Jog Lin was falling in darkness. The cold air cut through him like knives.
Beside him, the same white shadow fell silently, staring at him with empty eyes.
The broken ground above them closed.
Then—
"AHHH!!!"
Jog Lin woke up on his bed, breathing fast and shaking.
His heartbeat felt like it would explode.
"I… I'm alive? But… I died. I really died…"
A sharp pain hit his head.
"No… that wasn't a dream. I felt everything. The fear. The pain. The hands…"
His eyes slowly looked around.
His room was a complete disaster.
The wooden bed behind him had strange old carvings.
The oil lamp beside him burned softly, lighting only half of his face and leaving the other half in darkness.
Three old paintings hung crookedly on the wall.
Books were scattered everywhere on the floor.
Outside the window…
a black cat sat and stared straight at him without blinking.
Jog Lin's throat dried.
Something felt wrong—very wrong.
He noticed the door.
Black.
Old.
Silent.
And next to it, on the floor…
an axe.
He had never seen that axe before.
He swallowed nervously and began picking up the books.
While collecting them, he found a strange book—old, dusty, and unfamiliar.
"What is this…? I've never seen this here."
As soon as he touched it, soft whispers began.
Voices.
Crying.
Laughing.
Something between chanting and screaming.
He dropped the book in fear.
The sound stopped.
His fingers trembled as he picked it up again. He wanted to throw it away—but curiosity pulled him in.
He opened the book.
On the very first page—
A picture of the black cat staring at him from the window.
Just like now.
Jog Lin froze.
Sweat rolled down his face.
The book suddenly began to shake.
Then it lifted into the air.
Pages ripped out and circled around him like a storm.
The whispers grew louder and louder—almost like souls begging, warning, screaming.
Jog Lin covered his ears.
"STOP!! PLEASE STOP!!"
He fell to his knees, shaking.
Then—
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Everything stopped.
The pages fell to the ground.
Silence.
Jog Lin slowly turned toward the door.
His breath was cold. His heart beat painfully fast.
He walked closer and looked through the small door gap.
Nobody.
Only darkness.
Then suddenly—
The same white shadow appeared on the other side of the door, staring at him through the gap.
Jog Lin jumped back in fear.
More sounds returned—loud, echoing, terrifying.
He looked toward the window.
Thousands of black hands pressed against the glass, clawing, shaking it, trying to break in.
Just like in the nightmare.
Tears formed in his eyes. He crawled toward the exit, opened the door—
And everything vanished.
Silence again.
He took a deep breath and slowly turned.
On the wall, written in fresh dripping blood, were two words:
HAN SEOJIN.
Jog Lin stood still.
Confused. Terrified.
"Why this name…? Why again and again…?"
His voice shook.
The oil lamp flickered.
Darkness spread across the room.
Jog Lin slowly turned his head to the right—
and the moment he saw it, his eyes widened in pure horror.
To Be Continued...