Baek Saheon opened his eyes.
Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that he hadn't slept a wink.
'Fucking hell.'
Ever since entering 'Horizon Mountain Lodge', his nerves had been on edge, searching for a way to leave this place alive and intact. Half of his efforts were spent trying to stay on Kim Soleum's good side, carefully walking on eggshells to gauge the guy's mood.
'Son of a bitch.'
He felt no shame about it—it was necessary for survival.
…Even now, as he debated whether to visit Kim Soleum's room, it was for the same reason.
'I need information, anything I can use.'
That lunatic definitely knew something. Baek Saheon was convinced he needed to extract that knowledge to secure a trump card for his survival.
But…
"..."
Was Kim Soleum really a lunatic?
More specifically, why had he… saved him?
Baek Saheon already knew the truth. There had been multiple opportunities at the exhibition for Kim Soleum to kill him or use him as a scapegoat, but he hadn't.
Sure, he had been messed with a few times, but in the end…
'No!'
He probably did it for fun. It's only because keeping me alive would make things more unpredictable and entertaining for that bastard!
Baek Saheon jumped to that conclusion. He'd never encountered such a madman in his life before.
'…Even so, I doubt he'd lie about something important.'
With a strange sort of faith, he opened his door—
Something stood in front of it.
"...!!"
The now-darkened lodge was steeped in shadows, making it difficult to recognize the figure immediately.
A man of similar height to himself.
…It was Kim Soleum.
'Shit!'
Startled, but strangely relieved.
Better him than a stranger. At least Kim Soleum wouldn't try to kill him.
"Hey…"
But as Baek Saheon's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed something in Kim Soleum's hand.
An axe.
"..."
'What?'
An axe?
He almost rubbed his one remaining eye in disbelief before a plausible explanation struck him.
"That's… for self-defense against the killer, right…?"
But then, another thought entered Baek Saheon's mind.
The texts Kim Soleum had been sending.
[watch out for serial killers]
What if those texts weren't warnings…
…But a prediction of the future?
"Bye bye."
The axe came down on his head.
The next morning.
A couple leaving their room heard a melody faintly blending with the heavy rain.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
A hum.
"Isn't that the song that played when our car's GPS broke?"
"Omo, it does sound like it… Is this some local radio station?"
Breathing in the damp, eerie morning air, they held their cassette tape tightly like a treasure as they passed through the hallway to the kitchen.
And then—
"GAAAHHHHH!!"
They saw something stuffed into the kitchen hearth.
It looked like someone had detonated fireworks and toys inside, charring the area completely black.
The burnt remains.
Among the dark-red ashes, two stick-like objects jutted out, bent at odd angles.
And at the end of those sticks…
Shoes.
The sneakers were partially burned, still clinging to what used to be a person's feet.
"Aaaaaack!!"
"Oh my God! Is that… a person?!"
"Aigoo, aigoo, what is this— what's happening— aigoo!!"
The couple's screams of horror echoed through the lodge, quickly drawing the others downstairs.
One by one, the others joined the chaos, their faces pale.
"What's going— AAAAHHH!!"
"Gaaaasp…!"
The students, the middle-aged driver—no one was immune to the panic. One person, claiming earlier to have a sore throat and only communicating via notes, collapsed to the ground, his face drained of color.
But… weren't there two people who said they were office workers?
'No way…!'
The couple pointed at the burned feet sticking out of the hearth.
"The young man who came with you… is it him? The one with the eye patch?"
The remaining office worker stared at the scorched sneakers, covering his mouth, and gave a small nod.
"AGH!!"
Someone had died.
A person they had talked to just yesterday.
As the realization set in, cries and screams filled the room again.
"Call 119 right now!"
"What the hell is this?! Fuuuuck!!"
"I told you these old kitchens were dangerous! One small fire and look what happens!"
But in their hearts, a small voice whispered doubts.
'Was it really an accident?'
Could a fire burn only a person, leaving everything else untouched… and in such a horrific state?
'Could it be…'
Still in a state of panic, the group scrambled for their phones.
