MAN OF WORD 虚偽 ; JUNHWAN

ハング

Namhae-gun was a town like no other; was covered in greenery, withered flowers on the way home. Homes of opaque tones, it was completely rare to find a residence painted in bright colors, which demonstrated the joyful spirit that lived within those four walls. Most of the tourist spots were in ruins, the only thing that surprised their habitants is that didn't have yet collapsed, after all, no one visited them a long time ago. It was a deplorable, sad, rotten place; Namhae-gun was different from the others because it was the graphic demonstration of the forgotten term.

There was no hope, the old generation just waited for their bodies to decompose naturally, as well as the grass they let grow. The new generation only reflected the influences that surrounded them, walking on the dirty and incomplete pavement with their hunched backs and dark circles that to some extent they look like a beautiful decoration. Their society resigned itself to being cursed by what remains of their existence, that was their legacy, which everyone followed to the letter.

All that seemed like a myth, a story that you would tell in some camp, sitting by the campfire, while your companions tried to make jokes to avoid taking to heart the words that flowed from the person who told such a story. One of the most striking would be the case of the curse of the Hanged mansion. That house was the only and last stable old treasure that the town had, it was the home where their first mayor lived. It was said that that man to obtain such an achievement had performed a satanic ritual with the sect to which he belonged from an early age, called Luana, and which performed a sacrifice with the purest infant they found, preferably from three to five years. For them this was fresh meat, blessings from a god, their king, their lord, their only option; Satan.

To no one's surprise, this man hanged himself on one of the points that rose proudly from the roof, a few months after having that position on his shoulders. That method seemed basic, but even so it had a peculiarity, a characteristic point that later helped the villagers to believe that his suicide and those who followed him had truly been handled by something supernatural, some small puppets.

147 years have passed since the beginning of a hellish game for Namhae-gun, and in which there was no end, beginning to believe that there never would be. Not many people have dared to stop this tradition, covering themselves with a blanket of irony as these are basically the ones who end up taking a cable or a rope so that their neck can be tortured every October 27 of every year, specifically at ten o'clock at night, to feed said curse.

The people simply decided that it should continue, stopping it was not worth it. In blue places there should not be a hero, since they are all weak bones and rotten meat in dusty and recycled clothing. They only patiently awaited the fate that awaited them, living or not living in that place, cursed or not; death.

Junhoe was not a boy who believed in anything, and more if you aren't having a miserable proof, but just thinking that made his skin crawl. Nobody knew who would be next, it could be anyone, that was like winning the lottery for most, although some do not want to cease to exist so quickly, and in that way.

It could be said that he also lived in ignorance, as he was happy just thinking about the fact that he had friends, not caring if they were just as fake as the movies or genuine as the fact that they were all doomed to misery. He talked to them every day, they planned meetings every week, they helped each other, using him as their tallow for every trap into which he fell as a clumsy one. That Monday, October 27, was not an exception either.

" Are you ready to go to that stupid mansion? " Chanwoo asked enthusiastically, jumping in his position like a little five-year-old boy, making his companions laugh when he remembered that he was the tallest of the six " I bet ten dollars that Hanbin-Hyung runs to hide in his grandmother's skirt early. " He mocked the one by his side, pushing the named to finish his little joke.