Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work
Chapter 323
A darkened Annex corridor.
No—the Security Team assigned in response to my call, appearing from within the hospital in the ghost story.
[Oh... would you look at that uniform, friend!]
The figure standing in the corridor was covered head to toe in a pitch-black coat, restraints, and then boots, gloves, and a hood.
And the style was familiar to my eyes.
[It’s exactly the style you yourself were wearing until just a few days ago, friend.]
The special-division employee came toward us slowly.
The result of summoning an entity from a ghost story into the company and binding it in the peculiar way called an employment contract, to make it work on the Security Team.
—(bzzzt) Congratulations (bzzzt) congratulations dear (bzz-bzzzt) convalescent-hospital inpatients reborn today congratulations
I was still following the patient with the celebration cake from the hospital ghost story.
My steps toward the emergency exit did not stop.
Whish.
And the emergency exit door swung open.
Where no one should have been, patients were standing there, smiling and poking their heads out.
Patients from each floor.
Every time the camcorder in my trembling hand swept across my field of view, it appeared and vanished again. The dark bottle-green, black, and yellow contaminations seemed to spin like a whirlpool, inducing vertigo.
But at that moment—
The Security Team special-division employee went ahead of us.
“......!”
The Security Team moved, wordless, overtook the cake-bearing patient, and went inside the emergency door. In the camcorder screen, I could see the patients reaching out and clinging all over that Security Team’s body.
But the Security Team, face completely hidden by the hood, didn’t so much as twitch.
At last, the smiling patient with the cake crossed the threshold of the emergency door....
The Security Team drew something from inside the black coat.
What came out of that chest was a bizarre long shape, clotted with bone and scraps of flesh, something so huge it even looked like a spine.
...An axe?
The weapon lifted up along the Security Team’s arm.
“......!!”
In that instant,
Thud.
The emergency door closed.
And—
—(bzzzt) CongratulaaAAAGH!tions (bzzzt) congratulAAAGH!tions dear (bzz-bzzzt) convalescent hooAAAGH!spital inpatients reb—AAAGH—born today congratula—AAAGH—tions
A heavy impact.
Short, merciless, stabbing sounds.
From behind the emergency door came brutal rupturing noises that made our shoulders hunch by instinct.
Like black mire, a shadow spattered out like blood through the gap beneath the emergency door, and a green light flashed. My and Baek Saheon’s steps were blocked by the emergency door, but our feet kept moving as if trying to rub our faces against the iron and continue forward.
Blood and filth smeared our faces. Faintly, I could hear Baek Saheon stifling curses and groans.
Because the screams and children’s-song chorus were booming too loud right by our ears.
—(bzzzt) CongraAAAGH!tulations (hahaha) congratulAAAGH!tions hahaha! deAAAGH-ar (bzz-bzzzt) convalescent hahaha!—AAAGH!—hospital inpaAAAGH!tients reb—AAAGH—born today congra—AAAGH!!—tulations
The patients’ deranged laughter and screams, like wails from hell, swirled inside the door and tore out through the gaps. Gritting my teeth, I endured the rough vibration of the emergency door rumbling against my cheek. Gooseflesh rose.
And—
—(bzzzt) Congr...
The merciless noise and light stopped.
The face and body pressing the door stopped too.
“...!”
I grabbed Baek Saheon by the nape and drew us back.
Creak.
In the hush, the emergency door opened.
Inside, a lone Security Team employee stood perfectly still, drenched in contamination like they’d been doused in blood.
Catching the emergency light in the darkness.
“.......”
I lifted the camcorder.
Blood was spattered thick across the landing.
Below, a long trail of gruesome bloody footprints stretched on as if a multitude had been mashed into a single lump and rolled down the stairs.......
I inhaled, seeing the remnant of the celebration cake wedged into a stair edge.
Inside the crushed cake, countless drug-filled syringes had burst and shattered, staining the bread and cream strange colors....
...Ha.
