4. Even if it’s not okay

The demon was wearing medieval European-style iron armor, but he didn’t have a helmet on. His body structure was that of a human male. However, with his long red hair and eyes burning like fire, he didn’t look human at all.

Shin Jiho was stunned and confused, unable to do anything. She couldn’t make sense of the situation. Sure, the demon was one thing, but why were such deadly weapons lying on the floor? Why were people gathered in front of the demon like that…?

‘Isn’t it normal to run away if there’s a demon?’

Humans standing stiffly in front of a demon without even flinching—it looked incredibly unnatural and awkward.

Shin Jiho’s eyes met the demon’s. When the demon curled up the corners of his mouth into a smile, sharp teeth like a shark’s were revealed.

Jiho’s body stiffened.

The demon pointed at Jiho and Go Pyeonghwa with a flick of his finger and spoke.

“Ten. Eleven.”

Before she could even blink, the demon had vanished, and suddenly Shin Jiho found herself sitting in the passenger seat of a car. It was the middle of the city, and the car was speeding down the road. From the opposite lane, a truck swerved, crossing the centerline. She saw the truck barreling toward them through the windshield.

The driver beside her quickly turned the wheel. The car spun, and Jiho instinctively grabbed the handle inside the vehicle.

The car slammed into a telephone pole on the passenger side. The airbag didn’t deploy. The passenger side crumpled like paper.

She couldn’t breathe. Every time her ribs twitched, the pain was unbearable. There wasn’t a single part below her chest that didn’t hurt. No—above her chest hurt just as much. She was in so much pain, she couldn’t even tell what exactly hurt. Her consciousness began to fade.

Jiho exhaled roughly. When she blinked again, she was back in the dormitory lounge on the 7th floor. The pain that had consumed her whole body was gone without a trace. It was an illusion so vivid, it had felt disturbingly real.

‘What the hell…? Is this the demon’s power?’

It didn’t feel like fake memories had been implanted. Fake memories usually felt like they were her own, like real memories. But the illusion just now felt like someone had played a video directly in front of her eyes.

Because of that, she was less confused and terrified, but it was still her first time experiencing something like this, and she couldn’t help but feel shaken.

The demon’s burning eyes continued to stare at Shin Jiho. The gaze was so uncomfortable, she wanted to turn her head, but her neck wouldn’t move, as if frozen.

Her arms and legs began moving on their own. Step by step, her legs walked forward without her control. Cold sweat poured down, and there was no strength in her limbs. Shin Jiho tried desperately to regain control, but her body was like a broken machine that wouldn’t listen.

“Shin Jiho.”

From behind, Go Pyeonghwa called her name in a small, flustered voice and tugged at her sleeve.

But Jiho’s body brushed off Pyeonghwa’s hand and kept walking forward.

‘Ugh…! What the hell is this! This is insane!’

She wanted to stop but couldn’t. She wanted to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t open, as if glued shut.

Jiho felt like she had become the protagonist of the fairy tale with the red shoes. Her body moved on its own. Unless she cut off her legs, it felt like she would never be able to stop.

‘No, no!’

Jiho struggled. No—she wanted to struggle. Her soul was thrashing in fear, but her body wasn’t responding. It was like her body had become a prison trapping her soul.

Fear tightened its grip on her. Like sinking into a swamp, terror pulled her in and tried to swallow her whole.

At the center of the lounge stood nine people and one demon. The demon stood firmly with his legs shoulder-width apart, arms crossed, staring at the entrance leading to the women’s dormitory.

The nine people stood in a fan shape around the demon, like an audience gathered to watch a celebrity on stage. From Jiho’s position, she could only see their backs and glimpses of their profiles.

Jiho’s legs, moving on their own, came to a stop beside those people. Only then could Shin Jiho see their expressions. Everyone’s faces were deathly pale, unnaturally still, without a single twitch. Jiho, too, was frozen, like a statue made of plaster.

‘That’s… An Gyumin?’

Jiho spotted a familiar male student among the group. It was An Gyumin, a freshman in computer science from the class of ‘22. They weren’t particularly close. He was just famous for being ridiculously handsome among the new students, so she knew who he was.

Gyumin’s face was soaked with something—whether it was sweat or tears, she couldn’t tell. He glared at the demon with eyes full of venom.

Everyone, including Gyumin, had their gaze locked onto the demon, completely unmoving. Not a single person even blinked.

They looked more like mannequins than people. Only the bloodshot eyes, brimming with fear and resentment, proved they were still alive.

Jiho was the same as the others. She wanted to turn her eyes away, but couldn’t. Wanted to blink, but her eyes wouldn’t close. She tried to move, but all she could do was break out in a cold sweat.

‘Did they all lose control of their bodies like I did?’

She remembered the old superstition: when you’re paralyzed in sleep, you can break free by moving your fingertips or toes.

Jiho tried to move the tips of her fingers. Please, just a little—just a tiny bit—move, she pleaded silently.

But her body remained stiff like a mannequin made of steel. It didn’t feel like her own, as if she was trapped in someone else’s skin.

