Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Serial Killer in the Mountain Cabin
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Three minutes had passed since getting swept up in the Serial Killer ghost story and landing in front of a cabin deep in the woods.
The used goods trader who'd gotten off his bike after us approached the cabin door.
He spotted me and Baek Saheon standing there first and paused for a moment.
'...He recognizes me.'
The used goods seller, me specifically.
But I kept my mouth shut, pretending I hadn't noticed him yet.
Baek Saheon jumped in with an innocent tone right away.
"Excuse me, are you the owner of this place? Sorry about this, but I think we got on the wrong bus. No signal out here in the woods—mind if we borrow your phone for a quick call...?"
"I got lost too and came here asking for help."
"Ah... I see."
Only then did I turn to look at him, feigning surprise.
"...!"
Wide eyes and a slight bow.
Sure enough, he didn't seem flustered since he'd already clocked me. He returned a subtle nod.
Meanwhile, Baek Saheon was subtly digging for info on him.
Sizing him up, probably. Checking if he was weaker than himself.
"Out here on a weekend hike? Pretty remote spot—must be a local, right?"
"...No. I don't even know how I ended up here myself. I definitely left from Seoul."
"Whoa, really? Same here. No signal though. Know the way out or where we are...?"
"......Not really. Let's ask inside."
"...Ah, sure."
Baek Saheon smacked his lips at the fruitless chat, then glanced at the guy's bike.
And finally, he confirmed it.
The mark printed on the handlebars.
Obviously official government issue. Baek Saheon lit up at the slip-up exposing his identity.
"Hey, by any ch—"
I nudged his side.
He stiffened and shut his mouth, turning to me.
I mouthed it slowly.
'Disaster Management Bureau.'
"......!"
'You must've heard at work how bad blood runs between the company and the Bureau.'
If we're made...
I made a subtle throat-slitting gesture, and his face changed.
He never approached the civil servant again. Good attitude.
"I'll open the door."
I nodded to the civil servant, who now had his hand on the knob. He casually opened the cabin's wooden door.
Kiiiiik.
"Anyone home?"
Midday sunlight poured into the dim cabin interior.
And...
"Wh-whoa? More people?"
"You the owner??"
The people already inside revealed themselves.
A couple who looked married, three in their twenties, one middle-aged.
Six in total.
Plus us three... nine people.
'It's starting.'
Suppressing the urge to squeeze my eyes shut, I stepped inside.
And everything unfolded straight out of the clichés...
The couple whose nav glitched and led them here.
"Can you believe it? Nav sends us to bumfuck nowhere, car breaks down, no cell service... I'm losing it!"
"Ugh, honey, that's why I said Sapporo over Sokcho!"
Three college hikers from a mountaineering club, lost.
"We parked the car down below."
"Right... damn it."
And the middle-aged guy, a substitute driver finished for the night, hunting the nearest bus stop.
"Phew, at least we're not alone anymore. Feels better already. Owner'll show up if we wait, right?"
Something like that.
I scanned the room with dead-fish eyes, having given up.
Couldn't even grab proper items.
Life's too hard...
'Focus only on me. Just me!'
Questions came our way as the new arrivals.
"What about you young folks?"
"Ah, just company workers. Took the wrong bus on business. This guy's the junior supervisor, I'm the employee."
Look at Baek Saheon subtly shoving responsibility my way.
I pulled out my notebook.
Still in my field outfit, so pocket access preserved my character.
[Hello.]
"Huh? Why write...?"
[Throat's a bit off.]
"Ahh."
The three college kids turned away with exaggerated shudders. The couple glanced and put some distance between us.
"Whoa, flu's nasty these days—caught that?"
"Put on a mask or something. Don't spread it."
[Sorry. I'll keep quiet and careful.]
Baek Saheon eyed me like I was gross. He'd been stealing my reactions since earlier.
"What about that other guy?"
"Nah, met him at the door... hmm."