I shivered, but relief brushed me at the same time.
It worked.
Done.
Swallowing, I looked at the Security Team that had come in answer to my call.
The one who had mashed all the 5th-floor patients and sent them “somewhere” slid the weapon back into the coat.
Bits of blood and flesh fell from the boots.
And I realized that axe-like shape hadn’t been made of blood and flesh from the start, but had those things smeared all over some underlying core.
Terribly ghastly—but what mattered was....
“Thank you.”
A proper response.
I bowed my head at once.
Then I pressed down on the back of Baek Saheon’s head. Instead of griping, he ducked quickly to bow with me; his attitude radiated survival instinct.
...At the same time, I realized both of us had cold sweat gathering on our napes.
Don’t cross them.
The Security Team special division isn’t human to begin with.
It’s a ghost story.
If I were 130666, maybe I could have handled it, but after barely regaining a human shape, I can’t let my mind and body collapse again.
And if the company finds out, this will blow up horribly.
So I hurried to recite the set lines.
“We’ll be going now.”
Silence fell.
“We discovered the situation and called Security, but it wasn’t a rescue request. ...In case any charges are billed, we’ll just wait by ourselves for now.”
Stillness.
Damn.
If it didn’t understand speech, we’d have to bolt immediately.
I slightly raised my head to gauge the Security Team’s posture.
And I suddenly realized where I’d seen that Security Team before.
What?
At that moment—
A hand, wet with blood, that had gone back into the coat slid out.
“...!!”
I thought they were drawing the weapon again.
But what appeared on that hand was a small pink Post-it note stuck to the glove.
—No charges will be billed.
The moment I read the neat handwriting,
“......!”
a scene struck like lightning.
—Have a good night.
The Security Team employee I’d met at the front desk early in my employment.
That contaminated employee whose hoof-like shape kept flickering in and out.
...So that was special division?
Back then I’m sure it wasn’t this outfit... No, do they even put special division on front-desk duty? Wait—
I did it too.
Nodding inwardly, I recalled sitting in a transport frame and dealing with people.
Anyway, having worked front desk meant it could communicate and wasn’t overly aggressive in day-to-day.
Do I try it? Or not? ...Just a little.
I chose a middle line and started an informational exchange.
“Thank you for letting us know. Um, are the other places all right? The other new researchers were all on the 10th floor, and I’m worried.”
No response.
I shifted my angle a bit.
“The supervisors were there as well. The team leader who came from the branch....”
Flick.
Suddenly the Security Team drew out another Post-it from the coat.
Then it clenched it in that gloved, massive hand so it was entirely covered and reached it straight out to me.
“.......”
Is this some act that gets you tangled in a rule-type ghost story...?
But refusing might push the wrong button just the same. In the end I swallowed an inner scream and took it with both hands.
Blood smeared thick from the glove crumpled the Post-it as it fell into my hand.
Ughhh.
Carefully, I unfolded it and checked the contents.
Do not go to the branch.
“......!”
Be careful.
I snapped my gaze up from the Post-it and lifted my head.
But beyond the emergency door....
No one was there.
Forcing down the tremor in my steps, I went closer to the doorway and looked out into the eerie emergency stairwell.
...I heard a presence receding down the stairs.
A hoof-like shape wavering like a black shadow.
Lower floors....
Going back to the Annex basement...?
“Hey.”
“...!”
“Are you keeping that?”
Snapping back to myself, I answered Baek Saheon and pocketed the Post-it.
“I’ll hold onto it for now.”
Anyway, since the patient with the celebration cake had gone out through the emergency door, there wasn’t much time left before this ghost story faded.
“I’m going back to fetch the item.”
“...Do as you like.”
With Baek Saheon trailing after me, I crossed the 5th-floor corridor of the abandoned hospital—more unsettling for its quiet—toward the destination.
Toward the neat pharmaceutical company door seen through the camcorder.
[1184]
“At companies or institutions that emphasize security, especially in research buildings, they sometimes put number plates on doors so outsiders won’t immediately recognize them.”
