CHAPTER TWENTY: A Place That Shouldn't Exist (Sangwoo Doesn't Believe in Hell)
"I don't believe in this."
His voice cracked as he said it aloud.
There was no one listening. No God. No Devil.
Just the low groan of the house shifting like a living thing.
Sangwoo stood in the middle of the kitchen again—at least, what looked like the kitchen. The walls were breathing now, expanding with every inhale he didn't take.
"I don't believe in heaven. I don't believe in hell." His voice grew louder. More frantic. "I don't even believe in souls."
He laughed. But it was hollow. Sharp and shrill, like broken glass skittering across tile.
"I don't believe in this," he spat again. "This isn't real. I died and—nothing happens when you die. You just go out. Lights off. Black."
Silence.
Then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps. Bare. Familiar. Again.
He turned. No one.
He ran to the front door, but the hallway stretched out infinitely.
Rooms on either side that didn't exist before. Behind every door: the same scene.
Yoonbum. The ropes. The blood.
Dead. Always dead.
And yet somehow— still watching.
Sangwoo paced, breathing heavy, fingers dragging through his hair.
"This is guilt," he muttered. "This is just neurons firing. My brain decaying. This is a chemical dream."
The ceiling above him peeled open like torn skin. And from it, something dropped—
A single rope. Frayed at the end. Stained red.
He staggered backward.
"No. No, I don't believe in judgment. I don't believe in karma. I don't believe in sin—"
"You don't have to believe in gravity to fall," said a voice from behind.
He froze.
Slowly turned.
There he was.
Himself.
Again.
But his skin this time—blackened. Burned. Eyes glowing faintly.
A smirk twisting his face into something monstrous.
"You think your disbelief is a shield?" the thing said. "You think just because you never prayed, you're immune?"
Sangwoo backed away.
"You're not real."
The creature tilted its head.
"Neither are you. Not anymore."
He ran. Fled down the hallway, slamming through doors—
Yoonbum's face. Yoonbum's blood. Yoonbum's broken fingers, twitching.
Over and over.
Each version more warped. Eyes gouged. Teeth missing. Tongue bitten off.
Until finally— a door without a handle. Black wood.
He touched it.
It opened inward.
A room with no walls.
No floor. Only a single mirror.
He stepped closer.
Inside it: Himself.
Not dead. Not burned. Just Sangwoo.
Alone.
Forever.
And in the reflection—
Yoonbum stood behind him.
But when he turned— Nothing.
He screamed. At the room. At himself. At the universe.
"I don't believe in this! I don't believe in any of this!"
The walls whispered back, over and over—
"But this… believes in you."