Chapter 2 part 2: When Opportunity Knocks

The four men invited to Sumi Lodge all share a secret.
They never speak of it to one another, but they are all tied to a single incident.

Back in high school, Jeong Seongryong sexually assaulted a female student from a nearby girls’ school.
When the situation escalated, Seongryong’s father bribed the girl’s teachers and worked behind the scenes to suppress the issue.
In the process, he discovered that Teacher Kim Seonghyeon and Teacher Park Jihwan were exploiting their own perverse tendencies to make money on the side.

Using their misdeeds as leverage and slipping them a sufficient sum, he bought their cooperation.
The two teachers then participated in a phone interview with a local newspaper reporter—also bribed—where they helped spin the narrative, claiming that the victim had always behaved poorly and was a troublesome child to begin with.
As public opinion turned against her, the girl—once the victim—was ultimately driven to suicide under relentless scrutiny and blame.

The vengeful spirit who invited the four men to Sumi Lodge was that very girl.

The reporter who conducted the phone interview went on to be scouted by a major Seoul newspaper.
The two teachers pocketed large sums of money and went on to live extravagantly, even purchasing luxury villas.

However, the four men—never having met face-to-face before—remain unaware that they are connected.
For them, it was a disgrace they intended to hide forever, and so none of them ever spoke of it.
Yet as they are killed one by one, they are forced—before the vengeful spirit brimming with hatred—to confess their sins piece by piece, gradually revealing the web that binds them together.

***

Crash!

“Kyaaaaah!!!!!”

Damn it.
He survived until the very end, learned the entire truth, and then died in terror—his tongue and eyeballs ripped out in a brutal death.
It was a scene he never wanted to see again, not even in a dream.

A nearby staff member reached out a hand.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“…..”

It seemed he had returned.
As his breathing steadied, he felt everyone around him staring.

Just go away. This is embarrassing.

Yejun cleared his throat, stood up slowly, and bowed slightly.

“Thank you. I’m fine.”

“That’s a relief.”

The staff member walked away.
Gradually, the surrounding gazes withdrew.

Still mortified, Yejun avoided making eye contact with anyone.
He sat back down, quickly closed the script that lay open, and sank into thought.

What is this? I was fine at home—why does this only happen at the amusement park?

Something was very wrong.

Glancing at the wall clock, he saw that exactly five minutes had passed.
Yet he had been chased by a vengeful spirit for four whole days.

Something is definitely happening to me. I need to figure it out exactly.

There were fifteen minutes left until he had to return to work.
That meant he still had time to test it at least once more.

Swallowing hard, Yejun picked up the script with trembling hands.

I’m scared—but I have to do this. I need to know what this really is.

Clenching his eyes shut, he opened the script again.

Darkness swallowed his vision, and Yejun was dragged back into a dim room.
By dream-time reckoning, he had returned to this room after four days.

Cold sweat broke out on its own.

A crying clown standing alone in the darkness was terrifying.
It was scary even when it stood cheerfully, but now it looked deeply depressed, its head tilted to the side—utterly horrifying.

What are you? Why are you doing this to me?

The words only circled inside his mouth.

Then the clown’s hand moved.
If it snapped its fingers again, would he be sent back into that damn horror-play script?

Sure enough, a thin crack formed behind the clown.
A door appeared.
If he opened it, it would lead back to Sumi Lodge.

Clenching his fists, Yejun muttered endlessly to himself.

I need to understand exactly what’s happening to me.
An actor is someone who spends their entire life discovering who they are.

Watching the clown warily, he sidestepped, gathered his courage, and grabbed the doorknob.
The door screeched with the shrill cry of old hinges he never wanted to hear again.

Peering inside with a tense expression, Yejun’s eyes widened.

When he opened the door, there was another clown inside—no, a clown doll, sitting there.

“You crazy bastard! It wasn’t an acting-training book—it was a script!”

Text appeared above the damn clown doll’s head.

[Pierrot’s Tutorial Level 1.
Repeat the following aloud 10,000 times.]

No!
This isn’t it!
This isn’t what I want!
I came here to go to Sumi Lodge!

The text above the clown doll’s head vanished, replaced by a single line of dazzling golden letters.

[Ah! Ah! Ah! Mm! Mm! Mm!]

‘Shit. I’m screwed.’

Ignoring Yejun’s outcry completely, the number 10,000 floated above the doll’s head.

Ha… Do I seriously have to stay here another ten days?
Damn it. I should’ve just left it alone.

***

“…..”

In the quiet afternoon subway, Yejun sat vacant-eyed in an empty seat, staring blankly into space.

Dragged back into that godforsaken place—dream or whatever it was—he had been forced to endure ten thousand repetitions of vocal training, each count registered only if the pronunciation was perfect.

The only consolation was that what had once taken ten full days now took nine.

“Ha… what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Dream or not, reality was still reality, and money still had to be earned.
With that thought, Yejun pulled out his phone.

Rehearsals would start the day after tomorrow, and with only two days left, there was no point looking for a short-term afternoon part-time job.
All he could do was browse day-labor listings, tongue clicking in frustration as he scrolled through the job site.

