Interlude: Fractured Dawn
“Boss.”
“...Gyeong-won, huh.”
“You still up?”
“Hoo.”
I stopped sorting the maps and rubbed my eyes. Then, out of habit, I checked the watch on my wrist.
[2026? Month ?Day?11th, 03:+0]
“...It's already 3 a.m. Has Jin-hee come back?”
“Just now.”
“...How'd it go?”
“Just like you predicted, Boss. The lit floor in the middle of the fake 63 Building? Not survivors—a trap.”
“As expected...”
“The first three agents who went in, their bodies fused together, brains and all, and started spouting ominous prophecies...”
“...You handled it. Good work.”
Wearied, I swept the fallen hair back from my forehead and asked next, “Jin-hee? She okay?”
Gyeong-won nodded.
“She's fine.”
“Thanks. Really, good work.”
“Boss, go crash now. I'll finish the maps.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
A detailed map of Seoul, with subway lines highlighted on the desk. Every district marked with current ghost story sightings, dangerous no-go zones, survivor shelters, and supply caches. Meticulous work.
The map sometimes warps on its own, trying to depict a future where we're all wiped out, no survivors left. So we're constantly revising it, making copies.
“Here. I was cross-checking the Noryangjin Station area with the copies. Start from here. Something feels off...”
“Got it.”
“Especially the fast food joint in front of Sinrim Station... the description we noted seems different. Check it carefully.”
“Yeah, yeah, got it. Seriously, go sleep before I snap.”
“Thanks.”
I stood from the office desk, rubbing my eyes as I headed into the corridor. Agents fresh from scouting rode the elevator down from the surface to our underground ops base, shedding their diamond-patterned protective gear amid boisterous chatter. I nodded to Jin-hee leading them, exchanged brief greetings from afar, then headed to the monitor room.
“Boss, still up, huh?”
Deok-hoon, sweating as he slurped cup ramen with chopsticks, greeted me.
“Anything?”
“Nah. 'Cept losing three more agents.”
“Show me the bodycam footage from those agents. Right before they died.”
“It's all recorded clean. Play it?”
“Yeah.”
Deok-hoon chewed his ramen, tapping the keyboard. Three of the dozens of surveillance monitors switched to the agents' bodycam feeds.
Two showed agents entering the fake 63 Building. The third? A woman with a face drenched in bright red blood, maniacally grinning as her head filled the screen.
“Eek, one's already corrupted.”
Deok-hoon quickly deleted the laughing woman's footage.
Since the Demon King's revival, the world had been slowly tainted by madness and ghost stories.
The two remaining clean feeds: Agents navigating the fake 63 Building's interior from first-person view. Hardly a building—more like wandering the guts of some massive organism, walls slick with viscous fluid everywhere.
> [Here. Hold position.]
> [Entry team moves on my mark. Three, two, one. Breach.]
> [Kick—]
First-person: An agent's boot slamming through a sticky door. The instant they entered, the feed swirled with garish colors.
Screech, what the—!
What the fuck!
Freakish fluorescent hues exploded in a cosmic frenzy, scrambling the screen. Then thud—something slammed the camera, blacking it out. The lens burrowed into the object, zooming macro: human organs.
“Hoo.”
I turned away before seeing more; Deok-hoon cut the feed.
Slurp, chomp.
Tough stomach, this guy—watches grotesque shit like that and keeps eating ramen. Why he's monitor room chief.
In this era, nothing stays normal: text, video, images. Gotta guard our sanity across the board.
I turned back to a CCTV feed of the 63 Building amid the ruined night city. Two massive structures: the real 63 Building, and its ghost story twin—the fake one. More organism than architecture, we figured.
Atop it, a colossal dragon of human corpses soared through dark clouds.
“Good work. I'm off to sleep.”
Slurp. “Night.”
Heading to the bunk room, I muttered softly.
Status window.
[2026? Month ?Day?11th, 03:+0]
[Lee Joon - 1st Round]
[Ghost Story ? : 2?Day?]
[Causal Rate: 83%]
He'd explained it once: Some crazies keep playing games even after bad ends.
Couldn't believe it then.
“...Hoo.”
Since the Demon King's revival, the status window's text had grown illegible, most functions dead now.
How many more years... days... could I hold out? I drifted off wondering.
“Joon-ah. Joon-ah, Joon-ah!”
“Mm, ungh? Wha... which bastard... oh, Seon-ah.”
Seon-ah's voice woke me; drool-puddled, I lifted my head from the desk.
“Fourth period's career fair instead of history... get up...”
“Mm, ungh... right.”
Wiping saliva, I habitually checked the status window time.
[2019 March 22 Friday, 10:57]
[Lee Joon - 2nd Round]
[Ghost Story Points: 202]
[Causal Rate: 11%]
Shit, three minutes left.
Rubbing eyes, I stood. Class emptied out— just me and Seon-ah in the quiet room.
“Aww, why bother with career fair bullshit? Gonna live off lotto anyway.”
“Hurry...”
Seon-ah stamped impatiently at my grumbling. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes and headed to the auditorium.