And moments later—
A collective chill ran down their spines.
"T-The phone isn't working. There's no dial tone!"
"Where's the caretaker? Someone just died here!"
But the caretaker, who had promised to take good care of them, was nowhere to be found, as if he'd vanished into thin air.
The dark, rain-soaked mountain surrounding the lodge.
Inside the lodge, only the group and the humming remained…
"..."
"..."
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
Outside, an unrelenting downpour lashed the area, and there were signs that a landslide had occurred overnight, burying the bus stop in debris.
"The road… it's completely buried."
"My car!!"
That's when the group began to realize.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
Something was seriously wrong.
"I-I swear, that thing… it was moving earlier."
"..."
Near the hearth where the charred remains lay, a small, old analog cassette player emitted the humming sound.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm…
Click.
One of the students switched off the cassette player and pulled something from inside it.
A worn ivory-colored tape.
"...!"
The pale-faced office worker shakily pulled out his notebook, his trembling hands scribbling quickly.
[This looks like the cassette Baek Saheon had…]
"O-Oh my God."
And that's when the nightmare truly began.
Lunchtime.
The lodge's caretaker had apparently prepared a neat meal of soup and rice in advance, but nobody dared to touch it, as if by mutual agreement. Instead, they nibbled on energy bars and snacks they'd brought themselves, wandering around the lodge in a futile search for a signal to make their phones work.
Unsurprisingly, there was no success.
In the oppressive rain, the isolated mountain lodge felt suffocating and ominous, severed from any external connection.
'This is driving me crazy!'
One of the university students, frustrated by his unresponsive social media apps, angrily tapped at his phone screen before switching it off in irritation.
"Fuck!"
"Dude, you're such a fucking scaredy-cat."
One friend teased, laughing nervously as they pushed each other closer to the legs sticking out of the hearth.
They even took a few photos of the scene, treating it like a twisted joke, though they didn't seem to have much appetite as they left their calorie bars and chocolates untouched.
Despite their mockery, they weren't as calm as they appeared. They relied on their numbers to feel secure.
'There's three of us, after all.'
Even if someone tried to kill them, they reasoned, no one would target a large group first.
'They'll go for someone alone, or the stragglers.'
That thought seemed to put them somewhat at ease.
"Hey…"
One student turned to chat with his friend, but a peanut-filled chocolate bar was suddenly extended in front of him.
When he looked up, he saw the pale-faced office worker holding out his notebook.
[Would you like some? I don't think I can eat it…]
"Uh, no thanks."
The student replied curtly, and his friend beside him snickered.
"Dude, he can't eat peanuts."
[Ah… I apologize.]
The office worker apologized silently, retreating to the sofa with a dejected air.
Wasn't he the one who'd been introduced as a supervisor? At first, he'd seemed quite intimidating, but after witnessing his colleague's death, he looked utterly deflated.
'Scared stiff, huh.'
He now gave off the impression of someone who would crumble under even the sliiiightest pressure.
"Hey, wanna bet?"
"Sure, but man, this is too much."
Meanwhile, the other two students went outside for a smoke. The office worker, still fiddling with his unresponsive phone, cast a dark glance at the hearth before heading upstairs.
And just like that, the room grew silent.
"..."
One student was left alone, uneasily shifting in his seat.
'In the movies, this is the part where someone gets attacked.'
He tapped his foot anxiously, glancing around the room with a wary expression. The presence of a jackknife in his pocket gave him some reassurance, but not for long.
'Shit, why'd they go off on their own?'
Unable to bear it any longer, he decided to go looking for his friends in the backyard.
Gripping the jackknife tightly, he quickened his pace, unnerved by the sensation of something prickling at his back.
He pushed open the back door to the kitchen, which led to the yard.
Click.
A damp, musty smell hit him immediately.
'They're probably under the roof somewhere.'
Surely they wouldn't stand in the rain to smoke, right?
With that thought, he headed toward a storage shed connected by a covered walkway.
But as he walked, a peculiar smell caught his attention.
