The Party That Killed || Hyunlix

64 🕸️

3rd person pov.
Jungmin moved forward, holding the camera out in front of him. The hallway was narrow, and his footsteps echoed ominously in the oppressive silence. He swept the camera across the walls, which were covered in strange symbols—unfamiliar markings that seemed to shift and change under the light. He moved closer, studying them intently as if trying to memorize every detail.

“These symbols... they’re everywhere,” he muttered, his voice trembling with unease. “I don’t know what they mean, but they feel like... like seals. Every step here feels like stepping deeper into... something dark.”

Jungmin passed by more walls adorned with these peculiar, spiraling patterns. The camera captured their full extent, revealing an incomprehensible yet unsettling design. With every passing minute, the hallway grew more claustrophobic, the air heavier, as though the very atmosphere of this place consumed all hope.

“What are they doing...?” Jungmin mumbled to himself, his voice nearly swallowed by the surrounding quiet. “Something impossible is happening here. Something incomprehensible. But I have to record it. I have to document everything. Maybe someone will see this one day. Maybe it’ll help.”

The camera zoomed in on one of the symbols—a circular shape with an exclamation mark in the center. Jungmin panned the camera, revealing more symbols on the walls. They formed increasingly bizarre patterns, as if etched into the stone centuries ago.

“These people... they’re not normal. They’re not... people,” Jungmin hesitated, searching for the right words. “They’re... something more. Something we shouldn’t fear, but... we must.”

He stopped in front of another set of doors that creaked open, leading him deeper into the darkness. “I’m close. This is almost the end.”

Suddenly, the camera jolted, and Jungmin let out a heavy sigh. “Damn it, I have to finish this. It’s risky, but I can’t turn back now.”

He moved toward a darker section of the hallway, where figures began to emerge, and faint sounds grew louder. The camera briefly caught a face—unknown, shadowed—appearing from the darkness.

The footage quickened, each second becoming more harrowing. Jungmin’s labored breathing filled the audio as he maneuvered through the massive, foreboding complex. The images flashed rapidly—corridors, rooms, storerooms—each part of the building a puzzle piece in Jungmin’s search for answers.

“This place... it’s enormous. There are so many rooms I didn’t even know existed,” he said, his voice laden with mounting dread. The camera panned across ceilings, floors, and walls, revealing dusty, battered doors with faint streaks of light seeping through. Some were ajar, others locked tightly.

“Rooms... just rooms full of people. But not the ones I expected. This... this doesn’t feel ordinary. Something’s happening here. Something’s wrong.” Jungmin’s grip on the camera faltered as if the weight of the place pressed against his very soul.

The screen showed images of more rooms—dark storage spaces filled with boxes that seemed to move. In one corner, shadowy figures appeared but vanished when Jungmin stepped closer.

“This... this is just the beginning. I have to go deeper.” He entered another corridor that resembled a labyrinth—narrow walls bristling with strange tools and unsettling machinery. A faint hum lingered in the background as the camera lingered on a chilling sight: an old metal cage containing... what looked like an abandoned body.

“This isn’t just a cult. This... I don’t even know what to call it. What are they doing?” Jungmin continued navigating through the building, capturing more haunting spaces. Each frame, each new part of this place, filled him with growing dread.

In one segment, Jungmin entered a large room where scattered papers, photos, and documents lay across a table. The air carried an acrid scent, and handprints stained the walls.

“All of this... it’s deliberate. Nothing here is random.” Jungmin lifted the papers, showing them to the camera, but quickly put them down, as though afraid of being discovered.

“They say this is the place... where it all began. This cult... they influence everything.” His voice was tinged with despair, his hand shaking as he moved past more rooms, abandoned yet brimming with signs of sinister activity.

“There’s no way back now. The rituals are starting... but I have no idea how to escape.” Jungmin stared into the camera as if trying to convey one final message, but his eyes betrayed a mix of confusion and terror.

The footage accelerated once more, the images rushing by as Jungmin traversed the dark corridors, revealing more details of the place. The screen displayed cracked walls, eerie symbols, and Jungmin’s increasingly frantic breathing as he seemed to realize the depth of the danger surrounding him. Then, suddenly, a voice broke through.

“What are you doing?”

Jungmin whipped the camera around, the movement abrupt and shaky. He froze, his voice caught somewhere between surprise and irritation.

“Damn it, Chan...”

The screen revealed Chan—not the Chan locked in a psychiatric ward now, but the Chan from before. Before the tragedy, before the murders. He was alive, vibrant, yet undeniably entangled in something he didn’t fully understand. His face reflected both worry and the weight of secrets untold.

“Are you insane? You’re risking everything by filming this building. Do you even know what you’re involved in?” Chan’s tone wavered as he tried to calm Jungmin.

Seungmin and Jeongin watched the screen in stunned silence. This wasn’t the Chan they knew now, but it might be the one from before—before everything fell apart, before he became someone else entirely.

“What’s going on?” Seungmin whispered, glancing at Jeongin, trying to piece together the implications. How was Chan connected to this place? How was he part of the cult?

On screen, the camera shook as Chan realized it was still recording. He quickly approached Jungmin, reaching out as if to stop the filming.

“Turn it off, Jungmin. Stop the camera. There’s nothing here that should be recorded,” he demanded, his eyes scanning the surroundings as though ensuring no one else was watching.

The footage abruptly ended, static filling the screen.

Seungmin and Jeongin sat in silence, staring at the now-blank monitor, their minds racing.

“This... this can’t be real,” Jeongin said, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the thoughts swirling in his mind. “That’s not the Chan we know. It’s... someone else entirely.”

Seungmin clenched his fists, his eyes clouded with conflicting emotions. “This isn’t a coincidence. What we saw on those recordings... it can’t be. Chan was part of this cult. He wasn’t lying.”

“But... what does it mean?” Jeongin asked, struggling to grasp the gravity of their discovery. “Could this be why... why everything happened? Did the cult drive him to... to kill?”

Seungmin’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t know. But there’s only one way to find out. We have to keep going. We need to see more.”

Jeongin nodded solemnly. They both knew the truth lay within the remaining footage, no matter how horrifying it might be.

Jeongin looked at him and then nodded. He knew Seungmin was right. They had to keep going, even though each new recording brought more unease and doubt.

Seungmin pressed a button on the computer, playing the next recording. The screen once again filled with darkness, followed by an image of Jungmin walking through the sect's corridor, holding a camera. In the background, only his heavy breathing could be heard.

“This is too far, Jungmin,” they heard a voice that sent chills down their spines. It was the same voice they had heard in the previous recordings. Jungmin had no intention of stopping. He decided to continue.

“There's no turning back now…” Seungmin said with full conviction, as if he knew there was no other path but the one leading to the truth.