The First Customer

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

A cup of ramen, piping hot, fresh off the boil. Yang Nari cradled it with both hands like a priest handling a sacred relic.

"Sluuurp— slurrrrp!"

Chopsticks came up, and she started shoveling noodles into her mouth like a woman possessed. One look and you'd think she hadn't eaten in three days. Then again, if she'd been tangled up in a ghost story for a while, she may well have gone that long without a meal — the Company wasn't in the habit of feeding rookies generously when they headed off to training.

"Hic."

The anomaly still had her hand clamped over her forehead. But her eyes were locked on Yang Nari, tracking every last noodle down to the final strand. Drool was running from her mouth in a thin, unbroken line.

"You hungry?"

"N-no...? I'm on a diet...?"

The anomaly shook her head in a frantic flurry. Every time her head turned, what dropped off her wasn't beads of spit but a centipede or two, pattering onto the floor. Disgusting, honestly.

Even so, Yang Nari's satisfaction was climbing along nice and steady. If we were going to be working together from here on out, I figured I'd have to start paying the anomaly for her trouble, too. She claimed to be dieting, so chicken breast it was. I pulled a sauce-glazed pack off the shelf and popped it into the microwave.

Ding—

A minute and thirty seconds later, I handed the warmed-up chicken breast over.

"It's a part-timer benefit. Go ahead, eat up."

"Th-thank you..."

Blowing gently on the steaming meat, she ate — all while somehow keeping her hand sealed over her forehead so nothing crawled out. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Seen like that, she could pass for any ordinary college girl.

"It's good... really, really good..."

The anomaly smiled as she chewed. Yang Nari kept sneaking sidelong glances at her.

"By the way, why does that part-timer keep holding a hand over her forehead?"

"W-well..."

I shifted to block her view of the anomaly with my own body.

"Our part-timer's a little shy around strangers."

If that woman filed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a report, the anomaly would be dragged off to the Company before the hour was out. And depending on how it went, I might get hauled in with her — considering how ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I'd left the Company. That, I could live without.

"Really?"

Yang Nari tilted her head. By the look on her face, her suspicions had landed on me instead, and there was nothing I could do about that. All she could do, apparently, was tip back the rest of the ramen broth.

A few bumps along the way, but eventually both the anomaly and Yang Nari finished their meals.

The quest had gone off without a hitch, too. All it took was one cup of ramen to push satisfaction that high — which told you plenty about how much she'd suffered inside the ghost story.

"Thank you for the meal! I know having two people made things a bit complicated, but... I promise I'll help you get out of here!"

She opened the door and made to leave.

Snatch.

I grabbed Yang Nari by the shoulder. Customer from a ghost story or not, walking out without paying was crossing the line.

"And just where do you think you're running off to? Without paying?"

"I'm sorry?"

"That'll be 1,800 won, customer."

"Wait — I'm still in training, I don't have any money! I gave you my business card, so if you reach out through there, I'll transfer it right over!"

"And how would I know you won't eat and run?"

Company people could not be trusted. Fresh-faced new hires included.

Yang Nari's face crumpled, one step from tears.

"I have Ghost Story Poi... ah. Right. You're a civilian."

"Are you kidding me?"

"I-I swear I'll pay you back!"

"No tabs."

I rapped my knuckles on the counter.

"Then work it off."

"Excuse me?"

"No money means you pay with your body."

Yang Nari's face lit up.

"Oh! A part-time job?"

"No."

I pointed behind the counter, where a few centipedes were wriggling across the floor.

"Cleaning."

"Cleaning?"

"One cup of ramen. Thirty minutes of cleaning."

"...Okay."

Without another word, Yang Nari took up the mop. Swish— swish— And while she worked, the anomaly sidled up to me.

"E-excuse me, Boss..."

"Yes. Go ahead."

"I-isn't cleaning the part-timer's job...?"

She asked gingerly. I shut it down flat.

"No."

"Why not...?"

"What the customer eats, the customer pays for."

Scrub-scrub-scrub— Whether she'd overheard us or was just nervous, the mopping picked up speed.

First things first: I had to get out of this ghost story. Right now there were two of us inside Solitude — Yang Nari and me. The anomaly didn't count; she wasn't human. And unless we found the exit, one of us was going to die.

A visible exit. A phone number to call the moment you discovered the real way out. The solution was, surprisingly, simple: wherever the telephone was, that was the true escape route. People had died in droves simply for never figuring that out.

Conveniently enough, there happened to be a business phone sitting on my counter. And with the anomaly's cooperation, I could get my hands on the escape number. I'd already buttered her up with chicken breast — she'd tell me.

