Chapter 91
Chapter 91
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 91
Chapter Title: Even If I Fall into a Ghost Story, I Have to Go to Work
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A gloomy back alley.
Even in a raucous, bizarre night market where non-human things gathered, it felt out of place—that utter darkness and stench.
And the grotesque beings standing at the alley's entrance, staring at me under the gaslight.
Hollow-eyed figures in uniforms.
But I had to go.
And I couldn't let my colleagues notice that my feet had frozen for a moment at the sight.
Squelch.
I stepped into the back alley.
My colleagues followed right behind.
Squelch, squelch.
As I walked between the narrow walls, into the black shadows under the dim gaslights, closely packed side doors passed by on either side of me.
"......"
It was bizarre.
Like stepping into a poorly composited image where side doors stretched on endlessly.
And the stares fixed on us from both sides as we walked between the doors.
'Ha.'
All of them in tattered, filth-stained uniforms. Abnormally gaunt black bodies standing rigidly against the walls.
Turning only their heads toward us.
I wanted to scream and beg them to just do it already...
'No. It's fine.'
I couldn't use 'Turn Off the Lights' right now.
'Can I ask later when I really need it?'
Yeah. I had to endure it.
'Stick to the plan.'
I swallowed hard and kept walking.
At the moment my legs stiffened, chills crawling up the back of my neck, making it even harder to move.
"...Huh?"
I snapped my head up at my colleague's exclamation.
Still the endless row of grotesque side doors, the monstrous figures in uniforms. And...
Just one.
A slightly open door.
"......"
The door protruded just a bit.
Through the gap, pitch-black darkness.
'Wow, for real.'
It was straight out of a horror movie. My eyelids were trembling.
But I had to say this.
"There's a door open over there. Looks like a sign of welcome. Let's go in."
"Yes!"
"Ah... right!"
"......"
'You shouldn't be convinced by this nonsense...!'
Still, I had to do it.
I took a deep breath and approached the lone open side door. The urge to run grew stronger the closer I got, but I held back.
Instead, I leaned down to peer through the narrow black gap...
And met bloodshot eyes.
"...!!"
I-it was expected. Absolutely do not panic or do anything stupid...
I shoved what I was holding into the gap.
A pack of cigarettes.
"......"
My hand trembled.
Something very cold brushed my fingertips, and then...
Creeeeak.
The side door swung wide open.
'...Phew.'
I did it...!
I clenched my teeth, pulling back my now-empty hand where the cigarettes had vanished.
Wow, I might actually cry...
"Opening a trading post door with a 5,000-won investment in cigarettes! As expected, good opportunities aren't found—they're made. Great job, Junior!"
"Right...!"
"......"
I wished someone would convince me that convincingly so I could stroll in carefree too...
But for now, all I could do was lament that I was the one who'd convinced them and step forward.
'Ugh.'
The bloodshot eyes had vanished. Instead, a faint cigarette smell wafted from somewhere, but whatever.
'Much better.'
I let out a sigh of relief and took a step inside.
"......"
It was pitch black, but shapes were faintly discernible. Boxes and cargo draped in black cloth, stacked like a maze.
The musty smell of a warehouse.
"Ah, if this were a warehouse mart or clearance sale spot, it'd be perfect! Lots of salvageable items with high turnover..."
Unfortunately, no.
I pushed through the boxes and finally found what I was looking for.
"...! Deer, over there..."
"Yes."
Another door inside.
Similar to the one we'd forced open, but less worn and cleaner.
'...I have to open this one too, huh?'
At least I wasn't at the back.
Grateful for that much, I stepped forward and gripped the handle.
Then yanked hard...
Dazzling light stabbed my eyes.
"...!!"
My blurred vision slowly recovered over seconds, taking in the full space.
A magnificent sight filled my eyes.
Elegant chandelier crystals and brass, deep-toned wood framing the interior, walls lined with gold frames and thick, glossy green velvet curtains.
But something even more overwhelming.
Ivory torsos—upper bodies only—lined three walls, each displaying unfinished suits and dresses.
And between them, hands in white cotton gloves, bodiless, measuring and finishing tailoring!
My colleagues' mouths dropped open.
"Wh-what is this place...?"
What is this luxury suddenly after a dingy back alley?
Simply put...
'That really was the back alley.'
We had entered through the filthy back alley of these opulent high-end shops.
Of course, we weren't legitimate customers.
Just pickpockets who bribed our way in with a pack of smokes amid a slum of laborers and homeless vagrants.
But irregular entry in ghost stories wasn't new.
'If it goes south, bail.'
