14: The Number

“Ugh… Why is the picture book here!?
I left it on another bench—I swear I was just reading a manga!!”

Tom couldn’t even process the world around him.
All he could do was try to stop his right hand, which had started flipping the pages on its own.

“Damn it!! This book—It trapped me!!
I have to stop my hand before it turns another page!”

He struggled to resist, but his left hand kept a firm grip on the book’s spine.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his voice cracked in fear.
But one sense still remained clear—his hearing.
The park… The sound of the fountain… The birds… I can still hear them…
And then—A sharp bark rang through the air.
Tom’s ears caught it.Crystal clear.

“Today’s my lucky day… The angel number wasn’t ‘1111’—I just needed one…”

Just one. His rampaging hand paused for a split second.

“Haha… A dog barked. It said ‘woof’—one…”

A single bark echoed across the park.

“Just one bark…” Tom whispered.

“One. That’s it. That’s all I needed.”

It was silly. But somehow, it gave him strength.
His creative thinking, usually meant for stories, kicked in to save him.
He transformed the sound he heard into a mental pun.

‘One.’ Like the number. Take that, stupid alphabet!
Ironically, his intense allergy to English—the thing he’d always hated—
snapped his mind back into focus and stopped his hand cold.

“…Man. Even during a panic attack… I owe my English phobia one.”

Relieved, he let out a breath—but then he saw it. His eyes locked onto a number.
His right index finger pointed directly at it, like it was declaring a twisted kind of victory.

“That… that number…!”

Page 57

Fifty-seven.

The number at the bottom of the blank page froze him in place.

Rice balls… come in 57 varieties.

The memory of last night’s terror came rushing back. His strength gave out.
And just like what happened to Rena, the picture book began to glow.
It unleashed its film-like tendrils—countless ribbon-like strips of light.
They surged forward and wrapped around Tom’s body—swallowing him whole.

***

Some time later…

“Aww man! My comic book’s gone!”

The boy had returned to the bench after playing with his friends, but the magazine was nowhere to be found.
He looked around, confused.

“You’re late,” a voice called out. “Come on, let’s head home.”

It was his father.

“Huh? What’s wrong? You look spaced out.”

“Sorry, Dad… I lost the comic you gave me.”

“Oh, that old thing? I just found it lying around. Thought you might like it.”

“You didn’t buy it? Then it might’ve been someone else’s! That’s not good, Dad!”

“Haha, you’re right. I am a police officer, after all. I should’ve taken it to the station.”

The boy nodded, then added with a small grin:

“Yeah, let’s go. If we stay too long, that weird guy might show up again!”

The clock in the park read 5:07 PM.