Chapter 234
Chapter 234
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 234
Chapter Title: Serve the Nameless One
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"Serve the Nameless One." "Serve the Nameless One." "Serve the Nameless One." "Serve the Nameless One." "Serve the Nameless One..."
⟨ Chant of the Nameless Radiant Church ⟩
My ears are heavily buried in amorphous, defensive flesh, yet the fanatical chants still manage to echo through the barrier. The rhythmic, guttural voices of the fanatics from the Happy Ending Parish—a highly volatile sect of the Nameless Radiant Church—reverberate through the steel shaft, violently shaking the structural frame of the elevator...
...
Suddenly.
The elevator I am riding in enters a completely different, logically impossible space.
The distinct, echoing sound of a single water droplet falling in a pitch-black, cavernous void.
A deep, sealed basement.
An unknown, profoundly ominous air immediately floods the elevator cabin. It is a suffocating mix of damp chill, stagnant humidity, and musty wood deeply reeking of ancient mold, and...
Corpses.
Kim Heo-un's neatly bisected body.
They have been systematically, almost lovingly arranged in the darkness of this forgotten basement. Dozens of dried chrysanthemums, dead sunflowers, and colorful children's school artwork are stuffed inside the wooden coffins alongside the rotting remains.
A thick drop of dark blood slowly drips down along the stem of a withered chrysanthemum.
The mummified corpses resting in the open coffins begin to shift, drawing physically closer to the edge of the boxes. It is a sensory wave of raw horror—the forgotten screams of those vanishing into the dark, absolute resignation, the sole desperate escape, the final and most terrifying 'happiness' humans can possibly bestow upon one another: a death entirely without physical pain, the complete cessation of their agonizing narrative...
However...
To anyone else, it would be absolutely paralyzing. The instinctive, biological fear of the story's abrupt end, of impending death—ah, it would have been infinitely better not to know. If it were merely an ignorant, blind death met in the sweet embrace of oblivion, how peaceful the human heart would be.
But you have unfortunately come to know the truth. A death actively chosen by oneself completely loses its psychological meaning as 'happiness' or salvation.
Therefore, for a broken entity like you, there is only one viable path to salvation...
The Name!
Sparkle.
The heavy ceiling door of the dark basement slowly slides open with a mechanical hiss.
A radiant, majestic, and completely blinding beam of pure golden light pours down from the opening above, illuminating the ash-choked air.
The Name knows every single detail of your pathetic stories.
The Name is the only structural answer to the terrible, underlying truth of this universe.
Only His grand will possesses any true meaning in this cosmic void.
Let us be watched by Him.
Let us fully comprehend and follow His divine will.
Let us transform our lives into stories worthy of His gaze.
Then perhaps, He may take pity on the strange things currently writhing within our flesh.
Perhaps He may grow fond of our suffering.
And thus, perhaps—at long last—
The peaceful rest we have waited for.
The happiness we desperately seek.
A happy ending.
That survives even the literal end of the world—
May finally be granted...
Happy Ending!
As the air in the basement grows even darker, more oppressive, and distinctly sinister, beneath the single beam of radiant light descending from the ceiling, I see a glimmering scrap of parchment resting on the lid of a coffin...
It is an item I have definitely seen before in the data archives.
A sacred scripture fragment belonging to the Mimicker Sect.
Scripture of Happy Ending, Chapter ■
■■■■■■■
That blank, anomalous ritual parchment calls out to you, vibrating with a low psychic hum.
As if begging you to swallow it whole and absorb its logic.
As if commanding you to immediately conduct the sacred ritual.
Turn your very existence into holy scripture.
Let your deep strangeness, your mysteries, your unease—
Your cruelty and your deep-seated fear—
Be successfully transformed into raw, anomalous power.
The brilliant light tugs aggressively at my consciousness, calling my name.
The basement feels as if it is expanding, growing darker, more unstable. That single radiant beam of light—like a bright lamp designed to attract a moth to its death—glistens with overwhelming temptation.
And then—
Hm.
I simply stood entirely still, completely unfazed.
So this is how their recruitment protocol functions.
Yeah, I suppose it is.
Had I still been in a psychological state where I felt human emotions the way I used to, I probably would have been seriously, permanently shaken by this display.
This is a near-perfect showcase of hallucination-induced brainwashing—stabbing directly at the root of primal human fear and inducing compulsive, helpless anxiety through psychological pressure.
