Chapter 148
Chapter 148
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 148
Chapter Title: Even If I Fall into a Ghost Story, I Still Have to Go to Work
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Daydream Corporation.
A massive, opaque pharmaceutical conglomerate that somehow manages to mass-produce fantastical, reality-bending wish-granting potions through a manufacturing process that is utterly incomprehensible to modern science.
The primary raw material for these miracles?
Ghost stories.
……That was the exact, painfully brief record logged when this company first appeared in the [Darkness Exploration Records].
The sheer lack of explanation only fueled the paranoid imagination. The bizarre technology, the deep-seated mystique, the casual cruelty, and the gaping narrative blanks—it all combined to send a deep, creeping chill down the spine of anyone reading it.
However, as the wiki expanded over time, so did the tantalizing breadcrumbs.
'The backstory always gets attached eventually.'
Of course, Daydream Corporation couldn't have just dropped out of the sky fully formed, armed with perfect, unprecedented pharmaceutical technology.
Even if it seemed that way on the surface, digging deeper would inevitably reveal its origins and bloody history…. That was exactly what made analyzing the lore so thrilling and terrifying.
Eventually, as time passed, highly intriguing exploration records were sprinkled throughout the Darkness Exploration Records, allowing readers to slowly piece together data and speculate on several major conspiracy theories regarding Daydream.
And the hidden location I had just breached… was the smoking gun for Conspiracy Theory No. 2.
The original, foundational source of Daydream Corporation's pharmaceutical technology.
“…Hoo.”
I swallowed a hard, dry lump in my throat and began surveying the ‘Dream Cultivation Lab’.
The dust-choked, forgotten lab looked exactly like a neglected science classroom in an abandoned high school, or perhaps a decrepit, top-secret facility left to rot after an apocalyptic event.
Everything in the room felt utterly dead.
Rusted workbenches and shattered experimental equipment.
Cracked beakers and towering display cases filled with unidentified, stagnant liquids.
And… the massive, hulking machine dominating the center of the room.
“…….”
The primary power was off. Beneath an empty, cylindrical glass tube sat a faded button panel and a heavy keyboard. It was a clunky, old-school experimental machine straight out of the early 2000s.
And resting innocuously beside the keyboard was an experiment logbook.
The exact same physical logbook mentioned in the exploration records.
I carefully opened the weathered, brittle pages and began to read it.
Every single page.
All the clean, methodical handwriting that must have once documented the early experiments had been deliberately and thoroughly obliterated.
Smears of ancient filth, dried blood, spilled ink, and frantic pencil carvings covered every square inch of the paper. It was drenched in the cramped, psychotic scribbles of total madness and visual screams...
"Uurp."
I violently dropped the logbook like it had burned my hand and gasped for breath, fighting down a sudden surge of nausea.
'I thought I could handle reading it.'
I couldn't.
You'd think that as someone armed with future knowledge, I would at least attempt to systematically restore the text buried beneath the madness, but I gave up immediately. And it wasn't because this was some cheap plot device like in the wiki where information was purposefully blocked to build suspense. It was just that I physically could not endure looking at it. The sheer psychological weight radiating from the pages was unbearable.
“…….”
I remembered the lore now.
These were the exact responses provided by an anonymous employee who, by sheer, unfortunate accident, succeeded in conducting trades in the 'Faceless Market'—an underground exchange located within a sewer manhole—without disclosing his corporate employment status, during Daydream's internal interrogation.
Assistant Manager ■■■ : Yes! I was the one who discovered the facility. The machine looked incredibly old, but it still seemed to function properly. There also seemed to have been highly classified documents regarding early Dream Essence potions and a few specific Darknesses. I was terrified it might fall into outsider hands, so I quickly... pardon?
Assistant Manager ■■■ : ...You're saying that facility doesn't belong to our company? ...Wait, so it wasn't contaminated by a localized Darkness, but rather it was abandoned because the company... W-Wait, why are you pointing that weapon at m—
...That specific interrogation record ended with the company successfully 'cleaning up' the anonymous employee.
"..."
A profound chill crawled down my spine.
Something deeply ominous was hanging in the suffocating silence of the lab. Every survival instinct I possessed was screaming at me to turn around and sprint out of this tomb right now...
'No!!'
It was time to move to the next phase of the plan.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to walk around to the back of the massive machine.
There was a standard, metal office desk with an archaic data-entry PC. And collapsed on the floor beneath the swivel chair... was something heavy.
A corpse.
I already knew it was going to be there, but I still gasped, the breath hitching in my chest.
