The Rulebook

The moment I finished reading the Individual Notice, I went straight back to the Ghost Story Gallery.

If this thing really was a rulebook, the first thing I needed was other people's take on it. I was a complete amateur — the only ghost stories I'd ever touched were the ones in web novels — and the veterans on the gallery would know a hell of a lot more than I did.

A ban? Already? I hadn't even been here for ten minutes.

I scrambled out of the post and opened the notice list.

This time, I selected General Notice.

The instant I finished reading the General Notice to the end, a new window appeared.

A Fixed Nickname. Meaning the name I'd be stuck with on this gallery from now on.

I thought about it for a second, then typed one in.

Obviously yes.

I hit Yes.

I went back to the post I'd written earlier.

Taking pictures through the gallery turned out to be surprisingly simple. All I had to do was think about taking a photo and it would capture one — I could even save gallery posts and notices the same way you'd take a screenshot.

The catch was that photos saved like that could only be used inside the Ghost Story Gallery. Transferring them to my phone or showing them to anyone else was impossible.

Still, I'd take it. I could always use it like a notepad later.

Was telling people about the gallery — or even just the notices — actually the right call?

Honestly, I had no idea. Other people's well-being mattered a lot less to me than staying alive myself, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and I wasn't about to pretend otherwise.

That said, Only I Chill in the Hotel had a point. Keeping my mouth shut entirely could get me killed right along with them. Hiding the gallery's existence while sharing the notices seemed like the better play.

I had zero intention of doing anything dangerous just to convince people who didn't believe me, though. I wasn't that kind of hero.

With nothing else to do, I kept refreshing the gallery, and that's when I noticed more comments had landed on the earlier post.

I minimized the gallery window, and the people gathered in the lounge snapped back into focus.

Still loud in here. I'd been so locked into the gallery I hadn't even noticed.

A few of the ajummas still had enough energy left to raise their voices and complain. And over by the Skybridge, a handful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of people had already clustered together, trying to cross over to the building on the other side. Were they not even scared?

Then again, those people had no idea they were inside a rule-based ghost story. They didn't even know ghost stories like this existed.

If they died, it had nothing to do with me. Nothing at all. Except…

I really didn't want to find out the hard way whether the gallery people were right — that someone else breaking a rule could put me in danger too.

I walked over to the woman who'd been taking a headcount.

"Um… excuse me."

She looked up from her phone.

"Yes?"

"I have something I need to tell everyone."

"Something you need to tell them?"

"I think I found the rules we're supposed to follow in here."

Her expression turned complicated. That was the look of someone staring at a weirdo.

"Rules?"

"Yes. Like a building usage guide. It's floating right in front of my eyes."

"In front of your eyes?"

She followed my gaze into empty air, but of course there was nothing there for her to see.

The way she's looking at me is getting weirder by the second. This is so unfair. So unfair.

"Could you show me on your phone, then?"

"I can't. I'm the only one who can see it."

"……Give me a moment."

She glanced around, then clapped her hands together.

The crack of it was louder than I expected, and it carried through the whole lounge.

"Everyone, please quiet down for a second. This person has something to say."

The people who'd been talking over each other just a moment ago fell silent one by one. Even the ones clustered in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows turned their heads, and more than twenty pairs of eyes locked onto me at once.

What is this. Some brand-new finishing move designed to murder me?

"What's this about?"

A middle-aged man in a suit asked.

I swept my eyes slowly across their faces, then opened my mouth. From here on out, I had to choose my words carefully.

"I can see something like a usage guide for this building. Rules we're supposed to follow."

A brief silence settled over the lounge.

The first to react was a young man in the cluster near the glass windows.

"Did a status window pop up or something?"

"Yes. Something like that."

"For real?"

"Yes."

He's excited. Must read a lot of web novels.

That was when the man in the suit clicked his tongue, his face going stiff.

"This is not the time for jokes."

"I'm not joking."

"Then show it to the rest of us."

"I can't. I'm the only one who can see it."

"And how exactly are we supposed to believe in rules that only you can see?"

Fair point. If I were in his position, I wouldn't have believed me either.

Truth be told, even I — the person actually seeing the thing — wasn't fully convinced yet. It hadn't even been thirty minutes since I'd turned into a woman.

"That's why I want to verify it."

"Verify what?"

"The rulebook has announcement times written in it."

Everyone's eyes drifted naturally toward the speakers mounted in the ceiling.

"9 AM, 12 PM, 3 PM, 6 PM, and 9 PM. It says they'll announce the current time at each of those hours."

"Oh — that actually went off at 3, though."

A woman sitting on the sofa spoke up.

"She's right. It was a time announcement."

"I heard it too."

Similar voices chimed in from around the room. So the 3 o'clock announcement had gone out while I was still asleep in my room.

"She could have heard that from her room and just predicted the rest, couldn't she?"

