As I left the Fox Counseling Office, I held back a sigh.
'Spy work really isn't for the faint of heart.'
Especially with a boss like that.
If I wanted to survive more safely, I'd need better preparation.
I'd already resolved to be fully prepared—if only to avoid running into another disaster like Looky Mart.
'Alright.'
One week left until discharge.
'Time to prepare everything I can.'
And the first step was this.
I checked the message I'd sent just before entering the counseling room.
[Squad Leader, are you available for a call this evening?]
A fast, concise reply had already come in.
[Yes.]
D-squad's leader, Lee Jaheon.
A reply from my former supervisor.
The goal was simple.
'The plush I brought back from Looky Mart—Lee Jaheon had one just like it.'
It was definitely the same item I'd seen on his desk. And I was convinced it was a usable item.
Safety and effectiveness.
I could have both.
If it were dangerous, he wouldn't have just left it sitting on his desk at the office.
And considering the true identity of that lizard, there was a high probability it was no ordinary object—but a powerful one.
Even without overthinking it, if a section chief of the Field Exploration Team had it on his desk, obviously it'd be something useful in ghost stories!
'Alright.'
Only one thing left.
'I just need to figure out how to use it.'
Chief Lizard would give me the answer!
And a little while later, we were on the phone.
With a pounding heart, I asked immediately…!
"Squad Leader. That lizard plush on your desk—what kind of situation have you used it in?"
– ? None.
"..."
Wait a minute.
That offhanded denial… don't tell me.
"You… You've never used the lizard plush at all?"
– Yes.
"…You didn't purchase that item, Squad Leader?"
– Yes.
"..."
I'm screwed…
'N-No.'
Let's narrow it down further. Like this.
"Do you know how to use the lizard plush?"
Please.
Please…!
– Yes.
Phew.
Thank god.
"I've managed to get one of those plushies myself, but I have no idea how to use it. I'd appreciate it if you could tell me the specific purpose."
And finally, I added,
"…It wasn't purchased from the Space Shopping Mall."
I blurted it out because I felt guilty.
'I haven't even been able to set foot in that place since I don't have any money…'
Anyway, Lee Jaheon remained calm.
– Yes.
And he explained it without a hint of hesitation.
– It's an educational reptile plush used for ecology lessons.
"..."
Huh?
"An educational toy?"
– Yes. When fed appropriate food, it shows a molting process after eating.
"..."
– ...
"..."
I barely managed to ask,
"Is the shed skin perhaps a defensive item?"
– No.
"...Like, if you feed it an item or blood, does it display some unique ability or…"
– No.
I want a refund.
'Fuck…'
So why the hell did you leave it on your desk and confuse people?!
'It's just a glorified food disposal toy!'
Of course, I couldn't scream at a laser-eyed alien lizard, so I managed to say,
"I see. Thank you for the information."
– Yes.
Yeah. This was all my fault for betting on some weird possibility from that deranged supermarket. Haa…
'It was really just a toy, huh.'
In the end, I gave up and changed the topic.
"It's been a while since we last talked, sir. I'm sorry for contacting you through a call instead of visiting in person."
– It's fine. This way is safer.
Was he being considerate, worried that the Disaster Management Bureau might find out I was a spy?
"Thank y—"
Just as I was about to say thanks,
That emotionless voice gave me a completely different reason.
– Director Cheong has discovered your whereabouts.
"...!"
Excuse me, what?
– Director Cheong suspects that your disappearance was fabricated, and that you've actually been working for Director Ho since a month ago.
Goosebumps crawled down my spine.
Wait.
If she believes my disappearance itself was faked…
'Then she likely thinks I betrayed her and teamed up with Director Ho from the beginning.'
Cold sweat ran down my face.
"…Would she retaliate against me because of this misunderstanding?"
– Yes.
I swallowed hard.
– So be careful.
"Understood."
I made up my mind.
'As soon as this spy mission ends, I'm out.'
I wouldn't waste a single second.
As soon as I got that Wish Ticket, I'll bolt straight out of this damn company.
I'm gong back home!
"Thank you, sir."
I thanked him and ended the call with Assistant Manager Lee Jaheon.
Then, I saw another notification pop up on my smartphone.
[Baek Saheon: Pardon me.]
[Baek Saheon: Are you not going to buy info?]
My former company dorm roommate, who now brought me gossip and intel from said damn company.
[Baek Saheon: Do you have no need for intel?]
Hmm.
I sent a message.
[Feeling confident, are you?]
But no reply came.
Guess he doesn't have anything yet.
'Then I'll leave him alone until he's got something worth bragging about.'
Let him squirm and scrape together more intel.
'Truth is… I don't really have any items worth trading for it right now anyway…'
Not that I plan on staying broke forever.
Didn't I just say it? I'm getting prepared.
'…And I just heard something concerning too.'
– It's completely worn down.
Director Ho's ominous remark.
'If my silver ring's mental protection has run out, that's dangerous.'
Thankfully, I hadn't recently felt any desire to dive into a ghost story or bind myself to one.
'Unless I start having nightmares of going back there…'
Still, I should prepare just in case.
I briefly considered stopping by the Fox Counseling Office again, but ended up canceling the idea due to a bad feeling.
Unlike last time, I had a clear reason now.
'…It's definitely connected to Director Ho.'
It was best to avoid it for now.
And besides.
'It doesn't have to be there. A few more places are open to me now.'
That's right. I was now also an 'agent of the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau'.
With my new position, there were more places and organizations I could visit without raising suspicion.
"Let's see…"
I rested my chin on my hand.
With 10,000 welfare points, I could afford Dream Essence of A-grade or higher.
And now that I had agent status with the bureau, there was somewhere I could try.
"Hm."
I stood up from the café I'd been sitting in, pulled my hood over my head, and started walking.
Toward a ghost story's gathering place where real occult items were traded.
What I was looking for was…
'The manhole from which a human arm emerges.'
-x-X-x-
When people are in a bad mood, they tend to walk while looking down at the ground.
It's a little less common now thanks to smartphones, but in the past, it was something everyone had probably experienced at least once.
And so, everyone must have, at least once, absentmindedly yet attentively looked at this thing on the sidewalk or street.
A manhole.
That gray circle you'd see here and there along the roadside when nothing else was going on.
A maintenance passage through which workers could access underground water pipes.
Everyone knew that.
So at least once, they must have looked at that round gray manhole cover and imagined it.
Someone suddenly coming out from underneath.
Or… imagining themselves opening it and going down inside.
Of course, it wasn't something one could easily encounter in real life.
To begin with, those covers weren't something anyone could lift easily. Most of them weighed over 100 kilograms.
So usually, it was something that remained purely in the realm of imagination…
'When something you've casually imagined in everyday life actually happens in reality.'
In that moment, people couldn't help but grow curious and focus their attention.
The ghost story I was searching for began from there.
"..."
I lifted my head.
It was a dark alley.
Laughter, shouting, and music blared from nearby. The flashing lights and noise sounded close enough that I'd probably hear them clearly if I just turned the corner.
A sleepless entertainment district.
But here, in this shadowed, stagnant alley, a damp silence hung in the air.
Location of occurrence : Concrete ground near nightlife districts late at night, such as places swarming with crowds intoxicated by the excitement of bars, clubs, and college towns.
And a single streetlight lit up the dirty concrete floor of the alley.
The manhole cover was there.
In the center of that dim pool of light, just sitting there as casually as any other piece of the city's pavement, was the manhole. However, something was strange about it.
