HRMCT 52

Chapter: 52

“Oppa, I’m here. Jihoo oppa.”

The voice grew closer.

It traveled along the ground, rode the wind, and burrowed deep into his lungs.

It was familiar.

Familiar enough that he could never forget it, and yet painfully unfamiliar.

Park Jihoo clamped his hands over his ears.

He bit his lip and even held his breath.

But the voice pierced through the solid barrier, whispering and digging deep into his brain.

The air around him was slowly changing.

The cold, gloomy air began to cling sticky and wet, and with every breath, the stench of blood and mildew seeped into his nose.

Though no wind blew, the leaves rustled lightly.

From somewhere, he heard the sound of breaking branches, and what seemed like something crawling.

“Jihoo oppaaa.”

The voice came a little closer.

It sounded as if it were whispering right next to his ear.

Park Jihoo looked around with a tense face, but saw nothing.

He could only feel the presence, the breath, the existence.

He was certain.

It was a jangsanbeom.

The bastard was circling around him.

He couldn’t hear its footsteps.

Instead, only the occasional sound of grass being pressed down and branches snapping brushed past his ears.

A slimy, sliding sound also grazed his hearing.

A disgusting sensation, like flesh being rubbed into mud, seeped up from his back.

When the voice called “Oppa” once more,

it was clearly right next to his left ear.

But even when he turned his head, there was nothing there.

Park Jihoo bit his lip without realizing it.

A drop of blood formed in his mouth.

Something was laughing.

Watching him. No, waiting for him to react.

That was when it happened.

A sudden gust of wind blew from behind him.

It was a cold wind, but mixed within it was a repulsive breath.

“Heu-.”

It was unmistakably someone’s breathing.

Park Jihoo stopped breathing.

Right behind him, the bastard was breathing in sync with him.

So close that he couldn’t tell if it was his own breath or the creature’s.

In a tension that felt like his mind was about to fly apart, a single twig fell onto Park Jihoo’s head.

It was a small, dry branch, but it meant the bastard was in the tree.

He raised his gaze upward, and there—

There was nothing.

But he was certain. Just moments ago, it had definitely been “there.”

Park Jihoo curled his body again.

He closed his eyes, covered his ears, and hunched his entire body.

But the more he did, the sharper his senses became.

The soil beneath his feet shifted with a soft *sseureureuk*.

As if someone had brushed past his feet.

It wasn’t wind, nor was it an animal.

It was the feeling of something cold and sticky wrapping around his entire body.

And at that moment.

Again, that voice.

“Oppaaa, why do you keep hiding? I’m hurt. I’m so badly hurt.”

Yet he could still hear it.

It couldn’t be blocked.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that it wasn’t a sound heard through his ears, but a cry engraved into his heart.

‘Siyeon.’

He had no memories.

When, where, or what their relationship was.

He couldn’t recall a single thing.

But his chest trembled.

A shiver ran down his spine.

Cold sweat flowed, and his lips quivered.

“Jihoo oppa. I’m scared. Oppa, where are you?”

He couldn’t breathe.

His every nerve was being devoured by that voice, to the point where he forgot he was even breathing.

‘No. I can’t go out.’

His mind was screaming.

But his body wouldn’t respond.

His knees unconsciously twitched, and his fingertips pushed aside the branches.

‘I have to protect her.’

The owner of that voice, Siyeon.

The only thought was that he had to protect that child, whoever she was.

He didn’t know why, but it was like an obsession—he absolutely had to protect her.

It was like a promise that had existed for a long time.

A memory of standing in front of someone to protect them.

An emotion that never backed down, even while bleeding from all kinds of abuse and violence.

‘Just…’

Who was Siyeon, that her voice resonated so strongly in his heart?

He agonized, tried to remember, clawed through his mind, and recalled.

Countless times, he squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.

Then, suddenly.

The wildly churning emotions cleared, and his vision became sharp.

His fingertips twitched.

As he clenched his fist, a forgotten sensation revived deep in his palm.

It was hot, painful, and heavy.

‘Right, I…’

Something in his head snapped with a *tug*.

Along with it, countless fragments came flooding in.

Screams, breathing, and crying.

Even the voice that had desperately called his name.

All of it interlocked like puzzle pieces, teaching him one thing.

“Siyeon. My little sister.”

Park Jihoo gritted his teeth.

He pushed aside the underbrush and slowly rose to his feet.

“Stop.”

It was a short, low voice, but it was clear.

An unwavering will.

“You’re not Siyeon.”

Beyond the forest, in the darkness, the voice that had been trickling like a stream fell silent.

Park Jihoo slowly curled his hand into a fist.

Firm and familiar.

He would no longer run from the bastard.

Then, from between the branches, something crawled out, slithering.

White fur, red-glowing eyes.

It was a jangsanbeom.

The creature twisted its grotesquely long limbs in bizarre angles as it slowly approached Park Jihoo.

With each step, a sound like cracking joints echoed through the forest, and between them, sharp claws protruding like spikes scraped against branches, creating a grating noise.

As the jangsanbeom drew closer, a thick, repulsive stench stung his nose.

It smelled like blood, damp earth, sweat, and rotting corpses mixed together.

What was most chilling was its face.

Existing on the border between human and beast, its mouth held a smile, but its eyes were empty.

The faintly discernible eyes were buried between sagging folds of flesh, and its red pupils followed Park Jihoo with every exhale.