The body looked as if it had just slumped out of the chair mid-keystroke. It was desiccated, mummified, and utterly lifeless, like it had died a very long time ago—which somehow made the scene even more profoundly disturbing.
But I understood exactly what had happened here.
The wiki's analysis results indicated that the body's higher motor functions had ceased five years prior.
Given the anomalous circumstances, it was presumed that only the subject's baseline vital signs were somehow artificially sustained by the environment.
This was the final, doomed researcher of the Dream Incubator, forcibly kept alive in a state of living death until the note at the Faceless Market was successfully passed to someone else.
The owner of the disembodied hand I had traded with.
"..."
From the corpse's mummified left hand, which was missing its pinky finger, I carefully retrieved the custom equipment coin I had paid with.
Then, swallowing my revulsion, I gently lifted the plastic card key hanging from a lanyard around its withered neck.
Researcher Yoo Kwe
■■■
Scrawled in ruined, frantic ballpoint ink above the heavily smudged-out name was a desperate phrase: 'Can't let them find out.'
But I could still just barely make out the first syllables of the name.
"...Yoo Kwe?"
Something flashed through my mind reflexively, a fragmented connection attempting to form.
But I aggressively pushed it down for now. I didn't have the mental bandwidth for mysteries.
“…Hoo.”
If I thoroughly searched this space, I felt certain I might uncover more of Daydream Corporation's hidden, bloody backstory or the true origins of their technology.
'But who knows what sort of dormant anomaly might jump out if I pry too deep...'
Even just glancing at that cursed lab journal earlier had given me a sickening, psychic headache.
'For now, I will strictly only interact with what has already been verified by the wiki.'
I returned to the front of the central device labeled 'Dream Incubator'. While there were no detailed, step-by-step operation logs documented in the Darkness Exploration Records, the entry had clearly stated: 'Though it looks like an antiquated prototype, it appears to be in proper, functional working condition.'
All that remained was to mechanically piece together what was needed to boot it up.
"Huu."
First, I gripped the card key I had retrieved from the dead researcher. Then, running my hands along the dusty surface of the 'Dream Incubator', I found a thin magnetic slot located on the outer front panel.
'Here, maybe.'
I slotted the card key into the reader.
Ziiiiing—
“…!”
The massive machine violently surged to life, booting up with flashing red and blue LED indicator lights.
The huge experimental device hummed, glowing warmly as if it were the only living entity remaining in this decrepit, forgotten lab.
And then, the heavy glass tube mounted at the top illuminated.
'Is something inside it?'
There appeared to be some kind of round, organic object suspended securely at the dead center of the glass chamber.
'That might be the core processing component.'
In any case, the Dream Incubator had successfully reactivated. Along with the lights, a digital counter displayed on a small LCD panel next to the glass tube.
DE 0000000
Time for the next operational step.
I unlatched a heavy brass valve at the end of a small, reinforced pipe connected directly to the side of the glass tube.
Inside the pipe, there was an oddly shaped, highly specific recess.
'...This is it. The injection port.'
I reached deep into my coat pocket and pulled out the high-value item I had prepared for this exact moment.
Something I had desperately held onto ever since miraculously pulling it from a merch box, never able to actively use it no matter the situation.
It was explicitly stated to lose its anomalous effectiveness if exposed to the open air due to rapid oxidation, so I hadn't even dared to unseal it.
—Dream Essence, A-grade or higher.
A shimmering, incandescent golden potion, glowing like a liquid hologram, perfectly contained within a tactical Dream Essence Collector exclusively designed for Daydream's elite frontline teams.
...I could finally utilize the massive payload I had charged up during my desperate escape from Brown's Late-Night Talk Show.
I aligned the sharp, metallic nozzle of the collector with the recess inside the pipe and pushed.
Thunk.
It clicked into the port perfectly, securing itself with an airtight seal, almost like a lie.
And then... the raw essence began to flow into the machine.
“...!”
The dazzling, prismatic fluid flooded the pipe and began to rapidly pour into the transparent glass chamber. The sheer luminosity of it was almost overwhelming to look at, forcing me to squint.
'Was there really that much volume inside the collector?'
From what I remembered, the essence had only been stored in a compact, palm-sized tactical cylinder. Yet somehow, defying physics, it filled a full quarter of the massive glass chamber with a soft, echoing swish.
As the golden, anomalous glow fully illuminated the glass, the organic object suspended inside briefly revealed its true silhouette.
'...An egg?'
