Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: 25-Hour Convenience Store Horror - Rules (7)
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I flick the Great Mop's head with my toe.
Crack—
[09:01:11]
The moment the Great Mop snaps, the convenience store door slides open.
The first customer steps in from beyond the door.
Fluorescent lights reflect off the entrance glass, stretching his shadow long.
I glance at him, then speak into the receiver toward her.
“Now, from this point on, when a customer enters the store—”
—Ah! I get what you mean!
—Got it! I'll keep my eyes peeled on the customers!!
—So they can't steal anything!
I continue after her response, brimming with determination.
“No. Just check their positions for me, please.”
She doesn't seem to understand my words yet.
But she'll adapt and get it soon enough.
She's quick on the uptake, and her attention to detail is better than expected.
The customer stands before the shelves.
No movement.
Just standing there in front of the canned drinks section, head bowed.
Watching him, I slowly step forward.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
My footsteps echo through the store on the tile floor.
The fluorescent lights flicker, and the fridge hum grows oddly prolonged.
On the third step.
The customer finally reacts.
He slowly turns his head.
With a creaking of joints.
But it's too late to react now.
He's already within my reach.
‘End it in one hit.’
Thwack—!
A dull thud, and black blood trickles down the mop.
Soon, Han Su-ryeon's bewilderment bursts through the receiver.
—Ehhh?!
As I move to clean up the scene out of habit while listening to her startled voice, the door opens again.
Another customer enters.
Ah.
Our eyes meet.
His gaze drifts slowly from my face downward.
And at the end of that gaze lies the body of the customer I haven't dealt with yet, still warm.
‘...This is bad.’
I let go of the foot I'd been dragging.
Thud—
The foot hits the convenience store floor with a dull sound.
Somehow, it feels like I've become the villain here.
Hiding it is pointless now anyway.
I drag the pole along as I slowly approach the second customer.
The metal scrapes the tiles, low and drawn out, slicing through the space.
The silver lining—
Customers who enter the store will either check out.
Or, until they're refused, they absolutely won't leave this place.
I don't know why such a rule exists.
But thanks to it.
The automatic door behind the customer hisses “shh—” and closes.
Now the exit is completely sealed.
The air from the AC, the sway of the displays, the fridge vibrations.
It all sounds like a steady rhythm to me now.
One step forward.
At the same time, his foot steps back one.
‘...Coincidence?’
My head tilts slightly.
And—
Whoosh—
The tip of the Great Mop in my hand skims the floor and advances.
Boom!!
The customer reflexively hurls the beverage bottle he was holding.
The glass shatters midair, shards scattering.
From that gap, the horror's arm shoots out.
I don't dodge the attack.
I watch.
And predict.
The elbow's angle.
Muscle contraction speed.
Trajectory.
Then it's simple.
I twist sideways past the swinging arm.
Grip the mop handle as the axis and reverse the arm's direction.
Thud—
The horror's arm bends backward.
No scream.
Black ichor drips as the arm hangs limp.
Two steps forward.
His eyes widen hugely as I close in.
It happens sometimes.
Same loop, same conditions.
Even with the same physical state from the loop.
Some days the body feels heavy, like it's waterlogged.
Other days, light as a feather.
And my condition right now—
I can feel it myself.
Definitely the latter.
Senses sharpen without effort.
Heartbeat steady.
No major stress, tension, or rigidity.
Just right, perfect.
The horror swings his other arm at me as I approach.
But before he can, I've already—
Slipped right under his chin.
The Great Mop tip jams into his mouth.
“—Guhk.”
His body freezes for a moment.
In that brief pause, I hook my toe behind his ankle.
‘Like a lever.’
I unbalance his center of gravity and shove the gripped Great Mop forward.
The mop in his mouth becomes the pivot.
It bends his body back, his weight shifting onto my shoulder.
Then I fully pull his center out.
His body topples almost in freefall, headfirst.
‘Down he goes.’
Gravity handles the rest.
Boom!!!
His head smashes into the floor with a heavy rupture.
Black sludge seeps into the tile cracks.
For a moment, the impact shakes the fluorescent lights into a flicker.
Only after the fight ends does her voice belatedly erupt.
—Gulp—
I hear her swallow clearly through the receiver.
