Sucked Into a Horror Game
There's a horror game called Korean Supernatural Phenomenon.
Someone recommended it to me, so I figured I'd give it a try. I didn't actually piss myself that night — but I came close enough that my legs went completely numb. It was so terrifying I seriously considered running into my parents' room and sleeping with them.
I mean, I live alone now, but still...
That's right. I'm a coward among cowards — a total chickenshit.
I'd only picked it up because someone recommended it and the reviews looked better than I expected. Pure curiosity. And I nearly died of fright.
They say curiosity killed the cat. Or was it a lion? Is that even right...? Anyway.
One moment of curiosity, and I spent the whole night tossing and turning. The second morning came, I was ready to chew out the community user who'd recommended it — but by then, the comment had already been deleted.
Still spooked from the horror game, I felt a lingering unease as I went back to my daily life. Korean Supernatural Phenomenon clung stubbornly to my memory, circling my thoughts no matter how hard I tried to shake it. Still, I held out and tried to forget. I was a massive coward, after all. Play it again, and I didn't even need to guess how that would end.
Time passed, and just as it was starting to fade from my mind, the algorithm started pushing ads at me. Korean Supernatural Phenomenon had released a new Beautiful Girl (Humanoid) Version.
Beautiful girl version...? Wait, and what's with the parentheses — Humanoid?
I rubbed my eyes, staring at the ad on my phone screen. It was definitely the same game that had wrecked my sleep a few days ago — that gloomy, grotesque art style. Except now there were gorgeous beautiful girls in it. Bright, cheerful, and completely at odds with a horror game.
Did the studio fail to make money, so now they're trying to cash in on the weeb market...? The gameplay was actually pretty good, though.
Curiosity got the better of me, so I went to the app store to check it out. Following the link, I found a pretty, beautiful-girl-style thumbnail sitting right there.
If there are cute girl characters, maybe it won't be as scary even if a ghost pops out?
No, wait. Mixing beautiful girls into a horror game in the first place — what kind of unholy combination was that?
"No. I shouldn't. But..."
Warning bells were screaming in my head. The fear that I'd have to sleep with the lights on for days again flashed through my mind the instant I clicked. But that damn curiosity — the one that always stabs a coward right in the heart — kicked in once more.
Ghosts replaced by beautiful girls. Maybe this is a merciful new horror game designed so even a wuss like me can play it?
My finger trembled slightly as it drifted toward Install. The download-complete notification popped up. As if possessed, I hit Play, and a familiar yet strangely different eerie BGM began spilling from my phone speaker.
"Huh... nothing special."
I let my guard down. And the moment I closed my eyes and opened them again, my cozy room was gone, and I was standing inside a damp, pitch-black building.
"What...?"
I stood there frozen, too stunned by the impossible situation to do a single thing. I'd been holding my phone just a moment ago, ready to enjoy Korean Supernatural Phenomenon — KSP for short — Beautiful Girl Version. But when I opened my eyes, I was in a pitch-dark hallway with nothing in my hand but a smartphone, its flashlight cutting a thin beam through the dark.
And there was something off. This smartphone wasn't even my usual model. I was a Galaxy guy, not an iPhone guy, so I noticed the difference immediately. Not that noticing it changed a damn thing about my situation.
I had no idea what to do, so I edged backward little by little until I was crammed into a corner, huddling there with my breath held, trying to think.
No way... did I actually get pulled into the game?
The instant my spine touched the cold cement wall, goosebumps prickled all the way down my back. The musty stench of mold hitting my nose, the faint drip of water from somewhere in the dark — all of it was far too vivid. Even through a monitor, that ominous background music and those noises had been terrifying. Feeling them with my own body turned the fear into a despair that bored straight into my skull.
With trembling hands, I lit up the iPhone screen.
Battery: 74%. At the top of the screen, a dead antenna icon sat beside an unfamiliar app.
"What the fuck... why is this real..."
I bit down on my lip and screamed internally. Ghost Community. It was an app used by supernatural hunters, so it didn't need Wi-Fi or anything like that. Some kind of power kept it running, I think... I'd been too scared to read properly when I played, so I didn't actually know.
If I'd known this would happen, I would've paid attention.
I really only knew the rough version. To sum up what little I had: the app was an interface built to sell the realism of KSP. It was less about immersion and more of a gameplay convenience feature, but it ended up being genuinely useful more often than not. Stories about anomalies, how to push forward, escape tips, hidden gimmicks — you didn't even need to look up a guide, which made it a godsend for a newbie like me.