It was slightly ajar, and protruding from it was…
A human hand.
"..."
Inexplicably, an arm had slipped out through the slightly displaced manhole cover.
Five pale fingers dangled under the streetlight, gently swaying.
As though asking for help.
Previously reported arm appearances :
An elementary schooler's hand with nail art; a sanitation worker's uniform; a knitted sleeve; an old-style student uniform; a business suit; a military uniform from of the ■■ division; a wart-covered elderly hand; a ■■■ fingernail-less hand covered in ■■■ tattoos.
Ordinarily, it was such an unnatural sight that people either screamed, froze, or reported it to someone.
'But if they were drunk or swept up in the atmosphere, they might just approach without thinking.'
That was exactly what this ghost story was aiming for. To lure people in.
"..."
I slowly approached the arm sticking out of the manhole.
The fingers quivered slightly.
One step. Then another. And when there was about one body-length of distance left between us—
"Huu."
I turned around.
Then I rummaged through the backpack I was wearing, reached into a packet of salt I had brought with me, and grabbed a handful.
I threw it over my left shoulder, straight toward the manhole.
KIIIIIIIEEEEK!!
A screech erupted behind me. It was such a thunderous sound one would never believe was caused by just a bit of salt.
Then came a stench, as if something rotten was burning.
'Ugh…'
Smoke billowed up and rolled in.
But I never turned to look back.
If I just stood still right where I was…
Before long, both the sound and the stench disappeared completely.
"..."
Only then did I turn my head.
The arm was gone.
All that remained was the dark manhole, faintly illuminated by the streetlight.
And, just slightly, the cover was ajar.
'…Alright.'
Once the 'arm' is driven out using a salt offering, the manhole becomes temporarily accessible.
I stuffed salt into both side pockets and approached the manhole. The raised pattern and lettering on the manhole cover, lit by the streetlight, gradually became clearer.
Usually, the outer ring of a manhole cover displayed its purpose and destination, while the center showed the logo of the managing agency.
This manhole cover was no different. Looking closely, I could identify both its "destination" and its 'managing authority'…
Hell
鬼鬼鬼鬼鬼
This didn't lead to a sewerage.
It was an entrance to something else, somewhere else.
"…Ha."
I grabbed the lid with trembling hands and pushed.
It was heavy.
But slowly, the black manhole cover began to slide aside, revealing the pitch-dark hole beneath it…
Thunk.
Nothing could be seen below.
A deeply unpleasant void.
"..."
I double-checked that I had my gloves, mask, and hat on properly. Then, after sprinkling salt all over my body, I stepped down onto the ladder.
Tak. Ta-tak.
I grew more distant from the noise above.
Light and any sign of life faded away.
Downward. Even further down.
Alone.
'…Maybe it's scarier because I'm alone.'
A chill ran down my spine, but I grit my teeth and kept going.
I was the same person who had survived four whole days inside that insane supermarket just a few days ago…!
'I can do this.'
Clenching my jaw, I kept moving downward.
After several dozen seconds, by the time one of my gloved hands was slick with sweat…
Splosh.
My feet touched the ground.
I ignored the disgusting, squelching texture as much as possible and moved mechanically.
What lay ahead was a cramped, dark sewer where I couldn't even fully straighten my body.
Strangely, there was no light, and yet the gloomy passageway was clearly visible.
'This is seriously insane.'
Enduring the spine-prickling silence, the darkness, and the chilling stench, I pressed deeper in.
To a place so cut off that neither phone signals nor cameras would work…
And then, at some point.
'...There it is.'
I finally found it.
"Huu…"
It was a rusted door that looked like it belonged in a sewer.
A round, bulkhead-like door. It's filthy and heavy, the kind you might see in an old industrial facility.
And on it, carved in raised characters.
餓鬼
'Agwi.'
A hungry ghost tormented by starvation after falling into hell due to greed. Or, the hell where such a ghost resided.
Strangely, just to the left of that door, there was a single hole.
…From beyond it, the sound of flowing water could be heard...
"..."
I steadied my breathing, coated myself with salt once more, and gripped the rusted door's handle.
Then, holding my breath, I opened it.
Creeeeeak.
A wide, plaza-like space spread out before me.
The dome-shaped ceiling above made it look somewhat like a traditional wastewater treatment plant, but…
AAAAH!
The walls were completely covered in hands.
Dried-up hands with exposed bone.
Corpse-blue hands.
Hands tattooed with strange symbols on the backs.
Hands wearing ceremonial gloves.
Hands with manicured nails…
And every one of those hands was clutching something.
'I made it.'
The Plaza of Encounters, as recorded in the
'The Faceless Market.'
========================
Dark Exploration Record / Special Zones
[Faceless Market]
: A small-scale special zone that has branched off from a ghost story featured in the
A bizarre space that can be accessed by using the 'manhole arms', which lure people by moving between the realm of the living and the dead.
If you insert only an arm into this place, you can tempt others with whatever's in your palm, just like the 'manhole arms'.
Because it can be accessed from anywhere, and because transactions can occur without revealing one's identity, it is highly valued as an anonymous marketplace among ghost-story-related entities.
A space where factions that would never normally meet interact, giving rise to wildly unexpected combinations and dynamics that are a joy to observe.
========================
Right.
The arms installed here would react if someone approached and offered a suitable item.
In doing so, they would drop what they were holding, thus completing a barter.
What constitutes a 'suitable item' is determined by the seller's desires.
It was a bizarre marketplace that repurposed the terrifying phenomenon of ghost stories—ones where humans were lured in, had their organs harvested, and disappeared—to facilitate trade.
In the case of Daydream Inc., their tendency to attract hostility meant that if someone's affiliation to the company was exposed, they might be refused or even attacked. honestly, considering those bastards' personalities it's only to be expected anyway. kinda fun just reading about these special records tho
That's also why I had avoided coming here until now.
'I already dive headfirst into ghost stories on the regular, why add even more risk?'
It was like choosing between a verified, stable vendor like the alien shop, where you could get quality goods if you had the cash, compared to an unverified, high-risk black market where you might end up buying cursed items.
But right now… I'm completely broke.
And if something happened by chance now, I could always 'reveal' an identity that wasn't affiliated with Daydream Inc.
'Huu.'
I stepped inside, keeping in mind the kinds of restrictions typical of ghost stories.
If you remain in this space for more than two hours, the manhole arm(s) you drove away will be waiting for you in front of the door.
I had to move quickly.
Honestly, when I first read about it, it seemed more intriguing than scary. But now that I was actually here, the atmosphere was downright chilling.
'Feels like I've stepped into a horror game…'
Some unknown fluid was flowing across the floor, but I forced myself not to react and ignored it.
After all, I wasn't alone.
"..."
A few people were already wandering about this shared space at scattered intervals.
With most of them completely covered from head to toe, they moved along, checking out the arms embedded in the walls.
Occasionally, someone in ordinary clothes would stroll by openly showing their face and smiling, but I made a point of avoiding them.
'Now that's real madness.'
Let's not get involved for no reason.
I had specific trade targets in mind.
Even though everyone was technically anonymous, you could still glean which faction they belonged to.
The clue lay in the arms' appearances.
As expected in a ghost story world, the features were bizarre and unique.
If you had enough knowledge, you could identify affiliations by their sleeves, tattoos, accessories, and so on.
'Not many people have that level of knowledge, so for the most part, this place remains virtually anonymous.'
But I did have it—that knowledge.
And the person I was looking for had a particularly distinctive physical trait. Namely…
"..."
