DP Episode 129

Chapter 7.

Deep pivot; Event horizon

Creak, creak—

The oppressive heat of summer bore down, the kind that made even the cicadas sound exhausted.

A bus slowly pulled away from the station, carrying a handful of students in uniforms, a mother holding her baby, and an elderly woman sitting beside a rolling shopping bag. They swayed gently with the motion of the vehicle, surrendering their weight to the rocking seats.

Sunlight poured through the windows, revealing floating specks of dust suspended in the air. Cha Yeon-woo rested his chin on his palm, leaning against the window as he gazed listlessly outside. A stray breeze tousled his dark hair, brushing against his forehead.

―Hello! My name is Huggy Wuggy! Everyone’s friend! Find Huggy Wuggy in Poppy Playtime!

The radio blasted a garish ad for a horror adventure game, jarring Yeon-woo from his reverie. He turned his head as a child in her mother’s arms glanced back at him, her gray eyes sparkling. The dimple on her cheek deepened adorably as she smiled.

Yeon-woo returned the smile faintly, his lips barely curving.

Ding-dong. A student in the same uniform pressed the bell on the wall, signaling their stop.

Beep. “Student fare,” the card reader announced as Yeon-woo tapped his transportation card and rose. The bus announcement crackled:

Next stop, Myunghyun High School intersection.

Yeon-woo’s blue eyes swept past an ad stuck to the back of a seat as he steadied himself on the bus pole.

Agnes St. Mary’s Hospital
Knee pain? Joint specialists.

The bus halted, its doors hissing open. Yeon-woo and a cluster of similarly dressed students disembarked.

The sunlight filtered through the ginkgo trees lining the street, falling harshly onto Yeon-woo’s face. He winced, raising his hand to shield his eyes. It was early morning, yet the heat was already oppressive.

Creak.

Looking down, Yeon-woo saw a cheese-colored cat sprawled on its back, belly exposed. As if entranced, he crouched and gently stroked the soft fur.

The cat purred, content, flattening its ears as its gray eyes fluttered closed.

“Meow,” Yeon-woo mouthed silently. The cat replied with a soft chirrup, making him smile involuntarily.

The creature rubbed against his legs, curling its tail around him, before spinning playfully. Yeon-woo scratched under its chin before rising, brushing off his pants. As he instinctively slipped a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled card.

Buzz-Cut Laundry Service
Shoes/Winter Blankets/Coats
Pickup and delivery available.
(8995) 8995-8995

“Hyung! Yeon-woo hyung!”

A voice called out from behind. Yeon-woo turned to see someone jogging toward him. The card disappeared back into his pocket, crumpled once more.

“You’re just getting here? You’re late, man.”

The newcomer’s gray eyes caught the sunlight, their dark hair fluttering in the breeze. Yeon-woo glanced down at his phone. The cracked screen displayed an absurdly garbled time:

[AM 89:95]

“Yeah. I’m late.”

“Seriously, we’re gonna be late! Run!”

The two broke into a sprint. Up ahead, the school gate began to close, and the teacher on duty started a countdown, holding up their hand for the latecomers to see.

“Ten, nine, eight—block the side gate, kids! Seven, six, five…”

“Oh no, we’re not gonna make it!”

Yeon-woo’s companion groaned, speeding up. Yeon-woo followed suit, pushing himself to the limit. They barely squeezed through the narrowing gates, collapsing just inside the school grounds.

Huff, huff…

Yeon-woo bent double, gasping for air, his heart pounding furiously as if it might burst from his chest.

Gasp, gag… cough.

Every breath scraped against his throat, his lungs tightening with panic. The more he tried to inhale, the worse the suffocation felt, like his organs were about to claw their way out of his body.

Gag, heave—

“Help… me,” Yeon-woo choked, his trembling voice lost in the oppressive summer heat.

✽✽✽

“Uh, uh, uh!”

Song-hee suddenly pointed at the camera monitor and shouted. Startled, Colonel Jin and Hee-min whipped their heads around. On the flickering screen, Cha Yeon-woo appeared, his body covered in writhing anomalies.

“…”

The three were struck speechless, their mouths agape. In that moment, none of them could scream or even make a sound. Cha Yeon-woo was swallowed in an instant.

Before their eyes, the gate lashed out with its tentacles, engulfing him entirely. It began to convulse violently. Reflexively, Colonel Jin grabbed his radio, attempting to make contact.

“Baby, respond. Baby, answer me.”

But, of course, there was no way it would work. Even if Yeon-woo had reconnected the radio, no signal could possibly reach beyond the gate.

Song-hee, who had been covering her mouth with wide eyes, turned to the bio-signal monitor. Her face fell as she let out a faint sigh of despair.

The equipment displayed nothing but silence. All readings—heart rate, vitals—flatlined to zero, leaving the screen a quiet black void.

“Connection is severed.”

“Of course. How could remote equipment work beyond the gate? Did we think NASA tech would be some kind of miracle?”

As Song-hee wiped her pale face in frustration, Colonel Jin slumped heavily into his chair, defeated.

Hee-min glanced briefly at the bio-monitor before turning back to the camera feed. He couldn’t afford to feel disappointed or give in to despair. There was no time.

“Please… Please, Yeon-woo.”

