'It's been a productive day.'
Forty million won in additional income—truly an excellent decision.
'It feels like I've set up a discreet but regular side hustle.'
Various ideas on how to spend today's forty million won floated through my mind, especially considering the newly opened areas in the company following my promotion.
And, of course, the plush doll who had keenly noticed my gains was subtly making its own desires known.
– Phew, after all these outings, I feel so stiff. I'd like a bath…
Not happening. I can't exactly swipe a blood pack from a hospital, can I?
– Of course, I can endure it. I'm a very good friend, after all…
Hmm, while a blood bath might be impossible, maybe I could at least hand-wash the plushie, I guess.
That was the kind of idle chatter I planned to engage in with Braun to pass the evening—until someone burst into my room.
"You!!"
"...!"
It's Baek Saheon.
Wait, the guy who never even left his own room had just barged into mine without so much as a knock?
Before I could even call him out on his rudeness, I realized something.
He was practically in a state of panic.
"What does this mean…! What kind of mess have you dragged me into?"
In his hand was his smartphone, and on the screen was my message.
[Kim Soleum: watch out for serial killers]
I had sent it earlier today as a warning.
But seriously—
"I didn't drag you into anything."
"..."
"You must have made the wrong choice."
– Mr. Roe Deer, your 'work colleague' picked up an item, and now he's going to die in a brutal way!
Baek Saheon's face turned pale.
'Looks like something just went down, coinciding with my message.'
He's not dead yet, so he could contact the company and handle it himself, right?
As I started to head outside, not wanting to get dragged into this mess—
– Oh dear, can you hear that?
– It seems your coworker's time is almost up, Mr. Roe Deer.
"..."
What?
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
A soft humming began to fill the air.
Its source was unmistakably Baek Saheon.
But his lips weren't moving at all.
…Which could only mean one thing.
"You've picked up something you shouldn't have, didn't you?"
"..."
Pale-faced, Baek Saheon reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
A cassette player.
Its aged, ivory body was grimy, and traces of a label hastily scratched off with a pen were visible.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
The humming grew louder, emanating from the tape.
An unmistakable, ominous… signal.
– The time has come.
Time to run.
I immediately stood up and bolted out of the dorm.
The problem was that Baek Saheon scrambled to follow me!
"Throw away the tape first!"
"I already threw it! Out the window!"
Then stop following me!
– It's too late.
– Oh dear, Mr. Roe Deer… You've seen the item too. You're part of the story now. You've become part of the sacrifice selection process.
– But as a talented and entertaining guest, you were bound to be involved sooner or later!
Hah.
'Why can't this idiot take care of his own mess without dragging me into it…!'
I even gave him several warnings! Isn't he supposed to be a named employee in a ghost story company?!
Frustration boiled in my chest, but there wasn't time to vent. I just ran faster.
'First, let's put some physical distance between us.'
As long as I hadn't fully fallen into the creepypasta's grasp, creating some space might help.
I sprinted as far from the company dorm as I could, heading toward the bus stop.
As soon as a bus arrived, I hopped on.
Beep.
The sound of my transportation card being scanned was followed by another beep from behind me.
Baek Saheon.
'Why is this lunatic following me?'
Doesn't he have even a shred of conscience to let the person who warned him avoid being dragged into this?
Actually, no. He's a complete sociopath.
Anyway, the bus doors closed, and we departed without incident.
"Ha."
"Ha…"
The humming was no longer audible.
I moved to the very back of the bus and sat next to the emergency hammer for breaking the window—just in case.
Baek Saheon hesitated before sitting nearby.
"..."
"..."
It wasn't rush hour, nor was it lunchtime, so there were only a few passengers—two or three seated at the front.
After glancing around nervously, Baek Saheon lowered his voice and asked, clearly unsettled,
"Hey, you… how did you even know to send those messages—"
"'You'?"
"…We agreed to drop formaliti… No, I mean… Right, Supervisor. How on earth did you know, sir?"
"How I know isn't the issue here."
Holding back my frustration, I replied while watching Baek Saheon's nervous expression.
"What matters is how you ended up with that thing."
"..."
If he kept his mouth shut, I was planning to get off at the next stop, grab a taxi, and ditch him. Maybe even throw him out of the cab to make sure he couldn't follow me. ⱤâNО₿Εṥ
But as if he could sense my irritation, Baek Saheon finally opened his mouth.
"…It was something I had at home."
At home?
"It was passed down from a relative. They told me to use it if I ever wanted to reverse a dire situation, so I've been carrying it around…"
– Ah, a classic trick! An heirloom thought to symbolize protection turns out to be a cursed item… Truly a horror movie cliché, isn't it?
Exactly.
I wasn't even trying to criticize him—just genuinely curious.
"You work at a company that assigns grades to ghost stories, and it never crossed your mind to have it inspected?"
"…If the company found it useful, they might take it and not give it back! I did think it through, sir."
"No, you didn't."
"..."
"Next time, think before you act, why don't you."
"…Ah, yes, sir."
Baek Saheon's face turned red, and his lips twitched into a forced smile, barely suppressing his frustration.
This guy was an open book—acting like a sociopath one moment, then flipping into desperate politeness when scared.
I sighed and tried to make sense of the situation.
This was a textbook example of how people get caught up in ghost stories.
"For now, let's ride to the last stop and contact the company's Security Team from there—"
"..."
"..."
"…W-Why are you looking at me like that, Supervisor?"
Something felt off.
City bus stops are usually no more than three minutes apart.
But this bus…
Why was it still driving nonstop?
– Goodness, it's caught up to us.
I looked out the window.
…Fog was rolling in.
The clean, four-lane streets of Seoul we had been traveling on were shifting into winding, unpaved roads.
"...!"
I stood up from my seat.
The passengers in the front rows had disappeared.
The only other person still present was the bus driver.
"..."
The driver was now wearing a worn, old-fashioned cap.
The kind that might've been used when buses operated with a more formal air decades ago.
With gloved hands, the driver casually hummed as they reached for the radio.
Click.
And what came through the speakers was…
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
The same humming from the cassette tape.
"...!"
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
The humming filled the bus.
The modern low-floor bus that had been driving through Seoul had transformed into an old, rickety bus with rows of single-file seats.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
"Don't look back."
It was already too late.
Baek Saheon, his face pale, gripped the handrail and stared straight ahead.
I tried not to focus too closely on the fog clearing outside and fixed my gaze forward.
The narrow trail was becoming an aged, paved road.
The rickety old bus that had been rattling down a rough country path began to slow.
[This stop is 'Horizon Mountain Lodge'.]
"..."
The destination came into view.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
The humming now flowed through the radio with an unmistakable melody.
It was a minor-key, upbeat pop tune from the 1980s or '90s.
As the bus doors opened, I looked outside.
[Horizon Mountain Lodge]
A grand mountain villa with a sign in elegant, antique lettering stood before us.
"..."
Ha.
"…You're getting off?"
Yeah.
As much as I wanted to curse out loud, I held back.
I stood up and stepped toward the open door.
From behind, I could hear Baek Saheon muttering something that sounded suspiciously like cussing as he hurriedly followed me off the bus.
The bus doors closed behind us and drove away, carrying the humming melody with it.
"..."
"..."
Baek Saheon mumbled, sounding slightly relieved.
"At least the song's gone, and the tape isn't here, so the situation's better than befo—"
"Check your pocket."
"What?"
"Put your hand in your pocket and check."
"..."
Baek Saheon looked at me with a dazed expression, then quickly shoved his hand into his coat pocket.
What he pulled out was…
The old cassette tape he claimed to have thrown away earlier.
"...!!"
Baek Saheon moved to toss the cassette again, but I grabbed his arm and stopped him.
"It's too late. You might as well get ready to go in."
"Go in whe—"
"Over there."
I pointed toward Horizon Mountain Lodge.
Now that we'd come this far, running away was useless.
All it would do was waste energy and leave us crawling back to this 'story's focal location' after a series of needless struggles.
'We might as well go in and try to figure out the situation early.'
– Mr. Roe Deer, you move as if you already know what's going to happen! Could it be that you recognize this story?
