Ten Minutes to Midnight
"Hup! Whoa, isn't this way heavier than it looks?"
Deokhu groaned as he hoisted two sheets of drywall onto his back. His face was already flushed red, looking ready to burst, and his horn-rimmed glasses were completely fogged up.
"Huff... huff... You said the day rate was two hundred and fifty thousand won, right? Urban legend or not, after working this hard, I'm definitely getting paid."
"Only if we survive and wrap this up in one piece."
"Oh... that's comforting."
"Don't overdo it. You'll throw your back out if you don't use the right technique. Use your knees, and brace your core. Like this."
I offered some advice as I smoothly hoisted a bundle of drywall onto my own shoulder.
Our first assignment was hauling materials behind a temporary partition wall set up for renovations in a corner of the first-floor luxury hall.
Protective sheets had been laid down to keep the polished marble floors from getting scratched, and we paced back and forth along them in a steady line, endlessly carrying materials.
"Whew, whew... Still, if you think of it as a workout, it's not half bad. Compared to hiking up a mountain with a boom mic on a film set, this is a luxury."
Deokhu panted heavily but managed to joke around.
"And at least it's cool in here with the leftover AC. Remember that summer shoot? Ugh, just thinking about it makes me want to run away... Seriously, ugh..."
He seemed to be trying his best to stay positive.
Or maybe he was intentionally pushing his body to the limit, forcing a bright attitude to distract himself from the terror that would descend at midnight.
"Yeah, that shoot was brutal."
I felt the same way. I began to move even faster.
For one simple reason: to keep my mind from wandering.
The rough texture of the drywall against my back, the heavy thud of my work boots, the sweat dripping down my forehead.
These vivid sensations reminded me that I was still grounded in reality—that this was still the real world, at least for now. But every time I looked up, tension and dread inevitably crept back in.
The mannequins lined up on both sides of the corridor where we were sweating and hauling materials. Standing in perfect proportions and poses, they stared down at us, covered in dust, with expressionless faces.
Mannequins draped in clothes and bags that probably cost millions or tens of millions of won, and us—the laborers—passing right in front of them just to earn a daily wage of a hundred and eighty to two hundred and fifty thousand won.
Perhaps because of that bizarre contrast, a strange sense of unease washed over me.
Just then—
"Hey, rookies! Stop slacking off and move! We need to finish unloading the first floor before midnight!"
The site foreman's shout echoed through the lobby.
"Ah, yes sir! On it!"
I quickened my pace once more. Now was not the time for idle thoughts.
How much time had passed?
By the time my back was soaked with sweat and my shoulders had gone numb—
"Alright, alright. Good job, everyone. Let's take a break here and grab some snacks! Break time!"
"Yes, sir! Break time, everyone!"
The foreman's gruff voice rang out.
Soon, the more experienced workers set up a folding table in a corner of the workspace, and white steam began to billow from a large electric kettle.
The time was 11:15 PM.
Roughly forty-five minutes before the storm would hit.
"Aaaah...! Now I feel like I can breathe."
Deokhu let out a soft groan as he collapsed onto the floor.
We took our places among the other workers, who had spread out sheets of newspaper to sit on.
The menu was cup ramen and instant mix coffee.
It was a rather pathetic meal to be eating in the lobby of a luxury department store, but the smell of ramen right after hard labor was incredibly mouthwatering.
Slurp, slurp.
The sound of slurping noodles was the only thing echoing through the silent department store lobby.
I sipped the sweet mix coffee from my paper cup and scanned our surroundings.
There were about five other workers with us.
All of them looked like seasoned veterans who had seen it all. Among them, one man stood out. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair.
He was barely touching his ramen, constantly looking around instead. Just as I was beginning to wonder why he seemed so self-conscious, someone spoke to him.
"Mr. Kim, what's wrong? Did you leave something behind?"
When the young worker next to him asked, Mr. Kim flinched and shook his head.
"Ah, no. It's just... the air feels a bit cold. It's strangely creepy in here tonight."
"Come on, it's a department store, of course the AC is working well. Geez, Mr. Kim, you've been doing this for how long and you're still such a scaredy-cat?"
The young worker chuckled and joked. But Mr. Kim's expression didn't soften. He took a sip of his coffee and said with a dead serious face:
"Hey, Park. Did you really not feel anything? Earlier, when we were carrying the materials."
"Huh? Feel what?"
"Gate 3 is over that way, right? When we passed in front of the children's clothing store."
Mr. Kim's eyes trembled slightly.
I couldn't help but strain my ears at his words.
Beside me, Deokhu also stopped his chopsticks and glanced over.
"That little child mannequin standing in the display window. The one in the red dress."
"Ah, the one with the bob cut? What about it?"