But most of all, I already know the terrifying truth of the universe.
The Name isn't some benevolent savior. It's just a cosmic predator.
It is structurally no different from the grotesque centipede anomaly I faced in Jisan Village.
In the end, I was merely standing in a clearly conjured, illusory basement, looking at a piece of scripture someone had dragged me into to force my compliance.
I could have easily utilized my 'reading' ability to break the illusion and escape right away...
But I didn't think I would need to waste the energy.
Because the person who had physically dragged me here—
Must still be hiding nearby, watching.
"Huh? You're not going to write?"
Sure enough, a physical entity suddenly popped out from behind the heavy wooden coffin that held the bisected corpse.
The person responsible for this entire basement trap—a figure wearing a pristine, high school uniform skirt—casually turned around, brushing the dust of the basement floor off their clothes.
The artificial "light of the Name" illuminated the tiny dust particles drifting in the stagnant air around them.
Speaking with their back turned to me, they muttered—
"This is a remarkably good opportunity to secure salvation... so why won't you write your name? Why not...?"
And then—
While the rest of their body remained completely still and facing forward,
Only the head violently creaked around, a full 180 degrees.
And stared directly into my eyes.
Come with us...
Roll...
The severed head, held to the neck by only a few wet strands of muscle, detached completely, fell from their shoulders, and rolled across the concrete floor toward me.
Thud. It bumped heavily against the toe of my boot.
And in the very next instant—
The entire illusion shattered, and I was back in the actual, concrete underground corridor of Daydream Corporation's main headquarters.
But this time, the hallway looked incredibly warped, melting into a living nightmare.
It was a corridor constructed entirely of throbbing, pulsing red flesh.
Thick veins and biological tissue from the severed head stretched all the way down the hall, anchoring the space.
That thing was physically sucking me in—like a black hole possessing its own gravity.
Come with us...
There was something resting deep inside that head.
A dream?
I knew it instinctively. This was the specific kind of ghost story where, the exact millisecond you respond to its prompts, you get pulled permanently into its logic.
...It seemed highly probable that the Mimicker Sect had now marked both me and Director Ho Yu-won as primary candidates for conversion—or containment.
Phew.
So, what should I do?
Strange, grotesque visuals like these no longer shook my mind too deeply.
But maybe it would be tactically safer to just wait here until the company's Security Team arrived to sweep the floor.
Though really, staying far away from anything involving the Mimicker Sect was always the safest path to survival.
As for that Happy Ending Sect member in the school uniform... I felt like I had previously read some brief entries about them in one of the older exploration records.
Although the Mimicker Sect was so densely packed with deranged, chaotic anomalies that a school uniform alone didn't narrow down their specific identity, I was confident I could handle it.
And also—
...They had just straight-up murdered a civilian right in front of us.
......
I made my decision.
Subdue the executive.
Even if it temporarily fried my cognitive pathways a little—I would deal with the fallout.
I reached out my hand to channel my mist.
But that was the exact moment.
"Sure."
Something heavy grabbed my arm, stopping me.
I turned my head.
Ho Yu-won, who had been riding the elevator with me, was smiling warmly as he answered—
Addressing his voice directly to the disembodied head of the Mimicker Sect.
"Let's go together."
...!
Wait—you idiot...
You actually answered it?!
A long, wet tongue slid out from the mouth of the severed head.
Haha, don't look, haha!!!
The head violently swelled, expanding to an impossible size, swallowing our elevator whole.
What has been answered within a ghost story cannot be taken back.
I tried to desperately tear my arm free from his grip, but my body was already being devoured—everything around me growing distant as I felt our physical forms being transported deep into the abyss...
......
Absolute darkness.
***
To begin with—
I had never particularly liked the Mimicker Sect story arcs in the Darkness Exploration Records.
Of course, they were immensely popular among the readers.
Their initial introduction had marked the definitive turning point when the wiki exploded in fame, transforming the IP into a full-fledged franchise.
But still... I don't know.
"Too... primitive," maybe?
Their design always felt... completely unrestrained by rules.
Their version of "fun" was mainly built around amplifying the raw, psychological elements that produced victims or deeply unsettled the reader.
And that kind of primal discomfort—what it would actually feel like to face that unfiltered madness in real life...
......
Real life, huh?
"Deer-nim?"
I opened my eyes, the haze clearing.
An interior space. Absolute darkness. The smell of cold metal.
