Rewards Are Best When Unboxed

The speculation threads on the Ghost Story Survival Gallery were an absolute train wreck. Because ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Amanecida kept going on about her "dear friend," posts about me were sprouting up all over the place.

It wasn't as if I could fire off deletion requests for each and every one. And no matter how few users the gallery had, I couldn't afford to let my guard down — it was a community the Company had built, after all.

For now, the prevailing mood was that the convenience store itself had to be a hoax, so I decided to wait and see how it played out. In the privacy of my own heart, I added Yang Nari and Maestro Amanecida to my personal blacklist. Please, I prayed, whether in the real world or inside some ghost story — never come again.

Ji Yesol was watching me nervously.

"There's one of these in the hall of fame now."

My story had climbed all the way into the hall-of-fame posts. This was genuinely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠inconvenient. I wanted to be forgotten, thank you very much. Ever heard of the right to be forgotten? Those goddamn gallery bastards.

That's what I meant about the nicknames making no sense — "Legendary Field Agent" this, "S-Grade" that. The highest rank among the Company's regular staff was A-Grade. S-Grade, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they said, didn't exist at all.

Curious what kind of tale they'd spun, I tapped the post open.

I hadn't even written the thing, so why was the secondhand embarrassment billed entirely to me? The content itself was nothing special — just a summary of what had happened back when I was with the Company. It had been a while since anyone hyped me up this hard, so I couldn't even say it felt bad.

Might as well check the comments.

It felt like my heart was being wrung out.

The piece of shit who killed his own little brother. That had been my nickname ever since the kid died.

"…Boss?"

Ji Yesol's voice reached me. I didn't answer. My finger scrolled slowly down the screen.

Below that, the speculation ran wild in every direction.

I wanted to deny it. I couldn't. Even if I hadn't killed him with my own two hands, there was no denying that his death was my fault.

"Biho…"

For the first time in a long while, I called my little brother's name. Maybe it was because two whole years had passed since he left. I'd been calling that name for over twenty years, and yet it still sat awkwardly on my tongue.

"A-are you okay…? Boss…?"

Ji Yesol peered up at me, worry written all over her face.

"It's nothing."

"Okay…"

"It's nothing you need to worry about, Yesol, so don't make that face."

I gave her the usual brush-off. A man-eating anomaly could hardly understand what it felt like to lose someone precious.

Anyway — what to do about this post. I really didn't want the convenience store rumors turning into rumors about me. I quietly tapped the report button. Reason for report: request from the party concerned. If they demanded verification, fine, I'd verify.

That was enough of the Ghost Story Survival Gallery. The clock read seven in the morning. Since I'd spent good money keeping her on full-time, that left me roughly seven hours before our shift.

I'd meant to sleep, but the post I'd just read had me wide awake. Bunch of gallery bastards. The moment they crossed the line, I was saving the thread straight to PDF and suing them into the ground.

Moving my body a little might help me sleep, and the house happened to be disgusting anyway. My cleaning stat: S. Ji Yesol's cleaning stat: A. Pooling our strength, we should have been able to make the place spotless inside an hour.

"Yesol."

"Y-yes, Boss…!"

"Let's clean the house together."

"Cleaning… sir…?"

She was a convenience store part-timer, not a live-in housekeeper. Which meant I'd have to pay her properly for the extra work.

"If we finish, fried chicken's on me."

"F-fried chicken…!"

Drool pooled at the corner of Ji Yesol's mouth. This was the girl who ate nothing but chicken breast in the name of dieting. But fried chicken was a different beast entirely, wasn't it?

I opened the windows first. The summer heat came blasting in, but we could run the air conditioner once we were done. "Right then — let's get moving."

Once the cleaning was finished, I ordered fried chicken as promised. We'd split it half and half, the civilized way.

"Zzz… zzz…"

Ji Yesol had already passed out, drumming her stuffed belly. The woman had demolished an entire chicken in one minute. Leaving a single drumstick as "the boss's share" — was that supposed to be acceptable? If she were a human part-timer, I'd have cut her loose on the spot… but then again, I'd bought it as her cleaning wage to begin with, so whatever.

Could a woman's stomach really handle a whole chicken per person? Oh. Right. Not a woman — an anomaly. And her trait list came with big eater on top of everything else.

I'd hired Ji Yesol as a part-timer and even brought her home with me. Treating an anomaly like a part-timer was apparently rotting my common sense. I needed to get a grip.

Exhausted and still hungry, I could feel sleep creeping up on me.