I stopped walking.
Among the alluring arms swaying with items, I spotted a dried-up hand.
A hand missing its pinky finger.
Resting on its palm wasn't an object but a scrap of paper stained with blood.
It was gripping it so tightly that I couldn't even make out the writing.
It was hard to tell whether it was actually offering something for trade or not, so no one paid it any attention.
But it was exactly what I was looking for.
'That piece of paper.'
I approached the arm and reached out my hand…
"Eyy, that one's been here for, like, five years now."
My body froze.
"You're not really familiar with how things work here, are you? These arms aren't physically waving them in real time. They're just ghostly phenomena mimicking the original."
Someone grabbed my shoulder and started chatting.
"It's not like someone's been holding out that arm for five years straight. They probably left five years ago. Or died."
The real problem was that—
"How's that?"
—it's a voice I recognized.
"..."
Instead of ripping myself free and running at full speed, I stiffly turned my head.
"Doesn't exactly look like a tempting item, right?"
Only the crescent curve of their eyes was visible above the mask.
But just from that and their voice, I could tell who it was.
I had seen that face only a few days ago.
'...Agent Choi!'
The early-era named agent who had visited my hospital room.
'W-Wait.'
He's talking to me?
Right now, I had padded the area where my right arm should've been with a mannequin prosthetic and cotton, then concealed it under a coat.
In this kind of darkness, it shouldn't be easy to tell I was missing an arm.
Of course, given that he was a veteran agent of the Disaster Management Bureau, he might pick up on it through sheer intuition and experience…
'Still though, in a ghost-story world, it wasn't exactly rare to find people missing limbs.'
But I couldn't count on that for certain.
Running away now would only make me look suspicious.
I barely managed to steady myself and looked straight at him.
There was still a chance he'd only struck up conversation to identify the item I was reaching for.
"Ah~ Want another tip? Not a lot of people know this one…"
Agent Choi glanced at the hand I'd extended toward the 'arm', then leaned in close, whispering like we were old friends.
It was…
"The veins on wrists. Turns out those are unique to each person too."
Goosebumps spread across my skin.
"They're almost like fingerprints. If you memorize someone's vein patterns, it's perfect for tracking them down. People can cover their faces, disguise their body shapes, even burn off their fingerprints… but veins? Can't exactly burn those, now can you?"
"..."
"And most people let their guard down. Think they've hidden everything."
I'm screwed.
"Hoobae-nim. What are you doing here? Or rather…"
Agent Choi beamed.
"Who told you about this place?"
I hadn't expected there to be a lunatic who could recognize someone just from the veins between their glove and sleeve.
'Agent Choi.'
And even less did I expect to be the one caught by it.
'This is driving me nuts.'
A situation that went beyond chilling, to the point that it made a person freeze.
But I couldn't afford to freeze.
I just had to show a little confusion. Anything more would look suspicious.
So…
"Sorry?"
Might as well reverse the suspicion.
Feigning nervousness, I swallowed audibly as I looked at him.
Then, like someone cornered by a street cultist, I backed away.
"I, I'm s, sorry, but… I'm here with someone."
"Huh??"
"I'll be going now."
In other words, I pretended not to recognize Agent Choi.
'A rookie agent, mentally wrecked after losing an arm, might very well fail to recognize a sunbae who visited once in the hospital just by their eyes…!'
Especially if that rookie had mustered their last bit of courage to step into a terrifying place like this ghost-story realm.
'This way, he might get flustered too and start explaining things…'
"Aigoo, alrighty. Take care~ See ya at work."
"..."
Wow, fuck.
'No way out of this.'
In the end, I opened my mouth.
As if I was speaking out of vague uncertainty upon hearing the word 'work'.
"…Um, are you… the, um. The superior I met at the hospital…"
"Oh~ Now you recognize me. Good."
Agent Choi patted my shoulder and casually tried to guide me toward the edge of the plaza. Wait, hold on…!
"Um, sorry, I was actually going to buy that…"
"Eyy, I told you already, that thing's been sitting there unsold for five years, yeah? Let's talk instead. I'm just happy to see you here. …Why's a rookie who should be in a hospital showing up in a place like this?"
"..."
Deliberately, I reached under my coat and touched the fake right arm.
I felt Agent Choi's gaze.
"…In this place, um, I heard that there might be something here that could be used temporarily to replace an arm."
"Aha~ And who told you that? Jaekwan?"
"I can't say, sir."
It's a trap!
Dropping a name just like that would scream 'I'm lying through my teeth to get out of this.'
It also didn't fit the persona I'd been building back at the bureau. That would've been pathetic.
"Loyal, huh."
As expected, Agent Choi chuckled and gave me another pat on the shoulder.
So this approach was working after all…
"Or maybe you figured I'd see through a made-up name right away."
"..."
"Isn't that right? Uhahaha!"
Aaaaack!!
"It's fine. What agent doesn't have secrets? Maybe there's a reason you can't say."
"..."
"Let's see… you were trying to buy that, right? Mind if I take a look?"
Agent Choi turned his attention to the arm I'd been about to make a deal with.
A hand missing its pinky finger, clutching a bloodstained, crumpled scrap of paper.
"But that doesn't really look like an item linked to the arm itself."
"..."
"Why were you trying to buy it? I don't get it."
Shit.
In that case!
"…Because, um."
"Ohh?"
I lowered my head.
"…It looks desperate."
"..."
"It's gripping that paper so tightly, and there's blood on it, so… I thought maybe the hand's owner was holding onto some kind of distress message."
It's the truth.
Not right now, but that had been my theory when I first read the entry about this arm in the
Either way, Agent Choi didn't respond for a moment.
Now's my chance. Time to explain…!
"I didn't know it had been here for five years, though…"
"Hoobae-nim, let's think about it for a sec."
Agent Choi placed a hand on my shoulder and gently turned me around.
From the front, the wall of the plaza came into view, covered in undulating, grotesque arms.
"Does this really seem like the kind of place where someone would be sending a distress signal?"
"..."
"Everyone here came voluntarily into this bizarre space to sell things. Doesn't seem like a likely setting for someone in need of rescue, does it?"
That's…
"Seems like we can pass on this one then, yeah?"
…not something Agent Choi would normally say.
That is, not the Agent Choi I knew from the Dark Exploration Records.
'He was the type who would do anything to save even just one more person.'
Agent Choi was a named character of the wiki's early-era.
And in the founding days of the
To enhance immersion and narrative cohesion, additional settings were added for tonal consistency and ease of story progression.
The Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau prioritizes the lives of its agents above all else during all operations.
Moreover, they placed more weight on ending the ghost story itself than on rescuing civilians. Thus, occasional civilian casualties were an acceptable risk.
But Agent Choi had been a named character before those worldbuilding details were added.
Naturally, that meant he was the type of agent who pushed himself to the limit to save every last civilian.
In the process, he used underhanded or clever tactics, gained various abilities and items… but his essence had never changed.
Not until he was presumed dead after going missing during the Looky Mart incident.
"..."
As expected.
Looks like I can go through with this.
"Still, I'd like to try, sir."
"…?!"
I suddenly pulled out the item I had prepared and reached out—
Toward the hand missing its pinky finger.
"That arm doesn't even do trades—"
Whip—
The arm lunged out aggressively.
"…!"
And then a crunching sound came, as if the hand without a pinky swallowed the item I had offered.
In return, the bloodstained, crumpled scrap of paper it had been holding dropped to the filthy floor, and I barely managed to catch it.
