Ch.116Snapshot (6)

Clatter!

“Huh.”

Heo Yoon flinches at the sudden noise.

But the video ends weakly.

“Seems like that was all of it.”

I moved the mouse to check the status bar below the video.

The displayed video length was about 11 minutes.

But the playback time was much longer.

“How long was the video?”

Choi Serim checks the time.

“It was over 20 minutes.”

“21 minutes and 10 seconds. It was 10 minutes longer than scheduled.”

Riko adds the exact time.

Perhaps it’s an occupational habit of researchers, but Riko memorizes even seemingly meaningless numbers.

“So, is the video actually over now?”

Choi Serim quietly asks.

Everyone couldn’t help but feel tense.

“Well, the video just stopped. I was wondering if pressing play again might show the rest.”

“That’s certainly possible.”

“I also think this isn’t everything.”

Heo Yoon and Robin express their agreement.

“Then I’ll check this too.”

I clicked the play button again.

After a while of black screen,

Click.

The video starts again.

“Hello. I’m Dr. Chen, a senior research commissioner at the Foundation.”

Dr. Chen, appearing exactly as before, once again places the black hourglass upside down on the desk.

“What? It’s just starting over?”

“No. This time it’s a bit different.”

A faint crackling sound plays in the background.

Dr. Chen is saying something, but it can’t be heard, as if the recording is faulty.

Crackle.

Crackle.

“…is the purpose of the Foundation.”

I paused the video for a moment.

This is definitely dialogue I’ve heard before. Is the video really playing again?

“Oppa. Check how many seconds into the video we are.”

“Okay. Got it.”

I dragged the mouse down to the video.

The remaining time was clearly displayed earlier, but now nothing appears.

“I don’t know. The time isn’t showing.”

“…”

“Let’s just keep playing it.”

Dr. Chen continues the interview.

Now it’s the turn of the man filming to ask a question.

Clearly, the first question was about whether the Foundation’s purpose was being properly maintained.

“I understand.”

But the cameraman asks a completely different question.

“Then, do you feel anything strange?”

Despite the different question, Dr. Chen begins to give his predetermined answer.

“The Fifth Apostle, a disaster itself, and.”

And.

The doctor in the screen also notices something strange.

“Excuse me?”

“Next question. Do you know how many interviews this is?”

“Wait. Something’s wrong here.”

Dr. Chen on screen waves his hand, trying to stop the filming.

A palm covers the camera lens.

Video ends.

Simultaneously, everything begins to rewind.

“!@$%#^$&%”

“?know I am!@$ not”

“?”}ㅖ?”

Back to the beginning of the video.

The video briefly shows Dr. Chen sitting at his desk exactly as before, then transitions to a black screen.

‘Again.’

The screen comes back on.

“Hello. I’m Dr. Chen, a senior research commissioner at the Foundation.”

After his greeting, Dr. Chen just sits at the desk doing nothing.

He just stares blankly at the screen.

He doesn’t flip the black hourglass.

“…Ah.”

“Excuse me for a moment.”

Instead, an arm suddenly appears from off-screen and flips the hourglass.

Judging by the voice, it’s probably the cameraman’s.

The black sand falls through the glass.

“…Ah.”

“Then we’ll begin the interview.”

“Stop it.”

“First question.”

“I said stop! Stop. I said stop!”

The focus shakes momentarily.

As if a struggle is happening between them, screams and dull noises are recorded from outside the camera, which has fallen to the floor.

What price did you pay?

How great a price?

I just stared blankly at the screen.

I couldn’t think of anything.

“Move. I need to get out of here. Move!”

The video continues to record the struggle.

Thud!

The camera is picked up again.

In front of the desk, Dr. Chen has collapsed with blood flowing from his forehead.

“What is this? What is this…?”

“The video is completely different from before.”

“Could this be live? Is this happening right now?”

The survivors watch in shock but can’t take their eyes off the screen.

But they can’t even guess what’s happening.

What Dr. Chen has done. I’m the only one here who knows.

But.

No way. It couldn’t be.

He couldn’t have chosen such a terrible thing himself.

It’s impossible.

Dr. Chen, back at the desk, continues the interview while bleeding.

“We must stop it, Robin. We must stop it at any cost.”

Video ends.

Everything begins to rewind again.

The fallen chair, the dropped book, everything returns to its place.

Back to the beginning of the video.

Everything has returned, but only Dr. Chen remains the same.

His condition actually looks worse.

