Theatrical Regression Life

* * *

After returning to the past, Jung Inho couldn’t sleep, yet he still had nightmares.

It was a nightmare where vines wrapped around his ankles and calves, dragging him down, just like the situation when Director Lee Jaehun was being dragged away.

At first, when he returned to the past, he couldn’t believe it. Then, he briefly denied reality, and then he searched for what he needed to do.

Whether the current situation was real or imaginary, Jung Inho didn’t have the courage to witness that terrible sight again, and therefore, there was even less foolishness in facing death. He instinctively realized that things had to change from before.

Even so, when he faced Director Lee Jaehun, who was still alive, and saw that he hadn’t encountered the vine Monster as he led the change.

Jung Inho felt an indescribable mixture of hope, disgust, and anxiety.

‘Director, are you okay?’

‘…I’m fine.’

Director Lee Jaehun, who had survived the horrifying ordeal, truly seemed like he could die at any moment.

He resembled a neatly crafted statue made from tangled threads or a bundle of wires. From afar, it seemed structured and convincing, but up close, one could see it was twisted inside out, with no clear idea of what lay within.

It was like frayed strings that could snap at any moment.

So, this wasn’t about human relationships. Anyone would get angry if a meticulously repaired machine suddenly malfunctioned.

Especially if the other person was a human, a boss at work who had spent quite some time together. And if that person was so selfless as to save me and my friends, wouldn’t that make it even more infuriating?

Of course, relationships between people aren’t something that can be expressed in just a few words like this, so there must be deeper underlying reasons. But for now, that’s how Jung Inho saw it.

To him, Director Lee Jaehun was still a stubborn bastard.

Yet, despite this, Jung Inho acknowledged that this was his irrational resentment.

‘Are you okay?’

‘…Yes?’

‘No, never mind. Forget it.’

Director Lee Jaehun was the first person to read his unease.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s nothing… If you’re tired, just say so.’

He was also the only person who showed consideration for him.

That made Jung Inho somewhat sentimental. He still hated and disliked Director Lee Jaehun, but now he realized, to some extent, that it wasn’t right for any human to be like that.

Many people would argue against it, but in his opinion, Director Lee Jaehun was the least relaxed among them.

Dr. Ha Sungyoon wasn’t sane, but at least he didn’t treat life as casually as carving up meat, and Jung In-ho, while not ordinary, knew how to accept pain as pain.

In no aspect could the clearly unstable Director Lee Jaehun be described positively other than as a “madman.”

Yet, perhaps because of that, Jung Inho couldn’t bring himself to hate him, as absurdly altruistic as he was, with a sense of empathy so strong it bordered on ridiculous. He couldn’t blame him for resenting his own hardships.

‘It’s better than going crazy alone.’

“….”

In the end, Jung Inho had to admit it. The fact that his consideration was somewhat comforting.

He said he’d listen if I spoke. He said he’d answer if I asked.

Jung Inho had defined the person named ‘Lee Jaehun’ first, a topic on which he hadn’t had a proper conversation all along, and he had been the one to unravel the nonsensical puzzle alone.

Of course, yes. It was undoubtedly Director Lee Jaehun who had initially refused to engage in a proper conversation. Jung Inho didn’t think he did well in that regard, but as the person who first recognized Director Lee Jaehun’s duality, he should have tried to engage in a more plausible conversation.

Because Jung Inho defined him as an incomprehensible puzzle, Director Lee Jaehun became a fitting question mark for him, and Jung Inho didn’t deny that fact. That’s why it became a lingering issue.

Thinking this far, Jung Inho felt an instinctual sadness.

Director Lee Jaehun wasn’t trying to drag him into reality like Dr. Ha Sungyoon, nor was he as fragile as to unknowingly be on the verge of death like others unless he intentionally did so himself.

The resentment towards others turned inward, and he felt self-reproach.

In the end, it was an undeniable fact. Regardless of what Director Lee Jaehun thought or intended, hadn’t he shed so much blood for them?

‘Don’t follow me.’

And that would continue to be the case in the future.

For some reason, the previous ‘Director Lee Jaehun’ is fake. The real Lee Jaehun is a madman accustomed to pain.

Yet, paradoxically, that’s why he’s an altruistic lunatic who saves people through his sacrifices. He’s like a silver spoon with a parachute, someone who should never have experienced hardship but ended up going crazy in the underworld.

Jung Inho redefined Lee Jaehun.

He’s already perfectly insane as a survivor of the underworld, but he’s relentlessly altruistic, willing to sacrifice himself to save others, even though he never had to experience hardship.

If he can save others with his own life, he’ll do it without hesitation.

Then how many more absences like this would he have to experience in the future?

“…”

Looking at the brightening sky, Jung Inho murmured softly.