It was something deep scarlet, roughly the size of five chicken eggs fused together.
It seemed to organically pulse, and deep inside the membrane, a strange, shifting form flickered for a fraction of a second.
But then it was completely submerged in the luminous golden liquid, vanishing from view entirely.
And then...
DE 0000001
The digital counter on the panel ticked upward.
Accompanied by the deep, rhythmic hum of processing machinery, the number rapidly climbed...
DE 00158313
And locked there.
"Huu."
Success.
'I've successfully charged the Dream Essence into the prototype...!'
The digital number, oddly reminiscent of the corporation's internal welfare points, made me pause and wonder. Could Daydream Corporation's entire company-wide point economy have originated from the output of this specific machine? Not that the lore mattered right now.
What actually mattered was that everything had executed exactly as I had planned. All that was left was to use the interface.
"..."
I turned my full attention to the keyboard buttons positioned below the LCD panel.
...They were crude emojis.
🥰🥸🤯🧐🤪🥱
Out of the dozens of keys available on the board, only these few specific emojis were properly backlit.
'Maybe I don't have enough raw materials to synthesize the higher-tier options?'
Or maybe it was a hardcoded limitation of the prototype machine itself, I couldn't be entirely sure.
Either way, I thought carefully about my tactical needs and clicked the one that seemed the safest and most immediately useful.
🧐
The 'observant' emoji with the monocle.
The button flashed green...
DE 00158313
DE 00148313
The digital point counter decreased by exactly 10,000, and the machine violently activated.
Oooooong!
With a heavy, mechanical grinding sound, a portion of the golden liquid inside the glass chamber was rapidly sucked downward into the chassis.
The deep vibrations of the synthesis process made the floorboards and my whole body tremble slightly, and then...
Clunk.
A dispenser in the lower section of the machine slid open, and a cylindrical, transparent glass bottle rolled out into the retrieval tray.
"...!!"
I snatched it up with a trembling hand.
A bright, neon-purple liquid, shimmering with an eerie, self-sustaining radiance, swirled inside the bottle.
Even the label taped to the glass was crudely printed on standard graph paper.
Detective Syrup for Kids
(Cherry Flavor)
★★★
It was a highly familiar color profile.
And just judging from the emoji and the bizarre name, I could easily guess its function. This was an early prototype of Daydream Corporation's detection potion...!
Detection Potion
: When consumed, it illuminates what the user needs most at the present moment.
Judging from the density and color of the liquid, it looked to be at least a solid C-grade anomaly.
The branding was different, but I was absolutely certain the anomalous effect would be highly similar. But what made this acquisition even more tactically interesting was this...
'This specific iteration of the potion was discontinued.'
Right.
It was a formula no longer mass-produced by Daydream. Naturally, that meant it was also entirely unavailable for purchase through the employee welfare mall, regardless of clearance level. At this point in the timeline, it might very well be an item that can only be obtained through this specific prototype device...!
'I definitely charged over 150,000 DE points into it.'
Since this specific potion had only consumed 10,000 points, I had enough capital to try pressing all the remaining lit emoji buttons and stockpile a massive arsenal.
'Alright, then next I'll—'
At that exact moment.
The LCD panel's display glitched and changed.
06 / 23:59:54
And the entire lighting rig of the 'Dream Incubator' abruptly dimmed, as if the machine was forcefully entering a mandatory power-saving mode.
'...A hardcoded cooldown countdown?'
Usable only once per week.
A frustrating limitation, but entirely befitting an unstable, early-stage prototype.
"Huu."
Honestly, taking a step back, it was a massive relief. If I had gotten too excited and started mashing buttons at random to see what popped out, I might have wasted all that precious, high-grade Dream Essence I had just risked my life to charge.
'Let's think the long-term logistics through a bit more.'
I decided to examine the powered-down machine more closely while I had the chance.
Outwardly, it was just a dull, ordinary hunk of industrial metal, so I focused my attention on the user interface instead.
Especially the unlit buttons.
'Each of these icons must correspond to a highly specific, synthesized potion.'
I scanned through the faded emojis on the keyboard. A mask, a horned demon, a thermometer, a stack of money, and various other cryptic icons. Using the wiki lore, I could easily guess how these would match up with specific, modern Daydream Corporation potions.
Except for one glaring omission.
'...I don't see a single icon that looks like a Wish Ticket.'
Of course.
The emoji that would logically resemble the quintessential potion—the miracle drug considered the very core foundation of Daydream Corporation's power—was nowhere to be found on the board.