Something metallic and sharp.
'Iron?'
It smelled like rust, perhaps from the rain leaking into old tools in the shed. That was his assumption, at least, as he rounded the corner.
"Hey, Park Kyungsoo…"
And then, an overwhelming metallic stench hit, enough to numb the nose.
"H-Huuuh…?"
Inside the backyard shed was an old construction-grade grinding machine. It seemed like the machine had been used not for wood, but for something else entirely.
Cruuunch.
What should have been sawdust spewing from the discharge chute was instead shredded flesh.
Fragments of torn clothes, blood-soaked meat, and crushed bone were scattered messily across the floor.
"..."
What is this?
What… the hell is this?
For a moment, his brain refused to process the scene, rejecting the horrifying reality. Then, a beat later, the truth hit him like a tidal wave.
He had found his friends.
Turned into minced meat.
"Uuuughk…!!"
As panic overtook him, vomiting and screams erupted from his mouth.
And then, another sound joined in.
From an old audio device came a familiar tune.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
The sound from the cassette tape.
"Hiiieek!"
The student spun around and bolted, running madly back into the lodge.
Fear and cold terror chased him down to the tips of his hair.
"Hey, why are you running arou—"
"Aaaargh!!"
The student flailed wildly, slapping away the hand that had grabbed his shoulder.
"Don't touch me, you bastard!"
"Whoa, whoa, what the hell?!"
He looked up.
The bewildered faces of the other lodge residents stared back at him. And there was one thing they all had in common.
The tapes.
That's it!
If the psycho responsible for this was targeting the tapes, and that's what caused all of this—
The student frantically rummaged through his pocket and pulled out his tape.
"Here, look at this! Look!"
His eyes were bloodshot, and spit flew as he shouted.
"I'm throwing this away! Take it! I don't want it, okay?! I've given it up, damn it! I've given it up!"
Thud!
He flung the tape onto the ground, then bolted upstairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Only when he locked the door did he finally catch his breath.
"Hah… hah…"
Anxiety darted his eyes around the room.
His mind was plagued by the sight of shredded flesh and broken bones, pounding in his skull like a drumbeat.
Thud.
Thud.
Should he build a barricade with furniture in front of the door?
Thud.
No, that would block his escape route.
Thud.
He glanced at an old lacquered wardrobe in the room, hesitating before pressing himself against the wall beside it, gripping his jackknife tightly. He stared intently at the door.
Thud…
As his back rested against the wall, his breathing began to settle.
'J-Just try it. Force your way in, I dare you…!'
If someone tried, he'd fucking scream bloody murder while swinging his knife. People would come rushing in, and surely he'd be saved! He just had to stay alert.
"No way, no way…"
He muttered to himself like a madman, his voice trembling—
Click.
Softly, the wardrobe door creaked open.
The next morning, the student was found in his room, the door wide open to welcome others.
His body was grotesquely swollen, like an overstuffed sausage, bloated from an allergic reaction.
The hiking club had been wiped out entirely.
"Aaaaaahhh!"
In just one day, an office worker and three students had become corpses, plunging the remaining people into total terror.
"It's the inheritance! Someone's killing people to take more of the inheritance, yeah?! I'm sure of it! They're trying to silence us all so they can keep the tapes without any trouble!"
"That guy, the caretaker! That fucker was sketchy as hell! He looked like a psycho!"
"It's a ghost! We're all haunted! Ha ha ha!"
A middle-aged man shouted like a madman, then pushed past the others and ran outside.
"Argh!"
Ruuuumble.
Thunder resounded at just the right moment.
No, it wasn't just thunder. There was another sound mixed in.
BOOOM!
"...!"
"W-What was that?!"
Startled by the deafening noise, everyone turned toward the window. The civil servant murmured grimly.
"…A landslide."
The landslide had conveniently struck again.
Swept away by the rushing debris, the deranged middle-aged man disappeared down the mountain slope.
AAAAHHHHH…!
His screams faded as he was buried in the muddy earth below.
Rumble… BOOM!