Braun, picking up on how much I knew about paranormal phenomena, prattled on.
And… he was right.
'…Yeah.'
The keywords were all there.
Serial killer.
A lure involving a mode of transportation.
An object cursed to return to its owner's pocket no matter what.
And…
I lifted my head to look at the destination.
'…Horizon Mountain Lodge.'
========================
Dark Exploration Records / Ghost Story
[And Then There Was One]
: A ghost story featured in
: Disaster Management Bureau identification code – 1489PSYA.1991.라84
A tale of individuals being murdered one by one by a serial killer in an isolated, suspicious location. A variation of the classic closed-circle mystery novel and B-grade slasher movie. ȓãNòʙЕṢ
It is a Crutch-sanctioned disaster, which can be sealed with the presence of nine people.
Every four years, the Disaster Management Bureau recruits or drafts participants to contain it.
========================
This ghost story's identity was something I inferred through the same process I'd used countless times in my recent work experience.
But this time, there was a critical difference.
'The affiliation…!'
This wasn't a Darkness from Daydream Inc.
It was a ghost story isolated by the government—or one to be isolated in the future.
A so-called 'disaster'!
What's the difference, you ask?
Unlike the corporation's Darknesses, which were exploited as raw materials for profit, the government operated under a completely different set of rules.
The Disaster Management Bureau existed solely to prevent loss of life or significant property damage.
At least, that was the official justification.
Thus, the Bureau prioritized isolating anything that absolutely should not exist in the civilian world.
In other words…
Someone had to die.
Whether it was cleared, someone got trapped, or the attempt ended in failure or success—
Every outcome involved a guaranteed casualty.
'Once you're involved, it's a confirmed kill.'
Cold sweat ran down my spine.
This was something the government had deemed impossible to resolve without at least one death.
And now I was about to walk straight into the middle of it.
I won't even get any points from this!
'Baek Saheon, this hopeless little shit!'
I wanted to curse him out and punch his last remaining eye, but…
'It'd just waste time.'
"Excuse me, Supervisor!"
Ignoring Baek Saheon, I sighed and walked toward the lodge's front door.
Just as I took a deep breath and prepared to knock—
Drring—
The sound of a bicycle bell came from behind me.
Turning around, I saw a bicycle pulling up to this secluded house in the woods, with someone riding it.
– Oh, look, another arrival! Someone else who picked up the item!
No kidding.
Another poor soul caught in this cursed ghost story.
I held back a sigh and looked over, only to freeze in shock.
"...!"
I recognized the figure getting off the bike.
More precisely, I didn't know his face, but his outfit was unmistakable.
Dark clothes, a hat pulled low, and a mask covering his face.
'…Salmon Market!'
It was the same person I had sold cursed food to earlier today near Gwanghwamun Station.
-x-X-x-
Caught up in this serial killer ghost story, three minutes had passed since we arrived in front of the mountain lodge in the middle of the forest.
The secondhand market buyer, who had gotten off their bike after us, approached the cabin's door.
He paused briefly when he noticed Baek Saheon and me standing there first.
'…Looks like he recognized me.'
The secondhand market buyer seemed to recognize me, but I stayed silent, pretending not to notice who he was.
Baek Saheon, ever eager, immediately began speaking in a friendly tone.
"Excuse me, are you the owner of this house? Sorry, but it seems we got on the wrong bus. With this forest around us, there's no signal. Would it be okay if we made a quick call?"
"I also got lost and came here to ask for help."
"Oh… I see."
At that point, I turned to the buyer and pretended to be surprised.
"...!"
I widened my eyes slightly and gave a polite nod.
The buyer, already aware of who I was, didn't seem particularly startled and returned the gesture with a small nod of his own.
Meanwhile, Baek Saheon subtly started prying for more information about him.
Clearly, he was trying to assess whether this person was weaker than him.
"Were you out here trekking for the weekend? This seems like a remote place—are you a local?"
"…No. I'm not sure how I even got here. I definitely started in Seoul."
"Oh, really? Same with us! But there's no signal here. Do you happen to know how to get out of here or where we are?"
"…I'm not sure. Let's go inside and ask."
"…Ah, right."
Baek Saheon, clearly disappointed with the lack of useful information, clicked his tongue softly and glanced at the bike the buyer had arrived on.
And then he seemed to notice something.
The mark printed on the handlebars.
[Seoul Metropolitan Government #2153]
Obviously an official government-issued bike.
Having found an opening, Baek Saheon brightened and began to speak again.
"Excuse me, are you perh—"
I lightly nudged his side.
He froze, clamped his mouth shut, and turned to look at me.
I slowly mouthed the words:
'Disaster Management Bureau.'
"...!"
'He must've heard at least once at work how terrible the relationship is between the company and the Bureau.'
If this person found out who we were…
I subtly drew a finger across my throat.
Baek Saheon's complexion turned pale.
From that moment on, he avoided speaking to the government employee directly. Good. A wise choice.
"I'll open the door."
I nodded to the civil servant, who had already reached for the door handle, and he lightly opened the wooden door.
Creeeeak.
"Anyone here?"
The midday sunlight spilled into the slightly dim interior of the lodge.
And then—
"Ohhh, hey? More people are here!"
"Are you the owner of this place?"
People who had already arrived began to emerge.
A married couple who looked to be in their forties.
Three young adults in their twenties.
And a middle-aged man.
Six people in total.
Including the three of us, that made… nine.
'It's starting.'
Suppressing the urge to groan, I stepped inside the cabin.
* * *
Everything proceeded as predictably as a cliché could.
The married couple claimed their GPS led them here.
"I mean, the GPS sent us to the wrong place, the car broke down, and our phones don't have any signal… It's driving me crazy!"
"Huu. Honey, I told you so, didn't I? We should've gone to Sapporo instead of Sokcho!"
Three university students from a hiking club, who claimed to have gotten lost.
"We parked right below the trail, though."
"Yeah, but… Ugh, this is so annoying."
And finally, a middle-aged man who'd been trying to catch the nearest bus stop after finishing a shift as a designated driver.
"Aigoo. Still, seeing people around is such a relief. If we wait, the owner should come, right?"
– And once the lodge owner shows up, the bloodbath begins?
Something like that.
I glanced around with the dead eyes of someone who had already given up.
I hadn't even brought any decent items.
Living is hard, seriously…
'Focus only on myself. Just myself!'
We were soon asked questions by the others.
"What about you folks? What brings you here?"
"Oh, we're just office workers. We must've gotten on the wrong bus while heading out for fieldwork. This here is my supervisor, and I'm just an employee." ℞ÂŊộＢƐS
Look at Baek Saheon subtly shifting responsibility onto me.
I took out my notepad.
Luckily, since I was still in my outdoor clothes, it was in my pocket, making it easy to maintain my usual demeanor.
[Hello.]
"Huh? Why are you writing instead of speaking…?"
[My throat's a bit sore.]
"Ahh."
The three university students turned away, looking unimpressed.
The married couple glanced at me and took a step back.
"Jeez, these colds going around lately must be really bad, huh?"
"You should at least wear a mask. What if you spread it to someone else?"
[I'm sorry. I'll avoid speaking as much as possible and be careful.]
Baek Saheon shot me a disgusted look, as if I had become something revolting. He'd been reacting like this all along, taking over the responses I might have given.
"By the way, is that young man from your company too?"
"No, we met at the door, but… um."
The secondhand market buyer, a tall man with sharp eyes that gave him an intimidating presence, replied politely.
"I'm a public servant from the Seoul City Hall."
Oh. He actually admitted it.
He briefly explained that he was a public servant and had gotten lost while riding his bike.
And that was the end of it.
He conveniently left out the part where he worked for the Disaster Management Bureau, and that we were all stuck in a ghost story where a serial killer would soon be picking us off one by one, like a deadly game of Russian roulette.
Still, people aren't fools. They began to sense something was off.
"So all these people just happened to lose their way in broad daylight and end up at this countryside lodge?"
"Maybe we've been bewitched or something."
"Hey! Don't say such unlucky things."
The more people there are, the braver they get.
