“I’ll give you a quick explanation.”
The man handing over the mini flashlight had a single horn on his head. It was part of a goblin costume, matching the haunted house theme.
“You have ten minutes to find hints inside and escape through the exit. The fastest escape time will win a prize.”
Since this was a school festival booth, it seemed to be a hybrid of a haunted house and an escape room rather than a full-fledged horror attraction.
“If you don’t make it out in time, a staff member will enter and open the exit for you, so don’t panic and just wait.”
“Alright.”
As the mechanical explanation played out, Sa-yoon examined the tiny flashlight in his hand. It had a simple design, with just an on/off switch on the body.
When he pressed the button, there was a soft click, and the flashlight turned on. The weak light barely illuminated the ground at his feet, making it perfect for a horror experience.
“And one more thing! Please be mindful of this.”
The goblin suddenly held up a panel beside him.
[1. Do not break the props! Any damage will be charged.
2. The ghosts are someone’s beloved children too. Please refrain from cursing or using violence!]
The key points were written in red, catering to the modern habit of losing focus after more than three lines of text. It was a commendable effort. Sa-yoon nodded to show he understood.
“Alright then, you can enter now.”
With that, the goblin stepped aside and pulled back the curtain behind him.
Unlike Sa-yoon, who was excited for the horror-themed experience, Shin-jae remained calm from start to finish. As they stepped inside, Sa-yoon asked,
“Have you ever done an escape room before?”
“No, this is… my first time doing one with you, senior.”
As he spoke, Shin-jae subtly pressed his shoulder against Sa-yoon’s. The passageway wasn’t particularly narrow, but in the darkness, he seemed to gravitate toward the side with the flashlight.
“What about you, senior? Have you done a lot of these?”
“I’ve done quite a few.”
Back when he was in school, escape room games were all the rage. There were even three escape room cafés just outside the north gate. That said, they were all gone now.
“…Will it be really hard for a first-timer?”
His voice betrayed his nervousness, worried he might not be able to contribute.
“It’s fine. Just follow my lead.”
I mean, how hard could a school festival booth with only a ten-minute time limit be? The fact that there was no special lock explanation at the entrance already said enough.
“I also like doing this with first-timers.”
It’s fun when experienced players swiftly hunt down clues together, but guiding a beginner has its own unique appeal.
The passage was dark, but for safety reasons, glow-in-the-dark arrows were placed at regular intervals on the floor. Thanks to the luminescent stickers, it wasn’t difficult to find their way.
Before long, they reached a dead end. Sa-yoon was about to push against the wall when he quickly noticed a passage to the left—an open doorway with a curtain made of cut fabric.
“Oh, looks like this is the real entrance.”
He knew better than to expect top-tier quality from a school festival, but it had been a while since he’d done a horror attraction. He hoped they had put some effort into it. Without hiding his excitement, Sa-yoon pulled back the curtain and stepped inside.
And immediately locked eyes with a pair of pitch-black, hollow sockets waiting for him.
As he sharply inhaled in surprise, a familiar yet eerie background music began playing from somewhere. It was the OST of a famous horror movie featuring creatures.
“Wow, I haven’t heard this song in forever.”
He turned his flashlight toward Shin-jae, who looked completely lost. Right—when that movie came out, Shin-jae had been five years old. He often forgot because of how mature the guy looked, but moments like this reminded him that his junior was still young.
Clearing his throat, Sa-yoon absentmindedly knocked on the object in front of him.
“It actually looks kind of cute up close.”
“Yeah… Haha, I’m not scared either.”
The thing they had locked eyes with upon entering was just a skeletal model—the kind you’d often see in a school science lab.
Sa-yoon casually tapped the white skull before turning his attention elsewhere. The narrow passage ahead was covered with hanging strands densely strung with beads. From the very first entrance, the route took a sharp U-shaped turn. It seemed like a layout choice due to space constraints.
He lifted the beaded curtain, but since it was layered multiple times, he couldn’t see beyond it. When he let go, the beads clattered against each other, making a loud noise.
As expected, something was probably going to grab their feet from below or fall from above while they passed through…
“Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
Sa-yoon stepped forward.
— Kkiyaaaak!
Instead of something grabbing them, a shrill scream tore through the air from the walls as they passed through the curtain. The moment they exited, a severed human head suddenly dropped right in front of their eyes.
Upon closer inspection, it was just a wig hanging from a fishing line.
“Tsk.”
The series of clichés made disappointment slip into his voice.
“Shin-jae, did you know?”
“Know what?”
Sa-yoon flicked the hanging wig, making it swing like a pendulum. Shin-jae smoothly dodged it and shuffled closer to Sa-yoon’s side.