—Th-that! ...Are you maybe from some special forces, or the National Intelligence Service!
A small smile tugs at my lips at her reaction.
—Or an assassin?! ...Or, ...a famous serial killer... or something?!
Adding “famous” to serial killer doesn't change anything.
Amid her fussing, which I think is the last one.
The prank from when I first met Han Su-ryeon slips out unbidden.
Keeping a straight face, I open my mouth calmly.
“I was an office worker.”
A brief pause, then I add.
“Before that, unemployed.”
“And now—”
I glance at the receiver.
I hear her breathing.
—Hah... Hahh... Hah...
Afraid she'll pass out, I continue quickly.
“I'm an agent.”
A moment of silence.
—I, I haven't introduced myself yet!! I'm Han Su-ryeon, 20 years old! Call me Su-ryeon casually!
Familiar lines.
A name I've heard countless times through repeated loops.
Still.
It doesn't make sense for a civilian caught in this to handle horrors so adeptly.
A bit of playfulness mixed in, but this was necessary.
“I'm Alpha Agent. Call me ‘Alpha’ casually.”
As I finish speaking, I grab the ankles of the two customers, now trash, and drag them along.
I stuff them into the regular trash bin.
Clunk—
The lid closes, air escaping.
Thankfully, no customers interrupt midway this time.
There was a slight issue.
Traces left on the floor.
Because of it, every incoming customer glances at the drag marks etched on the floor.
But few horrors dwell on it deeply.
If any do, I approach and resolve their pondering right away.
***
Han Su-ryeon's voice comes through.
—It's almost 4 PM now!
Current time: 15:00.
Her bright voice rings from the receiver.
Now completely accustomed tone.
The lights haven't gone out.
After confirming I'm safe, she started holding onto hope.
The anxiety and fear from moments ago are gone from her voice.
—Cameras 2 and 3 are clear!
—One left at the bento shelf side! This horror bastard!
—Hurry and deal with it! Alpha Agent! Daring to touch store goods with filthy hands!
—...Ahh! R-running...!
Before her words finish, running sounds come, and the shadow near the counter flickers.
Reflexively, I swing the Great Mop from low to high.
Thud—
A heavy sensation transmits through the tip.
No resistance.
I spin the pole once without extra force.
Body moves first, thoughts follow.
Just before the horror's head reaches.
The spun pole strikes his head perfectly timed.
Boom—!
When the clash ends, his head is up on the counter.
I grab the approaching head and mechanically smash it on the metal plate.
Once.
Boom!
Twice.
Boom!
Tougher than expected.
Thrice.
Boom! ...Crack!
Black liquid drips under the counter.
[17:57:12]
‘Stamina's still plenty.’
I look up at the ceiling, gripping the Great Mop.
All lights are still on.
Time loops.
[17:41:25]
[18:31:52]
[19:54:14]
[20:15:24]
[21:26:45]
[22:35:31]
Beep—
The machine beeps, and the second hand moves.
[23:00:00]
Now, until midnight.
Only the final wave remains.
***
This time is different from before.
The convenience store door opens, horrors enter.
—Horror caught on camera 5!
Her bright voice shifts instantly.
—Two! Ah... three...?
—Four!
Unlike her panic, I already knew.
The reason I died from blood loss in the previous 64th loop.
—Five..! How many are coming! So unfair!
—S-six!!
Stamina was an issue.
But the bigger problem—
This horror tale has no intention of letting me escape easily.
—Six, Agent!!
Her worried voice comes through the receiver.
Total customers in this last hour—twenty-three.
All horrors.
If it continues, I'll have to fight them all at once.
But I have no such plan.
Only six have entered the store so far.
Boom—!
The door slams open hard, shaking the entire store.
The instant ramen cups on the shelves tumble to the floor in a chain, fluorescent lights flickering.
“They're here.”
Six shadows at the store entrance.
Silhouetted by fluorescent light, they enter and halt.
‘Ranged type.’
‘Melee type.’
‘Sonic type.’
They show no intent to move first.
Then—
I'll make them.
The Great Mop tip scrapes the floor.
The iron pipe grates the tiles, ringing out low and ominous.
The moment I enter a certain distance.
Unable to hold back, two fist-types charge at once.