Chapter 83…
At the Abandoned Factory (2):
[Sorry about all this. As you’ve probably noticed, there are a lot of people who hold grudges against that bastard Jang Sang-su.]
“That bastard really piled up grudges wherever he went. Even now, he’s pitch-black.”
[Guilty. He’s practically untouchable. It wasn’t always this bad, but now even spirits get sucked into him on their own.]
He seemed like someone who knew a lot. Even knew about Jang Sang-su being shrouded in that darkness.
“You too, mister? You don’t look like the type who’d be an easy target.”
[Of course not. If it came down to fists, there’s no way I’d lose.]
Ohh. He wasn’t just bluffing—he had the real aura of a seasoned fighter. Like a gangster from an old movie. Even his way of talking matched.
“But then?”
[He said he was sorry, said he was retiring, and invited me to drink it all away.]
“Ha. That’s a total cliché.”
[Cri… what? I don’t care what you call it. Anyway, he slipped something into my drink, left me half-conscious, and then I got shot with a hunting rifle. You think anyone could survive that?]
Oof. So when he mentioned “retirement,” it meant they had a long history. His old-fashioned clothes added up, too.
“You guys were friends?”
[Friends? Don’t be ridiculous. He was under me. Kid had a sharp head, so I let him handle some money… but he got caught skimming off the top.]
Ah, straight out of a gangster flick. The loyal right-hand man betrays, the boss gets stabbed in the back. Except in this case, this guy got drugged, fought, and was gunned down. No wonder he had such a heavy aura.
[Couldn’t you let me in on this?]
“Huh?”
[I can’t leave that bastard be. That’s why I’m stuck wandering here. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could help me settle my grudge?]
“……”
I could guess how he felt. But still, the fact remained—he was a thug. Who knows what kind of life he lived? And what good would it do to drag someone like him into this?
“Isn’t it true you can’t even leave this warehouse anyway?”
[Well, that’s…]
“And you said yourself—even going near that black thing makes you get sucked right in.”
[……When I came around here back when they were selling the place, I saw one of his underlings charge in and end up like that.]
“So it’s dangerous. If you really want to help, find something—anything—that could be used against him. I’ll be back after the shoot.”
At least he was reasonable. After looking a little deflated, he nodded.
[There’ll be plenty of dirt to dig up. I’ll look into it, so just do me that favor.]
“Sure.”
“Su-han! We’re rolling!”
“Yep!”
I left him behind and rushed back to the set.
…Come to think of it, I never asked his name. Well, I could ask later.
The cameras started rolling, and the assistant director shouted:
“Action!”
…
KWAANG!
The door blew off its hinges like it had been hit by a shell.
“Wow! What’s with all these people? A bunch of thugs, huh?”
At Su-han’s cocky voice, the men inside—who’d been handling something—slowly rose to their feet.
“What the hell is this?”
“Hey, Manager Oh. You’ve been skimming goods here? Does your dad know what you’re doing?”
“You… Assistant Woo? How dare you show your face here!”
“Where else? Looks like a bunch of gangsters stealing goods. Pretty obvious.”
“Grab that bastard and drag him over!”
At Manager Oh’s shout, the thugs charged Su-han, wielding pipes and bats.
“Woorah-cha-cha-cha!”
Su-han leapt forward like a bullet. The thug in the lead was kicked so hard he flew back faster than he’d been running forward.
Pakang!
“Ugh!”
Another swung a bat at him, but it shattered on contact, leaving the man gasping.
“He blocked it?”
Grinning, Su-han followed with a punch. The man’s head snapped to the side, and he crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
“This… this can’t be… Assistant Woo?!”
Manager Oh stared in disbelief as his underlings rolled around the floor like trash in the wind.
“Shit!”
Then Su-han’s eyes met his. Realizing there was nowhere to run, Manager Oh fell to his knees, crawling forward to beg.
“P-Please! Don’t tell my father! I’ll beg if I have to.”
“Why should I?”
“I’m begging you!”
As he clung to Su-han’s leg, he suddenly drew a knife and thrust at his waist. But his head whipped sideways, and he collapsed instead.
“Ugh!”
“Jeez. Clichés get old.”
Muttering, Su-han stepped on his throat.
“Well, guess that’s another day cleared…”
“Guh! I’m… I’m sorry…”
Su-han looked down at him, writhing like an insect underfoot.
“…Hmm.”
“Keck! Kek!”
