The moment Seojun emerged from the dense forest path, a sharp, acrid stench assaulted his nose.
What is that?
Clutching the axe tightly, he brought his frantic escape to a momentary halt. Narrowing his eyes, he cautiously surveyed his surroundings.
The first thing he noticed was a three-story wooden lodge standing alone in a relatively small clearing. It possessed a strangely antiquated charm, but while most of Hamon Campground looked old, this building seemed especially damp, musty, and decayed.
In front of the crumbling lodge stretched a swamp—a murky expanse of dark water and thick mud.
Seojun’s heart sank.
This wasn’t the lake.
It was a swamp.
He had gone the wrong way.
He was in Zone C.
Wasn’t this supposed to be a two-story building?
Frowning, Seojun stared up at the lodge, which seemed taller than he remembered. However, since he could no longer tell whether that memory came from the movie or his previous life, he quickly dismissed the discrepancy.
There was a much more immediate problem.
The smell.
With both hands occupied by the axe, he couldn’t even cover his nose. All he could do was grimace as the nauseating stench filled his lungs.
He cautiously approached the open ground between the lodge and the swamp. The odor grew so overpowering that it seemed to dull his other senses.
“This smell...”
It appeared to be coming from the swamp rather than the building.
It was a scent Seojun had already become far too familiar with that day—the mingled stench of blood and decay rising from the earth.
After making certain Gas Mask wasn’t lurking nearby, Seojun crouched down to examine the ground more closely.
The soil was dark red.
Even with the moon hidden behind the clouds, there was no mistaking that color.
It was blood.
Blood had been splattered haphazardly around the edge of the swamp. Flat stones scored with knife marks were soaked in it, and fresh blood gleamed vividly between the cuts.
Not daring to touch it with his bare hands, Seojun gently prodded the blood with the blade of the axe.
The wet stain left on the metal confirmed his suspicion.
It was fresh.
A flicker of horror crossed his delicate, porcelain-like face.
Who else was at Hamon Campground?
Christina.
Johan.
William.
Airi.
Bobby.
Could this be their blood?
Seojun had assumed he was Gas Mask’s first target. But what if the killer had already finished his bloody work elsewhere?
A violent shudder ran through him. His teeth began to chatter, his muscles spasmed, and nausea surged into his throat.
He didn’t want to believe he had come all this way only to die for nothing.
His fingers nearly lost their grip on the axe.
Then, just as panic threatened to overwhelm him, something sliced through the night air.
Whoosh.
A crossbow bolt struck the ground only inches from Seojun’s feet.
“Ah!”
He froze for a heartbeat, stunned by the sudden attack.
That brief hesitation, however, kept the axe firmly in his hands. Seojun quickly regained his senses and snapped his gaze toward the third-floor window of the lodge—the direction the bolt had come from.
He caught only a fleeting glimpse of a crossbow.
His eyes dropped to the projectile near his feet.
Not an arrow.
A bolt.
Whoever was standing in the third-floor window had undoubtedly fired it.
The crossbow vanished from sight almost as quickly as it had appeared.
“What the hell was that?!”
Before Seojun could recover from the shock, the crossbow appeared again, already cocked and loaded.
Another bolt flew.
Thud!
It struck the ground beside him.
“Ah, damn it!”
Had Seojun not moved his foot in time, the bolt might have shattered it, tearing through flesh and bone.
He didn’t wait for a third shot.
He ran.
There was no time to wonder why Gas Mask wasn’t using a crossbow too. Nor could Seojun retaliate by hurling his axe with perfect accuracy at someone three stories above him.
Gas Mask was somewhere behind him.
An unknown archer was to his left.
A vast swamp stretched to his right.
Fortunately, there was no need to waste time deciding which direction to take.
Seojun charged straight ahead and plunged into the pitch-black forest.
A grim realization settled over him.
Even the freedom to choose where he ran had become a luxury.
“Ugh... gasp... wheeze...”
Every breath tore painfully through his throat. Tears stung his eyes, and his lungs felt ready to burst.
Still, he refused to release the axe.
He stumbled onward through the forest, trying to navigate between the trees.
Yet every trunk seemed eerily familiar.
The overpowering scent of pine needles clouded his thoughts.
Had he ever truly escaped?
After leaving Zone C, Seojun eventually found another path.
Then he discovered that it was blocked by debris.
The absurd irony made him laugh, briefly distracting him from the fact that someone might still be hunting him.
The path he had avoided earlier had been the one leading to Zone C.
Now that he understood where he was, Seojun left the blocked trail and changed direction.
Unfortunately, traveling through the mountains by moonlight without a compass or flashlight was every bit as dangerous as it sounded.
Even someone who genuinely loved mountains and forests would have struggled.
For Seojun, whose wrists and ankles were both distressingly frail, it was even worse.
No matter how hard he pushed himself, his body continued to protest. His strength drained away with every step.
At this rate, he might not die at Gas Mask’s hands at all.
He might simply collapse from exhaustion.
No.
Pull yourself together.
Seojun rubbed his blurring eyes and forced himself to take another step.
Then he stumbled.
“What the—?”
His failing strength betrayed him. His foot caught on a tree root, and he flailed helplessly before crashing to the ground.
His head struck the earth.
His empty hand slammed into a rock.
Crack.
The sharp sound rang in his ears.
His wristwatch flickered before his eyes, its display frozen at 9:20.
The numbers stubbornly refused to move.
Still clinging to the axe, Seojun felt consciousness slipping away.
From somewhere in the distance, a deranged voice echoed through the forest.
