terror itself—something I couldn't shake off no matter how hard I tried.
I have to escape. Faster...
No use. It was there. It had so many legs. Fast as the wind, it never let prey slip away once it had you in sight.
Rawr—!
The tiger leaped. The tiger blocked my path. The tiger stared at me. It reared up.
Beneath its sagging hide, sneakers, dress shoes, high heels, socks, grimy bare soles and white cotton feet wraps, boots, work boots—all the soles of shoes from past and present clung together in a patchwork.
Moonlight pierced the trees. Wind blew through the mist. The beast's eyes gleamed.
It shook its head wildly, wiggled its hips in a grotesque dance, prancing and playing.
Ting—. A bell rang. Ting—. It jingled. Ting—.
Ting—.
Ting.
I spun around and ran blindly, ran and ran some more. Before I knew it, I'd escaped the mountain and reached a serene lake.
Waves lapped at my ankles. Gasping, I scanned the surroundings.
Dead quiet.
...Did I lose it?
No sign of the beast. No human feet, no centipede legs, no lion mask head, no scythe-like claws or that mottled fur.
...
A breeze swept the mist from the lake, and the moon spilled cold light through a rift in the clouds.
The far shore was pitch black, like a slice of night sky cut out and pasted there.
That's when my thoughts turned to Cartographer. With trembling hands, I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out my phone.
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped it three times.
Cartographer... I need to find the way out...
Sweaty fingers tapped the app. The map loaded.
Relief finally washed over me.
I sighed, wiped the sweat from my brow, and checked the map.
It was red.
...
I looked up. The lake was ablaze. No—not burning. Fire flickered deep in the mountains. Torches. And between them, the eerie wail of gongs drifted over.
Flames encircled the lake. That's why it glowed blood-red.
Just like the red on the screen—the color for wrong answer.
Only then did I realize. The stench of rot grazed my nose.
That foul smell had never once vanished.
Atop the full moon's reflection in the lake, the beast perched lightly.
Rattle, rattle—it shook its head, staring at me across the encircled waters.
"......"
Kyaaang—! Kyaaang kyaaang, kyaaang kyaaang kyaaang—!
"Good."
Kyaaang—! Kyaaang, kyaaang kyaaang—! Kyaaang kyaaang—!
"Oh yeah, that's the stuff—."
The tiger began its hip-swaying dance. The torches drew closer, held by people in black suits.
Kyaaang—! Kyaaang kyaaang—! Kyaaang kyaaang kyaaang—!
They wore masks. Bodies floating as if walking on air, heads fixed rigid like nailed in place.
Heads lolling wildly.
"Hot damn—! Sound the drums—! Let's dance—!"
The masked dancers advanced in playful steps. Leading them, the tiger—glaring with bulging eyes, legs kicking high in glee.
It was coming for me.
And I was going to it.
We were one.
One.
One.
A great, full circle like that harvest moon.
Into the merciful embrace of the mountain spirit...
Squeeeee—!
The suit collar choked my neck.
Air cut off. I couldn't remember what I'd just been thinking.
But one thing was clear. I was moments from becoming someone's meal.
A jaw like rows of front teeth glued together loomed before my nose. An unbearable stench.
Long white hairs like a kindly old man's beard trailed across the ground at its feet.
The mouth snapped shut. I threw my whole body backward with all my strength. Crack!—a chilling sound from behind.
I lived.
No.
Not yet.
I fell on my ass and kicked at the ground with my legs. The tiger's face jerked side to side. Its drooling jaw stayed wide open.
That's when my future self's words resurfaced.
Noise is dangerous. Don't make a sound. Keep your voice down.
Even after the advice, "I" hadn't shut up. Despite warning not to make noise.
Until now, I'd thought it was to help poor souls in peril...
That wasn't it.
I realized.
That was meant for me. "I" knew I was here!
With that thought, I held my breath instantly.
The tiger cocked its head. The playful mask's jaw tilted skyward. Neck twisted, it muttered.
"Hide-and-seek?"
Sweat trickled down my cheek. Beaded at my chin.
Hee, hee, hee, hee, hee. It laughed.
"Hide-and-seek? Hide-and-seek, hide-and-seek, it, it. Seeker."
It walked again. Sniffed with its nose twitching.
"Seeker."
It bounded again. Circled the lakeshore. Swept with its tail, clawed the ground, bit at the air.
It still knew I was here. I'd be found soon. The masked ones flew through the air. The bird ghosts didn't scream. Dry grass by the lake caught fire.
And finally, the entire lake became a sea of flames—except where I hid.