The sweat pouring down her back like rain, the heart pounding so hard it felt like her chest might shatter, and the cold numbness creeping into her hands and feet—only those sensations reminded her that she was still in control of this body. Barely.

Even while drenched in cold sweat, Jiho glared at the demon clad in armor and tried to assess the situation as calmly as possible.

‘This must be the demon’s ability… Controlling people’s movements. And probably showing illusions too. …But what about Go Pyeonghwa?’

Jiho suddenly realized she couldn’t sense Pyeonghwa’s presence anymore. The last thing she remembered was him calling her name and grabbing her sleeve. There were no footsteps behind her, no sign of him following.

She desperately wanted to check on him, but since she couldn’t move her eyes, she was filled with frustration.

‘Is he just fidgeting behind me? Or has he lost control of his body like I have…? No, did he run away?’

After a moment, Jiho shook her head internally.

At the very least, he hadn’t run. What good would it do to flee back to the women’s dorm after barely escaping? If he was going to run, he’d have to go past the lounge and head toward the men’s dorm side.

Most likely, Go Pyeonghwa was still by the lounge entrance. She didn’t know in what condition, though…

Her body wouldn’t move no matter what she did. The only thing she could move was her mind. She had to think of a way to get out of this situation.

Why did things end up like this? Where did all these people come from? Did they all get past Amon, or were they already here in the lounge? What does this demon want from me, that he’s just making me stand still? Where the hell is Room 721? Did An Gyumin even live in the dorm before? How many people are in this dorm right now? Are these all the people on the 7th floor…?

‘…No, stop it! Focus!’
Only thoughts that weren’t immediately important or couldn’t be answered kept spinning around and around in Jiho’s head. All it did was give her a pounding headache—she couldn’t think of a single way to turn the situation around.

‘The only hope I have is Go Pyeonghwa, but…’

Still, Jiho didn’t have much expectation. The odds that Pyeonghwa was in the same predicament as her were high, and even if he wasn’t, she doubted he’d risk his life just to save her.

That’s when it happened.

Beep.

The sound of a key card being tapped against a card reader. Jiho flinched, focusing on the noise.

Then came the sound of a door opening from behind her. It was the entrance to the women’s dorm. Someone had just opened that door.

‘Is it Go Pyeonghwa?’

The demon unfolded his arms. He flicked his finger and counted.

“Twelve.”

Since he was starting to count again, Jiho realized it wasn’t Go Pyeonghwa. It must’ve been someone new entering.

The demon crossed his arms once more.

Footsteps echoed—thump, thump—coming closer to Jiho.

But it wasn’t just one pair of footsteps. On top of the steady, heavy pace, there was another—rushed, hurried.

The rapid steps quickly reached Jiho. Someone wrapped their arms around her waist. Judging by the size, they were much bigger than Jiho. It felt like a man. He lifted Jiho up. The hold was a bit unstable, so her feet lightly dragged along the floor.

‘Who is this?’

Jiho tensed up. But since her body still wouldn’t obey her will, there was absolutely nothing she could do. All she could do was let herself be dragged away. She could only pray that whoever this was, they’d be better than the demon.

Though her posture had changed, Jiho’s head stayed fixed on the demon, like a sunflower facing the sun. It wouldn’t budge.

As the person holding her hurried away, he whispered quietly,

“You okay? You’re conscious, right?”

…It was Go Pyeonghwa.

Jiho let out a silent sigh of relief. A storm of emotions welled up inside her. Above all, the biggest thought was—

‘Thank God.’
Thank God Pyeonghwa was safe, and thank God he hadn’t run away—he came back to save her.

She was grateful too. She knew just how difficult and rare it was to act for someone else in a situation like this.

Jiho wanted to answer him, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Her gaze remained stuck on the demon, and it was unsettling and unnatural. Pyeonghwa seemed to understand that something was off with Jiho and didn’t press her to respond.

Just then, the demon unfolded his arms again. Jiho’s nerves went on high alert as she watched his every move.

Clap.

A sharp, oddly cheerful sound echoed. The demon had clapped his hands together with force.

In that instant, the paralysis lifted. Jiho could finally put her feet on the ground of her own will. It seemed the others were the same—their stiff, mannequin-like stances loosened naturally.

Go Pyeonghwa, still holding Jiho’s waist, quickly noticed the change.

“Shin Jiho?”

Before Jiho could respond, the demon opened his mouth first and shouted loudly.

“The method is simple. Take out one person each, and you pass! Bring their heart to the reader!”

As Go Pyeonghwa tried to turn around, Jiho yanked him back.

“We need to get out of here, now!”

Pyeonghwa, having quickly assessed the situation, followed Jiho without hesitation.

Gritting her teeth, Shin Jiho sprinted straight toward the door leading to the men’s dormitory. She didn’t waver, eyes locked on the door, but her mind was in turmoil. ‘A life for a life.’ That bizarre phrase that had first appeared on her phone came back to her.