Sure, it was cathartic. He’d blown up at the office, slapped the boss, even crashed Manager Oh’s wedding with the female deputy, dragging her away in a wedding dress like a movie scene. And lately, noir-style roleplay had been his obsession. But even this was starting to feel stale.
That’s when he felt something warm near his leg.
“Huh?”
“You bastard…”
It was Manager Oh. At some point, he’d picked the knife back up and stabbed Su-han’s thigh.
Crack!
It was impulsive. Without thinking, Su-han pressed down harder.
“Ah…”
Startled, he stepped back. He stared at Manager Oh—tongue lolling, neck twisted, lifeless.
“Mm.”
Realization hit him: he had killed someone. Even if it was a dream, this was the first time he’d actually killed a person, not just acted it out. The weight of it didn’t feel real though—the guilt of murder was faint. After all, this was just a dream.
Still, unsatisfied, he stomped on Manager Oh’s throat again.
“Don’t like that ending.”
At his words, he clapped his hands. Instantly, Manager Oh’s eyes flickered with life again.
“Keck!”
Su-han pulled the knife from his thigh, reversed his grip, and said to the pale-faced manager:
“Done already?”
“P-Please… spare me…”
“You should’ve been polite from the start.”
“P-Please… spare me… sir…”
Tears streamed down Manager Oh’s face as he groveled. Su-han drove the knife into his leg.
“AAAARGH!”
His scream ripped through the silence. Su-han smirked.
“Guess that makes us even, huh?”
He pulled the knife free and tapped it against his bleeding thigh.
“S-Sorry! Please, just let me live!”
“What was that?”
Leaning in, Su-han cupped his ear.
“PLEASE LET ME LIIIVE!”
At the desperate cry, Su-han stabbed down.
Puk!
“Guh!”
He stared coldly at the man’s face.
“Disgusting.”
He stabbed again, and again.
“I fight every day just to survive. You understand that?”
Flashes of his real life surfaced—being pushed around, humiliated in front of the woman he liked, ignored. Every day was a silent scream for help, and no one cared—not Manager Oh, not anyone.
“Maybe tomorrow I’ll try arson.”
Relieved of his stress, he smiled.
…
“Cut!”
“Whoa. Chills.”
“That was terrifying!”
The crew applauded. Su-han grinned, then looked down at the prop knife.
Puk.
“This thing’s neat.”
It went in and out easily, working like a toy knife despite looking real.
“….”
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
Something was off. He looked up to see Gam-dong staring at him, pale.
“Have you… actually killed someone?”
“…”
That bastard Gam-dong.
Stab, stab, stab, stab!
“Die! Hahaha!”
“Stop! Cut it out!”
Gam-dong flailed as Su-han jabbed him with the toy knife.
How dare he accuse me of being a killer?
Among the ghosts watching, one whispered:
[Isn’t he… you know?]
[A psychopath?]
[Yeah.]
Silence spread. Their already pale faces seemed even whiter. Then one muttered:
[Shit. Better to mess with a ghost than with a lunatic like that…]
The ghosts shuddered, feeling a strange chill from Su-han.
After a few more takes, shooting wrapped. The assistant director was pleased.
“Man, it looks even better with the light fading.”
“Yeah, the lack of clutter makes wide shots easier too.”
“Exactly.”
Then he noticed Su-han, now out of makeup, shambling back toward the warehouse.
“Hey. Didn’t you already bring everything out?”
“I know.”
“Then why—?”
Su-han turned slowly at the doorway. The setting sun lit half his face, the other half hidden in shadow. The sight made the AD involuntarily step back.
“S-Sorry.”
“Damn it! I didn’t kill anyone! Why’re you acting like I’m some murderer?!”
“S-Sorry… really sorry.”
Yep, that was Su-han, blowing up like always. But to be fair, the misunderstanding was natural. His acting had always been fueled by personal experience. It wasn’t luck—he nailed what he’d lived. But murder? That wasn’t exactly something you could experience firsthand.
Feeling guilty, the AD ran up, praised him, and asked if he had a reference for that chilling performance.
“I saw it.”
“Huh?”
“Killing. And dying.”
The AD froze.
“Not like in the movies with knives and stuff. It was back when I’d just started living on the streets.”
“…R-Really?”
“There was this drunk guy. Someone climbed on top of him and started strangling him. I was a kid then, but I still remember the look. Not of someone killing, but just… straining with all their strength. Unless you were the one being strangled, it just looked like effort.”
“…Jesus…”
The AD instantly regretted asking.
Su-han always spoke casually about things that would scar anyone else. Which only made him feel worse.