And Ho Yu-won sitting right next to me.
"You're awake! Thank goodness. In that fragile body, you probably couldn't even sleep properly, and you lost consciousness..."
He reached his hand out, aiming for my chin.
"He crossed the line."
As I clenched his hand in my grip, slowly applying crushing physical pressure—
"Deer-nim."
Ho Yu-won continued to speak, entirely unfazed by the threat.
"Don't you want to permanently escape Daydream?"
......
"Director Cheong treats you incredibly poorly, doesn't he? But locked up in that high-security isolation chamber, there is absolutely no way you'll ever find a real solution."
I tightened my grip further, hearing the bones in his wrist creak, but Ho Yu-won's smile didn't waver in the slightest.
And then—
"I'm deeply sorry I didn't consult you beforehand! The Security Team was almost upon us, and my mouth just moved on its own... As an apology for the rashness—"
He laid out a proposal.
"How about I grant you temporary, unrestricted freedom of movement, Deer-nim?"
"...!"
"I have a lot of classified intel I need to investigate in this specific sector. So we can temporarily split up—I will gather the required information, and you can look for a way to break your restrictive employment contract. And if you feel like it, I would be highly grateful for any mutual assistance..."
Intel to investigate.
It must be related to Saegwang Special City.
It was a reasonable, highly logical motive.
And he wasn't done talking yet.
"Most important of all—none of this technically violates your employment contract. You are currently accompanying a company director on an off-site excursion, after all, Deer-nim."
Ah.
"So all of this technically counts as official company work. Consider it a kind of mandatory overtime."
......
"What do you say?"
I slowly released my grip on Ho Yu-won's wrist.
Overtime:
A separate, substantial compensation claim will be submitted.
"Of course. I will make sure you are exceptionally well compensated for your time."
The thick tension between us dissolved like an informal, tactical ceasefire. I exhaled slowly and stood up to survey our surroundings.
It felt exactly like walking around with a live, ticking grenade in my pocket.
Still, at least now I could mentally file him under 'annoying troll' instead of 'immediate lethal threat.' That was a minor operational victory.
And only then did Ho Yu-won and I finally look around properly, assessing our situation.
"This place is..."
It was a long, concrete corridor illuminated only by the sparse, flickering light of a few dying bulbs.
Its most distinct architectural feature: the structure resembled a bisected cylinder—arched and curved, like an underground transit tunnel.
And it was completely sealed off at both ends.
This gray, sterile space, devoid of any windows, was finished in rough, bare concrete...
"Doesn't it look exactly like an underground bomb shelter to you?"
Exactly.
The exposed, rusted metal walls made it feel like a municipal disaster shelter built for emergency evacuation.
They had simply dumped us here after converting our space?
As I tried to piece together the mechanics of this floor—
"Let us spread happiness."
...!
From the far end of the curved corridor, echoing from around a corner, came a unified voice.
The heavy sound of footsteps. A massive crowd.
There were roughly a hundred people moving in perfect synchronization.
And their voices—
"Ah, are they here to welcome the new believers?"
Soon, a long line of people rounded the corner and entered our corridor.
And they looked...
"Let us share happiness."
Incredibly, disturbingly ordinary.
Smiling, whispering warmly to each other as they walked—they looked so utterly mundane that you would easily mistake them for a group of families out for a weekend park outing.
Men and women, young and old—like a casual, community group.
But they were carrying something heavy.
Grouped in clusters of five or six, they were carefully cradling something rather large in their arms.
And that was—
"Let us spread happiness."
"Let us share happiness."
Corpses.
Dozens of dead bodies being carried gently in their arms.
The ones bearing the dead walked right past us, heading down the concrete corridor—seemingly entirely unaware of our presence, their vision completely obscured by what they were cradling.
And at the very end of the procession—
A highly familiar face.
"Let us share happiness."
...!
The school-uniformed youth who had originally "converted" us.
Still dressed in the delicate school uniform, he was walking side-by-side with another youth who looked identical to him, like a twin—together gently carrying Kim Heo-un's corpse.
He locked eyes with us, flashed a warm, gentle smile—
And simply kept walking.
"Shall we follow them?"
Ho Yu-won and I trailed the procession quietly from a safe distance. As we followed that eerie, silent parade to the corridor's end—
"Let us spread happiness."
We emerged into a vast, cavernous open space.
It could only be described as a massive underground bunker square.
