Chapter 39: Chapter 39 - Ghost In Your Skin
Hyun Woo didn’t even pause.
His voice came out quiet.
"Forgiveness?"
He looked down at them — both kneeling, shaking, their faces pale and wet with sweat.
He smirked a little, just barely.
"You think someone like me forgives?"
He lifted his hand slowly.
"Punishment."
The golden chains started to tighten around them.
Their souls tightened, light flaring around them.
Then the light burst through the hall, and when it faded, everything was different.
They were back in the same house.
Same room.
[ Judgment Strike — Phase 1: Reflection — Starting ]
[ Sin Detected ]
[ Manifestation: Sin Beast — Eidara, The Mirror Wraith ]
[ Aspect: Soul Distortion ]
[ Effect: Forces the sinner to wear the image of those they mocked. The body transformed to reflect their cruelty. ]
Suddenly, the chains started to rattle.
From one chain, a small golden light came out, floating in the air.
The light from it grew brighter for a second.
Then the Sin Beast appeared from the light.
Eidara’s body kept changing every second.
It was hard to tell if it was a man, a woman, or something in between.
It kept changing, never staying one shape for long.
Eidara started walking toward them.
Its steps were slow and quiet.
When it got close, its body melted like hot metal, then split into two shapes.
Each separate body moved on its own.
The first Eidara moved toward Yoo Chan and stopped right in front of him.
It lifted one hand and touched his shoulder.
The next moment, its body vanished completely, melting into him like liquid gold.
Yoo Chan jerked, grabbing his chest. "Ah—what the hell!?"
It felt like fire was shoved down his throat, burning from inside.
He gasped fast, knees weak, shoulders curling in like he was trying to stop it.
He clawed at his neck hard, his nails dragging across the skin until it turned red and started to bleed.
But the thing kept crawling under his skin, spreading up to his face.
He dug his fingers in harder, like he wanted to rip the skin off his own face just to stop the burning.
Yoo Chan’s breath broke again, a choking sound stuck in his throat.
His back arched all at once, like something inside him pulled the strings tight.
His fingers dug into his neck, into his skin, into anything he could hold, but it didn’t stop.
His bones started to move, twisting inside.
A dull crack first, then another, then dozens more, popping one after another under his skin.
His jaw tightened, then pushed in, reshaping. His shoulders pulled inward. His spine shrank.
He tried to scream, but the sound didn’t come out right.
It came out thin. Higher. Breaking.
His muscles tightened, then stretched, twisting like something was pulling them from inside.
His chest pushed forward, the flesh moving on its own, reshaping like someone pressing from inside.
His waist pulled in.
His hips widened.
The skin on his face twitched and pulled tight, bones moving under it.
He clawed at his cheeks now, nails leaving sharp red lines, trying to hold the shape together — or maybe trying to stop it.
But his fingers couldn’t stop anything.
They just slid across the new shape forming under them.
His throat jerked, and a scream ripped out, raw and broken.
His voice went high, cracking again and again. Each scream came out thinner, like he couldn’t even breathe right.
He shut his eyes, then opened them again — blood leaked from the corners, running down his face.
He tried to breathe, but every breath came broken — a gasp, a choke, another scream forced out by the pain running through his body.
His scream ripped out of him, sharp enough to scratch his throat raw.
"St—stop—"
The word broke into a gasp.
His hands clawed at his chest, nails digging in.
"Please— please—"
His voice cracked again, turning thin, almost whimpering.
Blood welled at the corners of his eyes and slid down his cheeks in slow red trails.
"I— I can’t—"
His breathing stuttered, like every lungful of air hurt.
His fingers moved to his face, scratching, dragging across skin like he was trying to peel something off.
"Make it stop..."
The sound came out small, weak, like a kid crying.
Another scream tore free — higher this time, almost unrecognizable.
His bones shifted with a dull series of cracks.
His jaw tightened, pulled inward.
His ribs pressed in.
His chest pushed outward.
He tried to swallow a breath, but it came out jagged.
"Someone... help..."
The words weren’t even loud.
Just broken.
There was no one to answer him.
When it finally stopped, he wasn’t the same person who started screaming.
He was someone else entirely.
Someone who didn’t fit his clothes anymore.
Someone who wasn’t a "he" anymore.
Yoo Chan — was gone.
At first, Kim Jae-ho couldn’t breathe.
He grabbed at his chest, fingers curling into the fabric like he was trying to pull air in by force.
He breathed fast, almost panting.
Then his body started to change.
His shoulders pushed wider, slow but steady.
His arms tightened, the muscles growing thick under the skin.
His shirt stretched, seams straining, then splitting.
His spine lengthened.
His legs grew.
His whole body got taller, heavier, older — like years were passing inside him all at once.
Blood ran from his nose, then his ears, then a thin line from his eye.
He wasn’t crying — it just came out on its own.
He bent forward on his hands, breathing hard.
His back rose and fell with each breath, chest shaking.
His teeth were clenched like he was trying not to scream.
His stomach clenched, muscles tightening hard like something inside him pushed out.
When it stopped, he stayed still, head hanging, sweat and blood dripping down.
He looked older.
Stronger.
Not a boy anymore.
But he didn’t look proud of it.
He tried to say something, but the sound that came out was low and broken.
Not his voice anymore.
Deeper. Rough.
"W–wait... I..."
The words dragged out of him, slow and uneven.
He swallowed hard, tried again.
"What... happened...?"
His voice didn’t match the fear in his eyes.
It sounded like it belonged to someone older.
Someone bigger.
He looked at his hands — bigger now, breathing rough.
He tried once more, quieter this time.
"This... isn’t me..."