The used goods cool trader was big-built with sharp eyes, intimidating vibe, but polite.
"Seoul Metropolitan Government civil servant."
Oho. Straight-up admitting it.
He casually explained being government and getting lost on his bike.
Of course, that was it.
No mention of Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau affiliation or everyone here trapped in a ghost story facing Russian roulette with a serial killer.
Still, folks weren't idiots—they sensed something off.
"So all these people lost in broad daylight and end up at this rural pension?"
"Like we were possessed."
"Hey! Honey, don't jinx it."
Safety in numbers breeds boldness.
They whispered of ghosts but eyed the room like tourists.
"Y'know, this place..."
"Feels loaded, right? Like those rich houses every neighborhood had when we were kids."
Spot on.
The wooden cabin, built in an old Western style from decades ago, felt quaint yet cozy-rich and upscale.
"Whoa, look! Gold frame over there!"
A large frame hung in the living room corner—definitely solid gold frame.
But the contents grabbed me first.
There was a poem.
"......"
No.
'Foreshadowing blatant as hell.'
Way too on-the-nose.
But no horror or mystery buffs here, apparently.
The college hikers snickered among themselves, then one pocketed an ivory trinket from the side table.
'O.'
Won't be shocked if they're the first bodies tomorrow.
That very moment.
Clunk.
"...!!"
Noise from the kitchen back.
Shadow of the back door opening.
And a figure slowly entering through it.
Hood up, hunched over, face hidden...
"Greetings, cabin visitors."
"...?!"
"I am the lodgekeeper and will attend you during your stay."
Deep voice.
He bowed politely in archaic Seoul dialect.
Yeah. The classic 'butler managing the murder mansion' type.
Unlike my dead-fish stare, folks freaked at his ragged look clashing with the refined speech and offer.
"Um, sorry, we're not guests—we just got lost and need to borrow a phone..."
"No, you've come exactly where you're meant to."
"Pardon?"
"To trade cassette tapes, yes?"
People froze.
"The ones in your pockets right now."
"...!"
As if compelled, they rummaged pockets and pulled out items.
Worn ivory cassettes with smudged titles, like Baek Saheon's.
"...That!"
"How'd you...?"
"The cabin's late master was a great tycoon who distributed those tapes far and wide in life."
People flinched.
"And promised thus."
"Wh-what promise?"
"'Bring that cassette to the cabin, and I'll trade it for anything of mine'... that promise."
"......!"
"It holds even after his passing."
Obvious bait, right...?
'Nah, too effective to be cliché.'
Money's eternal charm.
People chuckled nervously but eyes flicked to display case jewels and celadon.
Middle-aged guy grabbed the gold frame half-jokingly, dead serious.
"Hah, so I can just take this?"
The lodgekeeper replied smoothly, politely.
"Of course. Provided you take it when you leave—in three days."
"What?"
Hmm. As expected.
"To avoid wasting your one-time trade on impulse, we give three days to mull it over."
"No need for that!"
"Then leave now. No trade, though."
The couple clammed up at the lodgekeeper's words. Regretting the free money, probably.
One college kid raised a hand from back.
"Hey, so... anything goes? Like, gimme all the inheritance?"
"Possible."
"...!!"
Joking tone vanished from the kid.
"The whole cabin?"
"Yes."
"......"
Eyes shifted.
'They wanna believe.'
Lingering unease vanished; atmosphere like they'd hit the jackpot from some online tale.
Will and papers shown by the keeper turned belief to certainty.
"This real?"
"Insane......"
Even the cursing couple perked up.
"Screw the weekend trip—let's tough it out. Worst case, call the cops?"
"Yeah. What if some shaman blessed the tapes? People piling up. Wild."
The lodgekeeper even gave time for personal calls.
Post-calls, event-like excitement buzzed.
The watching lodgekeeper bowed deeply.
"With so many at once, trade order matters."
"Ah, yeah!"
"First claim takes all!"
