Chapter 2: S#1. The First House on the Right (1)

In a forest somewhere.

Not only had I teleported here from my room, but my body had changed as well.

Overwhelmed by the absurd situation, my mind became foggy.

Then suddenly, a woman’s voice came from thin air.

-This is a film depicting a tragedy that occurred in a forest.

The victims’ ends were horrifying, and so brutal that they would remain vividly in memory for years to come.

The lakeside on a summer day became a nightmare.

This incident, known as the most bizarre massacre in American history, is the Arizona Axe Massacre[1], narrated like a parody of the famous chainsaw massacre movie.

It sounded like the voice was reading a script.

The content was even more ridiculous.

The Arizona Axe Massacre, really?

Wondering if there were speakers installed somewhere, I looked around.

But all I saw were trees and rocks. No mechanical devices were in sight.

“Who’s there?”

-I am the narrator.

“Narrator? Where are you right now?”

No answer came. It was as if the voice was echoing inside my head.

Although confused, I wasn’t panicked. My calmness, honed by horror movies, helped.

After carefully considering the given situation, I reached a conclusion.

I had somehow entered into the film.

Into the videotape given to me by the video rental shop owner.

As implausible as it was, that was the only possibility.

I tried speaking to the narrator again.

“Excuse me, Ms. Narrator!”

-The murderer talked to the empty air. His eyes flashed with madness.

“No, I’m not talking to myself. I’m talking to you.”

-The axe in his hand reeked of a sharp, bloody scent, foretelling a massacre.

The narrator repeated the eerie narration typical of a horror movie.

There was no communication.

Still, I could guess one thing.

“I’ve… become the insane axe-murdering lumberjack in the movie.”

I looked over my changed body again.

A massive figure with enormous muscles, specialized for tearing, slicing, and chopping people.

The face reflected on the axe blade looked brutally ugly, as if it could chew raw flesh.

As the narrator said, I was clearly meant to play the role of a murderer.

The film title was the Arizona Axe Massacre, right?

Honestly, I was excited.

Becoming a character in a horror movie was a rare opportunity.

For a horror movie enthusiast like me, it was an experience that would never come again.

Then I heard someone’s footsteps.

The sound of rotten branches being stepped on.

Rough breathing mixed with the cold silence of the forest.

“Haah, haah… Please, someone… help…!!”

A desperate cry echoed from afar.

I saw a woman running through the trees.

Upon closer inspection, she was a beauty with blonde hair and blue eyes, the type of character in horror movies who dies first.

Even more, she had large breasts.

In horror movies, the size of the breasts often signifies the likelihood of death.

Hmm. She was probably going to die soon.

It seemed like she was being chased by someone.

She was drenched in sweat, and her top was stained with blood. Perhaps she was injured.

I couldn’t just stand by and watch.

“Calm down!”

I blocked the path of the running woman.

Upon seeing me, she screamed in terror and collapsed.

“Ah!!!! Don’t come any closer!!!”

The woman, crying, picked up a stone from the ground and threw it at me.

I caught it with one hand.

Next, she threw a branch.

I caught that too.

Having nothing else to throw from the ground, the woman took out car keys from her pocket and threw them.

I caught those as well.

She even threw lipstick and a crumpled receipt.

I caught all of them.

My reflexes were so impressive that I had to stop to admire them.

I had been equipped with the exceptional athletic ability fitting of a murderer.

I returned the items she had thrown at me.

“Aaaaah!!!!!!!!!!!”

Then the woman screamed as if she was being torn apart.

It was the typical death throes of a beautiful female victim in horror movies.

From my perspective, it was ridiculous.

I was just returning the items she had thrown at me.

Ah, maybe the hand axe I was holding was the problem.

To reassure her, I put down the axe.

“I have no intention of harming you.”

“Hu… Huuuuuuugh……”

The woman was so frightened that she began to sob and hiccup.

She didn’t throw anything at me anymore but remained guarded.

Her slender shoulders were trembling.

I carefully observed her.

Through her torn clothes, I could see a wound near her shoulder.

There was bleeding, but the wound didn’t seem deep.

“Are you being chased by someone?”

“That, that, that man is coming… That man…”

“That man? Who is he?”

“Aaaaah! It’s the man!!!!”

The woman pointed behind me and screamed.

The man was right behind me.

The pursuer always approaches from an unexpected direction.

That’s a rule in horror movies.

Being attacked from behind usually has a success rate of 100% in horror movies, but not with me.

Because I anticipated an attack from behind.

I turned my torso and put rotational force into my elbow.

A fierce backspin blow.

Crack.

My elbow struck the jaw of the man standing behind me.

“Gurgh…!”

The man fell.

At a glance, it was clear that he was no ordinary man.

His flesh was swollen and bloated with water, a horrific sight.

From head to toe, drenched as he was, he looked like a walking drowned corpse.

If I had to give him a name, how about a water zombie?

“Grrrargh! Grrrugh!”

“Ah! He’s getting up!!!”

The woman screamed as the water zombie began to rise.

It staggered towards us, like a drunk person.

