Reverse Murder v1c32

Strings of cum dripped between his fingers. Only after his orgasm did clarity return—and with it, a crushing emptiness.

“Shit.”

The post-climax hollow was worse than ever. It bordered on despair.

No time to dwell. He had to clean up before Maki returned.

Jihan hastily tucked himself in and wiped the semen from the floor with a rag. A frustrated tear splashed onto his clumsy hands.

***

Later, as Jihan read by the warm hearth, he noticed the paper on the door had turned a deep red from the setting sun.

“Damn fool.”

He muttered, irritated. The valley was only a sikgyeong round trip. Maki should’ve been back ages ago, stoking the fire, filling the house with the smell of dinner.

He stepped outside. Dusk had swallowed the mountainside, the western ridge glowing like embers. The valley would be pitch-black by now.

Fear clawed at him. He had to find Maki before full dark.

Slipping on his gatsin, Jihan hurried out. The path Maki had taken was narrow, slick with mud and rotting leaves. His footsteps faltered.

Then he saw it—the crumbling serangdang shrine, nearly swallowed by the forest. Moss and vines cloaked it; in the fading light, he almost missed it.

Behind it loomed an ancient sacred tree, its branches bare of the usual colorful prayer flags. A stone cairn suggested past offerings, but time and weather had reduced it to rubble.

Scattered nearby were Maki’s half-filled basket and hoe. But Maki himself was nowhere.

‘Did the tiger really get him?’

A bush warbler’s eerie cry echoed overhead. Jihan’s lantern trembled as he scanned the shadows.

‘I need to go back.’

Night fell like a curtain.

‘Maybe Maki’s already there. I’ll return and figure out what to do.’

Every snapping twig made him flinch. He retraced his steps quickly, the cottage’s bamboo fence soon coming into view.

But as he crested the hill—

Torchlight flickered beyond the gate.

Jihan froze.

‘No. It can’t be.’

Last time, the village headman had visited with a basket of food. Hoping for the same, Jihan extinguished his lantern and crouched low.

Peering through the bamboo slats, his blood turned to ice.

“…”

That beast was relentless. More savage than the legendary Yosan Tiger, more tenacious than any predator.

The game of hide-and-seek wasn’t over.

Jihan clapped a hand over his mouth, his breath ragged.

“I swear! Young Master was studying in his room! I was just gathering greens alone! I don’t know where he went… I truly don’t!”

Maki’s new clothes were filthy, his hair wild, his face streaked with blood from a split lip. He knelt at Seon’s feet, begging piteously. Jihan’s stomach twisted.

“You. Speak honestly.” Seon’s voice was deceptively gentle. “Where is Young Master Jihan? Did he go for a swim in this weather?”

A burly bounty hunter cracked his knuckles menacingly. The village headman stood in the corner, equally disheveled.

“Maki.”

Seon took the hunter’s knife, testing the edge. The blade caught the light, illuminating his face.

“T-there’s only one room, a storage space, and the kitchen…” Maki stammered. “I didn’t mean—”

“Two quilts in one room.” Seon’s tone was soft, deadly. “Explain.”

“You’ve been obsessed with men’s cocks since the first hair sprouted on your chin, fucking around with anyone like a filthy beast. Especially fond of taking it up the ass—just like your master, huh.”

“…….”

“What did you do here? In this secluded place?”

Maki violently shook his head, blood gushing from his nose.

“I—I didn’t do anything! How could I dare—who would I even—!”

“Ugh, looks like this bastard pissed himself.”

At the bounty hunter’s taunt, his cronies burst into rough laughter. A wet stain spread beneath Maki’s knees. Ignoring it, Seon pressed the blade beneath Maki’s chin, tilting it upward. Blood began to trickle where the edge met his throat. Maki was frozen, barely breathing, on the verge of passing out.

Should I run? Or should I save Maki?

Two impulses tangled like spiderwebs in that fleeting moment. His breath hitched. Suddenly, Jihan’s body went slack, and he collapsed backward, landing hard on his backside.

A small but distinct noise echoed. Seon’s gaze snapped toward the crouched figure beyond the thicket.

“It’s Hyung.”

He grinned brightly.

Jihan’s mind jolted awake, as if struck by thunder. Still half-seated, he scrambled backward, then lurched to his feet and bolted toward the forest.

***

“Hah… hah…”

Jihan ran blindly, branches slashing his cheeks, tearing his clothes, unaware of the blood or fabric ripping. Hidden creatures scattered in panic at his approach.

Every so often, he glanced back—only darkness stared back. In that inky void, he imagined a massive hand lunging to seize his topknot. His spine and the back of his neck prickled incessantly.

Finally, he reached the dead sacred tree. Holding his breath, he scanned his surroundings—thankfully, no sign of the beast.

The Serangdang Shrine, overgrown with moss and vines, was nearly invisible in the dark. He groped along the wall with his palms until he found the door. As he pushed it open, the creaking hinges sent spiders and insects tumbling down.

Clapping a hand over his mouth, he ducked inside, praying to whatever gods might exist that the beast wouldn’t find this place.

“Ugh.”

The moment he stepped in, his nose wrinkled in disgust. The musty stench of mold and rotting wood filled the two-room shrine. Jihan tore a strip from his undershirt and wrapped it tightly around the door latch, securing it.

The interior was even more eerie than expected. Beneath a faded mural of bodhisattvas and lotuses, an old altar and ritual tools lay buried under dust. At the center of the shrine stood a strangely shaped palanquin.

Jihan hesitantly ran his hands over it, then tried opening the side panels—empty. He debated crawling inside for even a moment’s refuge.

Then—rustling from outside. Too shocked to turn, he froze in place.

Tap. Tap.

A knocking sound echoed against the wooden walls.

“Hyung…”

Tap. Tap.

“I can see your hair.”

Creak… creak… creak…

The door rattled violently, as if someone were trying to force it open. A chilling laugh rang out, amused. Fortunately, the cloth he’d tied kept the door from giving way easily.

Jihan, trembling, pried open the palanquin’s side panel and squeezed inside.

Huu… uu…

A ghostly whimper escaped his lips. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees.

Then—CRACK!—a violent splintering noise, followed by a gust of wind and dust. The flimsy barricade had been kicked apart.

Thud. Thud.

Footsteps drew nearer.

Jihan pressed his forehead against his raised knees, his thighs dampening with sweat and ragged breaths.

The steps stopped. A low voice came from outside the palanquin.

“I’ll forget your face.”

The sigh at the end was dry, cold. Jihan slowly lifted his head, resting his wet eyes on his knees.

Screeeech…

The palanquin’s old door lifted. Seon crouched on one knee, peering in, his stunning face lit with a dazzling smile.

“You said, ‘See you tomorrow.’”

“…….”

“It’s been over a month, hasn’t it?”

Jihan eyed the gap Seon blocked at the entrance, mentally mapping an escape. If I shove past him and stomp on his foot, could I make it to the door before he grabs my ankle?

“Come out, Hyung. What are you doing in there?”

Seon’s hand, still tinged with amusement, reached toward him. Jihan shook his head and scooted farther into the corner.

“I won’t.”

“If you don’t… you’ll stay in there?”

Jihan stayed silent. Seon’s expression twisted oddly before his fingers traced the palanquin’s frame.

“Ever heard of a yeongyeo?”