His once determined eyes are now sunken, and the wound on his forehead has widened, still bleeding profusely.

Yet he sits at the desk.

The interview begins.

“…”

Without saying anything,

“…”

He just stares at the screen.

It’s a fear I can’t comprehend.

One of those unknown terrors that I can neither understand nor should understand.

Eternity.

In that tape, eternity means endless repetition.

What’s most terrifying is that we can’t intervene from the outside.

We can only watch.

“Ah… Ah…”

Video, 4th iteration.

Dr. Chen was rapidly breaking down.

Now the camera shows only the scenery of Dr. Chen’s study, as if filming a silent movie.

For a long time.

A high, sharp sound continued.

The black hourglass.

A floating paper boat.

Stacks of books.

Dr. Chen’s arm in a white lab coat. Now stained with blood.

Click.

The video ended.

As I tried to move the mouse to check the status bar, something firmly gripped my wrist.

It was Heo Yoon’s hand.

“That’s enough.”

She’s looking at me.

But at the same time, she’s not looking at me.

Like someone who has snapped inside, Heo Yoon mumbles in a daze.

“Stop it. Please, I’m begging you.”

It wasn’t just Dr. Chen in the video who was breaking down.

***

There was a time when I wanted to give up everything.

In a place where taking a single step meant risking your life, concepts like daily life or happiness seemed too distant.

Heo Yoon, pulled down from the gallows she had made for herself, followed the strange man who had saved her.

His name was Chen.

He said he was living here with other survivors.

The first warmth she had felt since entering the apartment.

People trying to carve out a safe zone and start anew.

The hope of escape.

Chen was leading it all.

As the leader of survivors equipped with vast knowledge.

From then on, Heo Yoon could change.

She regained hope,

adapted to a new daily life.

And followed Chen, calling him teacher.

To survive here and save others, she needed to learn more.

***

Heo Yoon is on the verge of collapse.

I had felt that she’d been forcing herself to hold on ever since finding Chen’s body at the hardware store, but now she can’t even do that anymore.

Now there’s only a heavy heart.

I don’t want to explain what price Chen paid, but I have to.

For Heo Yoon’s sake. I spoke with a heavy voice.

“You must have heard what was in the video.”

At this moment, no one spoke.

Not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

In the complete silence, it felt like only Heo Yoon and I existed.

“Dr. Chen’s message. That we must stop the ‘Fifth Apostle,’ which is a disaster itself. And the danger of the entity called Seven. And that today we should enter the Foundation facility and retrieve weapons.”

“Is that all? Is that important right now? How could he appear again like that!”

Heo Yoon wails uncontrollably.

“He just disappeared. And when I found him again, he was hanging dead. And the video? He’s suffering eternally here. What is this! How could this happen!”

“If we had just heard this information normally, none of us would have survived.”

“What?”

“It was that dangerous. Chen made it safe. So it could be delivered to everyone.”

“Then the price was…”

I quietly closed the laptop.

I unplugged the USB cable and picked up the camcorder.

“Chen chose to be trapped here forever. You might think it’s absurd, but entities that can easily do such things are more common than you’d think. Dr. Chen likely made some kind of contract with one of them.”

“…”

Heo Yoon silently looked at the camcorder.

“Then. What kind of being made that contract?”

It’s a meaningless question.

I can’t know, and she shouldn’t know either.

I could only shake my head quietly.

“From now on, we need to infiltrate the Foundation facility to get weapons. That’s why Dr. Chen sacrificed himself, to deliver this message.”

“…”

“After today, there won’t be another chance.”

It was already late afternoon.

Of course, even after today passes, another April 11, 2011 will repeat.

That’s the nature of this floor.

But we won’t last long.

Perhaps, after today, the past might become fixed.

“We need to move as quickly as possible,”

“I’m sorry, Dabin. I’m really sorry.”

After saying that, Heo Yoon quietly went to the corner of the room and crouched down.

She hugged her knees protectively and buried her head between her arms.

Having to risk her life and move immediately is too cruel for her.

I know that.

Why do I keep having to say these things?

‘Then. What kind of being made that contract?’

At the very end of the video, for just a moment, I could see it.

A fleeting moment I would have missed without a Librarian’s insight.

Perhaps it wasn’t even a visual signal captured directly on video, but more like a subtle presence caught by intuition.

As the camera fell.

In the moment the screen turned black, what was captured was,

Lim Subin.

My brother’s presence.

[Episode – Snapshot]

END.