"Might as well unbox those rewards from the other day."

The convenience store level 3 achievement reward. And the A-grade ghost story equipment I'd received for taking first place in the management competition of Neverland of Disaster. I'd unbox the store reward first.

"Status window."

The status window was only supposed to function inside ghost stories. But factoring in that I was half-turned into an anomaly myself, I figured it was worth a try — and…

"Well, what do you know. It works."

It felt like I'd been issued an official anomaly certificate, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. Was I seriously about to end up hauled off to the Company? I'd rather die first.

For now, I hit Accept on the equipment.

A bodysuit straight out of science fiction. The gear I'd received with my severance was all stamina-oriented, and my Hug Me equipment was one hit away from falling apart anyway, so being able to round out my defenses with mental protection was more than welcome.

"Now for the attack equipment."

Hacking humans? They'd really stapled every gimmick imaginable onto this thing. One glance at that feature list and I could picture exactly how vile the Artificial Paradise ghost story had to be.

That said, I'd never even heard of a ghost story called Artificial Paradise. So either the Company had cleared it after I quit, or it was still uncleared. An uncleared ghost story — a presumed A-grade one at that — meant a minimum of three months starting from the preliminary fieldwork. Ten years at the outside; there were still presumed A-grade domains no one had ever conquered, so enough said. I'd only resigned ten days ago, which meant they wouldn't even have a strategy guide drafted yet. Overwhelming odds, then, that this was an uncleared ghost story.

And yet it had a grade? A grade the System had assigned all on its own? Hold on — what if the status window itself was an anomaly too? The whole world seemed to be made of anomalies, and that terrified me. Because there was every chance I was one of them.

"Honestly, how is anyone supposed to live in a world this frightening?"

I shoved the morbid thoughts aside and unboxed the convenience store level 3 rewards as well.

Beneath the status window, under the [Check Quests] and [Part-Timer Management] buttons, a brand-new [Manage Regulars] button had appeared. Let's have a look at this list.

Maestro Amanecida. My self-proclaimed friend, the last person on earth I wanted to see again. Why exactly was she a regular at my convenience store? Was there really no blacklist function instead of a regulars list? If one existed, I'd gladly put her right at the very top. What a pain in the neck.

"At least part-timers can be trained."

I tapped Maestro Amanecida's name.

A member of the Libra of Harmony? A group I'd never heard of. A social club for anomalies? Or a sinister cabal scheming to remake the world however they pleased? Either way, it was deeply unpleasant. Pretending to be human, were they. I had no idea what the organization actually was, but if an S-grade anomaly like Maestro Amanecida was a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠member, I'd better stay on my guard. Let me file that away.

I'd claimed the ghost story equipment and confirmed the level 3 rewards. My work here was done.

"Haaahhm…"

A yawn forced its way out of me. Time for a nap. I set my alarm for thirty minutes before our shift and flopped onto the mattress. For the first time in ages, a fresh, clean scent filled the whole house. Thanks to which, I was out the instant my eyes closed…

Beep-beep-beep-beep— beep-beep-beep-beep—

Current time: 1:30 in the afternoon. I thought I'd slept plenty, but my body still felt like wet cardboard.

"Mmph… chicken… it's so good… Boss…"

Was she dreaming about eating chicken or something? We had a shift, so I shook her awake.

"Yesol. Up you get. We have work."

"Nnnngh…"

Ji Yesol rubbed her eyes and dragged herself upright. Getting ready took neither of us long. Me, I just had to wash my face and change clothes — and Ji Yesol was an anomaly, so that was that.

I hauled the still-nodding girl down along the hillside slum lanes until we reached the convenience store.

"Welcome."

The part-timer — a scruffy topknot bun, glasses thick as bottle bottoms — tossed out the greeting with all the sincerity of a recorded message.

Ko Suhyeon, the short-term part-timer I'd hired through Karrot. Incredibly, this was her third time coming in to work for us. On the counter sat a tower of exam prep books, among them one titled:

That's right. You could tell at a glance — she was a job seeker trying to get into the Company. Why on earth would anyone want to join a place like that? It wasn't exactly rare for people to ruin their lives chasing the money it handed out.

Not my business, though. My own nose was three spans wide, what with having to march into a ghost story and open for business every single day.

"Thanks for your work. I'll have your pay transferred by the end of the day."

"Thank you."

The moment Ko Suhyeon stepped out, a status window bloomed before my eyes.

Damn it all.