Chapter 13
Chapter 13
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Even If I Fall Into a Ghost Story, I Still Have to Go to Work
-----------------------------------------------------------------
From what I'd read in the Darkness Exploration Records, entering a ghost story usually cut off all data transmission and communication, leaving you isolated.
'Classic scary story setup.'
But stories get more interesting when they exchange, clash, and evolve.
To spice up that setup, I'd seen mentions in some ghost story of certain squads in Daydream Corporation having disposable items that allowed emergency calls.
'Is this button one of those?'
My mind raced with deductions, but my mouth moved on its own.
Time was of the essence!
"Is this D Squad Leader?"
"This is D Squad newbie Kim Sol-eum. I have an urgent report."
Just lay out the situation!
"In 30 minutes, the entire D Squad will be dead."
No helping it if he panics. This was efficient. Calm him down quick and talk...
"......"
Why so calm?
Squad wipe might be routine for the Field Exploration Team... but come on, human decency.
'Something wrong with his personality...?'
I almost lost it, but the urgency won out. I summarized the situation as briefly as possible.
"An anomaly occurred in the D-Grade Tuesday Talk Show."
Other squad members crashing the talk show midway, the quiz show abruptly canceled.
And the mad choir show that started up instead.
"3 out of 7. D Squad's all alive for now, but once break time ends, we're all dead."
D Squad Leader responded simply.
"......"
That doable?
"Doesn't seem possible."
Got me raging in 30 seconds flat at someone about to die.
'No time to waste on this chat.'
Sure, Field Exploration Team had plenty of morally bankrupt weirdos up the chain, but meeting one in person? Next level infuriating.
'Does he think his squad's lives are a joke?'
I was about to hang up and figure it out myself...
"......"
Hold on.
"What changes with 30 more minutes?"
Why stall?
A low voice explained flatly.
"...So if that's done, D Squad gets rescued?"
"......"
Field Exploration Team staff solo-entering an A-Grade darkness with special gear to suppress the anomaly?
That kind of person...
'Named character.'
This guy on the line was definitely one from the Darkness Exploration Records!
'And a pretty significant or memorable one...'
Chills ran down my spine.
A few candidates flashed through my mind. My brain spun at full speed.
"Stealing Security Team gear... yeah, impossible."
Security Team's range was narratively limited for story consistency, with ironclad security. Canonically impossible.
'But if this guy's really who I think...'
Options open up...!
I swallowed hard and asked.
"...May I ask what mask you're wearing, sir?"
If I hear a familiar nickname...
"......"
Ah.
It was you.
"Sir."
20 minutes left.
"...Based on what you said, I've got a plan."
This is it.
Break time was ending.
I grabbed a water bottle from the waiting room and returned to the talk show set.
Against the backdrop of two staff whose faces had paled from dozens of minutes of 'choir practice,' the host with the old TV for a head offered a handshake.
"Yes. Thank you for your consideration."
Considering the host's behavior so far, the tone was unusually friendly.
The Smile Sticker's effect must still be lingering.
'So far, as expected.'
I picked my prepared lines.
"...Host, you pour so much love and passion into the show. That's why it's always captivating and fun."
Extreme situation made flattery flow smooth, shame be damned.
No, not that direction...
"Grateful, but I can't compare to the host leading this big show."
This way.
"So it was a shock to be notified so abruptly of the format change..."
"No audience, recorded sounds, no penalties... Band's smaller too."
I recalled the black-and-white posters in the waiting room.
All had audiences, interactive live talk shows.
If that's the host's personal space...
'High chance this host hates the new format...!'
"Feels like cost-cutting overall."
Might get my head chopped for dissing the show. But sitting tight meant death anyway.
Do it.
I glanced at the stage center, pretending to look around, and barely continued.
The dead pig-headed choir conductor.
"...Is the revamp because booking that guest cost a fortune?"
The emoticon vanished from the host's TV screen.
But it soon returned to a smiling one.
"Sorry."
Mercy, please.
Truth is, that pig head scared me so much I barely looked.
"I'm such a huge Tuesday Quiz Show fan, I was looking forward to participating. Sorry if I was rude. Just bummed it's canceled..."
The host's TV screen went quietly black.
"I see."
I swallowed.
"But viewer sentiment's still up in the air, right? ...I preferred the old one. Interacting live with the audience, that on-site thrill in the Tuesday Quiz Show."