A researcher’s keycard shouldn’t work.
After confirming the CCTV was broken, I broke the door as if “in a panic, trying to find anywhere to hide,” and went in.
And the moment I set foot inside—
Baek Saheon, also peering into his camcorder, widened his eyes.
“This is....”
Inside was a storeroom.
But not a normal storeroom—rather, a space where old, worn items and facility equipment had been piled at random under layers of dust.
[Disused-Items Storage]
A place for collecting items whose service life had ended at the company.
And—
“Do you see it?”
I pointed forward with my hand.
“It’s here, too. A ‘potion machine.’”
“......!”
This was Daydream Inc.
Meaning this room stored devices whose service years had ended among the myriad machines Daydream researchers used in the Annex.
For example, a broken dream-solution collector, a cracked darkness-isolation apparatus, a labeler with its ink dried up.
And....
A retired potion-manufacturing unit.
I recalled the contents of Gwak Jegang’s letter answering my question.
—Disposal items? If they weren’t outright thrown away, we can repair them to work a few more times. Usually they get transferred out because they’ve simply reached end of service life.
What I wanted was something with the identity and function of a “Daydream device,” but whose disappearance the company would notice slowly, and care less about.
[A smart choice, Mr. Noru!]
I had infiltrated today aiming for exactly that.
“...That’s junk.”
“But it’s junk I need.”
“No, I mean....”
Baek Saheon made a face like he had a lot to say, then, as if deciding to hold it in, asked,
“How are you even going to carry it.”
“I have a way. ...Could you turn your head for a moment?”
If I shove it into my wrist, it’ll look like a definitive “Identity: Kim Soleum” performance, won’t it.
“.......”
Surprisingly, instead of picking a fight, Baek Saheon silently turned his head, and I successfully stored the old potion machine into my tattoo.
Then, after scanning the surroundings, I grabbed a few things that caught my eye... and did a bit of tidying.
Done.
Some time later.
I hid in the 6th-floor “safe space” until the ghost story dissolved, then was naturally “rescued” together with Baek Saheon.
And the instant the Annex lockdown lifted, I slipped out quickly.
Thus, the necessary supplies were secured.
Two days later.
Baek Saheon was on his way to work, recalling what he’d gone through.
What the hell happened in the Annex.
This damn company gave only a bit of extra pay and a day off, not a single extra point.
Thanks to that, Baek Saheon had spent his time off gathering information.
To start with....
—Sounds like a few of the new researchers resigned because of this incident.
But that was it.
Strangely, the disappearance of the potion machine from the 10th floor was hushed up without getting bigger, and the death toll wasn’t particularly noticeable.
Even the questioning wasn’t that persistent.
For most of those caught up in this darkness, they did a few interviews, and the moment isolation ended, they were sent home.
Including him.
More than anything, it was strange that a ghost story had suddenly blown up in the upper floors of the Annex.
Isn’t containment failure usually something that happens underground.
The potion machine went missing and the ghost story blew—clearly intentional.
Someone had tried to sow confusion.
But....
With survival instincts honed, a spark flashed through Baek Saheon’s head.
Feels like an inside job, not an outside one?
A trap.
What if they had predicted someone would steal that potion machine and staged it on purpose?
What nagged him most was the latest rumor.
—Ah, the potion machine? They said they found it again right away. Supposedly it was a system error.
—A director came and handled all of it. Director Cheong, I think.
A director.
The director set the trap?
...Were they aiming for the agent?
For a moment, Baek Saheon suspected it—then snorted.
Why should I care?
Besides, in reality, the 10th-floor potion machine hadn’t been stolen.
Per the agent’s plan, a few discarded items had been smashed and gone missing; it ended up logged as mere “facility damage,” drew little attention, and got buried.
But he had no idea what anyone would do with the scrap they stole.
He recalled his last exchange with the agent.
—Thank you for accompanying me today, citizen.