The middle-aged man pointed that out, and everyone's attention swung back to me.

"I woke up at 3:17. I missed it."

"And we're supposed to take your word for that?"

"That's why we wait for the next one."

I looked at the clock hanging on the lounge wall.

3:45 PM. It was about two minutes off from the time on my phone.

"The next announcement should come at 6 PM. The one after that at 9."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I'm seeing things. But if it does, I'd like you to trust me."

The man in the suit still looked thoroughly unconvinced. The woman who'd been counting people, on the other hand, hesitated for a moment before opening the notes app on her phone.

"Could we hear the full contents first, at least?"

"All of it?"

"Yes. We can decide later whether it's real. There's no harm in knowing."

"Blindly following something you don't even understand could be more dangerous."

She answered evenly.

"That's why I said we hear it first."

Not a bad approach. Might as well tell them and think about the rest later.

The Twin Towers Temporary Rules bloomed into the center of my vision.

"The rulebook starts from number 0."

"Zero?"

"It says that on each floor, in addition to the currently confirmed users, there may be Existing Residents."

The lounge, which had gone quiet, started murmuring again.

"Residents? You mean there's someone else here besides us?"

"I don't know. All it says is that the building takes no responsibility for any conflicts that arise between users and residents."

"And how exactly does a building take responsibility?"

The more I read from the notice, the stranger people's faces became. Some of them were copying everything down on their phones. Others just stood there with their arms crossed, snorting under their breath.

The young man from before was listening like he intended to memorize every word. He really did believe we were inside a ghost story.

The Skybridge is prohibited from 00:00 to 05:00. The elevators do not distinguish between the East Tower and the West Tower. The Main Building and the Annex must not be confused. Emergency stairs that repeat the same floor number are under maintenance. Unnumbered doors do not exist.

"Hold on."

The moment those words left my mouth, a man raised his hand.

"What does it mean that unnumbered doors don't exist?"

"I'm just reading what's written."

"No — if a door is there, it's there, and if it isn't, it isn't. What is 'do not exist' supposed to mean?"

I'd like to know that too.

…Come to think of it, I'd seen an unnumbered door right next to my own room. I'd figured ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was a storage closet at the time. Had I almost died back there…?

Yeah, I was not mentioning that. If I said it now, some troll would absolutely go check it out.

I kept my face carefully blank and moved on to the next rule.

Reading all the way through Rule 15 took longer than I expected. It would've been a lot faster if people hadn't kept interrupting me the whole way.

"What about 15?"

The woman who'd been taking notes on her phone asked.

"It's blacked out."

"You can't see any of it?"

"No. The whole thing is covered in black."

The man in the suit let out a long breath.

"So the only thing we can actually verify is the announcement."

"We can check the elevators too, can't we?"

The Tattooed Man, who'd been standing by the Skybridge, spoke up.

"You said you can get on in the East Tower and come out in the West. Why don't we just ride one and see?"

"I don't think we should get on one yet."

He snorted a laugh at that.

"Why not? Your rules don't say not to ride it, do they?"

"Well, no, but…"

"Then there's no problem."

The Tattooed Man started walking toward the elevators with two people from the group around him.

I knew I was supposed to stop them, the way the gallery had told me to — but I wasn't about to get into a fistfight over it. I wasn't confident I'd win, either.

The notice hadn't said not to use the elevators in the first place. And if those guys went and actually found something out?

They get to go where they want, I get information. That's a complete win-win, isn't it?

"Wouldn't it be better to wait until at least 6 o'clock?"

While I was busy spinning that little fantasy, the woman who'd been taking the headcount called them back.

"You want us to sit here and do nothing for over two hours?"

"We barely have any information right now."

"That's exactly why we're going to check for ourselves."

One of the two people walking with him stopped first. With everyone watching, the Tattooed Man couldn't push any further past the elevators.

"Tch. Fine. We wait until 6."

With that, they came back to the lounge.

Fucking coward. He's not even going…

After that, people started moving on their own. The group split, and some of them went to check the refrigerator and the cabinets under the kitchen counter. The fridge was packed with bottled water and drinks; the cabinets were stacked with instant rice, canned food, ramyeon, that sort of thing.

A quick look told me that for twenty-four people, it definitely wasn't a lot — but it wasn't exactly scarce either.

I sat down on a sofa in the corner of the lounge and watched the wall clock.

Time went by faster than I expected, just sitting there waiting.

5:58 PM.

The voices of the people who'd been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠talking started to die down, little by little.

5:59 PM.

Even the ones who'd said they didn't believe me were staring at the ceiling speakers now.

The second hand ticked forward, one mark at a time.

And the instant the clock hit 6:00—

Ding-dong—

A short chime rang through the entire lounge.

That was the entire broadcast. But one by one, people's eyes started gathering on me.

Oh.

It was real.