Mr. Kim swallowed hard and scanned the area. Our eyes met for a brief second, and I quickly looked away. Then, lowering his voice as if to keep us from overhearing, he whispered:
"I'm telling you... when I first walked in, its arms were down. But when I came back with the second load... its arm was raised. Like it was waving hello."
The young worker grinned in response.
"Oh, come on, hyung. You're starting up again."
"Seriously, are we the type of guys to get scared of stuff like that? Last time you said a mannequin turned its head, and now it's raising an arm? Hyung, you're just exhausted. Working night shifts is making you see things. Or maybe the display staff adjusted its pose during the day."
Mr. Kim raised his voice slightly, sounding frustrated.
"No! I swear, it changed in the brief moment I walked past. All the staff went home hours ago, so who would have changed it?"
"Fine... let's say I'm wrong. Let's say I saw things... but there's still something deeply unsettling about this place. I feel like they're constantly watching me. When I move to the right, their eyes follow me to the right. When I go left, they follow me left... Sigh... I don't know what's going on..."
He shuddered and downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp.
Just then—
"Hey, young fellas!"
The man called Mr. Kim suddenly looked at us. I stared back with an innocent, clueless expression.
"Yes, sir?"
"You guys be careful too. When you work night shifts here... those mannequins feel incredibly sinister."
"Oh... right, haha. That sounds scary."
Mr. Kim's eyes were dead serious.
"I'm a very sensitive person, and... every time I look at them, I get a terrible feeling. If you're unlucky, they'll possess you. I'm only telling you guys because you're young."
"Oh, please, hyung! They're at an age where they could chew up and spit out a mannequin. Why would they be scared?"
The young worker scoffed.
I sipped my ramen broth and thought to myself:
People who are sensitive or have strong spiritual intuition might already be sensing it...
Urban legends are stories. And stories spread through word of mouth, gaining flesh and life as they go.
This man's words were proof that my scenario was slowly beginning to erode reality.
"Deokhu... did you hear what that mister said?"
I looked at Deokhu. His face had gone pale, and he was trembling.
"Ugh... now that I know we actually have to face them... I'm getting a bit... freaked out."
"Grit your teeth. We have to focus now."
"Of course. Hyung, what time is it right now?"
Deokhu mouthed the question.
I pulled my smartphone out of my pocket to check the time.
About thirty-five minutes.
The time remaining before the storm would hit.
The time remaining before this mundane construction site, the cheap smell of cup ramen, and the earthy jokes of the older workers would transform into a realm of horror and the bizarre.
My palms began to sweat.
"Alright, alright! If you're done eating, let's get up! We need to finish here and head down to the basement before midnight!"
The foreman clapped his hands and stood up. The workers began gathering their gear.
Mr. Kim looked at us and added one last piece of advice.
"You've got to move faster if you want to earn your keep. Got it?"
"Yes, sir!"
I answered energetically and stood up.
As the work neared its end, the foreman glanced at his wristwatch and spoke.
"Well, that was quick. The materials in the lobby are mostly sorted."
He pulled off his gloves, shook them out, and looked our way.
"We're going down to tidy up the basement parking lot now. There's a lot more material piled up down there, so we're short-handed."
"Huh? Then what about us?"
Having these ordinary people leave the scene before midnight—
That was the best-case scenario for Deokhu and me to operate freely.
"No, no. You two rookies stay here and clean up. Just sweep up the debris on the floor and gather the tools in one place. Simple, right?"
"Ah... Yes, sir."
"Our work downstairs will take some time, so once you're done, just rest in the corner. We'll come back up later."
"Good luck down there!"
The foreman, Mr. Kim, and the other workers gathered their things and headed toward the freight elevator.
The noisy chatter, the dragging of work boots, and the smell of instant coffee vanished as if they had never existed.
Now, the only ones left in the vast first-floor hall were Deokhu, myself... and the mannequins that would soon come to life.
This is too perfect...
I swallowed hard.
Normally, variables would crop up in situations like this. That was how it had always been in my experience.
For instance, an oblivious worker staying behind, or a security guard doing rounds.
But strangely, everything had been cleared out perfectly, as if someone had forcibly dismissed the extras to set this stage.
Was this the causality created by the "Author's Authority" that the Judge had mentioned? Or had this cursed space itself isolated us to keep its prey all to itself?
Whichever it was, from here on out, it was the real deal with no rehearsals.
I pulled my smartphone out of my pocket.
"Deokhu."
"Ten minutes left. Get ready."
"...Got it, hyung."
The look in Deokhu's eyes shifted. The clumsy, panting rookie laborer from moments ago was gone. He quickly dropped the worn-out duffel bag he had been carrying on his shoulder.
Zzzzip.
As the zipper slid open, a tangled mess of wires and the crude, customized equipment Deokhu had built himself were revealed inside.
Whew...
Deokhu let out a calm breath.
He began preparing the "weapons" that would grind the mannequins into dust.