-x-X-x-
Meanwhile, Agent Choi narrowed his eyes as he caught a glimpse of the item I'd handed over.
"…A coin?"
"Oh, it's not just a regular coin… I, uh, got it from another ghost story."
That part was true.
Though the fact that the ghost story was a custom equipment line from Daydream Inc.—a Twilight-grade ghost story called the 'Kind Seed Kit'—was a secret.
Right.
That coin was the first custom equipment I ever created at the Field Exploration Team.
'The Third Hand…!'
A coin-shaped item that could summon a phantom hand in midair.
Given the nature of this arm, the required item was blatantly obvious.
It had to be something from a ghost story originally developed, contained, and utilized in Daydream Inc.'s early days.
It had to be this.
But because Daydream Inc. employees were essentially blacklisted from this marketplace, the trade had failed to go through for five years and had just been left there, untouched.
'Got it.'
Gripping the scrap of paper, I felt a small but thrilling sense of accomplishment.
And it's not that I had rashly sacrificed my custom equipment. I've got plans to retrieve it later.
Right now, the priority was Agent Choi.
I gave the excuse I'd thought up.
"I figured currency would be immediately useful in a ghost story… I, uh, just remembered what happened at the supermarket."
For reference, the Looky Mart's vouchers had vanished the moment I left the store, balance and all. That ghost story supermarket really was run by vicious scoundrels.
Anyway, I thought that came off suitably rookie-like.
It probably looked like I didn't realize different ghost stories use different currencies and just gave it a shot.
And luckily, it worked.
Time to stick with that meta.
"Hmm… Hoobae-nim. That arm's been left untouched for five years—didn't it occur to you that any emergency might already be over?"
"Even so… the arm was still there, sir."
I finally gave a small smile.
"I figured… if a barter was accepted, that meant there had to be someone on the other end ready to take it. Um, well, it's just a theory, and I could be wrong."
"..."
Agent Choi stared at me for a moment, then—
"Ah~ I really like this!"
"…?!"
"Khheuu, right. This is it! Hard to find someone who actually uses their head and imagines things with internal logic!"
He ruffled my hat-covered hair. Aack!!
Then, lowering his voice so others wouldn't hear, he spoke quietly.
"As I thought…"
As you thought?
"You really should join our Turtle-Snake Team 1."
"I apologize, sir."
"Hiing."
I was seriously fed up…
Still, at least I seem to have avoided suspicion for now…
"But didn't you say you're too scared to join the Dispatch & Rescue Unit? And yet you've got the guts to come into a dangerous place like this alone?"
"..."
"Then… maybe you can survive in Turtle-Snake Team 1, huh?"
Damn it.
Was that a threat? Join if you don't want to be suspected?
My head was spinning.
But then, the next words came.
"That fear of yours in the first place. Honestly, it's probably just a hallucination brought on by overexertion during your first mission…"
I exploded.
"No, I'm scared to death! I'm really scared!!"
"…?!"
"But I have no choice but to endure it, right?! I can't just say I'm too scared to do anything! I'm a rookie!"
At this moment…
Act or die!!
"Of course I'm scared of not having an arm! I was terrified something might go wrong, but I still came all the way here!"
I practically coughed up blood as I shouted.
It was partly intentional, but as the resentment that had built up from working at a certain insane ghost-story pharmaceutical company burst out, I genuinely felt wronged.
…Agent Choi was staring at me, mouth open.
"S-Sorry?"
"..."
"Alright, alright. Hoobae-nim, congrats on your first trade, and um… Right, the note! Gotta check the note, right? How about it?"
"...Yes, sir."
I took a deep breath.
Still, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been in a situation where I could speak this honestly… in that sense, it felt a little refreshing.
Surely, even after all that, he wouldn't try to drag me into the Dispatch & Rescue Unit… please.
"I apologize for yelling, sir."
"Eyy, don't worry. You're not the only one doing crazy stuff around here. Think of it as a good 3-second spotlight."
So I looked that unhinged, huh. Good to know…
I let out a sigh.
"I, um… It's been a long time since I shouted like that."
"Aigoo, guess your place doesn't have good soundproofing, huh?"
"No. I… don't have a place to go home to right now."
"..."
"I'd like to have one, though."
"Okay."
Huu.
I finally calmed my breathing and opened the note in my hand.
'Feels like Agent Choi suddenly went quiet.'
Still, since he wasn't provoking me anymore, it was better this way.
I turned my attention back to the note.
The blood-soaked scrap of paper I carefully unfolded with one hand had—
Dried letters, written in smeared blood.
LOOK HERE
THAT WHICH RESPONDS TO EMPATHY AND ATTENTION
THERE IS A TOY
The dried, crusted blood that stained the entire page had caused the letters themselves to blur and run…
'Ha.'
It looked like a prop straight out of a horror movie. I wanted to throw it away right then, but.
"Wait a sec."
Agent Choi casually took the note from my hand.
I didn't stop him on purpose.
Agent Choi began inspecting it using something like a strange form of dowsing.
That was a Disaster Management Bureau-issued tool too.
Tracking Rod
: A curved stick made of glass and brass.
When placed over a substance derived from a ghost story or a medium that triggers a paranormal phenomenon, it spins in place.
But the rod showed no reaction at all to the note I'd just bought.
"Hmm, no mysterious response. Just an ordinary note. The message though…"
Agent Choi chuckled.
"Looks like it's meant to lure people in through a ghost story, huh?"
"That could be the case."
Still, I took the note back from Agent Choi and held onto it.
"Oh~ you're keeping it?"
"Yes."
I lowered my head, slightly embarrassed.
"There might really be a hidden distress call in it somewhere… I figured I'd at least take it and check it out myself."
"..."
Agent Choi didn't ask why I wasn't reporting it to my superiors, either.
The Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau wasn't the kind of organization that had the luxury to leisurely analyze a mysterious note left behind by some unknown person after five years of abandonment.
There were way too many ghost stories out there currently killing people.
Even a brand-new rookie would know that vague cases like this would always be deprioritized.
Agent Choi himself had literally just said so.
Still… I made one last move.
After hesitating, I held the note back out to him.
"Um, sunbae-nim, if you happen to have time later… would you mind checking it just one more time…?"
"…!"
Truth was, as long as I memorized the contents, the note itself wasn't essential.
And because of its nature, there was no issue entrusting it to a bureau agent capable of identifying ghost stories.
"Sure. I'll take another look."
"Ah, thank you, sir…!"
I handed it over without hesitation. Hopefully, this would move me further out of the circle of suspicion.
After that, the atmosphere between us softened a bit.
"Not bad, right?"
"Yes. Thank you…"
Under Agent Choi's watch, I barely managed to acquire one of the items I'd wanted to buy.
That was rough.
Not just because of the surveillance. Choosing the item itself was hard too.
Most of what you could get here came from standard ghost story settings.
Which meant, these weren't items refined by a major corporation or filtered for customer safety by aliens.
They come with horrific side effects.
That was the premise.
They weren't objects made for humans to use conveniently in the first place.
And plenty of the sellers weren't in their right mind either, so the things they offered often weren't sane, either…
What was surprising was that Agent Choi wasn't just supervising—he genuinely tried to help me.
"This place is exactly like Hanyang. [1] The kind where you get robbed in broad daylight, you know? If you watch how your sunbae-nim does it and follow along…"
…Didn't always work, of course.
"…Someone already bought it."
"..."
"N-No worries! The next one's good too! Onward to the next arm~"
Still, true to his veteran status, he knew the origin or specific side effects of items I didn't, and helped me make careful 'purchases'.