"Found you."
Light steps. Thuds. Tap, tap, tap. Then it leaped in one bound!
Tap—and landed softly on the ground.
Now you're the seeker.
That flickering shadow far off—is it a passing traveler, or just moonlight's trick?
"Tiger—!"
None of it.
A stroke slashed the air. The brush was a torch, the ink was shadow.
"Over here—!"
I shouted.
Rawr—!
Shoulder dances of the masked dancers, so merry to behold.
Is it a feast, or some joyous rite?
Glancing back, I chased them—the masked folk.
We wandered to the mountain. Their dance twists necks awry.
Strange, bizarre. Joyful yet chilling.
I grabbed one dancer, asked why the broken neck.
"What makes your head loll so?"
The dancer laughed and said,
"We're off to offer you as sacrifice. The village lost one to the beast."
"A man's dead?"
"Aye. Will you come?"
I nodded. Curiosity piqued.
We headed deep into the mountain.
Shoulder dances merry, heads lolling wild.
We reached a shrine.
A shrine it was.
The "I" who'd swung the torch turned and fled into the mountains when the tiger gave chase.
The masked dancers followed, shambling after.
I'd escaped the crisis. My legs felt like jelly.
But I couldn't stop.
To get out of here, I had to witness my own death.
Fortunately, I knew the way.
Just follow the dancing masked dancers.
Moments later.
I reached a wide clearing deep in the mountain. A breeze grazed my forehead.
This is...
A shrine. A sacred tree loomed behind, its long, bare branches stretching out. The surroundings glowed red already.
The moon bled red. Five-colored flags hung from the old tree's every branch, fluttering endlessly in the moaning wind.
"Come out—! Namu Amida Butsu. Who's there—! Kwanseum Bosal. You're the seeker now—!"
I didn't need to look to know where I was.
The tiger had jammed its snout into the roots, scraping at the sacred tree's trunk.
"I know. You're here. I see all. Come out."
The tiger spoke in the voice of rookie Kim Moon-ho.
"I'll rip your belly open and chew your raw liver. Come out now, bow low, grovel. Your suffering ends here!"
The tiger spoke in the voice of rookie Joo Han-ul.
"I'll shower you with grace. Hurry out. No foothold left. Even if there is, you won't find it. Don't you feel it?"
The tiger finally sobbed in Oh Sung-jin's voice.
Bang—!
The gunshot exploded right then.
The tiger staggered back. Bang—! A flash slammed into its head. With each shot, it retreated step by step.
But it didn't die. No sign of injury.
It just shook its head to scatter the impact.
In that moment, "Oh Sung-jin" emerged from the roots. "I" pulled something from my bosom and hurled it my way.
It rolled to my feet—a fountain pen. Guessing the intent was easy.
I knew I existed.
"Over here!"
I started climbing the sacred tree.
The tiger roared. Like the sun-and-moon siblings, the tiger climbed too.
But it wasn't as foolish as that tiger in the tale.
It would catch up soon.
And then die.
I had work to do.
I bolted straight for the root hole where "Oh Sung-jin" had emerged. Slid inside, searched for the "writing" that would be there.
And found it.
Under the phone's cold light, my own handwriting said this.
Things to memo.
1. Write a report on what you see here and touch it.
2. Find Department Head Kang Mi-young.
3. Get fried chicken from B12. Company'll buy it once you file the report. The kids love it.
4. Save your bonus. Got stuff to buy.
5. The company will fail. If this gets loose, everyone's dead. Make up an excuse and convince them.
I hope you're the last. But if not...
Leave a message. I'm the third.
I was frantically jotting it down when something tumbled from outside the root hole.
It was the heads of the two rookies, Kim Moon-ho and Joo Han-ul.
Their empty eyes stared at me. My heart pounded, breath ragged.
Don't panic.
I gritted my teeth. Started reading the lines again.
That instant. From outside—
"Got you—!"
Time was up.
I poked my head out the hole. The tiger's massive bulk landed softly on the ground.
In its jaws—a person. Me.
Bitten at the head.
Frail fists pounded its jaw.
Writhing. Fighting for life.
No use.
The standing masked dancers lifted into the air. Their necks snapped at impossible angles.
What I'd thought was dancing wasn't dance.
"The last one—!"
It was struggling.
They were caught.
In the tiger's maw.
Every time the tiger whipped its head, the dancers "danced"—necks twisting, shoulders flailing.
And—crack. "Oh Sung-jin"'s body went limp.
I had witnessed my own death.
"I win."
With the tiger's voice, my mind faded to black.