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The corpses, dry as if just pulled from a coffin, moved with the sound of creaking joints. Occasionally, there was a clattering noise as bones collided, and sharp bursts like something hardening gave a dull thud.

In their bizarre movements, jaws clanked uncontrollably, producing clumsy rattles, and they made horrifying sounds as they scraped against each other, reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard.

The evil spirits advanced, producing grotesque sounds.

They walked across the ceiling like spiders, pressed tightly against the walls, dragging their bat-like, sagging skin forward, moving precariously as if about to collapse.

Creak.

Creeeak.

The evil spirits were a calamity in themselves.

Wherever their noise reached, decay followed, and wherever their footsteps landed, mold sprouted, transforming the breath that mimicked living humans into a nightmare landscape.

Clean walls were marred with filthy stains, tattered curtains more suited for a haunted house replaced once neat decor, and windows that had only gathered dust were now smeared with grime, rendered incapable of serving their function.

Wherever they walked became a nightmare, a tragedy in faded memories, and a revolting collage of recollections that were too disgusting to revisit.

[ Wi-ll-iam—-. ]

[ Where are you? ]

[ It’s useless to hide. This dream is different from the last one. ]

The evil spirits roamed freely, overlaying the dream with nightmares.

They opened every door on their path and searched every nook and cranny under the bed. They even extended their necks to peek inside vents.

[ There is no escape route in this dream. ]

[ The chip that was in your body has burned to a crisp and been expelled. ]

[ There are no walls, and now you exist in the same space as us. ]

They roamed with their hollow eyes darting around.

[ You don’t need permission anymore. ]

[ You won’t be blocked by paper-thin doors. ]

[ This all stems from your foolishness in failing to grasp the seriousness of danger. ]

[ Accept it sweetly. And join us. ]

They babbled incessantly, as if engulfed in madness, slowly closing in with their grotesque forms.

Clank.

And finally, the time had come.

Creeeak.

Creeeek.

A massive door blocking the hallway swung open, revealing an empty reception desk.

It was precisely the place that Ella had seen depicted in those drawings.

Clack.

Clack.

Creeeak.

Thud.

The evil spirits advanced.

Dragging their sagging skin towards the counter, they transformed the aging light bulb into a gallows’ rope.

They turned a well-maintained wheelchair into a rusty relic and filled the medical bed with filth. The lights, once glowing from the ceiling, were dismantled with spider-like limbs, and clean walls became discolored with spreading mold.

Thus, the hallway took on the visage of a haunted space, becoming a scene from a horror film.

“Ugh, damn it. Where the hell is this…?”

And of course, every horror movie needs its sacrificial lamb.

The pitiful victim manifested in that very hallway.

William, clutching a bottle of makgeolli in one hand, cursed as if nursing a headache, slowly rising without bothering to check his surroundings before he hawked a loogie. He then glanced down at the makgeolli bottle in his hand and, in bewilderment, hurled it into the hallway.

Thud!

Clatter…

The makgeolli bottle flew from William’s hand and collided with an intravenous drip stand, rolling across the floor and filling the hallway with its empty sound.

And what followed after the sound was silence.

An excruciating silence, brought forth by the absence of noise.

Creeeak.

And at the end of that silence, the evil spirits moved.

They twisted their stiff necks towards the direction of the presence and stared with their abyssal, empty eyes. Then, they began to expel insects and filth from their mouths as they squirmed toward William in their respective ways.

One spirit, draped in leather, soared into the air with arms spread wide like bat wings.

Another, with long, spider-like limbs, dangled from the ceiling as it approached William.

And the spirit scraping against the wall moved, melding with the surface as it did so.

And then.

[ Greetings. William. It’s nice to see you again. ]

The spirit sitting in a wheelchair turned its neck to glare at him.

[ This makes it the second time. ]

If words had color, those words would be a bloody red.

[ We won’t let you go. ]

If words had fragrance, those words would reek of blood.

[ Let’s go together. ]

The evil spirit grinned ominously.

—

“Uh… um, sister? What is this…?”

Anastasia was left speechless as she watched the video.

No matter how she looked at it, the ‘nightmare’ before her was anything but ordinary.

It lacked the features typical of a nightmare, and the palpable malevolence swirling around was unlike anything born of common imagination or the unconscious.

Furthermore, the spirits’ appearances, reminiscent of something straight out of a horror movie, were not mere figments of imagination; they felt undeniably real.

Not only that, but the whale that had appeared early on also emanated an ominous vibe, pulsing with an unknown energy.

Reflecting on this…

The ‘nightmare’ displayed through that hole was far from an ordinary bad dream.

Moreover, Ella’s reaction was anything but normal.

Ella’s face had drained of color as she watched the video, her brows furrowed as if lost in thought. Despite cradling a warm substitute, her body felt ice-cold, and her expression brimmed with turmoil, akin to someone facing a significant choice.

Ella was agonizing over it.

She pondered, and pondered some more.

She had no choice but to.

‘It’s a prophecy.’

The scene unfolding before her eyes was one she knew all too well.

It was the prophetic scene she had once sketched after encountering the uninvited William, now materializing before her. Furthermore, it was not just appearing to Ella; Anastasia, destined to save William, was right beside her.

If Anastasia could directly intervene in this nightmare, then William’s prophecy would surely come true.

But therein lay the problem.

Ella didn’t want Anastasia to be entangled with that rogue.

What was the reason she had been training in witchcraft with such fervor?

Was it merely ambition to strengthen herself enough to ignore the nonsense from that meandering fool?

Or was it the burden of living up to the expectations of her motherly mentor, Agnes?

Those certainly played a part.

But the motivation driving her relentless training was rooted in preventing Anastasia from getting caught in that fool’s web.

It stemmed from her desire to protect Anastasia, who had unexpectedly become precious to her.

Yet now, as if disregarding all her efforts, the prophetic scene unfolded right before her.

‘Moreover, it’s beyond my capabilities…’

It seemed like the nightmare was taunting her.

No matter what she did, she could have no impact on the future.

The training she’d completed was meaningless; what she had yearned for lay just beyond her grasp.

She was merely watching a phantasm and could achieve nothing with her own hands.

The nightmare forced her into a state of helplessness, condemning her latent inadequacies, declaring her worthless.

It seemed to emphasize her inferiority, with darkness swirling around, compelling her to give up.

Thus, negative thoughts began to fill Ella’s mind.

Like polluted water tainting the clean.

But then, something unexpected occurred.

“Ouch!”

Zzap.

A small spark ignited and singed her hand.

Ella screamed in surprise, jolted awake by the sting.

Yet merely screaming would do little to quell the pain.

In an attempt to shake off the spark-induced sting, she frantically brushed her hand, and to dissipate the remnants of pain, rubbed her palm against her hand frantically. After some time, the sting began to fade, and her mind cleared, banishing the negative thoughts that had muddied her thoughts.

“Uh… sister? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Anastasia observed Ella with a peculiar gaze.

To her, it seemed like Ella had suddenly turned pale, groaning as though suffering from something, and then out of nowhere, she screamed before her face brightened again.

Yet, she decided not to pry.

After all, sometimes a person must surrender to impulse!

Anastasia beamed at Ella with a bright smile, conveying understanding without uttering a word.

Seeing that expression, Ella seemed to gather her resolve before slowly speaking up.

“Prophecy…”

“Yes?”

“The prophecy. The one that fool showed…”

 

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