The Self-Correcting Script
Monday, midnight.
A deep, dark night in the redevelopment zone.
The only place shining in the pitch-black darkness.
24h White Laundromat
We stood before the fluorescent light spilling out from the glass-fronted shop.
In our hands were plastic grocery bags.
Coarse salt, bleach, and red food coloring.
"Whew..."
Deokhu swallowed hard, the sound of his dry gulp ringing out unusually loud. Minhae and Seyeon also had their lips tightly pursed, clearly tense.
"Let's go."
I gave a brief signal and pushed the door open, leading the way.
A chime broke the silence.
We stepped inside.
The artificial scent of fabric softener hit us.
A sweet, nauseating stench, far thicker than when we had visited during the day a few days ago, pricked my nose.
It smelled as if someone had dumped an entire bottle of perfume to mask the scent of rot.
"Hyung, why does it smell like this in here?"
Deokhu scrunched up his nose.
Instead of answering, I pulled my smartphone from my pocket.
The numbers on the screen were just turning to 00:00.
> The assignment has begun.
It was finally here.
I looked back at the glass door we had just entered through.
"Minhae, try opening the door."
"Huh? We just got in, though?"
"I need to check something. Hurry."
Looking puzzled, Minhae grabbed the handle of the glass door and pushed.
Sliiiide.
Perhaps because it wasn't an automatic door, it slid open smoothly.
The cold night air from outside rushed in.
"It opens. It's not locked," Minhae said, looking at me.
"Then try stepping outside."
"What?"
"Just take one step out."
Tilting her head, Minhae took a step through the open doorway.
Thud.
A dull sound, like bumping into transparent tempered glass.
"Huh...?"
Flustered, Minhae tried to step forward again.
Thud.
This time, she reached out her hand. Her hand couldn't cross the threshold, blocked by something invisible.
"W-what is this? The door is open... but I can't go out!" Minhae cried out in a near-scream, pounding on the empty space.
It made a muffled thudding sound, as if she were pounding on something underwater.
"It's an invisible wall," I said calmly. "It's a rule of this scenario. The moment the assignment begins, this place becomes a perfect locked room that you can never escape from the inside."
"Ah..."
Seyeon and Deokhu rushed over to check as well, but the result was the same. Even though the outside was clearly visible and the door was wide open, we could not cross that threshold.
A sense of isolation, completely severed from the world.
Feeling it so tangibly sent a shiver down my spine.
The world outside the glass front now felt as distant as an unreachable dimension.
"It's fine. We just need to finish this quickly."
I turned around and scanned the interior of the shop.
Washing machines on the left wall. Dryers on the right wall.
All of them were powered off, their dark, gaping mouths shut tight.
A space where only a heavy silence flowed.
But to my ears, it felt as if I could hear it.
Whirrr... whir...
The faint sound of a motor spinning.
Looking at the innermost machine, Washing Machine No. 4, I spoke.
"Get ready."
I tightly gripped the bag of salt in my hand.
"It's about to wake up."
No sooner had I finished speaking than the atmosphere plunged into a chilling gravity.
Then.
Chime.
Beep.
Boop-boop.
Breaking the silence of the laundromat, a chain of electronic beeps began to erupt.
It's starting!
As if dozens of invisible fingers had pressed the buttons simultaneously, the panels of Washing Machines and Dryers No. 1 through 8 lined up on the walls lit up all at once.
[STANDARD WASH] [3 RINSES] [HIGH SPIN] [HIGH HEAT DRY]
No one had set them, yet the machines selected their courses in perfect unison, as if by design.
"Wh-what?" Seyeon faltered, taking a step back.
Rumble.
Hummmm.
The vibration of the spinning motors traveled through the floor, vibrating against the soles of our feet.
And then—
Whoosh!
Gush.
Water began pouring into all the washing machines at once. This was no ordinary, gentle trickle of a water supply.
It was a roaring torrent, like a dam opening its floodgates.
Then, the drums began to spin.
Thud. Thud.
Clack-clack.
The sound of empty drums spinning without a single piece of laundry inside.
The sound of hollow metal drums rotating was far heavier and more rhythmic than I had anticipated, forcing me to bite my lip.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Sounds like the heartbeat of a colossal monster.
Reflexively, I stared at the innermost machine, Washing Machine No. 4.
While the other machines were filling with clear, clean tap water, this one was different.
Gurgle, gurgle.
A pitch-black liquid was pouring from the water inlet of Washing Machine No. 4.
Ugh...
Every time the lights flickered, the liquid shifted from black to a deep, dark crimson. I instinctively pinched my nose as a foul stench of formalin mixed with the metallic tang of blood seemed to seep through the cracks of the glass door.
The dark red water rose in an instant, filling half the drum. A sloshing, crimson tide.
And from within it—
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.
