Capítulo 180: Chapter 180
The town of Gukcheon was a quiet place, one where the oddities had started to creep in slowly, unnoticed, almost too late. No one had ever expected something sinister to rise out of the cold silence that haunted the corners of the town after the last shop closed and the streets emptied. The mannequins were the first sign of it. The first sign of something wrong.
It started when the old store on the corner of Jeongju Road reopened. The shop had been abandoned for years, its windows dusty and cracked, its door creaking on the hinges as if trying to stay shut. But when the shutters went up, the mannequins inside caught the attention of anyone who passed by.
They stood in the window, always in the same poses: still, cold, lifeless. Their bodies were made of metal, painted in dull shades of silver and bronze. The metal was smooth but imperfect, marred by tiny dents and scars. Their faces were blank, expressionless. No eyes, no mouths, just polished metal contours.
At first, the townspeople found them eerie, but no one said anything. It was just a strange store with mannequins. Nothing more. No one thought about it much. But then the performances started.
It was always at midnight. There was no announcement, no invitation. People simply noticed, after the first few nights, that the mannequins had moved. At midnight, every night, they would come alive. Their stiff joints would creak as they came to life, moving like clockwork. They would perform, as if in a play, one that no one had seen before, and no one would ever see again.
The first person to witness it was a local drunk named Hwan. He'd stumbled out of a bar one night, looking for a shortcut home when he passed by the store. He saw them, the mannequins, shifting slowly, deliberately, as if they were waking from a deep slumber. He stopped in his tracks, blinking in disbelief. He had seen them stand motionless in the window before, but now they moved. They danced in sync, their stiff limbs clanking with the sound of metal on metal. He stood there, staring, unable to tear his eyes away. He could hear the soft scraping of their feet on the floor inside, but no music, no sound of a voice, just the cold click and whir of gears in the joints. Their movements were perfect, mechanical, but there was something too fluid about it, something that made his skin crawl.
He had tried to tell people the next day, but no one believed him. They thought he was just drunk. Crazy, even. So, he went back. Night after night, Hwan found himself at that same spot, watching the mannequins. The movements, the dance, the slow grinding of their metal limbs... it pulled him in, like a moth to a flame.
And then, after the third night, something changed. He hadn't been drinking, not that night, but he still couldn't keep himself from returning. This time, something was different. As he approached the window, the mannequins had stopped. They stood still, almost too still. Their heads turned slowly, mechanically, until their blank metal faces were all directed at him. He froze, heart hammering in his chest. Their eyes were nothing more than smooth metal, but he swore, in that moment, they could see him.
He turned to run, but the door of the store had swung open, as if waiting for him.
The next morning, Hwan was gone. No one saw him after that night. Some people thought he'd just moved away, tired of the town. But no one ever found out what really happened to him.
It wasn't long after that the others started disappearing. One by one, people went missing, and the only thing that connected them was their visits to the shop. It wasn't obvious at first, not until the whole town began to act differently. The streets seemed emptier. The voices quieter. People were more subdued, as if something had slowly seeped into their minds. It was as if the town was being drained of its life, piece by piece. They'd wake up each day, eat their meals, but something was missing. There was a strange pull to the store, like an invisible force was leading them there, coaxing them to stand and watch the mannequins perform at midnight.
No one ever spoke of it out loud, but it became clear. Those who had gone, like Hwan, hadn't simply disappeared. They had become part of the show. Each night, when the mannequins moved, their movements grew more precise, more deliberate. Their dance became a performance, a ritual, one that no one could understand. And those who had gone... the missing... they were a part of it. They stood in the background, their lifeless bodies dancing just like the mannequins.
The town was changing.
Jinwoo, a young man who had lived in Gukcheon his whole life, had seen enough. He'd seen his friends, his family, all of them affected. But something was still stopping him. He couldn't turn away from the store. He had told himself it was curiosity, that he just needed to see it for himself, to understand what had happened to Hwan, to the others. But deep down, he knew. He was afraid. But not afraid enough to stay away. Not yet.
He arrived at the store on the third night of his own restless wandering, just after the clock had struck midnight. The doors creaked open, just like they had for Hwan. No one saw him enter. No one saw him disappear.
Inside, the mannequins were performing again, their metal bodies moving in perfect unison. Their faces remained blank, their postures stiff, yet there was something in the way they moved that made the hairs on Jinwoo's neck stand up. They didn't look like mannequins anymore. They looked alive, but not in any way that made sense. They were machines, yes, but their movements were unnatural in a way that made them terrifying.
Jinwoo's eyes darted around. In the back of the room, there was a new mannequin, one that looked more familiar than the others. His blood ran cold. It was Hwan. His body was just like the others now, lifeless and metal, standing in the corner as though he was no longer human. His limbs were bent awkwardly, his face just as blank as the others. But there was something in the way he stood. His head was tilted slightly, almost like he was watching Jinwoo.
The sound of the metal limbs creaked as the others spun and twisted in their synchronized dance. Their movements had become faster, more chaotic. Jinwoo backed away, his heart racing, but the door that had once been open was now locked. He ran to the window. The glass was cold against his palm. The outside world seemed distant, unreachable. The mannequins moved closer, their eyes – no, not eyes, but hollow sockets of metal – staring right at him.
Jinwoo could feel something happening inside his head. A pressure, like a whispering voice inside his skull, calling him. It wasn't a voice he could hear. It was a feeling, a thought that pushed its way into his mind, forcing him to move. It told him to join them, to be a part of the dance. It told him that this was where he belonged.
He struggled, shaking his head, trying to fight it, but his body wouldn't listen. His legs moved toward the center of the room, against his will. The mannequins stopped dancing and turned toward him, their cold metal faces glinting in the dim light.
One of them raised its hand and pointed to him. And Jinwoo knew. He knew what he had to do. He couldn't resist anymore. He couldn't fight it. The thought was too strong.
He stepped forward.
The dance had begun again.
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