'...Wait, maybe this?'
I noticed a strange, violent trace at the very bottom corner of the keyboard.
◎
It looked exactly like the physical space where a keycap used to be, but it had been forcefully, brutally gouged out of the chassis with a tool.
"...Can't say for sure. I don't have enough data."
The overarching mechanics of the ghost-story setting weren't forgiving enough to go blindly poking around based on hopeful speculation.
'...Maybe another veteran employee could figure something out if they saw this?'
If I brought someone who had been operating within the company far longer than me, I might be able to safely uncover more functional hints here.
Of course, sharing highly classified, paradigm-shifting secrets like this might instantly put both of us in lethal danger from the corporate hit squads...
'Still, there might be someone in the roster who wouldn't care about the risk.'
I quickly thought about a few potential candidates, then immediately stopped myself.
Now that I had fully taken on the role of a government corporate spy, executing that kind of unauthorized move was entirely out of the question. And in any case, by the time this whole insane spy job was over, I would already have the Wish Ticket in my hand as payment.
'Put the mysteries on hold. Focus on the mission.'
For now, I could be incredibly satisfied with the fact that I had successfully secured a covert, personal use for my farmed Dream Essence.
I securely packed the 'Detective Syrup for Kids' into my coat and quickly stepped outside the lab.
"Huu."
The tactical yield was massive, so I didn't feel too bad about the cooldown.
But as I climbed back up and looked down at the heavy manhole cover, I started to feel a prickle of unease.
Agent Choi of the Bureau had taken the encrypted note.
'Could he deduce the physical location of the Faceless Market just like I did and show up here?'
Or worse, was he already actively tracking my movements?
But logically, there was no way for him to trace which specific manhole I had exited from, and even if he possessed the note, it would be nearly impossible to break the cipher while stuck in the rigid operational mindset of 'this is obviously a ghost-story related anomaly.'
Even in the established lore of the Darkness Exploration Records, it took a highly trained, former Daydream employee three agonizing months to crack the cipher after obtaining it. And that breakthrough was achieved purely by chance.
'If your entire investigative thought process is rigidly stuck in the paradigm of 'this must be ghost-related', then... yeah, failure is inevitable.'
Still, just in case he was competent, I decided to take a temporary, anomalous precaution.
"I think this will do the trick."
After quickly downing a 3,000-point utility potion I had previously purchased from the welfare mall, I slammed the heavy iron manhole cover shut.
Gatekeeper Potion
: The very first physical door you close after consuming this potion can only be subsequently opened by an individual to whom you personally disclose the door's exact location.
I think the operatives on the forum also referred to it as the Secret Potion.
Using it vaguely reminded me of something Director Ho had done during an operation, which annoyed me a little bit. But the profound sense of physical relief vastly outweighed the psychological discomfort.
"Alright. That's handled."
There weren't any ridiculous, omniscient worldbuilding elements in the lore like 'Daydream Corporation tracks the GPS coordinates of all potion usage,' so this ward was more than enough to feel moderately safe.
Now all that was left on the agenda... was to return to the Bureau headquarters and immediately enter another lethal ghost story, huh?
I heavily dragged my feet on the long walk back to my hospital room, grumbling bitterly to myself.
'My life is seriously a joke...'
Still, looking on the bright side, from now on there would be a massive bonus income generated from surviving ghost stories. Because now I could actively collect and process Dream Essence.
Not to hand over to the company like a good little drone, but for my own personal arsenal!
"Let's hang in there. I can do this."
I gave the elite-team Dream Essence collector, which would soon be back in active use, a quick, reassuring pat through my coat, and successfully returned to my hospital room without incident.
A few days later.
"...You've done exceptionally well."
"N-No, not at all. Just doing my job."
I was finally officially discharged from medical supervision and immediately returned to my temporary agent duties.
"As mentioned during your previous debrief, you've been assigned to a general operations role for this cycle, not to the frontline Dispatch & Rescue Unit."
Thank you, God...!
I almost cried tears of joy while listening to Agent Bronze's operational briefing.
"...This time, the fieldwork won't be nearly as dangerous. The active civilian rescues are already completed, and you'll merely be wrapping things up on site and handling the post-incident logistics."
Everything sounded absolutely beautiful.
Yeah, people need to take on some low-stress, administrative jobs from time to time to avoid burning out...
"For this specific assignment, all you need to do is drive a designated vehicle at exactly 2 a.m. on a specific route, with a highly unstable ghost occupying the passenger seat."
"......"
Excuse me, what?