“…It’s morning.”

It was morning.

Before returning to the present, it was the moment that had shown death clearly to him.

It was a morning that revealed the corpses of those who might have been killed by the monster or by me, so beautifully.

Suddenly, Jung Inho had a nightmare.

It was a nightmare where vines wrapped around his ankles and calves, dragging him down, just like the situation when Director Lee Jaehun was being dragged away.

In that nightmare, Director Lee Jaehun was dragged by the vines and tortured, then calmly leaned against a tree, completely drained of blood.

It wasn’t just one nightmare, but thousands, each time with a slightly different form of hallucination. Yet, they all ended with Director Lee Jaehun’s death.

It began with not being able to save him and ended with not being able to keep him alive.

Both the beginning and the end of this nightmare were marked by Director Lee Jaehun.

“…”

In the end, Jung Inho couldn’t bring himself to like Director Lee Jaehun.

Just as no one loves their own nightmares, and just as people don’t call those individuals normal, knowing it’s just a dream, Jung Inho didn’t cry. He wasn’t scared of the impending end or saddened by the inevitable repetition because he knew it was just a dream.

He simply stood up from his seat.

“Are you going to move?”

“I should start looking around. I can see clearly now.”

“Then I’ll gather people.”

With his characteristic gentle smile, Dr. Ha Sungyoon began to move, and Jung Inho met the gaze of Kang Minah, who was watching him. He didn’t try to avoid her gaze as he had before experiencing death.

Jung Inho hoped his face looked as usual as he spoke.

“Wanna come with me?”

“…Give me that, like a hammer or something.”

“Besides something like a hammer, there’s a real hammer.”

“Alright, a hammer.”

Kang Minah retrieved the longest hammer from the toolbox he handed her, and she explored it as if getting used to its unfamiliar weight. Now, the only things left in the box were various sizes of nails.

Meanwhile, Kwon Yeonhee quietly watched them.

After hesitating for a moment, she asked

“Can we come along too?”

Kwon Yeonhee singled out two students, including herself, and asked

“Would that be okay?”

“Not a bad idea”

Jung Inho acknowledged with a smile.

He hoped his face wore a sincere smile.

He didn’t resent Kwon Yeonhee’s desire to protect the underage siblings.

He had the rationality to distinguish who to blame, and he wouldn’t get angry at someone so young and small. That was enough for him.

However, emotions become sharper and harder over time. At least for Jung Inho, before this resentment became a deeper emotion, he hoped he could discard it somewhere secluded.

Yes, that’s right…

“They all say they’ll move.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best.”

If I saw Director Lee Jaehun’s corpse.

I didn’t even realize I might try to kill it.

* * *

“Please… save me….”

Save me.

Save me. Save me. Please.

The trembling lips murmured, as if the strength had drained from them.

The hands, aimlessly floating in the air, shook uncontrollably, and the voice was even more pitiful.

“Save me, please.”

“…”

“Please, hah, save me….”

Save me. Please save me. Please, I asked you to save me.

Clasping both hands tightly together desperately. Feeling the anxiety creeping like sand between my toes on the sandy beach, feeling the restless tension rising smoothly around the ankles, entwined in fear.

But no one said a word.

“…”

A chilling silence, like a snake slithering into my ears, echoes around me.

I always collapse in resignation, like in moments like this filled with terror.

I kneel on the blood-stained earth until my knees ache, curl my body into a ball like a shrimp, and wrap my hands around my head.

I gasp for air, choking as I look at my blood-stained shoes, the rough fabric of my shirt, and the blood on my hands.

And then, I speak.

“I’m sorry.”

And I say it again.

“I’m sorry.”

Even though I mutter these words, the corpse in front of me remains silent.

Well, of course it wouldn’t respond. It’s just a lifeless piece of flesh now. How could it speak to me, frozen cold and unable to even blink anymore?

Even if it could speak, I wouldn’t be able to hear its voice.

Even if it became a devil crawling out of the coffin, it wouldn’t speak to me….

Finally stopping my muttering, I looked up from where I was tearing at my head with my hands and stared at the corpse.

“Ah…”

A sigh that pierced my throat.

That brief gasp reminded me of my blood-soaked knees.

Wasn’t soil supposed to absorb liquids very well?

But the puddle of blood on the ground where my knees were kneeling was simply flowing, gently staining my prostrate body.

Slowly lifting my head and focusing my blurred eyes, I saw dozens of bodies lined up behind me.

Warm, fresh blood was flowing from the piled bodies like a tower. It was seeping into the entire floor.

Then, unknowingly, I began to count them one by one. One, two, three. And then four, five, six, seven. And again, eight, nine, and ten…

After counting them all, I mutter once again.

“I’m sorry.”

That was my nightmare.

