The Nightmare of the Black Mud
I was having a nightmare. What was I doing? I climbed unfamiliar stairs that felt vaguely familiar. In my left hand, a bundle of keys; in my right, a long wooden stick. Right— I was locking doors. I'd gone to sleep and suddenly woken up in this bizarre school, forced into night duty just to survive. But why did everything feel so hazy? Had I not slept well? I couldn't properly remember which doors I'd locked so far. Strangely, my body wouldn't move as I wanted. Come to think of it, where the hell was I right now?
I stopped dead in my tracks. Class 2-1 was in front of me, so this must be the third floor. The door wasn't locked, so I fumbled through the jingling keys to find the right one. But why were my hands shaking like this? Did I have some kind of tremor? I managed to lock it and turned to the hallway.
A humanoid monster, its body covered in pitch-black mud, was staring at me. Its mouth was grotesquely torn into a grin, standing motionless and smiling. Just seeing it froze my body—I couldn't move. Class 2-2's door was unlocked too, so I had to get closer no matter what. But I couldn't budge, and the monster started moving first. Step by step, slow but steady, it approached.
If it wasn't coming closer, I could've run, but no matter how hard I tried, my body wouldn't respond. Was this what sleep paralysis felt like? I'd never experienced it, but it had to be something like this. Clang. The key bundle hit the floor. My body gripped the wooden stick with both hands. I squeezed so hard that blood seeped from where my nails dug into my palms.
Meanwhile, the black mud monster drew nearer. Was I seriously thinking of fighting? A coward like me would never make that call. Wait a second. This body right now... was it really mine? Where had I gotten the stick from? I couldn't remember. The floor felt farther away than usual. My arms and hands looked unfamiliar. This definitely wasn't me. Then who—
"Uwaaaaaah!"
The man let out a scream—or was it a battle cry?—and swung the stick at the monster now right in his face. The monster's head made a wet thud as it flew off, rolling across the hallway floor.
"Hah... hah..."
The monster's movements stopped completely. Even prodding it with the stick did nothing. Had I subdued it? Was this how it worked?
"Ha... hahaha... hahahahaha!"
The man laughed like a maniac. The monster that had terrified him turned out to be pathetically weak. Realizing that, his tension snapped, flooding him with shame and exhilaration all at once.
"N-Not... not a big deal at all..."
If it had been me, I'd have just ignored it and walked past. But this guy? He had to get revenge. He kept swinging the stick, smashing the monster's form to pieces.
"Die! Die! Hahaha! Die!!"
With every swing, chunks of the mud-like flesh splattered across the floor with wet thuds. It lost its human shape, collapsing into a puddle on the ground. Not satisfied, the man stomped on it wildly.
"Ha... hahaha..."
Even the wildest frenzy has its limits when stamina runs out. The man, crushed by excessive tension, couldn't sustain the high for long. As his excitement faded, he finally remembered his task, turned back, and went to grab the key bundle. His body felt light and unburdened.
He reached out his left hand to pick it up—but it didn't move. Tilting his head, he tried to look at his left hand. It was gone. He turned around, and the mangled monster stood there good as new. A massive mouth split vertically from head to toe bared black teeth, chewing on something.
"You know what? Human flesh actually doesn't taste that great."
Agony hit him then. But the man collapsed to the floor without even screaming. Only terror and pain remained with him.
"Still, there's one part they consider a delicacy. Guess where?"
He couldn't answer. Couldn't think. Amid the pain, he just desperately wanted to live.
"The brain. Everyone's got their own unique flavor."
Survival instinct is an amazing thing. Even with the searing pain of a severed arm, the man turned and crawled away from the monster. But soon, his vision faded. The pain ended.
★ I snapped my eyes open, coming back to my senses. My whole body was soaked in cold sweat. I checked my hands and arms—they were fine. What the hell kind of dream was that? I'd never had a nightmare in my life, but this place was full of new experiences.
The monitor was off. I'd finished wrapping up yesterday's unfinished shift, spent the remaining time on the Gallery, and at 6 a.m. sharp, the monitor powered down. When I stepped out of the guard room, the indoors blazed like midday. Just before entering, the outside had shown no sign of dawn.
After that, I ate the meal from the fridge—seaweed soup and bulgogi that tasted incredible. I changed into my guard uniform from the wardrobe and hit the bed right away. Sure, I could browse the Gallery at night, but daytime offered nothing to do.
Before sleeping, I'd worried about oversleeping and asked the Gallery.
No one had ever overslept and missed a shift, they said. My counter that maybe they were too embarrassed to admit it got shot down easily. With people spilling every detail of their private lives on the Gallery out of boredom—even stuff no one asked for—why hide something as minor as sleeping in? It made sense; I couldn't argue logically.
True to their word, I woke up, left the room, and it was still bright outside. I sat in the guard room chair, watching the emptiness. It was utterly quiet, devoid of anything, perfectly peaceful. What exactly happens if you step out during the day? If I had regression powers, I'd test it immediately. Sure, death is scary, but isn't that what regression is for?
I was bored. Felt like at least 30 minutes sitting there. But I didn't go back inside. The reason I stayed planted in the guard room was to witness the moment night fell. Without a clock, though, I had no choice but to wait it out the dumb way.
"You're out today, huh?"
A familiar, clear voice made me turn. Song Ha-yeon waved lightly. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she looked like she was heading home.
"Heading out?"
"Yeah. Your shift's coming up soon, right, Guard?"
Thinking about another shift drained the energy right out of me. Come to think of it, I'd heard her voice at the end of last night's duty. I'd assumed it wasn't her, but confirming wouldn't hurt.
"Did you maybe come to school at dawn yesterday?"
"Pardon?"
"No... while I was on duty, I thought I heard your voice."
Song Ha-yeon looked flustered and waved it off.
"No, no. I was sleeping at home."
"Really?"
"Of course. Why would I lie?"
Her expression seemed utterly genuine. Even if it was her, she'd probably deny it anyway. I felt a bit foolish for asking.
"Maybe it was a jang-san-beom?"
The random comment popped out of her mouth.
"Jang-san-beom?"
"Yeah, that yokai that lures people with voices and eats them."
"So it thought I'd fall for your voice?"
"Could be? I think my voice is pretty nice, don't you?"
"Can't deny that."
Her voice was clear and resonant. She could've been a voice actress. Assuming she was human, anyway.
"Oh, right—the annex door was still creaking yesterday."
"Ah..."
She'd mentioned that. I'd completely forgotten and nearly died slamming it shut carelessly. But admitting I'd spaced on it might sour the mood, so I bullshitted.
"I... meant to fix it, but I didn't know where the lubricant was."
"Ah, got it. Check the gym storage."
Gym storage? Where was that? My confusion must've shown, because Song Ha-yeon added quickly.
"You know the flagpole on the playground? Door under that— that's the gym storage."
"Ah... thanks. I'll handle it today for sure."
She smiled brightly in response. With a "good luck," she headed out the entrance. Was she really a youkai? Impossible to tell.
I opened the duty log file. Like yesterday, it was fully filled out—no need for me to write anything. Fortunately, no incidents today. Good—I'd had that nightmare, and I didn't want to see Kim Eat-Chil again.
But one sudden question: the log had been blank this morning. Who filled it out?