Capítulo 181: Chapter 181
Jong-Ho didn't want to take the job. He had a good life already in Pyongyang. He had steady work, a predictable schedule, and the safety that came with compliance. But his parents insisted. His brother, too. When the letter arrived, it seemed like too much of an opportunity to pass.
His new employer was distant and secretive, a name he could not recognize—Rongyan Solutions. The letter gave no details other than a time, date, and a list of rules. It had been a mistake to open it. Jong-Ho should have just tossed it aside.
The rules felt strange at first glance. They didn't make sense. They seemed like a prank. A joke at his expense. But it was no joke.
Never speak unless spoken to.
2. Follow instructions without deviation.
3. If you feel an urge to speak, bite down on your tongue until it passes.
4. Never leave the building unless you are told to.
5. If you see something moving, do not acknowledge it. Keep your eyes forward.
6. Do not ask questions about your work or your surroundings.
7. The doors will lock after dark. Do not try to open them.
8. If you break any of these rules, you will be dismissed immediately.
Jong-Ho threw the letter in the trash. He didn't care. It was all absurd.
The morning of his first day was cold. The wind felt sharp, slicing against his cheeks as he walked down the narrow alley toward the building. It was an imposing structure, its windows dark and its edges sharp like the angles of a prison. A single flickering light above the door cast long shadows across the cobblestones. The whole place gave him a bad feeling.
He pushed the door open, its heavy wooden frame groaning in protest. A dimly lit hallway stretched before him, its concrete floors cracked in places, the walls covered with a dull, peeling paint. The air smelled old—stale, like it had been locked away for years.
A man stood behind a desk at the end of the hallway. He didn't look up as Jong-Ho entered. His uniform was simple—black, with no insignia, no markings. Just black. Jong-Ho took a deep breath and walked toward him. He needed to prove he was capable, that he could be trusted with the job.
"You're late," the man said, his voice low and sharp.
Jong-Ho hesitated, but then he stepped forward. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"
The man cut him off. "The rules. Do you understand them?"
Jong-Ho hesitated again, glancing at the letter in his pocket. He was supposed to follow them. But who would believe these rules were real? They felt like something from a bad dream.
"I understand," he said, playing along. "But they're ridiculous. Who would—"
The man stood up. His eyes, empty and cold, fixed on him. "Never speak unless spoken to."
Jong-Ho's stomach twisted. The chill ran deeper than the air. Something was wrong here. But he couldn't back out now. He just nodded and sat in the chair the man pointed to.
A door opened at the far end of the hallway, revealing a large office. It was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of dust and something else, something sour. The walls were covered in shelves of old books, and a single desk sat in the center, cluttered with papers and unopened letters.
The man gestured for Jong-Ho to enter. He obeyed, stepping into the room and sitting at the desk. The man sat across from him, silent, studying him. His eyes felt cold, like they could see right through him.
After what felt like an eternity, the man spoke again, his voice a harsh rasp. "You will follow the rules. If you break them, you will leave."
Jong-Ho nodded. He didn't believe it. It was all a game. He would prove it.
The hours passed slowly. Jong-Ho sat, his back stiff, his hands folded in his lap. The man never left the room, never said a word unless it was to give him a task. He worked without speaking, sorting papers, filing documents. Every so often, he would glance at the clock on the wall. The hands ticked by, slowly, painfully.
Then came the first real test. He heard something moving behind him. A rustle, soft and slow. His eyes flicked toward the sound, and he saw it—a dark figure standing in the corner of the room. Its outline was vague, impossible to make out clearly. It wasn't quite human, or it was too human, but something was wrong with it. It didn't move, but it was there, right behind him, just out of sight.
Jong-Ho froze. His heart thudded in his chest, his mouth went dry. The figure didn't move. It just stood there, its presence heavy in the air. He forced himself to keep his gaze straight ahead, just as the rules said. He didn't want to follow them. He didn't want to be afraid.
But the urge to look again gnawed at him.
It was only for a moment. His eyes flickered to the side, toward the corner. And it was gone.
Jong-Ho turned back to his work, pretending it didn't happen. It was a prank. Some kind of sick joke. He would be dismissed if he asked. So he kept working, kept following the rules.
The man didn't seem to notice. He sat there, silently watching. And the clock kept ticking. Every second felt heavier. The building seemed colder, the silence louder. But there was no escape. Not yet.
When the sun finally set, the man stood, his eyes cold, and motioned for Jong-Ho to follow. The doors to the room closed behind them with a soft click, locking them inside.
Jong-Ho didn't think anything of it at first. But as the hours passed, he felt something change. The shadows in the hallway seemed to stretch longer. The light flickered again, this time with a hiss, a low buzz like something was about to burn out.
The man walked ahead of him, down the long corridor. His steps echoed in the silence, but Jong-Ho couldn't help feeling that something was watching. It was the quiet that unnerved him the most—the oppressive silence that seemed to press down on him from every side.
They reached a small, locked room at the end of the hallway. The man turned to Jong-Ho, his face still expressionless. "Stay here," he said.
The door opened with a soft creak, and the man pushed Jong-Ho inside. The room was dark, the walls covered in cracked, peeling paint. There was a small cot against the wall, a table with a single chair, and nothing else.
The man closed the door behind him, leaving Jong-Ho alone in the silence.
For hours, he sat there. His eyes darted around the room, restless. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. There was a noise now, soft at first, like something brushing against the walls. Then the sounds grew louder, more distinct. A scrape, then a shuffle. Then something heavy hitting the floor, dragging itself across the room.
Jong-Ho jumped up, his heart racing. He spun toward the door. It was locked, just as the rules had warned.
He wasn't alone anymore.
A low, rasping breath filled the room. Jong-Ho froze. His mind raced. What was it? What was in here with him? He couldn't see it, but he could hear it moving, slow and deliberate, getting closer.
The breath came again, closer now. He could feel its heat on his neck. And then, a voice. A low murmur, a whisper, coming from nowhere. "Don't break the rules."
Jong-Ho's stomach churned. The voice was his own.
His heart thudded in his chest. He could feel the weight of it. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears. His body was tense, ready to flee, but the door remained locked, and the figure in the shadows was closing in.
He pressed his back against the wall, trembling. But there was no escape. He had broken the rules. He had looked. He had spoken. And now, the room felt too small, suffocating.
A cold hand touched his shoulder.
Jong-Ho gasped. He spun around, but no one was there. The door was still locked. The shadows were still moving. And as his breath quickened, he realized with a sickening jolt that he had never been alone.
The next morning, his body was found—face pale, eyes wide open, staring into nothing. No marks, no wounds. Just an empty stare.
The rules had been broken, but they weren't meant to be ignored.
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