The Sixth Ghost Story - College Entrance Exam Banned Song (11)
In the tense silence filling the dressing room, the leader mustered her courage first and slowly approached the girl.
"Hey, um..."
"Unnie! Don't go!"
The other members tried to stop her from behind. The leader turned back calmly and soothed them.
"It's okay, girls. She's been with us for a whole month. She'll be fine."
The leader drew closer to the girl standing upside down.
"Hey, what's... your name?"
"Were you a ghost? How did you... end up..."
"We'll help you. Can you tell us?"
["Po"]
["Rin"]
"Seu"
"S"
"...Porinseu? Yeah, this is Porinseu. No need to hide it. Tell us, okay?"
["I"]
["Dol"]
" "
"...What? Huh?"
The girl ghost stared blankly at us again. Her form was starting to fade.
The leader pressed her urgently, looking regretful.
"Idol? Yeah, you're an idol, so why? Huh?"
The girl just stood there with a sad smile. She was fading away like a video transitioning to black.
"Hey! I'm the leader asking you! Speak, now!"
At those words, the girl mumbled something final before vanishing. The system faintly captured a few letters.
["Go"]
[" "]
[" "]
[" "]
E-grade Ghost Story - Survived encountering the ghost of the trainee buried in the floor.
The ghost has resolved its lingering attachments to this world on its own and ascended.
There was no mention of earning points.
'On its own?'
The dressing room fell quiet. The girl was completely gone, but the members still stared blankly into empty space. Amid them, I sank into thought.
A message said the ghost story was resolved. Did that mean the incident was over?
No, I didn't think so.
The message that just appeared was about the ghost, not the song's ghost story.
'...I see.'
The ghost story that just vanished on its own. The trainee girl ghost who resolved her lingering regrets and ascended. That matched the rumor the leader had mentioned earlier about a ghost haunting this broadcasting station.
-Lately, there's been a rumor that if you walk alone somewhere in this station, you hear a woman mumbling.
The lyricist heard it last month while wandering around for work...
For whatever reason, that ghost herself had resolved her regrets and left this world. But the song—born from the words she mumbled, which drove people mad—was a separate ghost story derived from that one.
The ghost story of the song, infused with the grudge of an unjustly murdered ghost, still lingered. There were still things left to do to resolve it.
I slowly scanned the dressing room. The four girls of Porinseu seemed to be gradually processing the situation, glancing at each other, hoping someone would explain.
"Ahem..."
At my deliberate cough, they slowly turned to me. Some gaped in shock, others looked regretful, and some stared blankly, uncomprehending.
"If you could focus? I'll start explaining."
Confirming their eyes on me, I cleared my throat.
"Not long ago, a woman was murdered and buried in this station's Room 3 waiting room."
"Likely one of the trainees who hadn't debuted yet. And around then, a ghost story started circulating in the station."
"Ghost story..." someone murmured.
"Yes, you've probably heard it. The one where, as you walk somewhere in the station, you suddenly hear a woman quietly mumbling."
I met each of their eyes one by one. They were all pondering, focusing on me.
"And someone actually experienced that ghost story. The lyricist. You all know this much, right?"
"That lyricist drew inspiration from the ghost's mumbling and completed the song's lyrics. And sure enough, your new song became a massive hit."
"Of course. In this industry, seeing a ghost during work is basically a guarantee of success. Especially since your song didn't just encounter a ghost—it straight-up turned the ghost's words into the chorus..."
The maknae trembled, and another member gripped her hand tightly.
"That chorus. When played backward, it forms a sentence: 'I'm buried under the floor of Waiting Room 3.'"
"N-No way..."
Having sung it hundreds of times over a month without knowing, the members shuddered.
"The girl, unjustly killed, kept signaling her location—Waiting Room 3. Once it became a song, it turned into the 'song infused with a trainee's grudge.'"
"If you know the Japanese horror film Ring, you'll get it quick. A 'cursed song' born from a dead girl's grudge."
"C-Cursed song..."
"We've been enjoying a song like that all this time..."
Their faces paled as they looked at each other. I nodded quietly.
"Her grudge-filled mumbling, captured in the song. Add an addictive melody and the public's frenzy, and it creates terrifying synergy. The cursed song grows stronger fast—not just shaking listeners' minds, but summoning the buried trainee's soul itself."
"S-Soul..."
"Yes. The girl who was just here with you."
The members exchanged dizzy glances, murmuring.
"Come to think of it... that girl never ate or slept..."
"I thought I knew her name and we were close, but I can't remember her at all..."
"How did we not notice until now? Oh god..."
The four girls buzzed.
"You were enchanted, under an illusion. That's how I'd put it. Even you girls, who seemed fine at a glance, were actually under the cursed song's control."
"No way..."
The girls looked stunned.