They had to make this insane gamble work. Yet their own incompetence had led them to pin all their hopes on a young, naïve guide blinded by desperate faith.

This couldn’t end in futility. He had never truly believed the equipment would function beyond the gate, but at the very least, Cha Yeon-woo, who had been swallowed whole, had to survive. He had to be alive.

“Ah!”

Song-hee suddenly let out another sharp cry. Colonel Jin and Hee-min’s eyes shot toward the bio-monitor.

The flickering screen, plagued by unstable connection, began to tremble ominously.

Beep, beep, beep.

The flatline erupted into a flurry of signals, the readings surging upward and spitting out a sharp, steep curve.

✽✽✽

“Cha Yeon-woo.”

Creak. Screeeech.

“Cha Yeon-woo.”

The deafening sound of cicadas screeched right outside the window, an unbearable noise.

“Cha Yeon-woo!”

His blank gaze finally shifted from the window, and he turned his head. Looking straight ahead, Yeon-woo met dozens of gray eyes staring directly at him. Too late, he noticed the teacher glaring at him.

“Read the third paragraph, would you? You’re not paying attention in class.”

“Oh, yes. I… I’m sorry.”

Yeon-woo stood, fumbling with his book.

“The princess dreamed of a fairy teaching her a melody. Upon waking, she played her flute, and its sound was so pure that…”

Huff. Gasp. Someone save me. Please. No, please, no. Stop. Please. Someone, anyone—

“Yeon-woo, are you okay?”

“…Huh?”

The cicadas outside made his ears ring.

“What are you doing? Keep reading.”

Yeon-woo forced his focus back onto the printed words, his voice trembling slightly.

“Uh, um… its sound was so pure that no one in the world had ever heard such a melody before. The emperor and the empress dowager…”

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Leaning on the podium, the teacher shot Yeon-woo an exasperated look.

“Cha Yeon-woo, you wasted the entire class.”

“I’m sorry.”

The teacher, now softening, gestured toward the door with a faint smile.

“Come to the teachers’ office, Yeon-woo?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-oh, you’re in trouble now,” a nearby classmate teased with a laugh. Yeon-woo chuckled, swatting their shoulder playfully, which only made them laugh louder.

“Hyung, today’s lunch is omelet rice and Vienna sausage.”

“Really?”

“After lunch, wanna hang out with the group?”

As the boy grinned, Yeon-woo’s hand instinctively reached out, brushing the shallow dimple beneath his left eye. Startled, the boy pulled away, frowning.

“What are you doing, Hyung?”

“Huh?”

He stepped back, avoiding Yeon-woo’s touch.

“Just go, Yeon-woo.”

Stop it. Please. Stop. No.

Yeon-woo’s hand fell slowly, and he walked out of the classroom toward the teachers’ office.

Creak. Creeeak. A student vigorously cleaning the corridor windows paused to wave at Yeon-woo. Their curved gray eyes met his as he waved back. Goodbye.

Yeon-woo.

Inside the teachers’ office, Yeon-woo stood in front of his teacher. Looking up from the attendance book, the teacher regarded him kindly, gray eyes filled with warmth.

“Are you still working late at your part-time job?”

“Oh, yes…”

“I figured. You looked tired earlier.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Yeon-woo’s gaze dropped to the desk, where a half-empty paper coffee cup sat. Its edges were chewed and frayed. As he stared at it, the teacher’s voice pulled his attention back up.

“No need to apologize. You must be exhausted, yet you still come to school every day. That’s commendable.”

The teacher’s gray eyes crinkled into a gentle smile.

Huff. Gasp.

“As long as nothing’s wrong, that’s all I wanted to check. Take care of yourself.”

“…Thank you.”

You can go now, Yeon-woo.

Cha Yeon-woo. Cha Yeon-woo. Cha Yeon-woo. Cha Yeon-woo. Cha Yeon-woo.

Creak. Screeech.

Please leave, Yeon-woo.

No.

Bowing slightly, Yeon-woo exited the teachers’ office.

Creak. Creak. The student cleaning the windows. The kids pushing and shoving as they joked around. The noisy corridor was filled with students going about their business. Yeon-woo’s steps gradually slowed, then stopped.

His limp hand rose faintly. Blue eyes stared down at his fingers.

Two identical rings on his ring and pinky fingers.

“…”

Red stained his hand, dripping thickly to the floor.

“Oh.”

Yeon-woo opened his mouth to speak, but the corridor fell deathly silent.

Lifting his head, he saw the students around him frozen mid-motion. Slowly, they all turned their heads to face him.

Dozens of gray eyes fixed on him.

The same uniform. The same faces.

Like melting wax, his surroundings distorted and twisted into a grotesque mess.

Huff. Gasp. Screaming. Save me. Please, no. Someone. Save me. Save me. Save me.

Gasping, heaving.

Screams erupted from his bloodied throat, reeking of iron and rot. His crimson-stained hands clawed through twisted entrails. Huffing, gasping, his breaths echoed, shallow and frantic. Shattered ribs punctured his trembling fingers as he tried to steady himself.

The agony of his torn and ruptured innards spilled over in choking coughs, blood splattering in thick globs.

Thud. Darkness began to engulf his vision. Acrid, metallic blood pooled in his lungs, burning as it filled him.

Yeon-woo.

Cha Yeon-woo.