There was nothing suitable for a short afternoon shift.

Hoo… Guess today’s a bust.

No—wait.
Let’s think about this positively.

Four days in the dream equaled about five minutes in reality.
There were two days left until the role-selection audition.

That means I can practice dozens of times.

That was—if he could go back to Sumi Lodge instead of that damn doll’s training room.

To be honest, even becoming them, sharing their thoughts, and experiencing the terror of real death wouldn’t automatically translate into acting.
What if someone told you to act exactly as you live?
Could anyone perfectly recreate their daily life onstage without awkwardness?

Even experiences you live through every day feel unnatural once placed on a stage.
And real-life experience differs from theatrical projection and vocalization.

No matter how much you experience, turning it into acting requires an absolute amount of practice time.

Still… it was terrifying.
Even knowing it was a dream was just knowledge.
Once inside, he felt every bit of fear and pain the role experienced.

And the vocal training the clown doll forced on him was so mind-numbingly dull it bordered on despair.

Lost in thought on the subway, Yejun suddenly let out a hollow chuckle.

The guy who begged for just one more chance—now that it’s here, he’s too scared to grab it.

Looking back, his life had always been like this.
He’d challenged hundreds of auditions.
He’d never failed the first round—not once.
It was always the second or final round where he fell.

And that hurt far more than failing immediately.
Because by then, hope had already grown.

Opportunity always felt just within reach—yet never quite graspable.
In the end, it was always either someone far more handsome than him who got cast, or someone far more talented.

Something strange is happening to me right now.
If I could use this…

He was confident he could become the latter.
His looks were what they were—there was nothing more he could do, and he’d never get plastic surgery even if it killed him.

That left only one option: improve his acting.
That dream world was practically an unlimited rehearsal space where every role performed with absolute sincerity.

Having made up his mind, Yejun went straight home and dug out his old makeup bag.
Thankfully, most of the materials were still there.

Before putting on makeup, he cooked himself a pack of ramen.
After carefully applying his makeup, a thought struck him.

I don’t have the costume.

“Ah… costumes can’t be taken outside.”

Would facial makeup alone be enough?
Just in case, he found a pair of white gloves and put them on.
He needed to increase the odds—even a little—if he didn’t want to waste the day.
Only two days remained. Every second counted.

With clown makeup on his face and white gloves on his hands, Yejun stared at the script, tension etched into his expression.
He swallowed once, then—to hell with it—opened the script.

Once again, a dark room.

Yes!

The condition for entering the clown’s room wasn’t location—it was the makeup.
The moment that realization hit him, everything clicked.

Just earlier today, being dragged into another dream had been unbearable.
Now, he was happy.
Being used and using were fundamentally different things.

The clown still stood there, looking fearful.
But if that thing had wanted to harm him, it would have done so long ago.
The fact that it hadn’t touched him three times already meant it had no intention of doing so.

Swallowing hard, Yejun glared at the clown, clenched his fists, and prayed silently.

Please—Sumi Lodge, not the clown doll.

Then the clown’s hand moved.
If it snapped its fingers now, his destination would be decided.

Huh?

The clown brought its white-gloved hands together as if in prayer, then slowly spread them apart.
Like a magician’s trick, four cards appeared between its palms, floating gently in midair.

“…..”

What am I supposed to do with this?

The clown stood silently, holding the four cards suspended between its hands, waiting.
Focusing his gaze, Yejun read the names written on them.

Jeong Seongryong.
Shin Cheolho.
Park Jihwan.
Kim Seonghyeon.

Four cards. Four names.

Ah… I see.

He understood immediately.
They represented the roles.

Right. It’s not the doll’s room.
If I choose a role, I become that person.
In that case, obviously…

Kim Seonghyeon—the first to die.
Since he’d come in just to test things, it would be best to die as quickly as possible.

“I’ll choose Kim Seonghyeon.”

“…..”

The clown said nothing.
It didn’t move either.
The two stared at each other for nearly a full minute.

Is this not it?

Do I have to physically pick the card?
That’s… kind of scary.
What if it suddenly lunges at me when I get close?

After hesitating for a while longer, he realized there was no other choice.
Like a boxer, Yejun shuffled his feet back and forth, crouched defensively, and then—like throwing a jab—shot his right hand forward and snatched the Kim Seonghyeon card.

The clown’s hands folded together again.
Then—snap!—its right fingers snapped.

***

Crash!

“Kyaaaaah!!!!!”

This time, he felt it clearly.
Just moments ago, he’d flailed in midair, lost his balance, and fallen.

Damn it—I forgot that Kim Seonghyeon dies by being struck by lightning and burned alive.
The sensation of skin charring in red flames.
Burning at the stake—the most intense pain a human being can experience.

Having experienced it once before, Yejun immediately recognized it as a dream.
He lay face-down on the floor for a moment, then lifted his head.

His empty studio apartment came into view.

Damn it. This is irritating.

More research was definitely needed.