Even while bringing up ghosts, the group began glancing around the room like it was some kind of curiosity show.
"Come to think of it, this place…"
"Looks pretty fancy, doesn't it? Like one of those mansions rich families had in every neighborhood back when we were kids."
They weren't wrong.
The wooden lodge, built in a style popular a few decades ago, was a mix of quaint charm, rustic wealth, and understated elegance.
"Oh, look over there! That's a gold frame, isn't it?"
On one side of the living room was a large framed picture, its frame seemingly made of real gold.
But what caught my attention wasn't the frame—it was what was inside.
+++
Joyful Mealtime
The rabbit bakes in the kitchen
The deer is caught in the backyard
The pigeon is fattened in the bedroom
The lamb is sliced in the living room
Boing, boing, the sound of hopping with laughter
The wooden floors beneath go bam, bam
The table, full
Humming, in the air
The family gathers round
Bon appétit
+++
"..."
No way.
'That's blatant foreshadowing.'
– Hooh, could it be a metaphor for the upcoming murders?
It sure looks that way.
Yet no one here seemed to be particularly interested in horror or mystery genres.
The university students claiming to be part of a hiking club chuckled amongst themselves and even pocketed an ivory trinket from the side table near the sofa.
'Oh.'
If one of them ends up being the first body tomorrow, I wouldn't be surprised.
Just as I thought that—
Clunk.
"...!!"
There was a sound from the kitchen at the back.
The shadow of the back door swinging open fell across the room.
And then, a figure slowly stepped through the open door.
The person, cloaked in an old, tattered hoodie with their face hidden and body hunched, greeted us.
"Good afternoon, visitors of the lodge."
"...?!"
"I am the caretaker of this mountain lodge, here to serve you during your stay."
Their voice was deep and formal, and they bowed politely, speaking in an old-fashioned Seoul accent.
– Oh, a suspicious staff member!
Exactly. This is the classic 'butler of the murder mansion'.
Unlike my deadpan expression, the others seemed caught off guard by the dissonance between the caretaker's shabby appearance and refined speech.
"E-Excuse me, we're not really guests. We just got lost and were hoping to use a phone…"
"That's not true. You've come to the right place."
"What?"
"You're here to exchange the cassette tapes, aren't you?"
Everyone froze.
"The ones in your pockets."
"...!"
As if hypnotized, they all reached into their pockets and pulled out objects.
They were all holding old ivory-colored cassette tapes, with the titles scrawled out—just like Baek Saheon's.
"That…!"
"How does everyone have those…?"
"The master of this lodge was a very wealthy man. During his lifetime, he distributed those cassette tapes far and wide."
The group flinched.
"And he made a promise."
"W-What kind of promise?"
"'If you visit my lodge with one of these cassette tapes, I shall trade it for anything I possess.' That was his promise."
"...!"
"And even in death, that promise remains valid."
– An inheritance exchange! What a tempting bait.
Very obviously bait…
'Or maybe it's so obvious that it works too well.'
Money has that certain magical power, after all.
Even as they laughed nervously, everyone's eyes reflexively darted to the display cases full of gold and celadon treasures.
The middle-aged man let out a booming laugh, half-jokingly grabbing the golden frame as if testing his luck.
"Hah, so can I just take whatever I want like this?"
The lodge caretaker responded smoothly and politely.
"Of course. However, you will only be able to take it with you after three days."
"What?"
Hm. As expected.
========================
Entrants are promised significant monetary rewards if they stay within the Disaster for a designated period.
The 'designated period' can range from a maximum of one week to a minimum of 12 hours, tailored to the entrant's capacity to endure for the promised reward.
========================
"We give you three days to deliberate so you won't waste your one and only opportunity to exchange."
"I don't need time to think!"
"Then you may leave now. However, the exchange will no longer be possible."
The married couple clamped their mouths shut. It seemed the thought of leaving behind free money was too bitter to swallow.
One of the student hikers in the group raised their hand from the back.
"Excuse me, so… can we ask for something outrageous? Like, 'Give me all the inheritance'?"
"That is possible."
"...!!"
The hiker's playful tone vanished in an instant.
"Can I ask for ownership of the lodge itself?"
"Yes."
"..."
The group's expressions shifted.
'Now they want to believe.'
The uneasy chill in the air was gone, replaced with a sense of fortune as if the kind of monetary windfall they'd only read about on the internet was suddenly within reach.
Once the caretaker produced documents, including the will, their skepticism transformed into certainty.
"This… this looks legit."
"Unbelievable…"
Even the cursing married couple's demeanor changed.
"Forget the weekend trip, let's tough it out. Worst case, we can call the police, right?"
"Exactly! Wow, maybe this tape has some kind of charm on it, like from a shaman's talisman. It's crazy how everyone ended up here."
The lodge caretaker even gave everyone time to make phone calls.
After finishing their calls, the group's mood had turned lively, as if they were part of some grand event.
The caretaker, observing them, bowed deeply.
"When so many visitors arrive at once, the order of exchange becomes very important."
"Oh, yeah, that makes sense!"
"Yeah, like if the first person demands all the inheritance, it's game over for everyone else!"
"Therefore… priority will be given to those with the most cassette tapes."
"...!"
The group immediately glanced around at one another.
The three university students exchanged quick looks amongst themselves.
If grouped together, they had the most tapes.
"Wait, are we supposed to buy tapes off each other now?"
"I am merely explaining the rules. It is not mandatory. You are free to negotiate your own exchange conditions as you see fit. The order is important, after all."
"..."
A tense, meaningful silence passed between them.
"Shall I prepare your rooms, then? There are suitable bedrooms upstairs."
"Ah, yes."
"Sounds good. Let's get the rooms sorted first…"
"Excuse me, hold on."
Baek Saheon's voice cut through the group.
"I might have to leave due to urgent matters. Could you tell me the way out of here?"
"Of course."
But that didn't happen.
A moment later—
========================
Entrants will inevitably find themselves isolated at the disaster site for various reasons.
The most common would be due to abnormal weather conditions such as typhoons, heavy snowfall, or landslides.
========================
"A torrential downpour has caused a landslide outside, burying the roads. Thankfully, the electricity remains functional, so your stay will be unaffected."
"..."
Baek Saheon turned to me with an expression that practically screamed 'We're fucked.'
'Exactly.'
I shrugged.
Now that things had reached this point, no one would be able to leave until everything that was meant to happen had unfolded.
'Meanwhile, I'm racking my brain trying to figure out how to survive this without losing my head.'
At least one small comfort was that there wouldn't be any ghosts…
'…Just a serial killer.'
And wasn't it obvious?
Every horror movie and mystery novel loves to use this twist, and ghost stories are no different.
The killer…
One entrant will take on a special role within the narrative, embodying the predator archetype—
…is among us.
—and this individual is often referred to as the serial killer.
I've got to find and avoid the person who would become the killer.
This individual will firmly believe that they are inheriting the legendary murderer's legacy and undergo mental and physical transformation.
'Hmm.'
Unless… I could try a slightly different approach.
As I stroked my chin, I noticed the civil servant quietly leaving the group.
"I'll step outside to check the weather."
"Go ahead."
I followed the civil servant out to the veranda.
The wind and rain were growing fierce, darkening the surroundings and splashing enough to dampen our clothes. The downpour seemed loud enough to mask any conversation. ʀäNȫΒЕş
Carefully shielding my notepad from the rain, I showed him a message.
[Excuse me, are you the person who bought the cookies? I'm wondering if I might have mistaken you for someone else.]
Fortunately, the civil servant didn't feign ignorance.
"Yes, that's correct."
But he looked me up and down, as if assessing me.
Hmm.
I glanced around, pretending to check the area, and ensured no one was watching us before scribbling another note, this time with a tense expression.
[I'm sorry, but is this… some kind of strange situation?]
"..."
[It's just odd that only people carrying cassette tapes got lost and ended up here.]
[Do you think it's… a ghost… or something?]
Considering that he already knew I had experience with paranormal phenomena—after all, I'd sold him food tied to ghost stories—this level of questioning shouldn't seem out of place.
'The real issue is whether he thinks I entered this place intentionally.'