The door to the men’s dorm was closed. Go Pyeonghwa tapped his key card on the reader. But there was no beep, no sound of the lock disengaging. Wondering if the door might not have been locked at all, Jiho twisted the handle—but it didn’t budge.

‘Why isn’t it opening?’

Panic gripped Jiho. Thinking it might be a problem with the card, she tried her own key card.

But it didn’t register either.

That’s when the demon’s words resurfaced in her mind.

‘Ah, the heart…! The demon said to bring the opponent’s heart to the reader!’

She hadn’t fully processed it in the heat of the moment, but now the demon’s words hit her hard.

‘Does that mean… to really escape this place, I have to offer someone else’s heart instead of a key card?’

A cold chill ran down her spine. Jiho clenched her teeth, refusing to accept this horrific reality.

Just then, she sensed someone behind her.

As Jiho turned to look, Pyeonghwa suddenly shoved her. She tumbled to the floor.

‘Why?’

For a moment, Jiho thought Go Pyeonghwa had betrayed her—just like the girl with the broom who had turned on her friend with the dustpan.

But that wasn’t it. An Gyumin, wielding a crowbar, had suddenly rushed in close. Go Pyeonghwa had stepped between Jiho and Gyumin to block him.

In that brief instant, Gyumin didn’t hesitate—he swung the crowbar at Pyeonghwa’s head. Thud. A sickening sound rang out. Pyeonghwa collapsed.

“Urgh…”

Pyeonghwa let out a pained groan and then went silent.

Jiho, the moment she hit the ground, quickly regained her balance and scrambled up. She caught sight of the fallen Pyeonghwa and Gyumin holding the crowbar—and froze in shock.

“Go Pyeonghwa!”

She called his name, but there was no response. She wanted to check his condition, but safety came first. Jiho frantically looked around for a weapon, but saw nothing.

Gyumin bent down and raised the crowbar again, aiming for Pyeonghwa’s head. Without thinking, Jiho threw herself at Gyumin’s side, slamming into him with her full weight. The two of them toppled over.

Jiho reached out, trying to snatch the crowbar, but Gyumin was faster. He shoved her away and stood up. Looking at Jiho, his face seemed to ask, ‘What should I do with her?’

Jiho cautiously stood up, watching Gyumin warily. She wanted to check on Go Pyeonghwa immediately, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Gyumin. If only she could deal with that crowbar, but it wasn’t going to be easy. Her nerves burned with anxiety.

“You… what the hell are you doing?”

Shin Jiho growled in a low voice, trying to intimidate him. But in a situation like this, words held no power—Jiho knew that, and so did An Gyumin.

“Trying to survive.”

Gyumin responded flatly, his face void of all expression.

At that moment, Go Pyeonghwa, who had somehow gotten back on his feet, suddenly lunged into Gyumin’s space. The crowbar Gyumin swung cut through empty air. Pyeonghwa grabbed Gyumin by the collar and his right arm, the one holding the crowbar, then hooked a foot behind him and slammed him to the floor with a clean throw. A loud crash echoed as Gyumin hit the ground hard.

‘Judo?’

Even Jiho, who didn’t know much about martial arts, could tell it was a judo move.

Gyumin didn’t make a single sound, despite the force of the impact. It almost seemed like he’d lost consciousness.

‘Is he okay…?’

For now, Jiho felt relieved just seeing Go Pyeonghwa moving around safely. She’d been so worried he might have died instantly. Her nerves had been wound tight with fear.

Now came the real problem.

Shin Jiho quickly surveyed the room. People were swinging weapons, running away, pounding on the locked door to the women’s dorm while sobbing, dodging attacks to grab whatever weapons they could find, or watching for an opening, ready to ambush someone…

The lounge had already descended into complete chaos, filled with humans trying to kill one another.

“Let me go! Let go of me!”
“I don’t want to do this either, okay?!”
“Fuck, fuck…”
“Please, don’t—please… spare me… sob…”

“Aaaaaaah!”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

In the midst of this madness, the demon stood alone, arms crossed, calmly watching the frenzy like it was a show.

Jiho couldn’t accept this. There were twelve people and only one demon. With the courage to attack each other, couldn’t they turn that on the demon instead?

Go Pyeonghwa, who had bent down during the throw, tried to stand—but stumbled and collapsed.

‘He’s not okay!’

Jiho’s heart sank. Cold sweat poured down her back in an instant.

It was clearly the early signs of a concussion. Now that her panic had subsided and she could think clearly, it was a miracle Pyeonghwa was even still moving. He’d taken a direct blow to the head from a crowbar swung by a grown man—there was no way he was unscathed.

“Go Pyeonghwa! Are you okay?”

Jiho rushed over and supported him. Pyeonghwa looked at her. His gaze was unfocused, but she could tell he was at least conscious. Blood from a wound hidden by his hair was soaking the back of his neck. His body trembled with small convulsions.

He was conscious—for now. But Jiho wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. The lounge was just a pit stop on the way to Room 721. They hadn’t even made it into the men’s dorm hallway yet—and now this injury…