“When I was a freshman, I did this kind of thing in the theater club. A haunted house.”
“…The theater club?”
“Yeah. The seniors in their final year wanted to make some memories before graduating, so they all joined in.”
One of them even majored in special effects makeup, which made that year’s haunted house stand out with its exceptional quality. Since a bunch of seasoned veterans took part, their acting was on another level too.
“The makeup was top-tier, the acting was solid—it was a huge hit that year. We even had a beef barbecue feast afterward, I think?”
That was why a haunted house booth popped up at Korea University’s festival every year. A nation of benchmarking, indeed.
“But after that, there hasn’t been another haunted house as good as that one…”
It was a bit of a shame. Now that he thought about it, the theater club never hosted another haunted house after that. Why? Was it because the special effects major graduated?
“You went through it too, hyung?”
Shin-jae’s question interrupted the flow of his thoughts.
“Yeah. But the friends I went in with were such scaredy-cats that I spent more time dragging them out than actually enjoying it.”
The moment he brought it up, memories he had long forgotten came rushing back.
Before entering, everyone had been all talk, telling him to just trust them. But the second they saw a ghost, they clung to his back like newborn foals, screaming like some kind of prehistoric reptiles.
No matter how much he told them to get off, their fear completely overrode any logic. They were so desperate to bail that they barely even made it through the first few rooms. Because of them, he didn’t get to enjoy it properly on the first try and had to go back alone later.
Thanks to those cowards, he ended up paying twice for entry. Of course, he made sure to get that money back—but honestly, it was a cheap price for the trouble they put him through.
“What about this one?”
“This? It doesn’t even compare to back then.”
Compared to that chaos, Shin-jae was unbelievably quiet. A bit passive, sure, but honestly, he was an angel of a companion.
“Still, the props seem pretty well done.”
Finishing his trip down memory lane, Sa-yoon swept his flashlight across the room. The dim light briefly illuminated the interior before darkness swallowed it again.
He walked toward the round table in the center of the room.
Covered in thick fabric, the table was cluttered with tarot cards, toppled candles, a fist-sized fake gemstone, a basket of plastic fruit, and a crystal ball that a fortune teller might use.
He flipped things over and examined them, but nothing seemed particularly special.
“Guess this isn’t it. Or maybe we need to find a clue somewhere else first. Some rooms have to be solved in order.”
Shin-jae, who had been quietly sticking close behind him, didn’t respond.
Why is he so quiet all of a sudden?
Pausing his search through the tarot cards, Sa-yoon finally sensed that something was off. He turned around—
And found Shin-jae standing there with his eyes screwed shut.
‘Didn’t he say he wasn’t scared at all?’
That was when it hit him. He’d asked Shin-jae if he’d ever done an escape room before—but he never asked if he was afraid of ghosts.
Wait. He had agreed to come so easily… Wasn’t that a sign he actually liked this kind of stuff?
Or so he thought…
One by one, the puzzle pieces clicked into place.
The sharp inhale when the skeleton appeared in the science lab, the extra noise behind him while passing through the screaming curtain, the way Shin-jae had skillfully dodged the hanging wig—all of it suddenly made sense.
‘Right, this guy cares about his image.’
He must’ve been trying to hide the fact that he was scared. Now that Sa-yoon realized the truth, it was both endearing and a little pitiful.
He had been about to suggest they split up to search, but that plan was scrapped in an instant. Instead, he turned back to the table and called out.
“Shin-jae, come here for a second.”
Shin-jae hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, close enough for Sa-yoon to clearly make out his face. He was trying hard to keep a composed expression, but now that Sa-yoon had figured him out, he just looked like a kid pretending to be brave.
Hiding a smirk, Sa-yoon extended his hand toward him.
“We only have one flashlight, and it’s too dark. It’s safer if we search together.”
“Okay.”
The answer came too quickly, too eagerly.
Sa-yoon barely managed to suppress a laugh, disguising it as a cough before shaking his outstretched hand again. Without hesitation, Shin-jae placed his hand in his.
“Why is your hand so cold?”
“Poor circulation.”
Shin-jae let out a quiet “Ah,” as if he had forgotten. He must have been too preoccupied to notice.
“You’re really warm, though.”
“I run hot.”
Sa-yoon gave him a look that was equal parts amused and sympathetic before shifting his focus back to the table.
That was when the crystal ball at the center caught his attention again.
Just as he was about to reach for it, he suddenly stopped.
“…Ah.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.”
Brushing it off, Sa-yoon casually tapped the glass sphere with his left hand.
Having his right hand occupied was undeniably inconvenient and inefficient. He knew that.
But feeling the warmth transferring from Shin-jae’s palm… somehow, that made it seem perfectly fine.