"Thus... most cassettes first dibs on trading."
"...!"
People eyed each other.
The three college kids exchanged glances especially.
Group-wise, they had the most tapes.
"Wait, buy others' tapes?"
"Merely explaining the method. Not required—get creative with terms. Order matters too."
"......"
Tense undercurrent rippled.
"Shall I prepare rooms? Bedrooms upstairs."
"Ah, right."
"Yeah, rooms first..."
"Hold on."
Baek Saheon's voice cut through.
"Got urgent business—might need to head out. Way out?"
"Certainly."
But it didn't happen.
Moments later.
"Torrential rain caused a landslide outside. Power's fine, so no issues staying."
"......"
Baek Saheon shot me an 'X'd?' look.
'Yup.'
I shrugged.
Things being what they were, no one leaves till the script runs.
'Hence my splitting headache brainstorming escape routes.'
One silver lining: no ghosts, at least...
'...Just a serial killer.'
And predictable.
Common twist in movies/novels, ghost stories too.
The serial killer is...
I had to find and avoid whoever morphs into the killer here.
'Hmm.'
Or... a slightly different approach.
Rubbing my chin, I spotted the civil servant slipping away.
"Be right back—check the weather."
"Sure."
I followed to the veranda.
Fierce rain and wind darkened the outside; drops dampened my clothes.
Storm'd mask our talk.
Shielding my notebook, I eavesdropped.
[You're the cookie buyer, right? Thought so.]
Good—he didn't play dumb.
"Yes. Correct."
But scanning me top to bottom, gauging.
Hmm.
Pretending to look around, confirmed no eyes on us, then scribbled tensely small.
[Sorry, but... this situation weird?]
"......"
[Everyone with a cassette tape lost and ending up here? Too coincidental.]
[Ghosts... or something?]
He'd know my supernatural exposure from selling ghost story food.
This question wouldn't seem off.
'Key's if he pegs me as intentional intruder.'
Prefer civilian treatment.
His reaction would set my path.
'Odds high he'll safely say 'dunno'...'
"Correct."
...??
Straight up?
Civil servant hesitated, then asked.
"How'd you get the cassette?"
[Don't have one myself... saw my coworker’s. Felt ominous, told him toss it, but bus brought us here.]
"......"
He hand-to-chin, silent a beat.
"Wrapped up in this often?"
I grinned awkwardly on purpose.
[Sometimes?]
"I see."
He wrestled, continued.
"I'm... well, government agent."
Outing that much?
[For real? Ghost-hunting 007?]
"Er... yes."
[Whoa!]
...Your 'not the time to fangirl' is way too obvious on your face.
"Anyway, this is a supernatural phenomenon. Stay cautious. Stick with me if possible; otherwise, groups of three or more."
Hold up.
'Treating me way better than expected civilian?'
Dunno why, but good. I replied quick.
[Thanks. What about the others?]
"Don't worry about them."
Hmm.
[Can I tell my coworker?]
"No."
Yikes.
He glanced living room, lowered voice conspiratorially.
Like spilling state secrets.
"Truth is."
Truth?
"...One here is the killer."
Yeah.
Yes.
I know......
Couldn't show it, so feigned shock, scribbled fast.
[Killer? How do you know??]
"This cabin's no ordinary spot. Not publicized, but similar incidents repeated—victims slaughtered by killer."
No, host—you.
"Trust no one, even close. If alone, never open your room door."
'Usually the one barricading inside dies first, no...?'
Anyway, gleaned facts on him and the ghost story from this.
[Thanks.]
Thanked him, night greetings, left veranda.
Now headed to my assigned room easier.
Mind made up.
"Whew."
Searched the room.
Had something in mind.
Right...
Opening the wardrobe: two hefty one-handed axes hung as decor.
"......"
Scary and exhausting, but unavoidable.
So...
'Strike first?'
I gripped an axe.
Serial Killer, I'll give it a shot.