"Th-Then is it all over now? The ghost just left."
The member who'd stood on her hands with her until the end asked desperately. But I shook my head.
"Look at the window."
The window, blacked out for the room's purpose, let in almost no light. The maknae checked outside and shook her head darkly.
She'd confirmed the city was still chaos.
"I read in a shaman's book..."
An Gyeong-won, who'd been quietly standing behind, finally spoke up softly to the members.
"Ghosts lingering in this world resolve their regrets and ascend or achieve Buddhahood for various reasons. Not always settling a grudge—sometimes something comforting acts as the trigger."
"Something comforting?"
An Gyeong-won nodded. Unlike his usual stiff tone with peers, he used polite endings carefully.
"Shamans say anything can trigger it: a favorite item from life, something desired, anything consoling. I don't know why, but that woman seemed satisfied and left..."
"In other words, she ascended because her regrets were resolved somehow—not because we settled her grudge. The departed woman and the grudge-infused song are separate from the start... The song was something people arbitrarily transcribed."
"Th-Then what does settling the grudge mean? What do we have to do?"
The leader stammered. An Gyeong-won adjusted his glasses and said calmly.
"Settling the grudge of a woman unjustly murdered... That probably means catching the culprit. And judging by the lyrics about being buried in Waiting Room 3, we need to exhume the body and give her a proper burial in consecrated ground..."
I nodded at his words. Time to wrap up the explanation and head out.
"Got it? Waiting here for the army or police? Ridiculous. They can't solve this now. Come with us to Waiting Room 3. That's the only way."
"Waiting Room 3..."
The leader murmured, pale. As she seemed to steel herself and nod—
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Someone knocked on the dressing room door.
Yoon Seon-ah jumped, raising her cutter knife warily at the locked door.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Anyone in there!"
A man's voice shouted from beyond.
"Huh?"
Recognizing it, the members tilted their heads.
"Who is it?"
I asked quickly, and the leader answered.
"Our manager, who got dragged off by station staff this morning for causing a scene."
"Manager, huh..."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Anyone in there!"
The man knocked again. The leader approached the door cautiously and asked quietly toward it.
"Manager?"
"I've come to guide you!"
His booming reply to her question.
"Guide us where?"
"You need to go to Waiting Room 3 right now!"
"What?"
"Your friend is calling!"
The members exchanged glances.
"He's definitely not right in the head yet. What do we do?"
"What do you mean? Chase him off. Could be a trap."
After discussing, the leader spoke to the door again.
"We're going alone, so go somewhere else, manager."
"Then I'll get someone else!"
Footsteps heading away.
"What the hell."
Moments later.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Someone knocked on the locked dressing room door again.
"Who is it?"
"It's singer Pyo Yong-il! I've come to guide you!"
We all froze in shock.
Pyo Yong-il. Korea's top-class singer, unrivaled king of the music industry, hailed as the King of Singers, a living legend.
And he was here now!
"S-Sunbaenim! Guide us where?"
Porinseu's leader, Cha Ji-won, yelped in surprise. She'd run to the top of girl group idols in time, but right now, she was just the leader of a freshly debuted rookie group. Facing a distant senior from the music world, she was visibly flustered.
"I've been ordered to guide you to Waiting Room 3!"
His booming voice echoed from beyond the door again.
"Waiting Room... 3..."
Forget the place—the man's weirdly polite speech was bizarre. He was the senior, yet he spoke to us deferentially, like to superiors.
"Your friend is calling!"
"What now?"
The leader looked to us, troubled.
"This could go on forever. Send one away, another comes."
"Hm."
I thought briefly and said,
"Pray it's not a trap and open it. We were heading to Room 3 anyway."
At my suggestion, the leader nodded cautiously and approached the door. Yoon Seon-ah, guarding it, stepped aside. She unlocked it and slowly turned the knob.
The door opened, revealing the man. Not huge, but radiating the immense presence of a king singer. An inexplicable aura from one who'd reached the pinnacle.
Porinseu's members sensed he was out of his mind but bowed 90 degrees anyway.
"Hello! We're girl group Porinseu! We've always wanted to meet you!"
They chorused in perfect unison. Entertainment industry hierarchy training ran deep—they'd practiced.
But the man ignored their greeting and bellowed louder.
"Your friend ordered me to guide you to Waiting Room 3!! This way!"
The members tilted their heads. Only then did they notice the king singer's vacant eyes and backward-turned ankles.
Stagger. Shuffle.
He backed away on reversed ankles. Definitely song-maddened.
"Your friend ordered me to guide you to Waiting Room 3! This way!"
King Singer Pyo Yong-il slowly moved down the hall, gesturing for us to follow.
We glanced at each other in the dressing room but had no choice—we followed.
Ghost Story Club and Porinseu trailed the self-proclaimed guide in single file.