Thunder replaced the humming as it roared outside the lodge, lightning flickering across the stormy sky.
"..."
"..."
A suffocating silence hung over the frozen group of survivors.
Four people remained.
Night two.
The couple, who had spent the day scouring the lodge for a way to contact the outside world, returned to their room, panting.
They'd found no means of escape, but they had discovered something else.
"Hah, hah…"
"Fuck— Shut the hell up and breathe quietly, you moron!"
"Aaack!"
The husband, introduced earlier as the wife's partner, shoved her head roughly before darting out of the living room and up the stairs to the second-floor hallway.
As he ascended, someone cautiously exiting their room happened to meet his bloodshot gaze, startled.
"Hey, you!!"
He was calling out to the office worker who had been communicating through written notes because of his sore throat.
Startled, he quickly fumbled for his notebook to write something, but the man standing before him was faster, shaking something in his hand.
"This, this gold frame…!"
It was the ornate golden picture frame that had been hanging in the living room.
Eyes wild, the man jabbed a finger at the text inscribed inside the frame.
Joyful Mealtime
The rabbit bakes in the kitchen
The deer is caught in the backyard
The pigeon is fattened in the bedroom
The lamb is sliced in the living room
"This is how people are being killed!"
"...!"
The man shouted, voice shaking as he pieced it together. A person roasted in the kitchen, ground in the backyard, and bloated in the room.
"The lodge caretaker or whoever is messing with us! This could all be staged—maybe we're being broadcast somewhere! Or maybe… no, they're toying with us, that's for sure!"
The employee widened his eyes, startled by the revelation. Seeing his reaction, the man grew even more convinced and raised his voice further.
"The next one is the living room! Someone's going to get sliced up in the living room! I'm sure of it! We need to find a way out before it's too—"
"Oh."
...
Huh?
That was a response.
"Surprisingly observant. Braun."
"Braun?"
That was the last word the man ever said.
"Awake?"
A throbbing headache greeted him as he regained consciousness.
"Mmph! Mmmmph!"
His voice was muffled—he realized there was a gag in his mouth. He screamed as loud as he could.
"MMMMMMPH!!"
But the reason for his terror wasn't just the damp, moldy smell of the basement he found himself in or the pitch-black darkness that made it impossible to see more than a few inches ahead.
It was the severed head lying right next to his.
Yes, just a head.
"Mmmph! Mmmmmmph!"
The pale, lifeless face rested on a silver tray mere inches from his nose. He felt his sanity slipping.
Tears, snot, and cold sweat poured down his face as he desperately screamed for help, though the gag swallowed every sound.
"Hrrrnnph, s-sppph, mmmph!"
"Scared? Try to bear with it—I'm holding back too."
A calm, composed voice responded from somewhere nearby. The man rolled his eyes frantically, trying to distance himself from the head as he looked up.
And he saw him.
'The office worker…!'
Dressed in black sweats, the younger man frowned as he gazed down at him.
Then, as if in disdain, he looked at the bloodied work gloves in his hand before letting out a sigh and slipping them back on.
Next, he picked up an axe.
"MMMMMPH!!!"
"Why is it that people always scream first, even when they already know what's going to happen? It just tires everyone involved."
"Mmph!! Mmmph!!"
"Let's not waste our energy unnecessarily."
He's insane.
This man—no, this monster—was the killer…!!
The captive wanted desperately to negotiate, plead, fight back, do anything to survive, but his bound body and gagged mouth gave him no options. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"Hm, I think I've heard that physical and emotional pain can be alleviated a bit by screaming…? Or, well, something like that."
The office worker's voice was dry, his tone almost clinical as he inspected the blade of the axe.
The edge gleamed as it caught the dim light.
"Reasonable enough, I suppose. Still, I don't find it particularly satisfying."
He adjusted his grip.
The axe swung.
A gleaming arc in the air.
Thud.
Clang…
"..."
"..."
Silence enveloped the basement.
Kim Soleum lowered the axe and, with a slightly brighter tone, remarked, "Almost done."
Three people remained.