And its mouth.

The mouth, which was strangely long for something that could speak, was split all the way to its ears, packed with needle-sharp teeth.

Its tongue was covered in blood, and at its tip, something like a half-chewed finger dangled.

The bastard was smiling.

Spitting out Siyeon’s voice.

“Oppa, still don’t get it? It’s me, Siyeon.”

The voice was too perfect, and horrifically warm.

Park Jihoo instinctively wanted to step back, but he put strength into his feet.

The creature took another step closer.

*Sarusarak—sarusarak—*

Along with the sound of crushed leaves, blood oozed out from underfoot.

Park Jihoo looked down.

The ground he had been unknowingly stepping on was soaked in red, and there, unidentified chunks of flesh were crushed and scattered.

“Let’s go together, oppa. Let’s be together again.”

It felt like his breath was being constricted.

The voice was Siyeon’s, but that wasn’t Siyeon.

Park Jihoo glared straight ahead, eyes wide open.

The jangsanbeom was reaching out its hand.

White, long fingers.

But the tips of its sharp claws still bore traces of dried blood.

The moment Park Jihoo’s gaze confirmed that red blood.

Something stabbed and stimulated the deepest part of Park Jihoo’s mind.

It wasn’t something he had forgotten, but something that had been hidden.

Park Jihoo clutched his chest as if gripping his heart.

Suddenly, heat surged from within, and a tingling sensation spread down his spine.

His breath caught in his throat, and pain twisted his eyes.

Images flashed through his mind like sparks flying from somewhere in his head.

-You fucking bastard! Go die!
-You and your sister, you’re both just as useless. Get out and earn some money, you bastards!
-This little shit dares to talk back to his father? Fine, let’s see you die today.

Violence, violence, violence, violence, violence.

A young Siyeon, covered in blood.

Himself standing in front of her, swinging his fists.

He had taken all the violence aimed at his little sister onto his own body.

Memories stained with blood and curses.

‘I am weak.’

But even so.

‘I’ve never run away even once.’

He had fought against his father’s unjust violence, blocked it, and protected Siyeon.

That was who he was.

‘Compared to back then…’

Park Jihoo’s gaze turned to the jangsanbeom.

It was a terrifying appearance.

As befitting a monster that devoured people.

But he was no longer afraid.

Thinking of the trash called a father and the mongrel called a mother—

that thing was nothing.

“Oppa? Oppa? Jihoo oppa? Help me. Huh? Help me. I’m so hungry. Just one arm. Huh? Can’t I just eat one arm?”

Siyeon’s voice.

The bastard smiled with its split-open mouth, mimicking his precious little sister.

“Hu-.”

He let out a long breath.

He no longer trembled.

He wasn’t scared at all.

Even if it wasn’t a jangsanbeom, even if it was a grandfather jangsanbeom, it was the same.

The monster before his eyes was just a beast that mimicked humans and devoured them.

Fundamentally, it was no different from his parents.

So there was no need to be afraid.

His heart pounded.

It wasn’t fear—it was anger.

Park Jihoo whispered quietly toward the jangsanbeom.

“You chose the wrong person to imitate.”

He should have imitated Uncle Yujin instead.

Then he would have truly been scared.

With that idle thought, he clenched his fist.

“Pay the price for pissing me off.”

*Paaang—!*

His fist split the air.

The jangsanbeom’s mask-like face contorted.

Its split mouth tore even wider, mimicking a scream, and red saliva sprayed in all directions.

The creature twisted its body backward, alternating between human wails and beastly roars.

Park Jihoo did not take a single step back.

Not all of his memories had fully returned, but one thing was clear.

He was not someone who would collapse from fear.

And the bastard in front of him was nothing but a piece of trash imitating someone he had to protect.

The forest fell silent.

After that single punch, the jangsanbeom crouched quietly, and Park Jihoo steadied his breathing, his shoulders heaving.

The darkness was still deep, but Park Jihoo, standing at its center, no longer wavered.

* * *

The Backrooms.

An urban legend that roughly refers to the space behind reality, a maze of infinitely arranged randomly generated rooms.

Literally, ‘infinite.’

Well, depending on the story, there were levels and escape methods.

But basically, the Backrooms are a space with no end.

Not only can you never escape, but—

“I spent a hell of a long time here.”

Yujin from the first round had also spent a full three months in this Backrooms.

To give you an idea of how long that is, those who reached the 6th floor around the same time as Yujin had climbed all the way to the 10th floor.

Thanks to that, Yujin, trapped here alone, inevitably fell behind for a while.

“I can’t repeat the same waste of time as back then.”

A long time ago.

A space too vast.

And unidentified monsters roaming the Backrooms.

In truth, it wasn’t an easy task.

If it had been another player, they probably wouldn’t have been able to shorten the time much.

But…

“I’m different.”

Level 31.

A high number compared to the average players reaching the 6th floor.

But the important thing wasn’t the level.

*Kiiing—kiiiing—*

From afar, a strange cry he had heard in the distant past began to echo.

“Entities.”

It was the term for the monsters that existed in the Backrooms on the 6th floor.

Creatures with strength and grotesqueness incomparable to ordinary monsters.

Yujin infused mana into the 『Sun Sword[D]』 in his hand and smiled.

“The way to escape the maze is very simple.”

For those with power, that was the case.

“Just destroy everything.”

The 『Sun Sword[D]』 was swung.