People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can't rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can...
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Sangmyeon slowly began to regain consciousness, but he still felt as if he was emerging from the depths of a heavy sleep. His body seemed strangely foreign, and his eyelids, heavy as if made of lead, struggled to lift. He blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyesight to the darkness that surrounded him. Only after a while did he notice the soft glow of the colorful stained-glass windows that danced in the twilight, casting indistinct patches of light on the temple walls. There was a deafening silence all around, and the air was thick with the smell of incense.
He tried to remember what he was doing here. Why was he taking a nap? Had he fallen asleep at all? He had chaos in his head. His thoughts were a blur. He tried to move, but something was holding him back. His muscles tensed, but his feet didn't respond, as if something was keeping them in place. He tried again and once again felt resistance. Only then did he lower his gaze and notice the thick rope that firmly restrained his ankles, pinning them to the legs of the wooden chair. His heart began to beat chaotically in his chest. Instinctively, he wanted to reach out his hands to see what was happening to his feet, but these were also tied.
Panic overwhelmed him. He opened his mouth to cry out for help, but all he heard was a stifled moan. His gagged lips refused to cooperate, and every attempt to make a sound ended in a suffocating sense of helplessness. He jerked back in his chair, desperate to free his legs or hands. The chair squeaked harshly in the emptiness of the church, but he was unable to free himself.
He was already about to tug on the ties again when he suddenly heard something. It was a quiet, single knock. At first, it seemed distant, like an echo somewhere in the depths of his consciousness. He froze, listening, while his mind frantically searched for an answer. The sound was strangely familiar, though he couldn't associate what it was. It reminded him of something... something he had heard hundreds of times. Before he had time to comprehend it exactly, he heard that sound again. And suddenly it hit him. It was the knocking of a priest. The clatter of hands against the wooden wall of the confessional, a sign that confession was over.
Numb, he abruptly raised his head. Only now did he look around more carefully, and his breathing quickened when he realized that he was sitting in the confessional. He was surrounded by a semi-darkness in which it was hard to see anything, but he had the strong impression that someone was watching him. He could see nothing but the outline of the walls and a streak of colored light penetrating the stained-glass window, but the presence was almost tangible.
Someone was there. Waiting.
Suddenly, the knocking sounded again, this time so loud that the cleric jumped up on the spot. His heart beat harder, and a cool shiver ran through his body, sweeping along his spine. At the same moment, a mocking laughter reached his ears that sounded disturbingly familiar.
He couldn't be wrong. He had heard this laughter before...
In an instant, all the memories came back to him, and he already knew whose laughter it was - that strange man with long, raven-black hair who appeared in the church...