The sound of something tapping against the glass echoed out.
"Is that...?"
Inside the dark red water, pale, bloated palms appeared. One, two, three... dozens of palms began tapping and scratching at the glass from the inside, as if begging for their lives.
It was exactly as I had written in my script.
The vengeful spirits.
The screams of souls trapped inside the machine, being washed for eternity.
"Sunbae... that, that..." Minhae, paralyzed with fear, tightly grabbed the hem of my clothes.
"Ignore it. It's just a visual effect. Don't let it get to you." I spoke as calmly as possible, reassuring my teammates. "Alright, move according to plan. Deokhu, take the salt and go over—"
The moment I turned to Deokhu to give the order.
"Deokhu... what are you doing?"
Deokhu's eyes were completely unfocused.
He let the bag of coarse salt slip from his hand.
The bag burst, scattering white salt crystals across the floor.
"What are you doing? If you spill that..." Minhae chided him, but Deokhu didn't answer. His gaze was locked onto the spinning drum of Washing Machine No. 4.
You...
His pupils were dilated. His eyes had lost all focus. With his mouth hanging half-open, he muttered like someone possessed.
"...come in."
"What?"
"They're telling me to come in... to wash me... because I'm dirty... to make me clean..."
"Your... why does your voice sound like...?"
This was not Deokhu's voice. His usual playful tone was nowhere to be found; instead, his voice was dry and completely flat, like a machine speaking.
Is he hearing auditory hallucinations...?
Deokhu began to trudge toward Washing Machine No. 4, stumbling like a zombie.
Inside, the crimson water still sloshed like blood, and the pale palms continued to scratch at the glass. It was a horrific sight that should have triggered an instinctive revulsion, yet Deokhu approached with an expression of profound relief, like a child returning to his mother's arms.
"Hey! Kang Deokhu! Snap out of it!"
I shouted and tried to rush over, but he had already reached the front of Washing Machine No. 4. He reached out a trembling hand and grabbed the door handle.
No way...?
I yelled frantically.
"No! Don't open it!"
If that door opened, the beast's maw would gape wide.
"No!!"
I threw myself at Deokhu. Just as he was about to pull the handle, I snatched his arm and yanked him backward with all my might.
"Whoa-ah?"
Deokhu lost his balance and collapsed toward me. The impact seemed to bring the focus back to his eyes.
"Hyung...? Why am I..."
"Get a grip! Are you out of your mind? Do you want to die?!" I grabbed him by the collar and shook him.
My heart pounded as if it would burst.
In that instant, something flashed through my mind.
Wait a minute...
No matter how much I thought about it, something was off.
I glared at Washing Machine No. 4. It was still humming, churning the dark red water.
Auditory hallucinations? Hypnosis? Seduction? Why would it have those...?
Cold sweat dripped down.
I was the one who wrote this scenario.
A low-rated, B-grade creature feature with zero plausibility.
According to my original settings, the victims were supposed to just peer into the washing machine out of curiosity, only to be snatched and dragged inside by water bursting from the suddenly opened door. That was the extent of it.
But what about Deokhu just now?
It wasn't curiosity. He was possessed.
He said he heard a voice telling him to come in and wash. He had even tried to open the door himself.
"...I never wrote anything like this."
In the scenario I wrote, there were no such things as 'auditory hallucinations' or 'possession'.
It was merely a mindless hunk of machinery that devoured people through brute force.
Then why?
Why was it using abilities that weren't in the script?
Just then, the words of Professor Park, whom I had met earlier that day, echoed in my ears.
And then, another thought struck me.
This scenario was a failure.
Why? Because it was contrived and lacked plausibility.
I knew that better than anyone.
Yes, it made no sense. That was why it had such a low rating.
But what if this world, or the curse itself, was filling in those 'plot holes' on its own?
To make nonsensical actions make sense.
What if it had evolved, adding the elements of hypnosis and seduction on its own, just to force a human to step into that horrific machine of their own free will?
Crazy...
Goosebumps broke out all over my body.
Because I had written it so lazily, so sloppily, this world was completing the plausibility of the murders in a far more vicious and meticulous manner to patch up those gaps.
In other words, to put it simply:
"It's self-correcting."
The author's negligence had ended up breeding an even more terrifying monster.
"Be careful," I warned my teammates in a raspy voice. "This... isn't the scenario I used to know. No, it's definitely the same scenario, but..."
The moment I finished speaking, the rotation speed of Washing Machine No. 4 accelerated drastically.
Ruuuumble!
A vibration like the growl of an enraged beast.
And this time, it reached my ears as well. The very voice Deokhu had heard.
...Aren't you going to open it...?
...I told you to come in...
A spine-chilling whisper.
No way...
It was the moment my suspicion solidified into absolute certainty.
The thing was evolving.
As if mocking my sloppy script.