It was the dream of those I couldn’t save and ended up killing.

* * *

Lee Jaehun didn’t dream very often.

Even when he did, most of them were vague lucid dreams, making it difficult for him to distinguish between dream and reality. They felt too vivid for dreams.

“…”

Slowly blinking, Lee Jaehun looked around.

“…It’s hard to make ends meet.”

The last place he remembered was different.

At a glance, it looked like a forest. If this was a dream, it might be a distorted reflection of reality, and if it was reality, he might be rescued and barely breathing like a character in a novel.

Lee Jaehun furrowed his brow out of habit from his chronic headaches.

His mind felt like it had been submerged in carbonated water and then suddenly emerged, dazed like after riding a roller coaster five times in a row. He couldn’t tell if this was because of the dream or the influence of the subconscious world, so he couldn’t make a proper judgment.

Unable to distinguish his own state, it was natural that he couldn’t grasp his surroundings.

Sitting still against the wall, feeling numb and breathless, he suddenly lifted his head upon sensing someone approaching.

“Oh, sir. Are you awake now?”

“…”

“I treated your wounds in a hurry, so you shouldn’t overexert yourself…”

At that moment, he realized.

“Oh, damn dream.”

This was a dream.

“…What?”

“No matter what dream I have, it’s all this crap.”

It was inevitable. If it were reality, he would have seen the other person’s face properly.

“As the days go by, it gets creepier.”

The figure who spoke to me had a face devoid of any features, smooth like a mannequin’s. It was eerily unsettling, like something out of a horror story, resembling a ghostly egg spirit.

It was so grotesque and bizarre that it defied description.

While everything moved and acted like a person, its face remained blank, with a vague brown color that seemed to be made of wood, emitting a creaking sound with each movement.

Though Lee Jaehun felt familiar with such descriptions, he couldn’t recall why. With a body covered in blood and a mind feeling battered, what else could he think of?

In his dazed state, he pressed his neck. Soon, he coughed abruptly.

“W-what are you doing…! Let go!”

“Ugh, cough….”

“What the hell is wrong with you…!”

Damn it, who’s calling who crazy?

Lee Jaehun wanted to argue back, but quickly gave up.

There’s no way my wounds could have healed completely without proper treatment, but my arms and legs move too well. Even with my neck being squeezed like this, I don’t feel any pain, confirming that this is indeed a dream.

‘Well, then it’s time to wake up.’

Cough!

A physiological cough burst out.

He felt the movement of his adam’s apple trembling in his palm.

Multiple bones formed a pillar, swaying back and forth, twisting under strong force.

Lee Jaehun felt like he was suffocating.

Literally, it was just a feeling. Having died in so many ways unnecessarily, he had acquired quite a lot of sensations, and they were all fully reflected in the dream.

So, the excessively delicate sensations and reactions were all results based on that data. For Lee Jaehun, the dreamer, they were such small and trivial things that he didn’t even need to pay attention to.

The way to wake up from this grotesque lucid dream was always death, and knowing this all too well, he chose death without hesitation.

The sight of the mannequin was unbearable.

Lee Jaehun couldn’t stand it any longer, especially with the sensation of his neck bones breaking and a faint feeling of nausea.

“Stop it!”

“Guh….”

With a dull pain radiating from his wrist, he rose.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh….”

“….”

“What, what’s going on? Did you wake up for real?”

What’s happening now?

Lee Jaehun had to struggle constantly to understand the current situation.

Judging from the weight and pain felt in one wrist, it seemed that the woman in front of him was stepping on it.

Likewise, the owner of the gripping strength felt in the opposite wrist would likely be the same. Judging from the appearance of the short-haired woman who seemed to be crushing him, she was probably a character from the novel.

Yeah, in that case, it’s highly probable that it’s the ‘Constable Kim Yeonwoo’ he encountered before losing consciousness.

‘But why?’

Lee Jaehun moved his hand again, wondering if he was still wandering in a dream, but he eased off when he heard Constable Kim’s startled voice. And her distinct features and vitality were clearly different from the mannequin in the dream.

Wait, so what’s going on here?

From what Lee Jaehun could gather, he had been practically restrained like a vicious criminal, with both hands immobilized. While he wasn’t handcuffed or tied up with ropes, Constable Kim in front of him seemed intent on keeping him from moving.

But Lee Jaehun had been unconscious all this time.

So why would he be restricted to this extent? If there was a valid reason, Lee Jaehun should have committed some act while unconscious.

Yeah, what kind of things could I have done while unconscious?

“…Ah.”

“…Um.”

“Did… Did I strangle you?”

Constable Kim remained silent for a while, then quietly nodded with a face that seemed like she might cry.

It was a short answer that needed no further explanation.

“Sigh…”

It’s tough.

* * *

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