Yeah. That was all great, but.
He made me buy something he knew.
In the end, he guided my actions under his control.
Whether that was a strong sign of suspicion or genuine concern… even I, who'd tracked Agent Choi's entire history in the
'Honestly though, I was pretty much playing into it since I'd wanted that item anyway…'
The scary part was that, even if he hadn't guided me, I probably would've ended up buying it while crying inside.
I touched the item in my pocket and let out a sigh.
'Huu…'
Agent Choi stayed with me until right before his time limit ran out, and even saw me off afterward.
Waving the piece of paper I'd bought as he did.
"Then I'll take another look at this note and return it to you later, okay?"
"Yes. Thank you…"
Honestly, there was no need for him to return it. I'd already memorized it.
And there wasn't even a point in him checking it either.
Because…
That note wasn't related to any ghost story to begin with.
'A psychological trap.'
Because it was a marketplace frequented by ghost-story-related figures, of course you'd assume any message was ghost-related.
But it wasn't.
If anything… yeah.
It's a 'legacy'.
* * *
Let's go back to that note again.
The 'here' that was mentioned referred to an actual location in the real world.
In other words, a 'location'.
And the next line…
공감하고 주목하는
장난감이 있다
The grammar was strange, the phrasing unnatural.
It had clearly been forced together.
'So let's break it apart.'
What's left would be…
공감하고 주목하는
장난감이 있다
Three words.
And if you have three words and a 'location', it's the perfect hint for deduction.
Like the address system 'what3words', which expresses a 3mX3m location with three words. [2]
'If I plug those words into a search…'
Immediately, a small location in the old city center of Seoul comes up.
And I'm standing there now.
"..."
The word coordinates pointed to a location that slightly veered off from the building itself, spot tucked awkwardly between a cluster of small commercial buildings.
And what was there was…
A manhole.
More precisely, an old manhole cover propped up next to the wall of a vacant unit.
As if someone had just leaned it there.
As if to hint at something.
"..."
I pushed the manhole cover.
Creeeaak.
Surprisingly, it moved more easily than expected. And behind it…
A stairwell leading down to a semi-basement.
"..."
A hidden place.
Why did the hand without a pinky finger lead me here?
And why did it only accept items from the early days of Daydream Inc. as payment?
It was simple.
Because it was connected to Daydream Inc.
'Huu.'
I descended all the way down the stairs and looked up.
[Dream Incubation Room]
Daydream Inc.'s Dream Essence Synthesizer.
The prototype laboratory, built long ago, now stood revealed before my eyes.
Note/s:
[1] Hanyang : What Seoul was called during the Joseon period. ↩
[2] what3words : Check out what3words.com if you wanna see the location~ ///공감.주목.장난감 ↩
-x-X-x-
Daydream Inc.
A pharmaceutical company known for the improbable achievement of mass-producing potions with wish-granting properties.
The raw materials consist of ghost stories.
...That was all the
Because there were no detailed explanations, it sparked more imagination. The bizarre technology, the mystique, the cruelty, the blanks. All of it felt chilling.
But as the wiki grew, so did the breadcrumbs.
'Backstories started getting attached.'
Of course, even Daydream Inc. couldn't have just fallen out of the sky with perfect, unknown pharmaceutical tech.
Even if it seemed that way on the surface, digging deeper should allow you to deduce its origins and history… because that's what made it exciting and fun.
Eventually, as time passed, meaningful exploration logs were added here and there throughout the Dark Exploration Records, and readers began forming and theorizing several conspiracies about Daydream Inc.
—What even is Daydream Inc.?
And the place I had just visited… was evidence for Conspiracy Theory No. 2.
Conspiracy Theory No. 2 : Daydream Inc. was not originally a pharmaceutical company.
The original source of Daydream Inc.'s pharmaceutical technology.
"…Huu."
I swallowed hard and began to look around the Dream Incubation Room.
The dust-covered lab looked like a disused school science room, or a decrepit lab abandoned after the end of the world.
Everything looked dead.
Worktables and experimental equipment.
Beakers and cabinets filled with unidentified liquids.
And… a massive device at the center.
"..."
The lights were off, and beneath an empty glass tube sat a button panel and keyboard was an old-style experimental machine straight out of the 2000s.
Dream Incubator
And beside it was an experimental logbook.
It was the same one mentioned in the exploration records.
I opened the worn pages and began to read it.
Every single page.
All the clean handwriting that must have once filled the log had been deliberately and thoroughly obliterated.
Filth, blood, ink, and pencil markings covered every surface, drenched in cramped scribbles of madness and screams…
"Uurp."
I dropped the logbook like I was throwing it away and gasped for breath.
'I thought I could handle it.'
I couldn't.
You'd think that I would at least try to restore the text buried below, but I gave up right away. And it wasn't because this was some plot device like in the
It was simply unbearable.
"..."
I remembered now.
These were the responses provided by an employee who, by sheer accident, succeeded in conducting trades in the 'Faceless Market'—an underground exchange located within a manhole—without disclosing his employment status, during the company's internal interrogation.
Assistant Manager ■■■ : Yes! I was the one who discovered it. The machine looked old, but it still seemed to function properly. There also seemed to have been classified documents on Dream Essence potions and a few certain Darknesses. I was afraid it might fall into outsider hands, so I quickly… pardon?
Assistant Manager ■■■ : ...You're saying that facility doesn't belong to our company? …Wait, so it wasn't contaminated by a Darkness, but it's because the company... W-Wait, why are you pointing that at m—
…That record ended with the company successfully 'cleaning up' the anonymous employee.
"..."
A chill crawled down my spine.
Something ominous was hanging in the silence of the lab. I wanted to turn around and run out of there right away…
'No!!'
Time to move to the next step.
Gritting my teeth, I looked behind the machine.
There was a standard office desk with a data-entry PC, and beneath the chair… something heavy had rolled onto the floor.
A corpse.
I already knew, but I still gasped.
The body, as if it had just fallen from the desk, was dried up and lifeless like it had died long ago, which somehow made it even more disturbing.
But I understood what had happened.
Analysis results indicated that the body's motor functions had ceased five years prior.
Given the circumstances, it is presumed that only vital signs were somehow sustained.
It was the final researcher of this incubator, forcibly kept alive until the note at the Faceless Market was passed to someone else.
The owner of the hand I had traded with.
"..."
From the corpse's left hand, which was missing its pinky finger, I retrieved the custom equipment coin I'd paid with.
Then, I carefully picked up the card key hanging around its neck.
Researcher Yoo Kwe
■■■
Scrawled in ruined ballpoint ink above the smudged-out name was a phrase: 'Can't let them find out.'
But I could still make out the first syllables of the name.
"…Yoo Kwe?"
Something flashed through my mind reflexively, But I pushed it down, for now.
"…Huu."
If I searched this space further, I felt like I might uncover more of Daydream Inc.'s hidden backstory or origins.
'But who knows what might jump out…'
Even just the lab journal from earlier had given me a weird feeling.
'For now, I'll only touch what's already been verified.'
I returned to the central device labeled 'Dream Incubator'.
While there were no detailed operation logs in the
All that remained was to piece together what was needed.
"Huu."
First, I picked up the card key I had retrieved from the dead researcher.
Then, feeling along the surface of the 'Dream Incubator', I found a slot located on the outer front panel.
'Here, maybe.'
I inserted the card key into the slot.
Ziiiiing—
"…!"
The machine lit up with red and blue lights.