I'd much rather be treated as an innocent civilian. Depending on his response, I'd decide how to position myself moving forward.
'Honestly, he's most likely to give a safe answer like I'm not sure yet."
"You are correct."
...??
So direct?
The civil servant hesitated briefly before asking me,
"How did you come across the cassette tape?"
[Actually, I don't have one myself… It's my colleague who has one. It gave me a bad feeling, so I told him to throw it away, but we ended up here anyway after getting on the bus.]
"..."
The civil servant rested a hand on his chin, silent for a moment.
"Do you often find yourself in situations like this?"
I forced a sheepish smile, pretending to be awkward.
[Sometimes?]
"I see."
After another moment of hesitation, he continued,
"I am… well, something like a government agent."
He's telling me this much?
[Really? Like a ghost-hunting 007?]
"…Yes."
[Wow!]
The expression on his face screamed 'This is not the time to be impressed.'
"At any rate, this is indeed a supernatural phenomenon. Be cautious. As much as possible, stay close to me, or move in groups of at least three if it can't be avoided."
Hold on.
'He's treating me like an even more harmless civilian than I expected.'
I wasn't sure why, but this was good. I quickly responded.
[Thank you. But… what about the others?]
The civil servant answered firmly.
"You don't need to worry about them."
Hmm.
[Would it be okay if I told my colleague—]
"No."
Heck.
Glancing toward the living room, the civil servant lowered his voice and spoke softly, as if revealing a massive secret.
"Actually."
Actually?
"…There is a killer among us."
Oh.
Yeah.
I already knew, of course… but I couldn't let that show.
Feigning shock, I hastily scribbled another note.
[A killer? How do you know that, sir??]
"This mountain lodge is no ordinary place. It's never been publicly disclosed, but similar incidents have occurred here multiple times. Guests were murdered by a killer."
– Ah, a storied, legendary site where nightmares of the past are recreated… Truly a fine preference.
Now's not the time, Mr. Host.
"No matter how close you may be to someone, don't trust them. And under no circumstances should you open your door while alone in your room."
'Usually, isn't it the person who barricades themselves in a room who ends up dying first…?'
Regardless, I felt I'd confirmed a few key facts about both the civil servant and this ghost story.
[Thank you.]
After expressing my gratitude and bidding him good night, I left the veranda.
I felt a bit more at ease as I headed to my assigned room.
I had made up my mind about what to do.
"Huu."
I began inspecting the room.
I was looking for something specific.
– A weapon, I see.
Opening the wardrobe, I found two reasonably large, one-handed axes hanging as decorative pieces.
"..."
It was terrifying and exhausting to carry, but there was no choice.
– Ah, this is going to be so very fun!
Now that things had come to this…
'I might as well strike first.'
Gripping one of the axes, I made my decision.
Serial killer? Fine. Let me have a go at it.
-x-X-x-
Baek Saheon opened his eyes.
Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that he hadn't slept a wink.
'Fucking hell.'
Ever since entering 'Horizon Mountain Lodge', his nerves had been on edge, searching for a way to leave this place alive and intact.
Half of his efforts were spent trying to stay on Kim Soleum's good side, carefully walking on eggshells to gauge the guy's mood.
'Son of a bitch.'
He felt no shame about it—it was necessary for survival.
…Even now, as he debated whether to visit Kim Soleum's room, it was for the same reason.
'I need information, anything I can use.'
That lunatic definitely knew something. Baek Saheon was convinced he needed to extract that knowledge to secure a trump card for his survival.
But…
"..."
Was Kim Soleum really a lunatic?
More specifically, why had he… saved him?
Baek Saheon already knew the truth. There had been multiple opportunities at the exhibition for Kim Soleum to kill him or use him as a scapegoat, but he hadn't.
Sure, he had been messed with a few times, but in the end…
'No!'
He probably did it for fun. It's only because keeping me alive would make things more unpredictable and entertaining for that bastard!
Baek Saheon jumped to that conclusion. He'd never encountered such a madman in his life before.
'…Even so, I doubt he'd lie about something important.'
With a strange sort of faith, he opened his door—
Something stood in front of it.
"...!!"
The now-darkened lodge was steeped in shadows, making it difficult to recognize the figure immediately.
A man of similar height to himself.
…It was Kim Soleum.
'Shit!'
Startled, but strangely relieved.
Better him than a stranger. At least Kim Soleum wouldn't try to kill him.
"Hey…"
But as Baek Saheon's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed something in Kim Soleum's hand.
An axe.
"..."
'What?'
An axe?
He almost rubbed his one remaining eye in disbelief before a plausible explanation struck him.
"That's… for self-defense against the killer, right…?"
But then, another thought entered Baek Saheon's mind.
The texts Kim Soleum had been sending.
[watch out for serial killers]
What if those texts weren't warnings…
…But a prediction of the future?
"Bye bye."
The axe came down on his head.
* * *
The next morning.
A couple leaving their room heard a melody faintly blending with the heavy rain.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
A hum.
"Isn't that the song that played when our car's GPS broke?"
"Omo, it does sound like it… Is this some local radio station?"
Breathing in the damp, eerie morning air, they held their cassette tape tightly like a treasure as they passed through the hallway to the kitchen.
And then—
"GAAAHHHHH!!"
They saw something stuffed into the kitchen hearth.
It looked like someone had detonated fireworks and toys inside, charring the area completely black.
The burnt remains.
Among the dark-red ashes, two stick-like objects jutted out, bent at odd angles.
And at the end of those sticks…
Shoes.
The sneakers were partially burned, still clinging to what used to be a person's feet.
"Aaaaaack!!"
"Oh my God! Is that… a person?!"
"Aigoo, aigoo, what is this— what's happening— aigoo!!"
The couple's screams of horror echoed through the lodge, quickly drawing the others downstairs.
One by one, the others joined the chaos, their faces pale.
"What's going— AAAAHHH!!"
"Gaaaasp…!"
The students, the middle-aged driver—no one was immune to the panic.
One person, claiming earlier to have a sore throat and only communicating via notes, collapsed to the ground, his face drained of color.
But… weren't there two people who said they were office workers?
'No way…!'
The couple pointed at the burned feet sticking out of the hearth.
"The young man who came with you… is it him? The one with the eye patch?"
The remaining office worker stared at the scorched sneakers, covering his mouth, and gave a small nod.
"AGH!!"
Someone had died.
A person they had talked to just yesterday.
As the realization set in, cries and screams filled the room again.
"Call 119 right now!"
"What the hell is this?! Fuuuuck!!"
"I told you these old kitchens were dangerous! One small fire and look what happens!"
But in their hearts, a small voice whispered doubts.
'Was it really an accident?'
Could a fire burn only a person, leaving everything else untouched… and in such a horrific state?
'Could it be…'
Still in a state of panic, the group scrambled for their phones.
And moments later—
A collective chill ran down their spines.
"T-The phone isn't working. There's no dial tone!"
"Where's the caretaker? Someone just died here!"
But the caretaker, who had promised to take good care of them, was nowhere to be found, as if he'd vanished into thin air.
The dark, rain-soaked mountain surrounding the lodge.
Inside the lodge, only the group and the humming remained…
"..."
"..."
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
Outside, an unrelenting downpour lashed the area, and there were signs that a landslide had occurred overnight, burying the bus stop in debris.
"The road… it's completely buried."
"My car!!"
That's when the group began to realize.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
Something was seriously wrong.
"I-I swear, that thing… it was moving earlier."
"..."
Near the hearth where the charred remains lay, a small, old analog cassette player emitted the humming sound.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm…
Click.
One of the students switched off the cassette player and pulled something from inside it.
A worn ivory-colored tape.
"...!"
The pale-faced office worker shakily pulled out his notebook, his trembling hands scribbling quickly.
[This looks like the cassette Baek Saheon had…]
"O-Oh my God."
And that's when the nightmare truly began.
-x-X-x-
Lunchtime.
The lodge's caretaker had apparently prepared a neat meal of soup and rice in advance, but nobody dared to touch it, as if by mutual agreement.
Instead, they nibbled on energy bars and snacks they'd brought themselves, wandering around the lodge in a futile search for a signal to make their phones work.