Turning a hall corner to the emergency stairs, a few handstanders glanced but hummed and went elsewhere, ignoring us.
"Huh, they're not touching us?"
"Hm."
I quietly asked An Gyeong-won behind me.
"Hey, Gyeong-won. What's going on here?"
"One sec."
Seeming to have an idea, he adjusted his glasses and followed.
A noisy chorus echoed from upstairs as we climbed—5th floor, where Room 3 was. The singers waiting there, hearing no one came after the outbreak, had been fanatically singing like cultists.
"This way!"
At the 5th-floor entrance, King Singer Pyo Yong-il stopped, politely clasping hands in formal stance.
Beyond the closed emergency door, singers belted Porinseu's new song at full volume. The building shook with their group shout. Deafening even through the door, a cacophony of random sections—no round robin, just hilarious noise.
"Joon-ah..."
Yoon Seon-ah gripped my hand in fear. Porinseu's four clung together, trembling.
"...It'll be fine, probably."
Steeling myself, I flung open the emergency door.
Creeeak—
The cacophony cut off. Eyes locked on us.
The narrow hall packed tight with singers and celebs. Old, young, TV-famous faces, unknowns—all in flashy stage outfits or suits. Common traits: vacant eyes, limbs twisted backward.
No gaps to pass—then they slid aside silently.
Crack. Crunch.
Wall-huggers crushed by the press, trampling each other—yet they parted like the Red Sea. Eerily quiet. No screams as they compressed. Closest to the source, they'd become total puppets beyond mere enchantment.
Crunch. Crack.
Finally, space exactly for us—like a red carpet to a grand stage.
We crept through anxiously, soon reaching our goal.
[Waiting Room 3]
The place where hundreds parted in eerie silence.
We seven stood before the door, holding our breath.
"I see. The host body, huh."
An Gyeong-won's murmur from behind.
"The chief compared this song to a pandemic before. We're being led to the virus's origin."
I nodded, not fully getting it.
"Opening it."
I turned the knob low.
Creeeak—
The waiting room held a middle-aged man tied to a chair amid sleek matte-black decor for performers touching up makeup.
"So... I did, but... me..."
The man mumbled nonstop. Clearly deranged.
Glancing around, I spotted a corner tile half-pried up. Peering in, a woman's corpse embedded in cement. Probably sealed tight before, but recently dug. Advanced decay made ID hard, but her outline matched the girl from the dressing room.
Her—the murdered trainee's body.
I approached the man slowly.
"Debut... promised her, lured her..."
Porinseu members glared venomously.
"Know him?"
I asked; the leader nodded.
"Yeah. This station's president."
"President..."
"He spectated our open audition once. I remember his slimy eyes on my legs."
The man babbled on, not recognizing us.
"Agency... straight debut... promise..."
Listening, the context emerged.
"He killed her."
Using his station president position to prowl agencies and auditions. Lured a trainee with debut promises for his desires; when it failed, killed her in rage.
This room: the murder site. Too many eyes at the station to remove the body, so he hired workers to bury it in the floor. Last month—before even my regression limit at the entrance ceremony.
Couldn't stop it even regressing.
"De... debut promise... lured..."
I ignored his ravings and approached the body. Kneeling, I peered at her face. He'd buried her so well, no bugs even. In my past life, she stayed undiscovered for three years.
"Your friend guided us here."
"Everything's prepared. Culprit, burial spot."
Decay stench wafted. But her slim, beautiful features—if alive, a stunning beauty. As confirmed in the dressing room.
Probably my age.
"Sorry. Even regressing, I couldn't save you."
"Want him locked up?"
"Not right now. Everyone who enforces law's insane."
"You were too good. Dance, singing. You worked hard."
"How's it feel? Korea's top idol... Any regrets eased?"
I stood and faced the man.
"Need proof you killed this woman."
The pudgy middle-aged man rolled his eyes, babbling.
"Semen. My semen..."
"Fuck!"
The leader snapped, slapping his cheek hard.
"You filthy bastard!"
"Urgh..."
She pummeled him; Porinseu members half-heartedly restrained her. I quietly called the maknae aside.
"Need your phone number."
"M-My number?"
"Yes."
She gave it hesitantly. I recited it, then told An Gyeong-won before leaving.
"Guard the body—no one touches it. Got something to do."
"Doing it now? The time rewind thing."
"Yeah."
"Then, chief—one request."
His eye-gesture asked what; he adjusted glasses.
"My first phone was Clover's AMOLED feature phone. Convince her by mentioning that—it'll work."
"...Think that'll convince her?"
"Probably. She will."
He nodded firmly.
"Thanks, chief."
"Got it. Thank you."
Exiting, the packed singers knelt. Music industry titans prostrating to the newborn idol queen.
Ghost Story Club