I opened Ghost Community with shaking hands. My mind was a blank white sheet. Even so, instinct took over, and I hit the compose button.
I wracked my brain for everything I'd learned from the game and how the community worked, and left the most realistic question I could manage given the situation. A reply appeared not long after I posted.
An utterly cold-blooded comment. The sentence landed in my chest like a dagger, as if my death had already been signed and sealed. I had no other options. The view count kept climbing, but nobody else replied. I had no choice but to cling to this one person.
Maybe my desperation got through.
Okay. Cold as hell, but a cool, big-hearted legend. Damn. I'd almost cursed out a guy like that without realizing. I immediately started tapping at the screen.
I'm freaking out, okay? Cut me some slack.
I grumbled internally, but I was grabbing at straws, and my fingers flew across the screen like mad. If this one savior got pissed off and stopped replying, I was genuinely going to end up as ghost food.
I stared a hole through the phone screen and swallowed hard. Please, please let this be a place they recognized.
The only thing on my screen was a comment scolding me.
Ah, fuck. Useless bastard.
Reality had become the game, and at the moment I needed it most, the KSP community wasn't helping me at all. Reality really was more fucked. I was feeling that in my bones.
I was standing there in front of that cold reality, trying to figure out what to do, when the heartless bastard left another comment.
This person was a lifesaver. I immediately left a thank-you.
Cool to the very end. I wanted to repay them somehow, but given how this community worked, I might get accused of trying to make friends. More importantly, my own situation came first. I didn't even know whose body I'd possessed. This wasn't just being in over my head — I'd been reduced to a complete beggar.
In the end, I left that short thank-you and started moving again, picking my way forward by the glow of the phone light. I killed even the sound of my own breathing. One step, then another, making as little noise as possible. My legs were shaking, but I couldn't stop.
I'd opened my eyes on the third floor. Which meant the original owner of this body had climbed this far.
Fearless bastard...
I cursed the original owner under my breath and kept going. Before long I reached the stairs, and I followed them up, floor after floor. Fortunately, they didn't break off halfway — they ran all the way to the rooftop. Thanks to that, the climb was relatively easy, and the fact that nothing was happening let a little relief start to seep in.
But they say accidents happen the moment you let your guard down. The relief lasted all of a second.
Squelch.
Squelch.
Behind me, something wet and sticky was climbing the stairs. It sounded like wet chunks of flesh dragging across the floor. A chill ran down my spine. Goosebumps erupted over my entire body on instinct.
Fuck... I was so close to the rooftop. What the hell is this bullshit now...
Cold sweat ran down my face as I clenched my teeth. The rooftop's not far. In that case... I'm better off running.
I didn't even consider looking back. Some primal certainty told me that the second I turned around, it was over. I kicked off the stairs and sprinted with everything I had, taking them two and three at a time in a blind rush, until I finally reached the last flight up to the rooftop. One more set of stairs and I'd be there.
But I had no choice but to stop dead.
Right in front of the door to the rooftop, a long-haired woman in a hanbok stood with her back to me, posted up beside the door.
There was one silver lining. The ghost on the rooftop neither looked at me nor moved. She just stood there, staring at the wall. That was the only thing I could take any comfort in.
I swallowed dryly. From below —
Squelch.
Squelch.
— the unidentified anomaly was slowly climbing the stairs. A female ghost above. A monstrous anomaly below. Up or down, there was nowhere to run. I was completely boxed in.
The closer that wet, dragging sound got, the harder I was forced to choose. Face the anomaly coming up from below, or slip past the female ghost right in front of me? And of course the sides were walled off. Maybe the mistake had been climbing up here without a single thought in my head.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I hadn't even considered there might be an anomaly waiting. I'd been blinded by the hope of escaping and charged toward the rooftop — that was the blunder. Even so, I clenched my teeth. I couldn't just die. I'm a massive coward, so dying is what scares me most.
So I moved. At least for now, that ghost wasn't looking at me. Which meant... I had no choice but to pick that way.
I carefully slipped past the female ghost staring at the wall, not even letting myself breathe, and approached the rooftop door. Then I grabbed the handle with a trembling hand.
"Fuck... isn't this going too far...?!"
Click.
The door wouldn't open. It was locked. My mind went white.
And a cold hand slowly came to rest on my shoulder.