The Party That Killed || Hyunlix

65 🕸️

3rd person pov.
Seungmin and Jeongin continued sitting in silence, staring at the screen. Each second of the recording added to their unease until a sudden sound erupted from the speakers–a quick movement, like someone rushing into a room.

“What was that?” Jeongin asked, his eyes fixed on the screen.

The footage showed a door suddenly flinging open, and Chan stormed in. His face was pale, and his breathing was labored, as if he'd been running for a long time.

“I can't take it anymore,” he said, his voice trembling like a sob. “I can't do this!”

“Chan?” Jungmin' voice was startled and concerned. He approached him, holding the camera. “What's going on? What happened?”

Chan looked at him, desperation filling his eyes. “They're doing it again... again... they're starting!” His voice was laced with fear, and his hands were shaking. “I can't stand it, Jungmin... I can't!”

Jungmin frowned, his worry deepening. “What are you talking about? What's happening?”

Chan glanced over his shoulder as if ensuring no one else was listening. “They're making preparations again... for the rituals...” he whispered, barely audible. “They're going to do it all over again...”

Jungmin immediately moved toward the door, holding the camera. He positioned himself behind it, trying to capture every word spoken in the room. “Rituals?” he repeated on his mind, attempting to grasp what was unfolding.

In the background, Chan's voice continued, but if faded into the noise as if someone else had entered the room. Jungmin whispered to the camera, “I have to record this... I can't miss it...”

Determination flared in him, his resolve growing to capture every detail that might help them understand what was happening in that building.

The recording shifted again, the screen brightening slightly to reveal a dimly lit corridor. In the background, Jungmin's heavy breathing was audible, as if he were holding his breath to avoid being heard. The camera shook, the image momenatarily distorted as fear gripedd him.

“I don't want to watch this...” he murmured, but he knew he had to.

Finally, the camera steadied, revealing a scene that made his heart pound. A victim lay on the floor, bound and beaten. Their body was nearly covered in blood, and their face contorted in agony. It was clear they had given up fighting for their life, their resistance already crushed. Blood trickled from their eyes.

A commanding voice from the background, cold and unfeeling, said, “Do it now. Make them feel what they deserve.”

Jungmin zoomed in on the victim's body. They were sobbing and groaning softly, too weak to scream. Their body was in such agony that every movement seemed like another blow to their soul.

“Please... I'm begging you... stop...” they whimpered, their voice filled with despair.

Suddenly, a hand appeared in the frame, holding a blade–its edge gleaming and cold. It slowly traced along the victim's body, leaving a trail of blood behind. The man on the ground shuddered, his body, despite its exhaustion, instinctively trying to recoil from the pain. What followers was brutal and merciless.

The knife's edge dug deeper, slicing through the skin. Blood splattered across the floor, and the victim screamed in agony as every cut drained what little strenght they had left.

“Quieter... don't make a scene,” one of the figures behind the camera muttered, though it seemed meaningless.

The pace of the recording shifted, making everything even more horrifying. The image shook, and the victim's last, agonized breaths echoed as their life slowly faced away. Only Jungmin's heavy breathing could be heard in the background as if he was paralyzed, unable to look away from the camera.