"Springing this rudely without consulting the host... Ah, no. Sorry. My personal opinion went too far."
I hesitated, then added.
"Just... live broadcasting earlier was surprisingly fun. Heart-pounding, even."
The host stood silently.
Noise crackled faintly from the TV screen...
The alert blared across the set, snapping the emoticon back.
"...Yes."
The host counted down to the camera like before.
But our talk must've left an impression; no trance-like stare this time.
'Good.'
Bait laid thick.
I nodded to the host and headed to my podium.
Moments later.
The show restarted.
Foreman Park Minseong looked resigned, a bitter expression like he'd made peace.
I saw him mouthing quickly at me.
-Thanks.
What? 'Thanks for letting me prepare mentally...' No, wait. Let's talk this out.
I mouthed back.
My message...
-Get the answer right.
"...?!"
The foreman stared like I was insane.
Yeah, I get it.
'Better incinerated than repeating answers as a throat-only human instrument...'
But this is necessary.
Foreman shook his head in panic, glanced at Deputy Manager.
She nodded.
"Ah! Uh, yes. My answer..."
Foreman squeezed his eyes shut and yelled.
"No. 4, burns!"
Recorded audience murmurs filled the air.
Finally, I saw it.
Flutter.
Something appeared on the dark podium corner.
A postcard.
The creepy one we'd used to enter here.
Our recent chat with Section Chief Lee Jaheon came to mind.
-Sir, so using that gear lets you access the ghost story via medium?
-Yes. But mine's for emergency supply drops—small items only into the darkness.
-Enough. That...
I eyed the postcard.
It slipped quietly between unlit gaps to the floor...
Then a single AAA battery shot out at terrifying speed.
"...!"
It closed the distance to the ominous conductor in a flash, smashing with brute force.
Into a silver tray.
-Throw it hard.
The thick tray crumpled like pierced by the battery.
Physics-defying power.
'As expected.'
I recalled Section Chief Lee Jaheon's description from the Darkness Exploration Records.
Direct hit on the dead pig conductor might've triggered that 'despair.'
But just a silver tray?
'Thought his 'physical exorcism in ghost stories' gimmick might work...'
And it did.
The tray was practically pierced, deeply damaged.
'Then.'
Cold sweat beaded, but I smirked triumphantly.
Normally, correct answers meant throat ripped out, joining the choir on another silver tray.
But the conductor's reaction to his precious 'instrument' damaged...
The dead pig gaped unnaturally wide.
Rotting flesh tore as its jaw unhinged.
Scheduled applause recording played mechanically, then cut off in chaos.
The pig screamed.
Sound erupted from the torn maw...
Terrifying scream bile rising. What horrific thing did I just do? Absurd act. Seen a singing worm? Wrong judgment choice after all
Praise on silver throne death
Band sound drowned the scream.
"Gasp!"
This is insane.
Drip. Drip.
Red spots appeared on the podium.
My nosebleed.
But block my ears. Block ears... Ah, band sound fading.
Drip.
I looked up.
In the silence.
Whoosh.
The great ominous guest at stage center burst into black flames, turning to ash.
A scene I'd seen many times.
'Incineration.'
The host's unique authority. In D-Grade darkness 'Tuesday Quiz Show,' punishment for disrupting contestants.
But now...
'A D-Grade darkness... burning a whole A-Grade one?'
Something's off... wrong.
I'd aimed for the host exploding at guest negligence, escaping with today's taping halted.
I looked around.
Staff, lights, band, recorders, cameras.
All burst into flames, ashing.
Only the host's old TV flickered color.
The host raised arms nobly like a liberator.
Turned to me.
The host peered into me.
Oh no.
However.
It worked.
I blinked.
Beyond blurring vision, the suited TV-headed figure waved and vanished...
And the next instant.
"......"
I realized I was sitting on a bright, quiet office sofa.
I turned.
Foreman and Deputy Manager stared, dazed, blood trickling from nose and ears.
And I realized.
We survived.
"Waaaaah!!"
"You crazy little bastard!"
Amid cheers and hugs, I slid limply down the sofa.
Survived.
Alive, escaped...!
"...! Your collector!"
And that wasn't all.
Deputy Manager yanked something from my suit pocket mid-hug.
Dream Essence Collector.
Inside brimmed golden liquid.
Different color from clearing F-Grade last time. This was...
"A-Grade."
"......"
"Deer, you cleared an A-Grade darkness on day two..."