The guardhouse was deserted, steeped in an eerie silence. Stranger still, the door—infamous for its squealing hinges—was unlocked. When Seojun turned the handle, it swung open without resistance. To his relief, neither a gas-masked assailant nor a tentacled monster sprang out to ambush them.
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders.
Seojun swept the lantern beam across the interior. The guardhouse was small, its layout simple and easy to take in at a glance.
The rectangular building was divided into two sections: a reception area where visitors were handled and a smaller, more private room at the back. Despite being enclosed, the front area felt oddly exposed, surrounded by broad windows and the entrance door.
A telephone sat on the desk.
As Seojun had expected, the line had been cut.
“......”
He pressed a few buttons on the useless phone without any real hope. Naturally, there was no dial tone.
Johan placed a hand on his shoulder, his expression grave.
“It’s frustrating, but for now, let’s assume the caretaker is the one wearing the gas mask.”
“That damned Gas Mask....”
Overcome with irritation, Seojun hurled the receiver aside. He had prepared himself for this possibility, but confronting it in person still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
His anger soon gave way to unease.
Their encounters with Gas Mask and the monster had cost them precious time. Christina should have reached the guardhouse before them, yet she was nowhere to be seen.
Johan leafed through the visitor log. The lantern’s dim light cast deep shadows over his face, illuminating only his chin, lips, and the underside of his nose. His low voice filled the cramped guardhouse.
“If Christina had come through here, she would’ve left us some kind of sign. But there’s nothing.”
A pen lay beside the logbook, but even after Johan examined every page from beginning to end, he found no trace of Christina.
One thing was certain.
Christina had never reached the guardhouse.
Regret washed over Seojun. He rubbed his forehead with his relatively uninjured left hand.
Should they have investigated the gunshots instead?
Had he made a terrible mistake?
His legs threatened to buckle beneath him. He knew better than anyone that without the protagonist, they stood no chance against either the monster or Gas Mask.
That was simply how this world had been written.
“We have to find Christina. Now.”
He seized Johan by the arm, knocking the short, musty mop, the logbook, the pen, and the disconnected telephone onto the floor.
Seojun kicked irritably at the clutter around his feet, then clung to Johan as though seeking salvation from a god.
Concern filled Johan’s eyes.
“Jun, you’re really frightened, aren’t you?”
“I......”
Seojun looked up, prepared to glare at him, only to find himself speechless.
Johan was gazing back with nothing but sincere concern. There was not the slightest hint of ridicule or contempt in his expression.
It was nothing like the scorn Seojun had so often received from Bobby or the trio—Gold, Silver, and Bronze. Johan’s concern was unmistakably genuine.
Seojun could not understand it.
Why was Johan looking at him that way?
They were merely acquaintances. They could hardly even be called friends.
And yet Johan wrapped his arms around him and whispered,
“What if the two of us just ran away?”
Pain coloured his voice, but his words were gentle and hesitant.
Seojun drew a deep, unsteady breath, overwhelmed by the suggestion. He might have conquered his fear of being struck by a truck, but his fear of death had never left him.
Johan’s offer was tempting.
Far too tempting.
For one fleeting moment, Seojun felt himself being irresistibly drawn in. Yet his slender arms, as frail as bare branches, did not return the embrace.
He pulled away.
Their bodies had filled the confined space with warmth and the smell of sweat, but the cool night air slipping through the guardhouse brushed against his skin. Seojun stared down at the patch of ground the moonlight could not reach.
Then he slowly spoke.
“That isn’t possible.”
The thought of abandoning Hamon Campground was undeniably appealing.
But when a stage prop left the theatre, it was destined only to be discarded.
Seojun raised his eyes to Johan. Suspicion and trust mingled strangely within them.
“Bobby called me a deranged cultist and a fortune-teller. And he was right, Johan. I am insane. I’m a prophet who can see a terrible future.”
He remembered his previous life.
He believed that he had taken possession of another person’s body.
If that was not madness, then what was?
The future he believed in was not some fleeting vision that invaded his thoughts without warning. It was a grainy black-and-white screen displaying a close-up of the protagonist, ‘Christina,’ screaming at the top of her lungs.
Seojun believed in that foresight so completely that it tormented him.
It was not merely a prophecy.
It was an absolute certainty.
He did not consider himself some twenty-first-century Nostradamus. He simply believed that the future had already been decided.
Here, at Hamon Campground, on this Independence Day, they had to defeat both the man-eating monster and the serial killer.
Running away would accomplish nothing.
The moment he vanished from Christina’s sight, a meteor might fall from the sky and kill him on the spot.
Seojun ran his tongue over his dry lips, irritated by even the faint trace of moisture. His jaw tightened as he spoke, less to persuade Johan than to reassure himself.
“I have to find Christina and survive this with her. That’s the only future I’ve seen. It’s the only one I believe in.”