Gym on the left of the main building—doubles as auditorium for events. Packed with the whole school.
> [Quiet! Quiet!]
A scary upperclass sponsor teacher yelled into the mic from the podium.
“Where's our class?”
“Over there...”
Weaving through chattering hundreds and prowling teachers, I spotted familiar faces—there, homeroom teacher casually gut-sticking out far off.
“Homeroom! Let's go.”
“Yeah.”
Seon-ah followed, huffing as students shoved her.
“President, you made it. Slept so soundly, didn't wake you.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.”
Passing Gyeong-won and his weird courtesy, I squeezed into an empty seat beside.
Perched awkwardly on the folding chair, the emcee teacher took the podium.
“Nakseong High School Career Fair starts now. Our speakers today are pros with over a decade in their fields. It's a weekday—they took time off work to help your futures. So no sleeping, pay attention. Hey, second floor! Phones away! You little shit, one, two, three! Third row, you! Yeah, you! I just said no sleeping and focus, you lit—”
History teacher bolted upstairs in shock. One of his kids, probably.
Zzz. Thwack.
“Ugh!”
Status window audio muted for quiet nap—then Gyeong-won elbowed me. Jerking up, homeroom glared from afar.
Rubbing eyes to the podium: Bearish scary dude gripping the mic, mouth flapping.
Hoo. Stayed up late last night psycho-testing. Lemme sleep, please...
Opened audio options, normalized sound. Man's words filtered in.
“Interesting thing about suicide-by-hanging gods: they ejaculate...”
Our eyes met. He winked slyly, continued.
Hallucination? Not just me amid hundreds, right?
Lunchtime next.
“Rock-paper-scissors. Rock-paper-scissors. Seon-ah wins.”
“Seon-ah, pick quick!”
“Ugh...”
Skipping cafeteria for delivery app orders back to main building.
“Loser grabs from first floor. One more round.”
“Sure.”
School allowed delivery during CA club time, but no riders roaming the building. Wait by the playground on first floor.
“Rock-paper-scissors! Rock-paper-scissors!”
I lost. Seon-ah and Gyeong-won giggled off to club room; I fidgeted downstairs for chicken.
Delivery timed perfectly for now—must've pre-ordered during class with phones out. Bold motherfuckers.
Riders on bikes rolled into playground, handing heavy paper bags to waiting students at main building first floor. Security guard scowled at the gate entrance, glaring at bikes.
Old folks probably hate the scene. Generational gap. But school's okayed it.
Moments later.
“Here's your Wow Chicken Snow Cheese, great value. Ghost Story Club?”
“Yeah, me!”
Grabbed chicken at entrance. A few stared at the weird club name.
Turning with food—bumped into Ha-yoon heading to cafeteria.
“Joon-ah.”
“Oh, hey.”
Ha-yoon eyed the chicken wordlessly. Hit me late: Original trio order, but other members might feel left out. I'm president now, not just a student.
“This chicken, uh...”
She stared blankly. Blaming me for not inviting her?
“S-sorry... just happened.”
“Hate you.”
Ha-yoon pouted cutely. Teasing tone, not real anger. Lucky.
“Hey, Ha-yoon... wanna eat chicken together?”
“Too late, Joon-ah.”
Politely refused, turned sharply for cafeteria.
“Sorry, really sorry... We don't have a proper group chat yet. If we had a KakaoTalk room, I'd just post 'lunch in club room?' Done.”
“Oh. Ha-yoon, wait!”
Stopped her from behind as she passed.
“Hey, can I get your number?”
“Huh?”
Ha-yoon blinked at me.
“Number. We need a group chat.”
She smiled faintly, hesitating as I held out my phone.
“Curious about my number?”
“Yeah, well...”
“Seon-ah'd hate it.”
My heart skipped.
“No, what? It's for the group chat!”
“Hee hee.”
Ha-yoon giggled teasingly.
“Joon's got a lot of interest in me.”
“No, that's not...”
“My number? Hmm, gotta think about it.”
She tilted her head coyly, beaming. Even teasing felt graceful, elegant—not ordinary.
The more I explained, the more excuses it sounded. Then—
Wait, this setup. Feels familiar... When? Teased like this before.
Like post-dream recall, memory teased but slipped.
...Dream?
Ah, right. In the dream.
[Pervert. Joon's a pervert.]
Remembered: Dream-Ha-yoon's breathy whisper, mind-melting bliss.
I widened my eyes at the girl before me.
Ha-yoon snatched my phone with a grin, inputted her number, handed it back.
“How could you, Joon-ah? I'm hurt.”
“Ch-chicken? Sorry, really sorry... Come now—”
She cut me, pouting: “How do you leave a pretty girl like me out? Joon's disqualified as a guy.”
With elegant spin, she walked off.
Chicken in one hand, her-numbered phone in the other, I stood dumbfounded—then inwardly yelled at her back.
Status window.
Name: In Ha-yoon
LV.1 [0/100]
Age: 17
Title: Bride Candidate
Trait: ???
Special Ability: None
Quirk: ???
Understanding: 5/100
[Insufficient understanding of target. Interact more to unlock info.]