Unsurprisingly, there was no success.
In the oppressive rain, the isolated mountain lodge felt suffocating and ominous, severed from any external connection.
'This is driving me crazy!'
One of the university students, frustrated by his unresponsive social media apps, angrily tapped at his phone screen before switching it off in irritation.
"Fuck!"
"Dude, you're such a fucking scaredy-cat."
One friend teased, laughing nervously as they pushed each other closer to the legs sticking out of the hearth.
They even took a few photos of the scene, treating it like a twisted joke, though they didn't seem to have much appetite as they left their calorie bars and chocolates untouched.
Despite their mockery, they weren't as calm as they appeared.
They relied on their numbers to feel secure.
'There's three of us, after all.'
Even if someone tried to kill them, they reasoned, no one would target a large group first.
'They'll go for someone alone, or the stragglers.'
That thought seemed to put them somewhat at ease.
"Hey…"
One student turned to chat with his friend, but a peanut-filled chocolate bar was suddenly extended in front of him.
When he looked up, he saw the pale-faced office worker holding out his notebook.
[Would you like some? I don't think I can eat it…]
"Uh, no thanks."
The student replied curtly, and his friend beside him snickered.
"Dude, he can't eat peanuts."
[Ah… I apologize.]
The office worker apologized silently, retreating to the sofa with a dejected air.
Wasn't he the one who'd been introduced as a supervisor?
At first, he'd seemed quite intimidating, but after witnessing his colleague's death, he looked utterly deflated.
'Scared stiff, huh.'
He now gave off the impression of someone who would crumble under even the sliiiightest pressure.
"Hey, wanna bet?"
"Sure, but man, this is too much."
Meanwhile, the other two students went outside for a smoke.
The office worker, still fiddling with his unresponsive phone, cast a dark glance at the hearth before heading upstairs.
And just like that, the room grew silent.
"..."
One student was left alone, uneasily shifting in his seat.
'In the movies, this is the part where someone gets attacked.'
He tapped his foot anxiously, glancing around the room with a wary expression. The presence of a jackknife in his pocket gave him some reassurance, but not for long. ꞦАƝÔBΕ𐌔
'Shit, why'd they go off on their own?'
Unable to bear it any longer, he decided to go looking for his friends in the backyard.
Gripping the jackknife tightly, he quickened his pace, unnerved by the sensation of something prickling at his back.
He pushed open the back door to the kitchen, which led to the yard.
Click.
A damp, musty smell hit him immediately.
'They're probably under the roof somewhere.'
Surely they wouldn't stand in the rain to smoke, right?
With that thought, he headed toward a storage shed connected by a covered walkway.
But as he walked, a peculiar smell caught his attention.
Something metallic and sharp.
'Iron?'
It smelled like rust, perhaps from the rain leaking into old tools in the shed.
That was his assumption, at least, as he rounded the corner.
"Hey, Park Kyungsoo…"
And then, an overwhelming metallic stench hit, enough to numb the nose.
"H-Huuuh…?"
Inside the backyard shed was an old construction-grade grinding machine.
It seemed like the machine had been used not for wood, but for something else entirely.
Cruuunch.
What should have been sawdust spewing from the discharge chute was instead shredded flesh.
Fragments of torn clothes, blood-soaked meat, and crushed bone were scattered messily across the floor.
"..."
What is this?
What… the hell is this?
For a moment, his brain refused to process the scene, rejecting the horrifying reality. Then, a beat later, the truth hit him like a tidal wave.
He had found his friends.
Turned into minced meat.
"Uuuughk…!!"
As panic overtook him, vomiting and screams erupted from his mouth.
And then, another sound joined in.
From an old audio device came a familiar tune.
Hmm, hmm-hmm, hmmmm, hmm-hmm-hmm.
The sound from the cassette tape.
"Hiiieek!"
The student spun around and bolted, running madly back into the lodge.
Fear and cold terror chased him down to the tips of his hair.
"Hey, why are you running arou—"
"Aaaargh!!"
The student flailed wildly, slapping away the hand that had grabbed his shoulder.
"Don't touch me, you bastard!"
"Whoa, whoa, what the hell?!"
He looked up.
The bewildered faces of the other lodge residents stared back at him.
And there was one thing they all had in common.
The tapes.
That's it!
If the psycho responsible for this was targeting the tapes, and that's what caused all of this—
The student frantically rummaged through his pocket and pulled out his tape.
"Here, look at this! Look!"
His eyes were bloodshot, and spit flew as he shouted.
"I'm throwing this away! Take it! I don't want it, okay?! I've given it up, damn it! I've given it up!"
Thud!
He flung the tape onto the ground, then bolted upstairs to his room, slamming the door behind him.
Only when he locked the door did he finally catch his breath.
"Hah… hah…"
Anxiety darted his eyes around the room.
His mind was plagued by the sight of shredded flesh and broken bones, pounding in his skull like a drumbeat.
Thud.
Thud.
Should he build a barricade with furniture in front of the door?
Thud.
No, that would block his escape route.
Thud.
He glanced at an old lacquered wardrobe in the room, hesitating before pressing himself against the wall beside it, gripping his jackknife tightly.
He stared intently at the door.
Thud…
As his back rested against the wall, his breathing began to settle.
'J-Just try it. Force your way in, I dare you…!'
If someone tried, he'd fucking scream bloody murder while swinging his knife. People would come rushing in, and surely he'd be saved!
He just had to stay alert.
"No way, no way…"
He muttered to himself like a madman, his voice trembling—
Click.
Softly, the wardrobe door creaked open.
-x-X-x-
The next morning, the student was found in his room, the door wide open to welcome others.
His body was grotesquely swollen, like an overstuffed sausage, bloated from an allergic reaction.
The hiking club had been wiped out entirely.
"Aaaaaahhh!"
In just one day, an office worker and three students had become corpses, plunging the remaining people into total terror.
"It's the inheritance! Someone's killing people to take more of the inheritance, yeah?! I'm sure of it! They're trying to silence us all so they can keep the tapes without any trouble!"
"That guy, the caretaker! That fucker was sketchy as hell! He looked like a psycho!"
"It's a ghost! We're all haunted! Ha ha ha!"
A middle-aged man shouted like a madman, then pushed past the others and ran outside.
"Argh!"
Ruuuumble.
Thunder resounded at just the right moment.
No, it wasn't just thunder. There was another sound mixed in.
BOOOM!
"...!"
"W-What was that?!"
Startled by the deafening noise, everyone turned toward the window.
The civil servant murmured grimly.
"…A landslide."
The landslide had conveniently struck again.
Swept away by the rushing debris, the deranged middle-aged man disappeared down the mountain slope.
AAAAHHHHH…!
His screams faded as he was buried in the muddy earth below.
Rumble… BOOM!
Thunder replaced the humming as it roared outside the lodge, lightning flickering across the stormy sky.
"..."
"..."
A suffocating silence hung over the frozen group of survivors.
Four people remained.
* * *
Night two.
The couple, who had spent the day scouring the lodge for a way to contact the outside world, returned to their room, panting.
They'd found no means of escape, but they had discovered something else.
"Hah, hah…"
"Fuck— Shut the hell up and breathe quietly, you moron!"
"Aaack!"
The husband, introduced earlier as the wife's partner, shoved her head roughly before darting out of the living room and up the stairs to the second-floor hallway.
As he ascended, someone cautiously exiting their room happened to meet his bloodshot gaze, startled.
"Hey, you!!"
He was calling out to the office worker who had been communicating through written notes because of his sore throat.
Startled, he quickly fumbled for his notebook to write something, but the man standing before him was faster, shaking something in his hand.
"This, this gold frame…!"
It was the ornate golden picture frame that had been hanging in the living room.
Eyes wild, the man jabbed a finger at the text inscribed inside the frame.
Joyful Mealtime
The rabbit bakes in the kitchen
The deer is caught in the backyard
The pigeon is fattened in the bedroom
The lamb is sliced in the living room
"This is how people are being killed!"
"...!"
The man shouted, voice shaking as he pieced it together.
