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Staying with the nameless cult… wasn’t so bad.
Against every expectation, Kim Soleum found himself growing more at ease with each passing day. They catered to his preferences with unsettling precision. No harsh lights. No dark, claustrophobic spaces. No incense. They even started using mild herbal shampoo because he’d once made an offhand comment about coppery smell.
For the first time in what felt like years, he wasn’t walking into darkness every day.
Even more surprising, he wasn’t dreaming of it either.
The nightmares that had plagued him for so long, the ones soaked in black mist and tearing screams, had stopped. Just… stopped. He stared into the mirror, noting the changes. The heavy bags under his eyes had faded into faint shadows. His skin had a healthier glow, no longer sallow from stress and sleep deprivation.
It was like he had time again. Time to exist.
Still, nothing came without a price.
His gaze drifted to the thick, leather-bound tome on the table. A single instruction had been given to him upon waking here: memorize the names.
He assumed they were cult members. Hundreds, maybe thousands of names, some ordinary, others strange and archaic. But he read them dutifully, whispering each one aloud like a spell.
A knock pulled him from his thoughts.
“Coming!” he called, setting the book aside.
He opened the door to find the cult leader standing there, flanked by several members in ceremonial robes. They bowed slightly.
“Ireum, our god,” the leader said warmly, “the evening meal is ready.”
They escorted him to the dining hall, where the table looked like something out of a royal banquet, laden with dishes of every kind. Grilled meats, delicate soups, steaming rice, fruits arranged like art.
Kim Soleum blinked. “There’s no need to prepare this much.”
“It was our pleasure to serve you,” the cult leader said, bowing his head. “Please eat well.”
He hesitated, then took his seat. The leader remained standing.
“Sit,” Kim said.
The leader’s eyes flickered with hesitation. “That would be improper.”
“I insist.”
The moment stretched, then the leader slowly sat down beside him. As they began to eat, he kept glancing at Kim Soleum.
“Is the seasoning to your liking?”
“Too salty? Not enough?”
“Would you prefer something else next time?”
Kim Soleum chuckled despite himself. “You’re more anxious than I am.”
“It is only right,” the leader said solemnly, “that we ensure your comfort.”
They ate in silence for a while, until Kim Soleum set down his utensils.
The cult leader did the same, as though waiting for him to finish before he could.
Kim Soleum looked around the room. The other cultists hadn’t touched the food. They only watched.
He shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve told you before. I’m not your god.”
The leader gave a patient smile. “Whether you believe or not, we do.”
“But I’m not Ireum,” he insisted. “I’m just... me.”
The smile didn’t fade. “We understand. It must be difficult to accept.”
Kim Soleum sighed and leaned back in his chair. There was no use. He’d tried a dozen times already. The response was always the same; gentle denial, reverent looks, and this unsettling calm.
What unnerved him most was that they weren’t hostile. No threats. No coercion. Just... unshakable belief.
Strangely, they felt more like caretakers than cultists.
Even if their idea of care involved worshipping him like a forgotten deity reborn.
Kim Soleum looked down at his plate.
He should be running. Escaping. Screaming.
But instead, he picked up a piece of grapes, sweet and cold, and wondered when the last time was that he’d felt this safe.