A huge experimental device glowing as if it were the only living thing in this decrepit old lab.
And then, The glass tube mounted at the top.
'Is something inside?'
There seemed to be some kind of round object set at the center of the glass chamber.
'That might be the core component.'
In any case, the Dream Incubator had successfully reactivated.
Along with a number displayed on a small panel next to the glass tube.
DE 0000000
Time for the next step.
I opened a valve at the end of a small pipe connected to the side of the glass tube.
Inside, there was an oddly shaped recess.
'…This is it.'
I reached into my coat and pulled out the item I had prepared, Something I'd held onto ever since pulling it from a merch box, never able to use it no matter the situation.
It was said to lose its effectiveness if exposed to air due to oxidation, so I hadn't even dared to touch it.
—Dream Essence, A-grade or higher.
A shimmering golden potion, like a hologram, contained within a Dream Essence Collector designed for Daydream Inc.'s elite teams.
…I could finally use it what I had charged up during my escape from Braun's Late-Night Talk Show.
I fit the sharp end of the collector into the recess on the end of the pipe.
Thunk.
It clicked in perfectly, almost like a lie.
And then… the essence began to flow in.
"…!"
The dazzling, prismatic fluid filled the pipe and began to pour into the transparent glass chamber. It was almost overwhelming to look at.
'Was it really that much?'
From what I remembered, it had only been stored in a palm-sized cylinder. Yet somehow, it filled a quarter of the chamber with a soft swish.
As the golden glow filled the glass, the object inside briefly revealed its silhouette.
'…An egg?'
Something scarlet, the size of five chicken eggs.
It seemed to pulse, and inside, a strange form flickered for a moment.
But then it was completely submerged in the luminous liquid, vanishing from view.
And then…
DE 0000001
The number on the panel increased.
Accompanied by the hum of machinery, the number rapidly climbed…
DE 00158313
And stopped there.
"Huu."
Success.
'I've charged the Dream Essence into the machine…!'
The number, oddly reminiscent of welfare points, made me wonder. Could Daydream Inc.'s entire point system have originated from this?
Not that it mattered now.
What mattered was that everything had gone exactly as I'd planned.
All that was left was to use it.
"..."
I turned my attention to the buttons below the panel.
…They were emojis.
🥰🥸🤯🧐🤪🥱
Out of the dozens available, only these few were properly lit.
'Maybe I don't have enough materials?'
Or maybe it was a limitation of the machine itself, I couldn't be sure.
Either way, I thought carefully and clicked the one that seemed the safest and most useful.
🥰🥸🤯🧐🤪🥱
The 'observant' emoji with a silly face.
The button lit up…
DE 00158313
DE 00148313
The number decreased, and the machine activated.
Oooooong!
With a motor-like sound, the liquid inside the glass chamber was sucked downward.
The vibrations of the machine made my whole body tremble slightly, and then…
Clunk.
The lower section of the machine opened, and a cylindrical, transparent glass bottle emerged.
"...!!"
I picked it up with a trembling hand.
A bright purple liquid, shimmering with an eerie radiance, swirled inside the bottle.
Even the label was printed on graph paper.
Detective Syrup for Kids
(Cherry Flavor)
★★★
A familiar color.
And just from the emoji and name, I could guess, Daydream Inc.'s detection potion…!
Detection Potion
: When consumed, it illuminates what you need most at the present moment.
Judging from the color, it looked to be at least C-grade.
The name was different, but I was sure the effect would be similar.
But what made it even more interesting was this…
'This potion was discontinued.'
Right.
It was a potion no longer produced by Daydream Inc. Naturally, that meant it was also unavailable for purchase through the employee welfare mall.
At this point, it might very well be an item that can only be obtained through this prototype device…!
'I definitely charged over 150,000 points into it.'
Since this potion had consumed 10,000 points, I could try pressing all the remaining emoji buttons.
'Alright, then next I'll—'
At that moment.
The panel's display changed.
06 / 23:59:54
And the entire lighting of the 'Dream Incubator' dimmed, as if entering a power-saving mode.
'…A cooldown countdown?'
Usable once per week.
A limitation befitting a prototype.
"Huu."
Honestly, it was a relief. If I'd gotten too excited and started pressing buttons at random, I might have wasted all that precious Dream Essence I'd just charged.
'Let's think it through a bit more.'
I decided to examine the powered-down machine more closely.
Outwardly, it was a dull, ordinary hunk of metal, so I focused on the user interface instead.
Especially the buttons.
'Each of these must correspond to a potion.'
I looked through the emojis. A mask, a demon, a thermometer, money, and other various icons. I could guess how these would match specific Daydream Inc. potions.
Except for one thing.
'…I don't see one that looks like a Wish Ticket.'
Of course.
The emoji resembling the quintessential potion—the one considered the very core of Daydream Inc.—was nowhere to be found.
'…Maybe this?'
I noticed a strange trace at the very bottom.
◎
It looked like the space where a button used to be had been forcibly gouged out.
"…Can't say for sure."
The ghost-story setting wasn't forgiving enough to go poking around based on hopeful speculation.
'…Maybe another employee could figure something out?'
If I brought someone who'd been at the company longer than me, I might be able to safely uncover more hints here.
Of course, sharing unnecessary secrets might put both of us in danger…
'Still, there might be someone who wouldn't care about that.'
I thought about a few candidates, then stopped myself.
Now that I'd taken on the role of a corporate spy, that kind of move was out of the question. And in any case, by the time this whole spy job was over, I'd already have the Wish Ticket in hand.
'Put it on hold.'
For now, I could be satisfied with the fact that I'd secured a personal use for the Dream Essence.
I packed the 'Detective Syrup for Kids' and stepped outside.
"Huu."
The yield was big, so I didn't feel too bad.
But as I looked back at the manhole cover, I started to feel a bit uneasy.
Agent Choi had taken the note.
'Could he deduce the location like I did and show up?'
Or maybe he was already tracking my movements?
But there was no way to trace which manhole I'd exited from, and even if he had the note, it would be hard to break the code while stuck in the mindset of 'this is obviously ghost-story related'.
Even in the
And that was purely by chance.
'If your thought process is stuck in this must be ghost-related, then… yeah, it's inevitable.'
Still, just in case, I decided to take a temporary precaution.
"I think this'll do."
After taking a 3,000-point potion I'd purchased from the welfare mall, I closed the manhole cover.
Gatekeeper Potion
: The first door you close after taking this potion can only be opened by someone to whom you personally disclose the door's location.
I think it was also called the Secret Potion.
It vaguely reminded me of something Director Ho had done, which annoyed me a little. But the relief outweighed the discomfort.
"Alright."
There weren't any ridiculous worldbuilding elements like 'Daydream Inc. tracks all potion usage locations,' so this was enough to feel moderately safe.
Now all that was left… was to return to the bureau and enter another ghost story, huh?
I dragged my feet on the way back to the hospital room, grumbling to myself.
'My life, seriously…'
Still, from now on there'd be a bonus income from going into ghost stories.
Since I could collect Dream Essence.
Not to hand over to the company, but for my own use!
"Let's hang in there."
I gave the elite-team Dream Essence collector, soon to be in use again, a quick pat, and successfully returned to my hospital room.
* * *
A few days later.
"…You've done well."
"N-No, not at all."
I was finally discharged and returned to temporary agent duties.
"As mentioned before, you've been assigned to a general operations role, not to the Dispatch & Rescue Unit."
Thank you…!
I almost cried while listening to Agent Bronze's briefing.