A person roasted in the kitchen, ground in the backyard, and bloated in the room.
"The lodge caretaker or whoever is messing with us! This could all be staged—maybe we're being broadcast somewhere! Or maybe… no, they're toying with us, that's for sure!"
The employee widened his eyes, startled by the revelation. Seeing his reaction, the man grew even more convinced and raised his voice further.
"The next one is the living room! Someone's going to get sliced up in the living room! I'm sure of it! We need to find a way out before it's too—"
"Oh."
...
Huh?
That was a response.
"Surprisingly observant. Braun."
"Braun?"
That was the last word the man ever said.
* * *
"Awake?"
A throbbing headache greeted him as he regained consciousness.
"Mmph! Mmmmph!"
His voice was muffled—he realized there was a gag in his mouth.
He screamed as loud as he could.
"MMMMMMPH!!"
But the reason for his terror wasn't just the damp, moldy smell of the basement he found himself in or the pitch-black darkness that made it impossible to see more than a few inches ahead.
It was the severed head lying right next to his.
Yes, just a head.
"Mmmph! Mmmmmmph!"
The pale, lifeless face rested on a silver tray mere inches from his nose.
He felt his sanity slipping.
Tears, snot, and cold sweat poured down his face as he desperately screamed for help, though the gag swallowed every sound.
"Hrrrnnph, s-sppph, mmmph!"
"Scared? Try to bear with it—I'm holding back too."
A calm, composed voice responded from somewhere nearby.
The man rolled his eyes frantically, trying to distance himself from the head as he looked up.
And he saw him.
'The office worker…!'
Dressed in black sweats, the younger man frowned as he gazed down at him.
Then, as if in disdain, he looked at the bloodied work gloves in his hand before letting out a sigh and slipping them back on.
Next, he picked up an axe.
"MMMMMPH!!!"
"Why is it that people always scream first, even when they already know what's going to happen? It just tires everyone involved."
"Mmph!! Mmmph!!"
"Let's not waste our energy unnecessarily."
He's insane.
This man—no, this monster—was the killer…!!
The captive wanted desperately to negotiate, plead, fight back, do anything to survive, but his bound body and gagged mouth gave him no options.
Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.
"Hm, I think I've heard that physical and emotional pain can be alleviated a bit by screaming…? Or, well, something like that."
The office worker's voice was dry, his tone almost clinical as he inspected the blade of the axe.
The edge gleamed as it caught the dim light.
"Reasonable enough, I suppose. Still, I don't find it particularly satisfying."
He adjusted his grip.
The axe swung.
A gleaming arc in the air.
Thud.
Clang…
"..."
"..."
Silence enveloped the basement.
Kim Soleum lowered the axe and, with a slightly brighter tone, remarked,
"Almost done."
Three people remained.
-x-X-x-
The final day at the Horizon Mountain Lodge—
The promised three days had passed. The final morning at the 'Horizon Mountain Lodge' had arrived.
"..."
The civil servant woke up in his bed.
It wasn't a pleasant morning.
Something about the situation had felt off for a while now, like a carefully laid plan slowly unraveling.
To make matters worse, the assignment itself hadn't been one he was eager to take on in the first place.
Still, the job wasn't done yet. He donned his prepared work uniform, strapped on his gear, picked up his tools, and stepped out of his room.
What awaited him outside wasn't a welcome sight.
"…Huu."
The first-floor living room was soaked in blood.
It looked as though someone had created a pentagram offering with blood, placing severed body parts at each point.
On the lone clean sofa lay a woman, unconscious.
It was the wife from the couple.
"..."
The agent hesitated briefly but ultimately resolved to carry out his duties as planned.
He knew all too well the risks of acting on personal judgment.
And besides…
"Uugh… wh-what?!"
They weren't exactly the kind of people worth saving.
"AAAAAAHH!"
The woman woke abruptly and screamed at the sight before her.
A tall man, clad in a black, waterproof raincoat, stood before her, holding a butcher knife over 35 centimeters long!!
The man sighed deeply.
'Of all times.'
She had to wake up now.
He was exhausted. More than usual.
How could things have gone so wildly off course?
The agent's mind flashed back to the first day at the lodge.
His initial target had been one of the couple.
Greedy and vulnerable, they were an easy mark. According to the Disaster Management Bureau's analysis, eliminating one half of a couple first would effectively sow fear, making the subsequent tasks easier.
Following the script embedded in his mind, he had planned to lure the target to the kitchen and bring the frame's ominous prophecy to life.
'I'll burn that person in the stove.'
But someone had beaten him to it.
"...?!"
The stove already contained a corpse.
And not just any corpse—it had been left in a bizarrely grotesque state.
...??
His mind swam with confusion.
The Disaster Management Bureau had ensured that he would be assigned the role of the serial killer, pre-assigning him the cassette tape as part of the Disaster's framework.
So how could there be another killer?
At the time, he had dismissed it as the unpredictable nature of supernatural catastrophes.
That was, until lunchtime, when he stumbled upon the shredded remains of two students in the backyard.
"..."
He had no choice but to quietly stow away the large hammer he had prepared in his wardrobe.
By then, he had realized the truth.
Someone else had been preemptively killing the victims.
It was maddening.
And now, on the final day, someone had even gone so far as to set up this elaborate dismemberment scene.
His head throbbed from the sheer absurdity of it all.
Still, his tasks hadn't changed.
Despite the chaos, he had to complete his duties, step by step. That was the Bureau's way.
"Hiieek…"
His recollections came to an end as he looked down at his next victim.
The woman's eyes were wide with fear, but she was too paralyzed to resist.
He sighed, feeling the weight of his exhaustion, and raised the knife.
At that moment—
"Agent 007."
"..."
A voice interrupted him.
He turned to see someone leaning casually against the second-floor railing, looking down at the living room.
It was the office worker.
The seller he had met through Salmon Market.
"You don't have to kill her."
Kim Soleum looked down at him.
This individual will firmly believe that they are inheriting the legendary murderer's legacy and undergo mental and physical transformation.
In every way, the agent fit the description of a Disaster-appointed serial killer.
The black raincoat, the gleaming butcher knife—his appearance screamed 'killer'.
But Kim Soleum knew better.
'Despite how he looks, he's someone you could reason with.'
– Are you certain, friend?
Yes, he's certain.
'Agents from the Disaster Management Bureau come prepared for these kinds of scenarios.'
For instance, like the holster barely visible beneath that civil servant's raincoat.
========================
Dark Exploration Records / Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau
/ Items
Tether Handler
A black holster-shaped equipment-type item.
When equipped, it grants resistance to supernatural mental disturbances of Hollow-sanctioned level or lower.
Usage Condition: Must be a Grade-8 or higher official of the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau.
========================
It was mental defense equipment.
They wouldn't send agents unarmed into a Disaster capable of transforming someone into a brainwashed serial killer.
'No way they'd send them in with a clear head.'
Agents were regularly deployed into high-risk supernatural Disasters where death was often an assumed outcome.
'Imagine running into a devious pharmaceutical rep using items like smiley stickers for manipulation.'
Kim Soleum observed the agent standing silently before him and spoke.
"You really don't need to kill anyone. All the groundwork has already been laid."
"..."
"I've already done everything."
A moment of silence.
"Are you saying you've killed them?"
Well, it was true that this Disaster wouldn't end without a series of murders.
According to the
'That's why the Disaster is designed for the agent to kill directly.'
To ensure the agent doesn't die by accident, they're designated as the serial killer and managed accordingly.
That was the rule. Commit serial murders, or…
"No."
"...!"
"I just made it look like they died."
…or convince everyone that they did.
"But there were corpses."
"That's true… but they weren't my doing."
"...!"
"Did you know this lodge has a basement?"
Kim Soleum recalled part of the poem inside the golden frame.
It wasn't just foreshadowing murder methods.
There were other hints as well.
Boing, boing, the sound of hopping with laughter
The wooden floors beneath go bam, bam
The table, full
Humming, in the air
This stanza hinted at something.
A sound beneath the wooden floor. An echo from a hollow space below.
And…
'That verse alluding murder to food…'
The table is bountiful.