His voice was stretched taut, harsh with strain.
Johan merely listened with a tranquil smile before drawing Seojun into another embrace.
“Jun, don’t you think that makes you rather adorably insane?”
“......”
The warmth in Johan’s voice made it almost impossible for Seojun to suppress the emotions boiling inside him.
He lowered his head to conceal his reddening eyes and rested against Johan’s shoulder.
“If I did run away, Johan... what would you do?”
Hidden from Johan’s gaze, Seojun’s eyelids slowly fluttered.
Johan looked down at his dark hair and answered quietly.
“I’d love to go with you... but I have to look for Christina.”
Then, with a bitter smile, he added,
“I truly do want to run away with you, Jun. Please don’t doubt how I feel.”
Johan gently lifted Seojun’s chin. His touch was soft. Tilting his head, he looked directly into Seojun’s eyes.
A surge of anger swept through Seojun.
The sudden contrast in the tall young man’s behaviour left him dumbfounded. Unable to hide the flush spreading across his ears and cheeks, he seized Johan by the collar.
“Wait just a minute! You said—!”
His outrage was impossible to miss.
Seojun glared at Johan through clenched teeth.
“I should’ve known! You’ve been spouting nonsense from the very beginning!”
Johan was unquestionably one of the stars of The Murderer of the Bloody Lake.
It was obvious now. The unseen forces governing this horror film were attempting to eliminate Seojun, a prophet who did not even qualify as a supporting character.
I should’ve realised it the moment he started talking about that absurd government conspiracy involving aliens.
Had Seojun not noticed how strangely Johan had been acting?
Then again, Johan was notorious for talking nonsense. He had certainly been more talkative than usual today, but considering the monster, Gas Mask, and the chaos surrounding them, it had not seemed particularly suspicious.
The truth, however, was different.
Fresh energy surged through Seojun’s exhausted body. His rising fury breathed life back into him and hardened his resolve.
With both the female and male leads beside him, separating from them would be tantamount to suicide.
Seojun grabbed Johan by the back of the neck and yanked him closer.
Their noses touched.
Seojun stared directly into Johan’s eyes, his own bloodshot and blazing.
“Listen carefully, Johan Gentil. I intend to leave this place with both you and Christina. I’m not going anywhere alone. Do you understand?”
Strangely, Johan did not grow angry at Seojun’s sudden outburst.
Instead, tears welled in his eyes.
He tried several times to speak, but no words came. At last, he bit down on his lower lip.
“Yes. Let’s do that, Jun. We absolutely will.”
After a moment of silence, Johan answered in a steady, resolute voice. Both his expression and his tone carried an unexpected intensity.
Seojun regarded him warily, then gave a dismissive snort.
“That’s all I needed to hear.”
He released Johan’s neck.
Just like that, the heavy, intimate atmosphere that had filled the cramped guardhouse disappeared.
Seojun retrieved the lantern and the knife, then turned towards Johan with a questioning look.
“Should we investigate where that gunshot came from?”
“Yes, we should. But if it really was a gunshot, it could be dangerous.”
Concern shadowed Johan’s face, and Seojun could hardly disagree.
They both understood the risk.
Unfortunately, neither of them had a better plan.
Seojun gestured towards the door leading into the guardhouse’s rear room.
“Do you think there might be something useful in there?”
“In that room? Well, if Gas Mask really is the caretaker, like you suspect, we might find something that could help us.”
Johan tried the handle.
As expected, the door was locked.
“That only makes it more suspicious.”
He twisted the knob a few more times before pointing towards the desk.
Seojun searched through every drawer, but found no key. Gas Mask had most likely taken it with him.
Growing impatient, Seojun bit his lip and nudged Johan.
“Do you think we could break the doorknob?”
“Well...”
Johan hesitated.
He rapped his knuckles against the door and listened carefully to the sound. After several measured knocks, he straightened.
“There’s definitely something behind it. But breaking the knob alone won’t be enough.”
“Hmm.”
Seojun studied the door leading into the adjoining room, released a quiet sigh, and took Johan by the wrist.
“Wait a moment.”
“Mm-hm.”
The drawn-out response sent an inexplicable chill down Seojun’s spine, but they had no time to waste on idle conversation.
He picked up the severed telephone cord, wound it around the doorknob, and pulled it tight. The cord was thin, but after several loops, it appeared sturdy enough.
He handed the improvised rope to Johan.
“Let’s find out what’s inside.”
“Well, if you insist.”
Johan gently moved Seojun aside and gripped the cord.
With scarcely any effort, the muscles in his arm tightened.
There was a sharp snap.
The doorknob tore free and dropped to the floor, leaving a neat, circular hole in the door.
Johan carefully unwound the cord from his hand and stepped back. A trace of embarrassment entered his voice ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) as he muttered,
“It shouldn’t have broken that easily... It must already have been badly weakened.”