If our trespassing got exposed, it could end badly, but then I'd ask Brown to erase our presence and bolt.
'Back door escape route secured.'
That's why I'd held back on asking Brown until now!
I stepped forward.
"Ooh...!"
Don't admire it, everyone...
Unlike my troubled heart, the gloves touching the torsos reacted in perfect unison.
Whoosh!
With a light whistle, the gloves' bodies suddenly emerged from thin air.
High-class navy uniforms on mannequins.
Similar to those in the alley, but far cleaner, neater, more detailed.
And heads popped out too.
Painted mannequin faces.
'Ugh.'
Don't stare.
I quickly looked down.
Grotesque, but bearable.
Anyway, the mannequin clerk bowed deeply in a polite posture, then gestured for me to follow like a guide.
Probably... got exposed during 'membership registration' and punished with labor for trespassing.
Or couldn't pay the membership fee.
"......"
Either way, I tried not to imagine what those ragged-uniformed monstrosities in the alley used to be.
'Irrelevant now.'
Only one thing mattered.
Avoid membership registration.
'Test it by pretending to buy expensive as a non-member.'
If only members could buy, bail. What I wanted here wasn't worth more than my life.
But as I raised my hand in a friendly gesture...
...!
Like a mark appearing on the printed mannequin faces, the clerks flinched.
Then bowed to me again.
"......"
And I knew exactly one reason for that...
I twisted my arm to check.
Under the casually lowered shirtsleeve as I raised my hand, the now-familiar Latin word revealed.
: Socius :
"...Does this confirm membership?"
The mannequin bowed deeply.
"......"
Now it's scary.
'Second time already.'
The mascot's 'Theme Park Membership' tattoo granting me privileges in ghost stories.
As Brown said, the word's meaning was universally accepted everywhere.
Even the fox counseling office had acknowledged it...
'...Why leave this on me?'
Before, I might've thought it a huge win and moved on, but now it felt different.
Having nearly died once to contamination.
'This seems as powerful as it is risky for me.'
Unverified, unpredictable strong mark on my body from an unknown source—how to view it?
But membership was confirmed, and if risky, squeeze value from it thriftily.
"Show me the goods."
The mannequins bobbed their heads and returned to their torsos, drawing back the curtains.
A glass case appeared like magic.
Inside, a sleek suit on display. Similar to what I wore, but deeper color, eerie sheen...
As if asking if I liked it, the mannequins clasped hands politely and turned to me.
'...Here we go.'
I raised my hand.
"One moment. I'm mainly looking for small accessory gifts."
Key point to remember.
Don't get greedy for overreaching items here.
Definitely beyond what a sane human could afford.
Barter or currency.
So narrow the scope.
"Something casual I can wear comfortably."
The curtain dropped and rose again.
The briefly hidden case revealed new items like magic.
Not torsos, but three or four upper-body mannequins.
Accessories gleamed on necks, arms, fingers.
"......"
I spotted the lightest, least conspicuous one.
A thin silver ring.
Delicate workmanship, but seemed to use the least material.
Meaning cheapest-looking.
"How much for this?"
The mannequins raised hands in unison, pointing.
At my companions behind me.
"......"
Yeah.
"...Deer?"
"......"
"Um, what... what's happening right now...?"
"Ah, right. Package it up."
The mannequins moved in unison, carefully removing my chosen ring from the case.
They fetched a silken cord with a luxury tag from somewhere, knotted it to the ring, and presented it to me like for inspection.
The tag had tiny, elegant script.
I strained to read it—skirting straight contamination—asking my good friend instead.
'Brown, read this for me?'
'...Yeah.'
As expected.
'Never wears out, always in place'... that sort.
Keywords tied to permanence or constancy.
Actually, the 'Purchase: Ring' from this boutique's record stemmed from a separate wiki entry.
A massive mental contamination incident.
The sole Daydream Corporation survivor there bought and wore this ring after selling three civilians.
'...Impossible not to recall.'
It tied to my goods-related event.
The one massive disaster from the silver heart.
That train crash.
It was the longest entry on human error disasters in the Disaster Management Bureau section, even novelized as a wiki story.
A ring pivotal to surviving such a catastrophe unscathed.
The boutique entry practically born to justify that ring's lore and fun.
In short, accessories and clothes sold here were indirectly verified by the wiki.
Resisted mental chaos, brainwashing—situations breaking mental 'constancy.'
Summed up,
'Powerful mental defense gear...'
...Exactly what I needed after nearly dying to contamination once.
"......"
I looked up.
"Looks good. I'll take this ring."