"Could you tell me the escape phone number?"

"Ah, yes... one moment, please..."

The anomaly rummaged through her pocket and unfolded a slip of paper. I dialed the number she read out, digit for digit.

Rrring— rrring— The line rang, and then someone picked up.

"Wha...?"

Yang Nari, still wiping down the counter, jumped clean out of her skin. The skin-crawling scenery was melting away, the ordinary world bleeding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back in to take its place.

Clear a ghost story, and you return to where you started. The anomaly would go back to the story she'd come from, and Yang Nari to the Company's rookie training.

What kind of windfall was this? Back in my Company days, I'd crawled through weeks — sometimes months — of pure hell to earn a hundred points per ghost story cleared. One customer served inside a ghost story, and I'd already made over a thousand. I'd also learned that even a retiree could still use the shop, and there was plenty worth buying in the Ghost Story Points shop. You could even exchange points for cold, hard cash.

"A thousand points... how much is that in money, I wonder?"

Humming a little tune, I scrolled through the shop. It looked like I could keep myself fed for a good while even if no customers came. That number sitting in the points window looked downright beautiful.

"You clean well, Ms. Yang Nari."

The counter was spotless — not a single centipede left in sight. I checked the time on my phone. 10:29 PM. About three hours since I'd entered the Solitude ghost story.

"If I were still with the Company, that'd be new fastest-clear record material."

Then I shook my head. No. Why was I thinking about Company work after quitting? I'd finally gotten my hands on an anomaly convenience store where all I had to do was clear the odd quest and coast. Here's hoping I never got tangled up in a ghost story again.

Tap, tap.

Just then, someone tapped my shoulder. Long hair, a delicate, pure face — and centipedes dropping from her forehead, one by one.

"E-um, Boss...?"

"GYAAAAH!"

The anomaly I could have sworn had gone back to her ghost story was standing right beside me.

"I-I'm sorry... I'm sorry for startling you, Boss..."

The anomaly fidgeted, head hanging low.

How could an anomaly just appear in the real world? Weren't they supposed to be sealed away inside ghost stories? My common sense was coming apart at the seams.

"What is this?"

The side quest I'd failed inside the ghost story. I was certain I'd run her through the basic training in there. It wasn't my fault that anomaly couldn't do her job... right?

"Wow... it's been so long since I've been in the human world..."

The anomaly was pressed flush against the window, gazing out at the view. An enormous centipede was gliding along the full-pane glass, leaving a slick trail of slime in its wake.

"Hold it! Come here, right now."

I seized her wrist and hauled her into the storage room.

Clack!

I locked the door and pinned her against the wall.

"Eek! I-I'm sorry...!"

Had I been too rough? No. However pretty the shell, an anomaly was an anomaly underneath — and there was no telling when she might crack me over the head the moment my back was turned.

"I'm the one who should apologize."

"It's okay..."

"Um... Miss Anomaly? No, wait. Miss Solitude?"

I had no idea what to call her. She'd come out of the Solitude ghost story, but she didn't exactly come with a name of her own.

"Ah, my name. I never told you... I-I'm Ji Yesol..."

The anomaly — no, Ji Yesol — bowed her head deep.

"Han Jinho."

And here I was, of all things, trading formal introductions with an anomaly.

"Th-thank you for getting me out of the ghost story..."

An anomaly, scared of ghost stories? Honestly, I'd seen it all now.

"Don't mention it. And it's not like I pulled you out because I particularly wanted to. Anyway — Ms. Yesol."

"Y-yes...!"

"First rule: real world or ghost story, the centipedes stay hidden. People find them terrifying."

"Yes... Boss..."

"Let's head back out."

BANG!

We'd barely stepped out of the storage room when someone kicked the convenience store door open.

"Part-timer! Hic! Get me some soju! The red cap, not the green one! Hic!"

A nightmare of a customer — and a thoroughly pickled one at that. That old man stumbles in dead drunk every single day, and every single day he ends up sprawled across my store floor, I swear.

"Hic!"

Ji Yesol, apparently frightened out of her wits, clamped her hand over her bottom lip instead of her top one — and hiccuped all the same.

SHLUCK—

Sure enough, a giant centipede came squirming out right in front of the drunk.

"GWAAAAH!"

THUD!

The old man dropped like a sack of rice the moment he laid eyes on it.

"I-I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry..."

"Ah. Ms. Yesol."

"Y-yes...!"

"With drunk troublemakers, you're allowed to show them that."