"…This time, the work won't be as dangerous. Civilian rescues are already completed, and you'll just be wrapping things up on site."
Everything was beautiful.
Yeah, people need to do some low-stress jobs from time to time…
"For this assignment, all you need to do is drive at 2 a.m. with a ghost in the passenger seat."
"..."
Excuse me, what?
I had already experienced it firsthand several times before, how most of the ghost stories handled by the Disaster Management Bureau result in fatalities.
Because for something to be registered as a supernatural disaster, there must be human casualties.
In that sense, tasks that allow you to act as a bureau agent while staying a step removed from actual harm… can seem very appealing.
I mean, I get it. But still.
"Wait, so… I'm supposed to drive at an ungodly hour… with a ghost in the passenger seat?"
"Yes."
"..."
You've got to be kidding me.
"Don't worry. No driver has ever died."
"..."
"At worst, there have been mild heart attacks or brief loss of consciousness. You won't need any major mental preparation."
Oh, I will, actually.
I almost turned to stare at Agent Bronze in betrayal and disbelief, but managed to hold it in.
'Wait a second.'
…If I blatantly say I'm scared right now, won't I just be told to quit?
I already complained once to get out of the Dispatch & Rescue Unit.
If I do it again, Agent Bronze—who already seems a bit awkward around me—might just sigh in relief and encourage me to switch careers altogether.
'No way!'
That'd be the worst possible route for a spy.
So I changed strategies.
"Um, but… I'm not in a condition to drive."
"..."
Lowering my head and playing the part of the pitiful rookie, I glanced at my empty right arm.
Yes.
'They wouldn't actually make someone drive with one arm… right?!'
Unless someone had trained that way from the start, how the hell is a person supposed to drive with a ghost, at 2 a.m., after suddenly losing an arm?!
This should naturally get me reassigned to something else, but…
"That won't be an issue."
...
"Pardon me?"
Agent Bronze looked at me with a faint smile—the first I'd seen in days.
"It's time you receive treatment for your arm."
Ah.
* * *
Thinking about it now, it made perfect sense.
The bureau wasn't stupid enough to just throw someone with one arm behind the wheel.
Before starting this task, it was only natural they'd do something about my missing right arm.
'Should I laugh or cry?'
Honestly, I kinda wanna cry.
Thanks to that, though, I finally got to enter the main facilities of the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau with Agent Bronze.
'I can't believe I'm actually getting to do this.'
"This way."
"Yes…!"
I followed Agent Bronze, not into the bustling city hall where civil servants were hard at work, but instead around the back, down the narrow alley between City Hall and the Seoul Library.
The shadows of both buildings made the path dim.
As we walked past the unmanned library book return kiosk at the rear of the Seoul Library…
'Here.'
A glass walkway connecting the two buildings stretched overhead.
Stepping beneath that bridge…
Shiiing.
The metal badge I wore gleamed and reflected faintly onto the narrow flowerbed beneath the library window.
And then, a door that had not been visible revealed itself.
"…!!"
The flowerbed widened and deepened, and a hidden space emerged. A clean, opaque glass door with a nameplate.
[ Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau ]
"Please enter."
And so, in the narrow path between Seoul City Hall and the Seoul Library—where countless pedestrians passed by without noticing, we entered the hidden headquarters of the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau through that secret door.
For the record, it was an automatic door.
'Whoa.'
And inside… surprisingly, it looked just like a typical government office.
A slightly aged interior, with people of various ages in business attire walking around doing their jobs.
Though, the conversations being exchanged were anything but ordinary.
"How many people died?"
"Fifteen."
"What the hell's going on at Dobong District lately? That damn haunted phone booth just won't stop…"
Everyone was moving in a hurry.
And occasionally, strange lights or shadows followed behind them, Perfectly capturing the eerie public-institution atmosphere of this ghost story world.
"The bureau's main facilities are located underground. They say it's much harder to hide things above ground."
"I see…"
I stepped into the elevator with Agent Bronze.
It looked like a typical, moderately outdated modern elevator, But instead of buttons for floors, there was a keypad input system.
'Probably so people can't easily tell how many underground floors there are…'
[07]
Agent Bronze quickly entered the code.
"The Equipment Management Unit is on B7."
We got off at Basement Level 7, which had the exact same layout as B1, and went straight to the door at the end of the hall.
[Supernatural Equipment Registration Room]
As we entered, a middle-aged civil servant seated alone in the small office looked up and greeted us with recognition.
"Ah, Agent Bronze! Just in time, the senior in your team was asking… Oh, is this the new recruit?"
"…Yes. That's right."
"Hello…! I go by Agent Grapes..."
"Ahaha, I see. Nice to meet you! I'm Oh Jeong-hye, administrative officer in the Equipment Management Division. I'm not a field agent, so I don't have a codename."
The middle-aged officer smiled and led me and Agent Bronze deeper inside.
She opened a door that looked like a display case made of old wood in a deep hue… revealing shelves stretching far inward like a warehouse.
"…!"
"Now then, what you'll be issued today, Agent Grapes…"
Her voice gradually faded behind me, and the warehouse ahead grew darker.
"This one!"
Twinkle.
Something glinted, like moonlight hitting glass.
I looked at the item on the nearest shelf.
A worn and cracked glass lantern.
But so delicately crafted that light shimmered through the fine glasswork.
And at its center, a pale blue flame flickered wildly as if it had noticed me.
"This dokkaebi flame just came in today. It's full of energy! Says it's super excited to help you."
Oh my god.
This turned out to be the coolest, most anticipated method possible.
========================
Dark Exploration Records / Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau
/ Items
Dokkaebi Flame Lantern
A glass lantern imbued with a will-o'-wisp, consecrated with sacred energy over a hundred days.
Usually inhabited by a mischievous yet kind spirit, the wisp cools itself and trains while residing within.
The item adapts to the user and follows them as a natural accessory, sometimes even serving as a substitute limb.
When compatibility is high, the user can access several of the dokkaebi flame's playful tricks.
Usage Condition : Available only to Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau civil servants who have received authorization for its use.
========================
"Would you like to try it now?"
With a trembling left hand, I carefully accepted the glass lantern.
In that moment, the glass collapsed.
"...!"
The shattered transparent lantern reassembled my missing right arm with a crisp sound, like piecing together ice shards.
Then, as the dokkaebi flame enveloped it…
"It worked!"
…my arm transformed into a normal, intact one.
I moved it.
…It responded perfectly.
No pain at all.
'Wow.'
Of all phenomena categorized as ghost stories, this one was among the warmest and most comforting I'd ever encountered.
It feels more like something from a folktale or legend.
I flexed my right hand. It moved by my will but still felt strangely cool and soft.
Then, suddenly, my right thumb shot up on its own.
"…?!"
"Ah, it's got a bit of a mischievous streak. But that'll probably help you on the job. Haha!"
"…Yes, ma'am."
So this is what even civil servants become like after being immersed in the ghost story world…
And so, I filled the void of my right arm with the spiritual energy of a dokkaebi flame.
Of course, it wasn't permanent.
"We didn't personalize it with your birth sign or perform a dedicated consecration ritual, so it'll revert to a lantern after three days. When that happens, just come back for a recharge."
Yeah, I figured as much. They wouldn't hand over a custom-made, official dokkaebi flame lantern to a rookie right off the bat.
What I got was probably more like a shared, general-purpose item than the real thing that lets you use proper dokkaebi tricks.
'If they handed these out freely, the bureau would be OP and collapse the balance in the Dark Exploration Records.'
