He expected to find panic and it was only logical. But he didn't foresee to witness the level of chaos his eyes were seeing right now.
There was nothing scary. Nothing more than a couple of lights burned out and many others in low voltage. The people there, however, did not match the scenario at all. Each person might have witnessed awful things, not a luminary problem.
Hoseok walked silently against those who were desperately leaving the site. Something wasn't right and it didn't make sense. Those inside were too shocked to even answer the questions he asked.
His mood switched, because of the lack of cooperation. No one could tell him where to find the damn Medium.
-I really need you to answer me, woman!- He said, finally losing patience with the nurse who broke down on the floor next to the entrance desk.
Hoseok shook her by her shoulders in an attempt to get the woman to pay attention to him and stop breaking into a frightened cry until she focused on him as if she had just noticed him.
-I need you to tell me,- he repeated, trying to calm her down with a firm voice, while she remained silent, rubbing her nose shivering. -What is the critical place here?-
The nurse didn't understand until her eyes began to widen. Now she realized the question's meaning.
-Sh .. sh .. calm down- the young researcher whispered to the hyperventilating and trembling woman. -You don't have to come with me, Miss ... - he carefully read the name on the young woman's pin,- Miss Lee. Where was the fire?-
He knew about the tragic accident. Of course, the news of the most important facility of his family had reached his ears, although he didn't call his father when he found out about it.
Thanks to his younger brother and a call he made, it crossed the ocean but didn't reconcile him with his father.
In his opinion, it was a silly illusion of a child to believe that this would make him forget the past. But he admits to himself that he hesitated more than once this week, his finger on the button to call his father. He also would not admit to anyone that he followed the advance of the press on the event from a distance with great attention.
No one would know. His pride was unshakable.
Thanks to his critical thinking, the investigator didn't have to try too hard to assume. The faker and his assistant would probably meet there, knowing that no one would enter out of fear. It was the perfect plan, of course, but they weren't counting on him breaking in or being in charge of putting everyone involved into jail.
Hoseok blew his neck as he walked down the hallway. In shock, the nurse had pointed out as she muttered "Floor two" in a cracking voice. He strode as he clenched his jaw angrily and squinted so he could focus between the flickering lights. There wasn't anything strange, only damaged lamps. "The show must have ended," the young man guessed with annoyance, who began a hasty ascent up the stairs.
Many people were scared, and the amount of damage to the electrical installation made him suspect that several people were involved, which pissed him off even more. That damned silver-haired guy had struck a chord and would make him and all of his assistants pay the full weight of the law. To hell with the money. It had nothing to do with it, and it was a personal battle.
Upon reaching the indicated floor, he knew immediately that it was the correct one. He couldn't see anything, absolute darkness. Only a double door could be seen at the end of the pavilion, and flickering flashes streamed through the half-open crack.
-So here they are, sons of—-
His insult was interrupted by himself, almost falling to the floor on the first step. His eyes dropped to his feet and he noticed, even in the dark, that it was covered in a thick liquid.
"Ingenious and damn bastards..." he thought angrily, leaning down to touch with two fingers some kind of sticky tar. "They weren't going to let me in easily .. they wanted someone to make noise if he wants to enter, huh? .."
With determination and a noticeable throbbing vein in his temple that showed how unprofessional his decisions were, the criminalist began to crawl in the direction of the door.
-And I'll make you wash my clothes until you take off this filth ..- he whispered with a grimace of displeasure. That slimy thing that he assumed to be an inexpensive intruder-preventing mix felt nasty between his fingers.
Not to mention the unpleasant sound that his movements generated on that.
But he would not give his arm to twist. He was going to grab them without being expected so that they could not flee or erase the evidence.
Reaching a few feet from the crack of light, he could hear what sounded like a fight.
"Oh .. trouble in paradise," he thought victoriously. It was the ideal setting. If there were discords in the group, surely someone would testify on his behalf. He smirked as he shortened the remaining distance to the door, sharpening his hearing.
-Where did you get that?- He didn't know this voice.
-This isn't important now,- but that was Min. Wiping his hands on his shirt previously, Jung adjusted his glasses and leaned against the door to see something.
-Well, it seems to be an interesting fact worth telling...- Hoseok could not identify the unknown speaker. The Medium covered him. In a quick calculation, he guessed that the silver-haired man must be about 15 paces away. The other subject was facing the pale swindler at his feet. He could see the legs of the other guy who was kneeling. It could mean surrender or respect if the guy wouldn't speak calmly with mockery in his tone of voice. -But if you don't want to share that, you might want to tell me if your idea was to defeat me with this trick? –
Hoseok didn't understand what was happening, but it seemed like a role conflict. Are they arguing about the money? Who is that person? His boss? Or is Min the real boss? He frowned in confusion. The whole scene was strange.
-THIS gave me enough time,- the Medium said dryly. The investigator's breath hit the door, fogging his glasses. The space was too small and didn't let him see well.
-I don't think it will work for you,- interrupted the mysterious kneeling character while moving right to see behind the Medium. His gaze fixated on Hoseok, who was frozen with the air stagnant in his chest. -You have a visitor, Min Yoongi.-
"SHIT..." He noticed him. Jung didn't know if he had accidentally moved the damn door by sticking to it, but there was no time to look like an idiot.