Something abundant, possibly related to the serial killings.
Sure enough.
"In the basement, there's a collection of preserved body parts and organs on display."
"...!"
-x-X-x-
It was a workshop.
"Apparently, this lodge has seen serial killings before. I nearly fainted when I saw it."
Honestly, he nearly did. The sight of those grotesque artifacts from past killings was horrifying.
But more importantly, Kim Soleum had found a new use for those bizarre props.
The agent caught on.
"All the bodies we've seen so far…"
"Exactly."
Kim Soleum grinned awkwardly.
"Not one of them was intact, right?"
Because the corpses were made using the preserved parts from the basement, pieced together to look fresh!
That's why Baek Saheon had to be the first victim.
'…I couldn't have done it without help.'
Handling preserved body parts to recreate murder scenes in the dead of night was a task so revolting it made him want to give up on life altogether.
But Baek Saheon, faced with a binary choice between collaboration or death, begrudgingly became an excellent assistant for Kim Soleum's morbid creativity.
Together, they painstakingly staged the crime scenes.
They placed charred legs into the stove, using Baek Saheon's sneakers to complete the illusion.
The ground meat and bones in the backyard? Repurposed food items from a freezer behind the storage shed, with bits of clothing scattered for effect.
And the current bloody mess in the living room? The same method.
Although Kim Soleum had done all the actual abducting alone, aided by the unique abilities of his plush companion, Braun.
"People were hidden away while we staged their deaths. Using real body parts meant no one suspected anything."
"..."
"I figured the real killer might get flustered and stay quiet if I acted first."
"..."
The plan was as much a psychological play as it was an improvisation in the face of chaos.
But then again…
"You know… someone still ended up killing people, though."
"..."
"The allergy and the landslide, for example."
Both happened before Kim Soleum had a chance to intervene.
The landslide might be written off as a supernatural catastrophe, but the allergy? That couldn't have been mere coincidence.
No one—not even Sherlock Holmes—could figure out someone's fatal allergies just by observing them for less than a day.
'Even I only learned about it by accident during a conversation.'
So the idea that someone brought an allergen, like peanuts, into the lodge in advance specifically for murder was even more implausible.
Which meant…
Someone had to have known the profiles of everyone coming here ahead of time and prepared for the killings accordingly.
"Was it you, Agent, who caused the allergic shock?"
"..."
The agent didn't deny it.
And Kim Soleum…
'Hmm. As I thought.'
…wasn't shocked in the slightest!
Shouldn't he feel some sympathy for the loss of innocent lives?
Well, they weren't exactly 'innocent'.
'The government doesn't just pick random people for Russian roulette-style sacrifices.'
The Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau uses a method known as the 'Scales of Malice' to determine candidates for compulsory civilian conscription. ɽåƝОʙÊṨ
The scales weigh against acts of 'motive-less murder', and anyone with a heavier weight of guilt than that is classified as eligible for conscription.
In other words, only those deemed to have committed atrocities worse than indiscriminate killing are selected and sent into these Disasters.
'If the Disaster has to operate periodically, they choose people who deserve to die anyway. At least it's an attempt at ethical balance.'
A very government-like decision, maintaining a veneer of morality.
'So, this time, too, they're all probably people who fit that profile.'
And Kim Soleum's guess was spot on.
The 'married couple' turned out to be an adulterous pair. The actual spouse of one of them, along with their young child, had succumbed to despair and financial hardship, leading to a family suicide.
The college students had been perpetrators in a bullying case that resulted in a classmate's death. They'd been indicted but acquitted due to lack of evidence and had since gone on to join the same hiking club.
As for the designated driver? He was an as-yet-uncaptured child predator.
Even without knowing these details, Kim Soleum had a general sense.
'A dream lineup, I'm sure.'
Clearly, the government had orchestrated things to ensure the tapes ended up in the hands of these individuals.
'And they sent an agent to monitor and manage it all.'
That person was standing in front of Kim Soleum now.
The agent spoke, his voice steady.
"They're all criminals."
"..."
"Everyone in this lodge, if the law worked as intended, would be sentenced to death in some countries for crimes of such egregious severity."
He hesitated before adding,
"Everyone except you, who doesn't have a tape."
But inwardly, the agent wasn't confident this explanation would land.
His prior encounters with civilians during missions hadn't gone particularly well.
Wearily, he raised his gaze.
But…
"Hmm, I see. That makes sense."
"...!"
Surprisingly, the office worker standing on the second floor nodded easily.
"Anyway, aside from those two, the rest of the group is alive and well, so that's good."
Kim Soleum spoke casually, as if the situation were no big deal.
"Even for criminals, killing them must weigh on you. This isn't a bad outcome, all things considered."
"..."
Finally, the agent asked.
"Who exactly are you?"
This man had gone out of his way to stage fake murder scenes, appeared unfazed by the agent's suspicious appearance, and even trusted him based on rational deductions.
No ordinary person could maintain such composure.
"Hmm."
Kim Soleum let out a deep sigh.
"I'm just… someone who tends to get swept up in these situations."
"Are you affiliated with the Disaster Management Bureau?"
"Not at all. I've heard rumors, though. It's fascinating to meet an actual agent in person— Ah."
He suddenly turned his head.
Creak.
The back door to the kitchen was opening.
Just like on the first day.
"It seems the lodge caretaker has returned."
The ending scene of this Disaster was approaching.
-x-X-x-
The mountain lodge was a mess—a pentagram drawn in blood and dismembered body parts strewn across the living room.
In this macabre scene stood the civil servant, holding a butcher's knife before a fainted woman.
From the second-floor railing, I watched it all.
If I didn't know it was fake, I myself might have fainted at such a grotesque sight.
But the lodge caretaker who entered through the back door was polite as ever.
"Did you have a comfortable stay?"
As if that were possible.
Still, there was no point in wasting energy responding, so I simply stayed silent.
The caretaker didn't waste time on clichés like, 'I stayed out of your way so you could rest undisturbed.'
Instead, he simply said this one thing.
"Three days have passed. The time has come."
"..."
"You may now exchange the cassette tapes for the inheritance of this lodge."
No one has died up to this point though?
This is where chaos erupts, where people start killing each other.
It's inevitable.
The accumulated fear and trauma must reach a peak before the cassette tapes will release their survivors.
'That's why I made sure to create it.'
The fear and trauma, that is.
Modern sensibilities didn't make it any less distasteful, but I'd scared them enough to believe they were really dying.
It seemed my efforts had paid off.
The caretaker recited his lines, and the fact that the living room was still peaceful, without bloodshed, proved it.
Of course, this peace wouldn't last.
The caretaker's first approach was toward the fainted 'wife' on the sofa.
"Dear guest."
"..."
"Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?"
"Mmh, what… H-Huuh? AAAAHHHHH!!"
The woman woke up screaming, stumbled a few times, and bolted out of the lodge.
What a shame.
'She would've been better off staying unconscious.'
Unbothered, the caretaker turned and addressed the next person.
"Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?"
"..."
The civil servant stared at the caretaker for a moment before speaking slowly.
"I'll reveal my decision last."
"Understood. In that case…"
The caretaker turned to the final person.
Me.
I met his gaze.
Despite his tattered clothing, his speech carried the refined cadence of Seoul's old aristocracy.
"Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?"
Would I?
"Yes."
Of course, I would.
'I've worked like a deckhand on a shrimp boat for the past three days to get to this point.'
Entrants are promised significant monetary rewards if they stay within the Disaster for a designated period.
This was why I had gone so far as to play the role of a serial killer.
'Exchange priority.'
I retrieved the cassette tapes from a backpack belonging to the deceased college student.
The couple's tapes.
The students' tapes.
Even Baek Saheon's tape.
"Six tapes. You are guaranteed first priority for the exchange."
As the caretaker spoke, his tone momentarily revealed his excitement before reverting to politeness.
"You may now claim ownership of this lodge, sir. Would you like to?"
"No."
"..."
If an entrant choses to inherit the place of Disaster (Horizon Mountain Lodge) as their reward, their altered psyche would become permanently tied to it.
Even if my 'serial killing' was a ruse, there was no need to risk taking on such a burden.