"You must want a custom version made, right? That requires a full consecration ritual, which you can't get with this temporary issue. You'd have to pass a dokkaebi's trials, too… Goodness, it's powerful but no easy task."
That kind of treatment was reserved for aces or team leaders within the bureau anyway.
'Having a reason to use a healing potion mid-mission will be helpful, though.'
At any rate, I bowed my head and thanked the two supervising officers who helped me complete the issuance paperwork.
"Thank you very much."
"Oh, no need for that."
And the administrative officer from the Equipment Management Division gave me a tip with a wink over her glasses.
"Agent Bronze has never gone this far to take care of a rookie before."
"…!"
"He always works himself to the bone without showing it. He's admirable, but sometimes it's a bit sad to watch… I'm glad to see he's getting along well with you."
"Ah, thank… you."
"Don't mention it."
…Whether we were really getting along or not, I wasn't sure. But after spending time with him today, he definitely seemed more courteous and attentive than I'd expected.
Maybe he'd had time to sort out his thoughts while I was hospitalized?
'Maybe he decided he should treat me decently, even if it's uncomfortable, since he kind of owes me his life.'
Either way, I was genuinely grateful.
On our way back, Agent Bronze had said this to me.
– It may take time, but someday… let's find you a personalized dokkaebi flame of your own, too.
– …Thank you, sir.
It was honestly kind of fascinating. I couldn't help but wonder what form mine would take.
'If I can use a dokkaebi's tricks too, escaping ghost stories might become way easier.'
Of course, the odds of that happening were low. My spy assignment would likely end before then. And frankly, it'd be better for me if it did. But it was still a fun thought.
…Even if it felt extremely strange to have a right arm that wasn't really mine.
...And even if I was now stuck waiting until dawn to serve as a ghost's personal cabbie.
'Save me.'
I endured the wait in silence, suppressing my groan.
Now that I had both arms, I couldn't wheedle myself out of driving.
'Guh, hiic…'
Time passed mercilessly, and at last… the moment came.
2:00 a.m.
Darkness loomed over the Express Bus Terminal Station.
Of course, it also had to be drizzling.
The regular operation hours of public transportation had long since ended, the crowds had vanished, and silence settled in.
Only a few taxis like mine were parked in a row, taking advantage of the night surcharge and the absence of other transport options.
"..."
I gripped the steering wheel tightly.
Three civilians were trapped and unable to escape after seeing a ghost in the restroom near Express Bus Terminal Station. At around 12:45 a.m., they were safely rescued and returned to reality.
Now, if the ghost is safely returned to its original location, the supernatural phenomenon will conclude.
And the person tasked with 'safely returning the ghost to its original location'… was me.
'Agent Bronze said he'll be waiting at the destination.'
Huu…
Alone in the silent car, I took a deep breath.
Although the ghost has already lost its chosen offering, it cannot cause direct harm to the driver. However, various strange phenomena may occur inside the vehicle. Do not panic and respond calmly.
Now, let me explain the vehicle assigned to you.
And that's how I ended up in this four-seater taxi with at least two number 8s on its license plate.
As I was sitting in that very car, I could barely hold it together behind the wheel.
The ghost will check the license plate at the taxi stand, then board the vehicle assigned to you.
Eventually.
From the looming darkness outside, a long-haired figure appeared, peering into the windshield.
She was… bowing her head low, staring at the license plate.
"…!"
I tried my hardest to keep my hands from shaking on the wheel, pretending to stay calm.
If the driver shows signs of agitation, the ghost may leave the taxi.
In that case, the Disaster will not conclude. Please be careful.
The long-haired silhouette staggered oddly toward the passenger side.
Then—
Knock, knock.
I unlocked the door.
A person with her face nearly hidden by their long hair and dressed in a faded, seasonally inappropriate summer outfit got in.
As they entered, they mumbled,
"Please take me to Sajiyuk Cemetery…"
Click.
The passenger door closed.
"Understood."
"This car's number is nice. The number is… goodeighteighteighteighteighteighteighteightgoodeighteighteighteight…"
I nearly passed out.
"Is that so."
Doing my best to sound composed, I tapped the destination into the navigation system.
Sajiyuk… Ceme…tery…
– Search complete.
A location with a name too strange to be real was, shockingly, found. The GPS began guiding the route.
– Estimated arrival time: 4:04 a.m.
"..."
Two hours.
I barely pressed down on the pedal.
The car started moving, leaving the Express Bus Terminal behind…
Vrrrrrrr…
The engine was the only sound left in the car.
Now I had to sit in this cramped space with a ghost for the next two hours.
While driving. Without getting into an accident.
"..."
"..."
A strange chill crept through the car.
The plaster air freshener on the dashboard swayed, but instead of a floral scent, it gave off something else.
The smell of something burning.
Suffocating silence.
– Turn left in 200 meters.
My hands on the wheel almost twitched.
Even the emotionless voice of the navigation system sent shivers down my spine.
"..."
I did my best not to let my emotions show. More precisely, not to look to my side.
But the less I looked, the more terrifying it became. Sweat gathered on my palms, and I couldn't focus properly on the dark road ahead.
Maybe it would be better to just look! Not knowing just made it worse! The imagination, the pressure… it's unbearable!
'Just a little, just a little.'
"..."
I glanced at the passenger seat.
The long-haired woman was sitting quietly…
With her neck was twisted around.
"I can't breathe."
I focused on the steering wheel.
"Something's chasing us!"
Eyes fixed on the road.
Cold sweat clung to the back of my neck.
I couldn't stop picturing what I had just seen. Her head completely twisted, her face crushed against the headrest, only the back of her head visible under all that black hair…
"Hey! Driver, I said something's chasing us! Look behind you, behind you!"
BEHIND YOU!
I turned my head.
And…
"...Ah. It's another vehicle."
I checked the side mirror.
"Don't worry, ma'am. There aren't many cars on the road right now, so I guess that one's just speeding. I'll keep driving safely."
"Ah, yeeees drive safe, drive safe—"
"..."
I didn't look at the passenger seat again.
I didn't look behind me either.
I tried my hardest, so hard, not to look anywhere…
'This isn't gonna work.'
Ha. This is driving me absolutely insane. I can't, I really can't…
I need some sound. Anything.
"Would it be alright if I turn on the radio?"
"Yes."
I forced my frozen hand forward and turned on the radio.
Turning on the radio will temporarily calm the ghost passenger.
[Welcome to the late-night romance that keeps you company through the deep hours. Hello, this is Kim Miyeong's Deep Night Romance Radio.]
The smooth, stable voice of the radio DJ briefly drove back the fear.
'Huu.'
I could finally breathe.
But the radio wasn't a cure-all.
Though it resembles a real radio broadcast, the longer you listen, the more unsettling the content becomes.
Traffic accidents dated a week into the future, condolences for disasters that haven't happened, interviews with the dead, and so on.
It is recommended to leave the station on the initial broadcast. The more you change frequencies, the stranger—and more horrifying—the content is likely to become.
This was the reason I hadn't turned it on earlier.
I only played it now as a last resort, and I was still prepared to shut it off at a moment's notice. Please, please, please, just let this buy me a little peace…
[Now, let's welcome today's guest! This is a program I personally enjoy watching—yes, it's the Late-Night Talk Show!]
"...!"
[We have a legendary host in the radio booth tonight. Everyone, please give him a warm welcome!]
[Host of 'Braun's Late-Night Talk Show', the incredible and marvelous Braun!]
…Wait a minute.