The space was already densely filled with wooden coffins.
"Let us share happiness."
The crowd carefully placed the fresh corpses into the empty coffins.
When they were finished, the entire group gathered in a massive circle, and an elderly man—seemingly the most senior priest—stepped forward and raised both hands to cradle his own head.
Then he shouted—
"Let us pray for happiness!"
Everyone in the room immediately copied the gesture, cradling their heads.
"Be happy. Be happy. Be happy..."
In a room packed with dead bodies, countless people lifted their hands above their heads, praying with deep, heartfelt devotion.
"Let those born into misfortune finally find peace through the mercy of death. Let them be happy."
......
And with that, I fully understood.
Exactly where we had been transported.
Final Ritual Site
A sacred sanctuary of the Mimicker Sect. Structured exactly like an old municipal underground bunker. As it is itself a living ghost story, it possesses no fixed physical location in reality. It moves from place to place to conduct its rituals and often triggers various highly volatile anomalous phenomena. For detailed records, refer to the archives.
Some theories in the records suggest the site is actually constructed inside the stomach of a massive, living subterranean being, but its true nature remains entirely unknown.
Its form and physical capacity differ depending on the sect. Some chambers can host only a handful of believers, while others can accommodate tens of thousands of personnel.
There are even ritual sites designed exclusively for a single, isolated practitioner.
In short, this was one of the Final Ritual Sites operated by the Happy Ending Parish.
We had successfully landed right in the rotting heart of the Mimicker Sect.
And I was absolutely sure of it now:
These people are all completely, irredeemably insane.
The Mimicker Sect isn't like the Disaster Management Bureau, trying to maintain reason and human emotion—trying to preserve their humanity.
Even this somber ritual, which at a glance resembled a sincere, tragic memorial service, was structurally no different.
They had killed all of these victims themselves.
And... likely their own close relatives.
To be accepted as a lay member of the Happy Ending Parish, one must commit at least one direct murder.
And the victim must be someone the candidate genuinely, deeply loves and wishes 'happiness' for.
So this entire gathering was the Happy Ending Parish's collective initiation ritual.
Unbelievable.
That I was seeing this absolute madness with my own eyes.
It was completely unnecessary...
Now, people were stepping forward one by one, sharing who they had murdered, how wonderful and beloved those people were—laughing and crying about the memories like proud parents.
If I still had food in my stomach, I would have thrown up from the sheer disgust.
...Apparently, the display wasn't nearly stimulating enough for our horror-saturated Talk Show host.
Classic, cynical Brown commentary. Haa...
Come to think of it—
Didn't he say something to me earlier, right before I passed out...?
Hmm... Fair enough.
In any case, I didn't have the mental energy to engage any further with this cult freakshow.
Because the situation was about to get exponentially worse.
"Be happy!"
Now that the personal testimonials were complete, the coffins holding the corpses were being pushed into strange, black wooden boxes lining the back wall.
It looked like the ritual was entering its final phase.
They just kept sliding them in...
It must be some kind of supernatural disposal mechanism. I figured they might be trying to recycle the bodies.
So—
I stepped forward and stopped them.
Right before the coffin holding Kim Heo-un's body could be slid into the box.
"Happin—"
At that exact moment—
Every single person conducting the ritual turned their heads in unison to stare at me.
They saw a bizarre, massive creature spewing black smoke, sporting sharp horns.
But instead of screaming and fleeing in terror, they simply stared at me in a dead, reverent silence.
And then—someone in the crowd whispered.
"An Authority...?"
The whisper rapidly spread through the room.
"It's a high-level Authority."
"Who is that powerful entity...?"
One of them stepped out of the circle.
The school-uniformed youth who had originally converted me.
He blinked up at my masked face—
Then nodded, casually, as if understanding my demands.
"Ah, you wish to keep his body personally? Understood. That is entirely fine!"
Sigh...
I unzipped the flesh near my wrist and placed Kim Heo-un's corpse securely into the storage tattoo drawn across my amorphous flesh.
Just to be completely clear—I did not feel good about performing that action.
If I were still my old, human self, my hands would have been trembling violently by now.
That Happy Ending Parish executive, who had been watching my display with sparkling, fanatical eyes, beamed warmly at me.
"Anyway... you saw it yourself, right? The Love Paradise orphan you rejected is finally truly happy now too!"
......
"Welcome to the Happy Ending Parish."