As Yoongi turned around, he yanked the door open as he tried to stand up with his best triumphant demeanor. He yelled a forced "AJAH!" and it sounded pathetic. The silver-haired angry face, however, was a poem for young Jung.
-What the fuck...? – Yoon murmured, looking at him angrily but surprised.
-Uh, didn't you feel it? Is your sensitivity that pathetic?- Scoffed the young man behind Yoongi. He looked young, with an elegant bearing and angular face.
-CLOSE YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!- The Medium had lost his entire facade. It was apparent to the criminalist that his plan had collapsed before his eyes. Clearly upset, he turned his attention back to him, unable to tell more.
Jung smiled. He had won. It was his moment of triumph.
-No, Yoongi, you are going to shut up,- he said solemnly, taking a step forward, finishing through the entrance to that smelly pavilion with twinkling lights. -Both of you are arrested,- he sentenced.
Silence.
They both looked at him.
The young man with dark wavy hair and cinnamon skin was smiling. Yoongi, on the other hand, was looking at him as if he had short-circuited.
The one who spoke first was the brunette addressing Min -Well, well... Choose me? Or your friend?-
"What did this idiot just say ..?" Hoseok was outraged.
He wanted to complain and refute that claim. He craved to deny that Medium was a friend, not even an acquaintance. He would have loved to even add that he was his new nemesis and that he hated him.
He wanted to do that.
But… not a single word would come out of his mouth because at the moment he wanted to speak, an enormously intense pressure settled on his neck.
Something invisible was hanging on him.
His own hands rushed up to un-grasp his throat, but nothing was there.
The initial surprise was quickly replaced by maddening horror. His palms and fingers roamed the area with increasing desperation, unable to get a drop of air into his lungs. Nothing was there. Nothing to remove.
"They want to kill me... they are trying to kill me..." thought the criminalist without being able to scream for help. He was trying to do so, but the only thing that came out of his lips was a kind of muffled moan, almost a whisper.
"They try to assassinate me!!!"
His eyes searched for the silver-haired man, who is observing him with the same disdain as a cactus.
-It won't work. I don't care what you do to this guy,- he said, directing his attention to the other man.
"WHAT DID HE SAY? .. WILL HE LET ME DIE ..?"
The hospital corridor began to circle around him as he gasped more desperately, trying to fill his lungs with oxygen. His lower limbs were strangely numb, and he didn't even feel the ground at his feet. He saw the revolving scene around him at an extra half meter of height.
He shook his legs, which felt heavy, and there was no resistance.
He was fucking floating.
"Am I hallucinating?"
His fingers stopped looking for something on his neck, and he began to slap the air in a frenzy, hoping to find something to free himself.
He was sure that his eyes were spinning uncontrollably over his sockets because no matter how much effort he put in, it was impossible to keep them focused.
The sounds became confusing, endearingly crowding his ears and mingling with an incessant ringing in his eardrums. He could hear the Medium saying something, and the other was laughing chillingly. Was he laughing at the silver-haired man? Or at him and his inevitable fate?
"I will die…?"
His arms grew heavier, and he couldn't hold them up. He felt them go down without being able to stop them. Without being able to continue fighting against that choke that separated him from the fucking ground.
"I'm dying…"
He could feel drops sliding down his face. Sweat? Tears? He couldn't know. He couldn't clean them either.
"This will be all ..? So will it end ..? "
His heart, which had been beating vehemently before, was slowly failing. He could feel them diminish in his ears and in his own chest. He was losing consciousness, and it was a fact. His eyes closed. The Medium and the mad murderer were fighting, he could hear, but he did not understand anything.
-Son .. Son .. Son ..-
It started out as a distant sound intermingling with the other mixed noises that he was finding harder and harder to process.
-SON..!-
His eyelids flew open in a massive last effort as he perfectly heard his mother yelling at him. A constant tugging at his foot forced him to focus his dizzy, blurred vision there.
-SON..!!-
He would have screamed if he could. Pulling desperately at his pants was the gaunt figure of his mother. He could recognize her even with the rapid and uncontrollable turning of his own eyes.
Her hair was a messy tangle that covered part of her face. Her mouth was open dry, tugging at a cracked, pale skin. Her sockets were sunken in an unpleasant purplish that took down to the start of her cheekbones.
Fear, that's what Jung felt. His imminent death frightened him already, but the scene gave him even greater terror, so much so that he couldn't look away.
For a second, he was sure she was delusional, but she looked so real, so corporeal. Her features became clearer, sharper, more chilling. He could see her pupils injected a deep red where there should be a healthy white color.
The pressure on his neck intensified and with even more horror than seconds before, he felt he knew there was something there now.
He could see it out of the corner of his eye.
There was something that made an unpleasant sound, where he hadn't been able to see or feel anything before.
-No .. - his "mother", or whatever the hell was that figure taken from his worst nightmares, seemed to have understood what he was thinking of doing- No .. Look .. No ..- he articulated with difficulty and a voice that did not sound not at all that he remembered her.
Perhaps she shouldn't have told him because it was inevitable that he would turn the face to the front with the last milestone of his life.
It was a second.
No more than that because it was impossible not to instantly vanish.
It was not a hand. No.
There were thousands.
They came from the roof.
Arms and hands of different sizes but without bodies intertwined as if transmuted into a single thing. The same pulsing mass, viscous, dark and perspiring dark drops that slid slowly.
After that horrible vision, there was only black.
He had finally fallen unconscious.
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