—At least you know to say that.
—And pressing the call button in time helped a lot.
—If it helped, repay me.
—That was an action for both our sakes. Am I really the one who needs to repay it?
Damn bastard.
—All you did was grab a pile of trash, so I got nothing out of it!
—Mm... shall we split the gains in half anyway?
Always knows how to get under your skin!
Why would I take something useless!
All he’d done was get dragged into danger and risk himself. He hadn’t profited; the thought chafed....
“Hey.”
“...!”
He turned his head.
Just as he was about to step into the company lobby—
The one who tapped Baek Saheon lightly on the back flinched a bit when their eyes met.
...Camcorder.
The one he’d ripped the camcorder from and jammed into the door.
And....
“Ah, right. You’re that person.”
The one the agent had saved.
Whether they’d taken a regeneration potion or something, they were fine.
A little confused and nervous-faced, but having finished rationalizing internally, they gave him a greeting anyway.
“Um, th-thank you. You saved my life.”
And that person from another department nodded once, said, “If you ever need anything, let me know,” and vanished.
“.......”
Was that... a gain?
Quietly clenching his fist, then looking away, Baek Saheon thought:
Being around that agent made bizarre, unfamiliar things happen, and it was uncomfortable.
But... it didn’t exactly feel bad.
...Either way, I did go back for nothing!
Shaking off the strange feeling, he forced himself to think like usual.
Fine—since I suffered because of him, I should say something. Push for compensation and also... yeah.
Maybe pulling him into the Director Ho project wouldn’t be bad either.
There’s an agent there too!
If he wants to save people, that weird Special City basically fits, doesn’t it. The project sheds a lot of crumbs; it’ll be easy to repay what he owes him.
Researcher Park Kyunghwan, was it?
He’d talk to him on the spot if he ran into him at work today. Just as Baek Saheon resolved that—
Huh?
There was a familiar back of a head in front of the company lobby.
Researcher Park Kyunghwan himself.
“...!”
Before he knew it, Baek Saheon called out to the researcher in a hearty voice.
“Hey!”
“.......”
“I’m talking to you, researcher!”
“Y-yes?”
What, acting all dopey and pretending not to know? With a faint chuckle, Baek Saheon decided to play along and be generous.
But the one who turned around...
“D-did you call me?”
“.......”
That face.
With that single weaselly, slack expression, Baek Saheon realized.
It wasn’t the “agent.”
“.......”
“Why did you call m—h-huh, huhh?”
Turning on his heel, Baek Saheon strode off. He went into the restroom and unfolded a paper boat.
Hey!
Is your infiltration actually over? Are you out?
But no reply came for a long time.
At the same time—
The “agent” he was trying to contact had infiltrated Se-gwang Special City alone, and so—
“Hoo.”
Kim Soleum opened his eyes on the platform of Morning Station in Se-gwang Special City.
His mind burned with impatience and expectation, but he was suppressing it as much as possible, trying to act and judge coolly.
This time, spiriting away the disposal-grade potion machine had been careful and clean.
I pass this unit to the researchers as is.
And the moment repairs are done, we prep installation.
Setting his action priorities like that, Kim Soleum rose to his feet.
Come to think of it, the Scales Court vanished from Morning Station.
Then he could also check the YuKwae Research Laboratory that would be on the platform across from this station. He should see whether installation there would be easier.
Maybe a concourse has appeared again.
Reflexively, he turned his head.
Up above the Morning Station platform, in the place where the Scales Court had been, he saw an empty concourse.
As expected....
But there was someone standing deeper inside the concourse.
“...!”
Instinctively, Kim Soleum edged back, secured safety, and tried to confirm who it was.
In the darkness, the one who had been standing in the shabby concourse slowly stepped forward into where the platform light reached, revealing their figure....
“.......”
“.......”
Juror No. 1.
Wearing an agent’s uniform with Ho Yuwon’s face, that person was standing there, saying nothing, looking at Kim Soleum.