In this situation, trying to talk to it or warning it not to come closer was absolutely not an option.

That would be like a suicide attempt.

Anyone foolish enough to try talking to a zombie is bound to get bitten.

Here, you have to attack without hesitation.

My body was over 2 meters tall and incredibly strong. I didn’t even need to use the hand axe.

I punched, hitting the zombie right in the abdomen.

My fist went through its chest and out its back.

The zombie coughed up diluted, watery blood and died.

Silence returned to the forest.

Only the sound of the woman catching her breath filled the air.

I asked her.

“That wound. Did he bite you?”

“No… It’s from a tree branch…”

That’s a relief.

If she had been bitten, then it might’ve been over.

I took off my checkered shirt, tore it into lengths for a bandage, and wrapped it around the woman’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“Th… thank you…”

The woman said, her eyes welling up with tears.

I pointed at the zombie with a hole through its chest and asked.

“Where did he come from?”

“I don’t know… He just suddenly attacked me…”

The woman explained everything from the beginning.

Her name was Nancy Strode.

She was 19 years old, which would be about 21 in Korean age.

From her name to her age, she was like the typical female protagonist in a horror movie.

Nancy was driving along the road next to the forest.

Then, unluckily, her tire burst.

To make matters worse, as soon as she got out of the car, a zombie attacked her.

Nancy ran into the forest to escape the zombie and had been in a frantic chase until she met me.

“But why did you throw things at me?”

“I was panicked… and you looked so menacing… I thought you were with it. I’m sorry.”

Nancy didn’t realize it was a zombie.

Was it only obvious to me, trained by countless zombie movies?

It’s a cliché that, until officially announced by the government, nobody recognizes a zombie even when it’s plainly obvious.

Suddenly, I realized I was naturally speaking English.

My body had changed and even got an English patch.

While I was marveling at this, Nancy spoke to me.

“Could I possibly know your name…?”

“Ah, my name is Han Yeoreum.”

“Han… Yearum?”

“No, not Yearum. It’s Yeoreum, Yeoreum.”

“Yearum?”

Nancy tilted her head, puzzled.

It was definitely a name difficult for an American to pronounce.

“Just call me Summer.”

“Summer…”

“It’s unique, right? In America, it’s a girl’s name, but in Korea, it’s used for boys too.”

“Ha, Korea?”

“I was born and raised in Korea. I’m 20 years old, by the way.”

“……I can’t believe it.”

It was suspicious for a white man, as big as a bear, to say his name was ‘Han Yeoreum’ and that he came from Korea.

“Even though you look fierce… you don’t seem like a bad person…”

Nancy mumbled to herself as she glanced at me.

She gently stroked the bandage I had wrapped around her with her white hand.

“Um, Summer. Could I ask you for a favor?”

“A favor?”

“Could you accompany me until we get out of this forest…?”

Nancy asked earnestly.

We had taken down the pursuer, but there could be others.

She was worried and wanted company.

At first glance, it seemed like an offer that didn’t require much thought.

After all, getting out of this forest was the best plan for me too.

But I had to think it over.

In horror movies, the male ally of the female lead dies 100% of the time.

Moreover, they often die before the female lead.

But maybe it’s okay since I’m playing the role of a murderer.

With a body like this, I wouldn’t die unless hit by a missile.

“Alright, Miss Strode. Let’s go together.”

“Oh… Thank you.”

I set off with Nancy Strode.

In the forest, where trees stood like the teeth of a comb, an ominous aura exuded from all directions.

As expected, we encountered a few more water zombies.

Like the one I had killed, their bodies were soaking wet, their eyes unfocused, and their skin flabby.

As two zombies groaned and charged at us, Nancy screamed.

“Aaaah!”

I charged like a tiger and kicked one zombie in the chest.

I struck the other one in the head with my hand axe.

When facing zombies, you must always strike first.

Hesitation increases the likelihood of death.

Nancy had gone weak at the knees and collapsed.

I helped her to her feet.

“Are you okay, Miss Strode?”

“Yes, yes… I’m okay.”

“No, you shouldn’t be okay. You must never let your guard down.”

“……”

In horror movies, the moment you relax is often the moment you die.

In a world where zombies appear, this is especially true.

…But wasn’t this supposed to be a slasher movie?

Even the narrator called me the murderer in this film.

I couldn’t understand why it suddenly drifted into the zombie genre.

I kept killing the zombies we encountered as we moved forward.

“But Miss Strode, are you sure this is the right way?”

I asked Nancy, who seemed to be unsure about the direction, as she was guiding us.

“That’s strange… I was sure this was the right way…”

Getting lost in the forest.

A classic event in horror movies.

Before we knew it, the sun had disappeared.

The surroundings were getting darker.

Perfect timing.

We wandered the forest path and eventually reached the lakeside.

“Look…”

There was a wooden house in front of the lake.

It was a two-story building, bigger than a cabin.

Nancy, who had been tense, gave a sigh of relief.

She must have thought we could get help from that house.

But my thoughts were the opposite.

The real horror starts now.

—

[1. raei: the movie referred to here is The Texas Chainsaw Massacre]