Lost Property Center at Terminal Station

It was bizarre seeing the entry method spelled out for a horror story like this.

Come to think of it, that comment from Santokki popped into my head.

In other words, some horror stories had ways to enter on purpose. Probably info you couldn't find on the Horror Creation Gallery.

"Hmm."

The entry method seemed legit enough. But the 'Safety Rules' below? They gave off a sketchy vibe for some reason.

"Well, I can check 'em one by one."

I memorized the rules and carefully pocketed my Heteromorphic Crystal. The cold, smooth texture tingled against my fingertips.

Waiting for midnight, I pulled my hoodie over my head and stepped out. The night air was chillier than expected.

The nearest subway station was a 10-minute walk. I arrived at the empty platform. The last train had long since passed.

I took a deep breath and shouted toward the eerie darkness of the tracks.

"Where is the Lost Property Center?"

My voice echoed hollowly.

"Where is the Lost Property Center?"

Second shout. A breeze rustled my hair against my cheek.

"Where is the Lost Property Center?"

The moment the third shout ended—

Screeeeech—

The wall in the center of the platform slid inward like a massive door. Dust and the musty scent of old paper wafted out. Beyond lay a rickety staircase descending into the gloom.

It's real.

I descended without hesitation. Creaking steps led down to a door with a faded sign.

Deep breath. I pushed the door open.

Ding-a-ling—

A rusty bell jingled overhead, revealing the dusty interior. Shelves stretched to the high ceiling, crammed with unclaimed items: worn bags, umbrellas, books, and things whose origins were unknowable. Some floated in red liquid—clearly human or animal brains, spinal cords, peripheral nerves, frontal lobe fascia...

Slap! I smacked my cheek, snapping back to reality.

The first rule seemed legit. A close call there.

◆

A bit further through the lost items, a counter appeared. An old man in faded station uniform greeted me with a kindly smile.

"Welcome. What have you lost?"

Exact match for the rulebook's description of the center chief. I pulled my hood lower and approached.

"This seems like something someone lost."

I pulled the Heteromorphic Crystal from my pocket and set it on the counter.

His eyes narrowed. He fetched a magnifying glass, examined it from all angles, and murmured in awe.

"Well now... this is quite the treasure. 'Perfect' grade, no less."

He stared at me intently for a moment.

I met his gaze. His pupils deepened unnervingly over time.

"But you yourself are far more precious than this item. Someone must be searching desperately for you—you seem lost yourself..."

4.7 seconds. Before he finished, I looked away sharply.

Another legit rule, huh.

"I'm just here to drop off something someone lost."

"Of course. Thank you. You've done our staff's job for us."

The center chief pulled a worn leather bag from under the counter and snapped it open with a click. It brimmed with ten-thousand-won bills.

"...!"

I swallowed hard despite myself. How much was that? Easily over ten million won.

"Here you are. A reward."

He slid the bag toward me.

No need to test that one. I wasn't much for jokes anyway.

"Thank you."

I took the bag, masking my excitement. Its heavy weight settled on my arm—way more than I'd guessed. New clothes, custom PC, and pure gallery time for a while.

"Well then."

Deal done. As I turned to leave, the chief grabbed my arm.

"Have some tea before you go. Customers with your integrity are rare these days."

I glanced at him cautiously.

Hmm. I hesitated, then smiled brightly.

"Sorry, I've got something urgent. Gotta run."

I opened the door to the Lost Property Center—doing the exact opposite of the rule.

Glancing back at his expression...

Screech.

Out and shut.

"..."

I'd just broken ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the rulebook.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart pounded wildly. A full minute passed.

...Nothing happened.

"Knew it was fake."

My instincts were spot on. The [Safety Rules] for this horror reeked of suspicion. Especially the fifth one. "Must" isn't a word that belongs in rules. They're written in blood—human experience.

"Tone was off too."

Felt like someone had patched in extras to an original rulebook. Awkward bits screaming deliberate tampering.

So I tested it. I'd clocked the chief's creepy eyes already, so the fifth was safe to probe. If his vibe changed when I opened the door, I'd go back, drink the tea.

Reset to normal.

Now, who tampered with it, and why?

"Gotta be stalling for time."

Drink tea, take it easy. Time-wasters. Why would "someone" who wanted me in this horror want me delayed?

The [Safety Rules] glared back.

. . .

. . .

Delay time, restrict actions, hinder escape. Rules designed for it.

"These bastards."

Scamming newbies. Goosebumps rose.

This horror must be accessible to crowds. Lure newbies in to swap crystals.

"Then snatch the cash."

Added delay rules in case newbies bolt quick—no wasted effort. Block resistance or flight.

"Gotta get out."

From this horror. As fast as possible.

I bolted for the entrance.

"Huff, huff, huff, huff."

But this girl's body was slow, stamina weak. Breath ragged, steps slowing.

Then it hit me. Why they picked this horror to fleece newbies.

"Damn it all."

The entrance finally in sight—

— "Rich newbie this time, right?"

— "Saw their proof post."

— "A-grade! A-grade, I tell ya! Big fish!"

— "Probably passed out from the tea by now?"

Murmurs and footsteps descending as a group arrived.

"Shit!"

I dove into the shadows under the nearest shelf, curling up tight.