'But I can't just make a random exchange or refuse outright either.'
Whether you exchange the tapes for gold, garbage, nothing at all, or even burn the lodge to the ground, the cycle restarts.
When the next round comes, the serial killer's items are redistributed, drawing new victims to this very place.
The lodge would reappear as if nothing had happened, perpetuating the carnage.
Besides.
'I'm pretty sure if I make the exchange, the people I pretended to kill and hid will all actually die.'
There was this record.
========================
#6
Personnel : 8 conscripts, 1 civil servant (Grade-8).
The civil servant was successfully designated as the serial killer but deviated during the third murder, using a special item instead of the provided poison.
Attempted to conclude the disaster without killing conscripts by inducing near-death states.
Outcome : 1 civil servant survived (refused the exchange).
※ The conscript in a near-death state was later confirmed to have died after choking on vomit post-exchange.
========================
The idea of locking everyone up so they couldn't escape during a fire, conveniently preventing their survival? That's how I'd end up a genuine serial killer.
Even if these people were destined to die in this cursed tale, it would still feel wrong.
Let me respect my humanity, however fragile it may be.
After much consideration, I made my choice.
"I want to exchange one cassette tape for the employment contract of the lodge caretaker."
The caretaker seemed momentarily stunned.
"My employment contract?"
"Yes."
I nodded.
Did you know?
The Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau typically aims to eliminate curses like this.
The insane pharmaceutical company I work for aims to ensure employees escape while deftly preserving and managing phenomena—it's never about actually resolving anything.
For Daydream Inc., these ghost stories might serve as raw material supply sources, but for the government, they're just catastrophes to be dealt with.
This difference has even inspired some creative reinterpretations in the wiki.
In short, government-managed phenomena can… 'successfully disappear'.
For instance.
The lodge caretaker announces the contract period has ended with this exchange.
The location of the lodge becomes an empty lot, with no signs of paranormal activity to date.
Disaster resolved.
This is the official conclusion of the last recorded investigation into this phenomenon. A definitive end.
Which means…
'Why not terminate it before the next cycle even begins?'
That's how I arrived at this.
"I assume your current employment contract is tied to the previous lodge owner. I'd like to transfer that contract to myself."
Not taking the lodge itself, but inheriting the caretaker's employment rights and terminating his contract?
If I could replicate the scenario in the official records, this Disaster could finally conclude.
"..."
I waited for the caretaker's response. And…
"It is… theoretically possible."
Exactly.
"However, with all due respect, the employer must meet certain qualifications."
"Qualifications?"
"Yes."
The caretaker's formal tone carried a faint, fleeting trace of arrogance.
"There must be inherent, existential nobility."
For the person running a murder lodge?
It seems the ethics of this role are vastly out of sync with modern sensibilities.
– Ha! The caretaker is acting like an 18th-century butler, mistaking his master's authority for his own!
– Why not just take over the lodge and fire them?
Braun, I'm going out of my way not to do exactly that.
'Hold on. I think I might have another way.'
– Your patience is admirable, Mr. Roe Deer!
Sure, sure.
I idly scratched my chin.
'…Nobility, huh?'
Actually, something did come to mind.
It's true that I didn't bring much in terms of items, but I always carry one small thing in my pocket.
'My merch.'
The latest trinket from the merch box: the Silver Heart.
A small, silver badge that enhances one's persuasiveness when worn by a kind individual.
'It's a good opportunity to test it, too.'
I had carefully handled the tiny badge in my pocket, using a pair of tweezers to affix it to the fabric.
Then, as expected…
"..."
"..."
The other party showed no particular reaction.
'Ah.'
Maybe it's an issue of application range.
'He probably isn't human.'
The wearer earns the reverence of others proportional to their cumulative altruistic actions.
Well, I had doubts about the definition of 'nobility' anyway, so this was just a test.
I quickly adjusted my approach.
In that case…
"Are you saying I lack innate, existential nobility?"
I had no choice but to start talking.
"Finding someone who meets such criteria is certainly difficult. I hope you won't feel disheartened, sir."
"No, that's not the issue. What's important is this—are you saying the exchange is difficult because I don't meet the qualifications?"
"Correct."
"I don't quite understand that."
I deliberately furrowed my brows, like a customer filing a complaint.
"The condition was, 'Bring the cassette tape, and I'll exchange it for anything I possess', correct? Suddenly changing the terms at the end is disconcerting." ꭆâƝỌʙƐŝ
I sighed dramatically, as if weary.
"Three days. That's how much time I've spent here. And now, at the last moment, you're introducing qualifications that contradict the promise."
The caretaker seemed slightly flustered.
"There seems to be some misunderstanding."
"What kind of misunderstanding?"
"The promise remains intact. However, if you inherit only my employment authority, it may be challenging to exercise that authority in practice."
The caretaker kindly elaborated.
"If you were to inherit the lodge itself, I would continue to work here under the original contract. But inheriting 'employment authority' means that right would only be usable when applicable."
In simpler terms: Sure, I'll keep working under my old contract, but I won't take your orders.
"So, it's just a symbolic contract without practical application? Is that what you're saying?"
"Precisely."
Wow.
"That's fine with me."
"..."
Even better!
It's invalid!
"So as long as I'm aware of these terms, the exchange can proceed, right? If I still wish to proceed knowing this, there's no reason to stop me, correct?"
"…If that's the case."
The caretaker extended both hands.
"You are correct, dear guest."
He conceded.
"Please place the cassette tapes you wish to exchange."
Yessir.
I quickly handed over the tapes I was holding.
Clack, clack, clack.
Six tapes left my hand and landed in the caretaker's rough palms.
The caretaker smoothly tucked the tapes into the folds of his worn clothing. Then, after adjusting his tattered attire with deliberate precision, he produced a thin, ancient-looking object.
It was a piece of paper.
It looked like traditional Korean hanji paper, yet curiously Western in its cutting and design. Rolled up and sealed with red wax.
"This is the original contract document."
The moment I took it, the old paper caught fire.
"...!"
The hanji began burning in a vivid orange hue, disintegrating into embers that rose into the air.
Then, they coiled around my wrist.
Specifically, the spot where the mascot's tattoo from the theme park remained!
'W-Wait.'
: Socius :
The tattoo glowed as if it were heating up.
The embers clashed with the tattoo, almost as if they were wrestling with it, before finally yielding and springing away.
They then settled slightly higher on my arm, closer to my forearm, aligning themselves vertically.
: 恩主 :
"..."
Now I got two tattoos.
'This isn't what I wanted.'
I had expected to keep the physical contract as an item, but this?
It felt oddly binding. But… in terms of portability, this was actually more convenient.
– Eunju, or benefactor. Hm. Another old-fashioned expression.
Even Braun refrained from making ominous remarks this time.
Based on prior experience, the tattoo likely wouldn't be visible to the public—certainly not to the civil servant standing here—so that worked out fine.
If the contract simply vanished into thin air, that was probably better.
'Not like I'd ever call on him anyway.'
I raised my head.
As expected, the lodge caretaker had vanished as if he had never existed.
All that remained was the blood-soaked lodge, a scene straight out of a horror movie.
And standing in it, just me and the civil servant.
'It's all wrapped up now.'
Amusingly, at that moment, soft light began filtering through the windows.
Sunlight.
"The weather's cleared."
"..."
Welp, everything's in good order.
With the mood set, I could vanish quietly, and the civil servant could go about his business.
The unconscious survivors tied up in the basement? The government could handle their identities and clean up the aftermath.
'Since the creepypasta itself had disappeared, I likely wouldn't end up as a target of investigation or detailed recordkeeping.'
Whether it was the government or a corporation, they usually didn't exert themselves over neatly resolved cases.
'Even if it's logged as a peculiar case, I didn't actually kill anyone, so it should be fine.'
I just needed to play my cards right with the civil servant and offer a reasonable explanation. Everything would blow over nicely…
"You there."
The civil servant ascended the stairs and strode toward me.
Grabbing my arm, he looked me straight in the eye and asked, quite seriously,
"Have you ever considered a career shift?"
Pardon?