“Everyone ignores me now, but they’ll see. I was a model, you know. I bet even Phillip Lee will be sending me a friend request soon.”
A pain so intense it felt as though something had been driven directly into his brain jolted Seojun awake.
Was this what it felt like for your eyeballs to explode?
He writhed on the ground, feeling as though every bone in his body were being crushed.
A sharp, choking agony stole his breath.
“...Gasp!”
His eyes flew open.
His heart hammered violently against his ribs as he dragged in a ragged breath. Cold sweat beaded across his skin.
The sound of his own breathing echoed unnaturally loudly in his ears, worsening his disorientation.
Leaves rustled softly overhead, almost as though mocking him.
It’s only a summer night.
The thought appeared absurdly amid the chaos.
Gradually, the mysterious pain faded.
In its place came a warm breeze carrying the scent of thick grass and the metallic tang of blood.
Seojun blinked.
His fingertips twitched.
The slow return of sensation brought with it the unmistakable pain of reality.
“Ugh...”
For a moment, he feared he had gone blind.
Fortunately, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the vague outlines of the trees and surrounding objects began to emerge.
Every limb aching in protest, Seojun leaned against a nearby tree and slowly sat up.
Impressively, the axe was still clutched in his right hand.
The fact that he hadn’t released it even while unconscious filled him with a brief, ridiculous sense of pride.
Ignoring the sting in his palms, Seojun looked around.
He appeared to be unharmed.
More importantly, there was no sign of Gas Mask.
Even so, relief refused to come.
Pressing his left hand to his throbbing forehead, he clenched his teeth.
The crossbow... Who fired it?
I don’t remember anyone in the movie using one.
Or did someone?
He searched his memory, but all he could recall were generic killers in crude masks and grotesque monsters.
Nothing matched.
Eventually, still holding his aching head, Seojun planted the axe against the ground and used it as a makeshift cane to pull himself upright.
His clothes and shoes were filthy.
After his earlier encounter with the swamp, his shoes were stained with muddy water.
Seojun silently vowed to throw them away once this day was over.
Then a voice reached his ears.
Frivolous.
Mocking.
Boisterous.
Almost cheerful.
At first, Seojun feared Gas Mask had returned, and his grip tightened around the axe.
A moment later, however, he recognized the owner of the voice.
Bewildered, Seojun followed the sound.
He soon found Bobby sitting nearby, muttering to himself.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
With Bobby leading the way, the journey became somewhat easier.
As they headed toward the mountain, Seojun borrowed a map from him.
Although Seojun asked politely, Bobby’s eyes flickered with the expression of someone whose rights had just been thoroughly violated.
Naturally, Seojun ignored it.
Reading the map without a lantern was difficult, but his eyes had adjusted enough for him to make out the markings.
Tracing his route with one finger, Seojun let out a quiet sigh.
If I had gone around the back of the lodge in Zone C, I would have reached the lake and the mountain directly.
Instead, I wandered around the forest like an idiot.
According to the map, it was impossible to travel directly from Zone C to Zone B without first passing through the campsite in Zone A.
Of course, just because a path wasn’t marked on the map didn’t mean it was truly impassable.
Anyone determined enough could simply force their way through the undergrowth.
The actual distance was surprisingly short.
Without realizing it, Seojun had wandered along the outer edge of Hamon Campground and eventually stumbled upon the lake.
Had Bobby’s voice not reached him, he might still have been roaming the forest without direction.
Why are there so many swamps around this forest?
If I hadn’t been careful, I could have crossed the Jordan River¹ without Gas Mask even getting involved.
¹ T/N: “Jordan River” is a biblical reference symbolizing a boundary or point of no return. Here, it is used humorously to mean “meeting one’s end.”
From time to time, Seojun glanced at Bobby, who was nervously scanning their surroundings.
Seen from behind, Bobby looked nothing like a savior.
Annoyed by the very thought, Seojun turned his attention back to the map.
Hamon production area...
So Gas Mask’s ‘workshop’ isn’t marked either.
Of course it wasn’t.
An official map distributed by Hamon Campground was hardly going to advertise the location of a murderer’s lair.
Even so, Seojun felt mildly disappointed.
Then his gaze fell on three red circles marked on the map.
One was in the forest beside the lake in Zone B.
Another surrounded the lodge in Zone C.
The final circle marked the swampy forest below the campsite in Zone A.
At least Zones B and C were official parts of Hamon Campground.
The third circle, however, covered an area with no notable buildings or attractions.
There was nothing there except swamp and forest.
It was a strange place to mark.
Seojun scratched the back of his neck just beneath the axe handle resting against his shoulder.
His arm quickly began to go numb, so he stopped.
“Hey, Bobby.”
“If you mess with me, my friends won’t let it slide!”
Apparently misunderstanding Seojun’s intentions, Bobby stopped abruptly and snapped at him.
Even while raising his voice, however, he seemed to remember Seojun’s earlier warning and kept his volume somewhat restrained.
Touched by Bobby’s thoughtful caution, Seojun remained entirely unimpressed by the threat involving his friends.
Instead, he spoke in a gentle, soothing voice.
“Bobby, walking through the dark without a light is dangerous. Accidents happen.”
Seojun subtly lifted the axe.
“And I just happen to be carrying this. What do you think will happen to the person walking in front of me if I fall?”
He smiled faintly.
“I’d rather neither of us find out.”
“Eek!”
Kindness always produced positive results.
Whether Bobby understood Seojun’s considerate intentions or not, he immediately stopped rambling and began shuffling forward in nervous silence.