Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: It Might Be Possible, You Know
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Human eyes.
Human skin.
For some reason, it had been processed neatly like merchandise, but guessing the source wasn't hard at all.
"Seriously. The bear doll killed people... and brought these back...?"
It sounded like a crappy ghost story, but the numbers matched too perfectly.
Two dead people.
Two sets of soft, trembling full-body human skin peeled off.
The bear doll took one eye, leaving three.
"It became the Responding Bear Doll? Just like I set it?"
A sudden memory flashed by.
↳ Warning Don't write stuff like this. If detailed, high-quality imaginations like this repeat and you add certain qualities, it might manifest into reality. I flailed around, sat in front of the computer, and logged into the Ghost Story Gallery. I opened the post I'd written again.
What I found there was,
— Deleted Comment — Deleted Comment — Deleted Comment Just those comments, neatly deleted as if by agreement.
"Ha. Ha. Hahaha."
It was so absurd that dry laughter escaped me.
I sat there dazed for a moment, then suddenly had an idea and madly typed keywords into the search bar.
'Murder case'
'Breaking murder news'
'Breaking news murder skin peeled off'
'Murder skin peeled eyes missing'
Searching, finding, searching, finding.
And then.
"Found it...!"
I'd found it.
— Some Community Post Holy shit, we're fucked guys, this is a person right? It was a post on some community forum.
I swallowed hard and clicked. A photo popped up immediately.
"Gasp!"
Even with decent mosaics, the horror was palpable from the exposed body parts peeking through.
Two blood-red corpses.
A familiar alleyway.
My hands trembled. My face heated up. I could hear my heart pounding.
That's right. It matches. It's the place I saw earlier.
Then. If that's the case.
"My ghost story... became reality? For real?"
Chills ran down my spine.
"Then did I... kill people...?"
Because of what I said?
"Cancel! Cancel! Responding Bear Doll, cancel!"
I shouted at the ceiling.
Nothing happened.
"You, you're the Blocking Dinosaur. Your job is to show up every time the Responding Bear Doll tries to harm someone and stop it. You love stopping the bear doll more than anything in the world."
...
I grabbed the dinosaur doll and ranted like a madman, but nothing happened. Even after waiting a long time, the dinosaur doll didn't budge.
"Why isn't it working this time either!"
Cold sweat dripped down.
I bit my lip hard.
"That woman earlier. She definitely took my bear doll..."
She said she'd fix it, so she must have taken it.
Yeah. Up to there, it's fine. The Responding Bear Doll responds to kindness with kindness.
"But there's no guarantee that kindness is good for the recipient..."
That's how ghost stories work.
A ghost story's kindness often becomes a disaster for humans.
You can't judge it by human standards.
So if that woman felt disgust and fear from the bear doll's repeated 'kindness,' and stopped treating it kindly...
What would happen then?
If, because of me, an innocent woman died?
That thought terrified me, and I spent the night in agony.
But there was nothing I could do.
I didn't know how to delete a ghost story I'd already created.
I wasn't even sure if it was possible.
Staring at the bear doll like before didn't work,
and I couldn't create a new ghost story. How did it even happen earlier?
After exhausting myself with no results, as dawn broke, I finally started worrying about my own problem.
"How do I... deal with this..."
Skin, two rolls.
Eyes, three orbs.
A quick search showed the internet was already flooded with related news.
📰 Breaking News "Isn't this torture?" Gruesome corpses found in XX neighborhood. 📰 Breaking News Two men presumed Chinese. Died after torture... 📰 Breaking News Crime syndicate turf war? Murder more gruesome than a movie Given it was a bizarre murder with all skin peeled and eyes gouged out, everyone was excitedly piling on.
Even a Wituber who saw the first discoverer's community post went live immediately, rushing out and filming the crime scene before the police arrived. It was all up on YouTube.
And for me...
I had the missing skin and eyes.
Irrefutable evidence that would land me in prison the moment I got caught.
Thinking that far made my mouth go dry.
What do I do?
Bury it in the mountains? But news always shows them surfacing after rain!
Burn it? Burning would smell like pork... What if someone comes sniffing around asking what I'm burning?
Put it in the fridge? Human skin and eyeballs???
I was sweating bullets over this impossible problem when,
Bzzz-!
My phone vibrated.
The caller ID spot was blank, just an incoming call.
I flinched and checked the phone. Before I could touch it, it connected automatically, and a low, thick voice spoke.
"I've prepared it." What?
"Wait. Hold on!"
I cried out desperately, but the call cut off ruthlessly.
Bang bang!
Someone pounded roughly on the front door again.
I flung the door open like a madman, desperate to grab whoever it was, but no one was there—just a delivery box and a note.
📦 Delivery Instructions 📦 1. Put the item you want to sell in the delivery box. 2. Place the delivery box next to the door and close the door. 3. Open the door again and receive the box and payment. *In case you need them, it's recommended not to sell everything—keep one of each type.
"..."
I felt like an idiot.
Need it? Would I ever?
But I followed the instructions anyway.
Two eyeballs.
One sheet of skin.
I put them neatly in the delivery box, closed the door with a thud,
and flung it open again like lightning.
Whoosh! Whish!
I dashed outside and looked around frantically.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
"Hmm... Did I open it too fast?"
I must have opened the door before anything could happen.
Still, just in case, I peeked into the delivery box—and froze stiff.
"Money..."
Inside, instead of eyes and skin, were stacks of crisp 50,000-won bills.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ +++
You might curse me as trash for this.
3 million won per eye. 1 million per sheet of skin.
Totaling 7 million won in yellow bills clutched in my hand—it changed my mind a bit.
"7... 7 million? No, including that, it's 7.3 million. In one night."
I glanced at the crumpled cash on the desk.
That was probably the money the dead guys had on them.
"No. I have one eye and one skin left, so precisely 11.3 million. In one night."
That's not the point. Anyway, what's important now is...
"It... turned into money?"
My delusion. Became money for the first time.
A huge sum, at that.
No. No.
I know. It's trash thinking.
It's not money earned because people liked my imagination—it's money from my imagination killing two people. I know.
1.1 million for two lives? As a price on life, it's ridiculously cheap. I know.
Selling human body parts? Utterly demonic, hellish evil. I know.
Doing that and cheering 'I finally made money!' is forced. I know too well.
But.
Still.
"It... became money."
I couldn't help but feel moved.
Even if lowly. Even if fake.
My imagination wielded real power.
And it returned as the reward I needed.
My emotions, regardless of reason, embraced this fact as profoundly significant.
And honestly, those two guys...
They deserved to die, right?
But.
But...
"Phew... Can't be this lucky every time."
I scratched my head vigorously.
Yeah. It was luck. Those scumbags dying was just luck.
What if that woman, locking eyes with the Responding Bear Doll, screamed instead of asking for help? If she projected disgust and fear at its ugliness?
Then I might have gotten three skins and five eyes today.
That...
That can't happen.
I don't know how I created a ghost story, but it can't happen again.
"From now on, no more creating settings... Gotta delete everything I posted on the Gallery too."
I stood up with a bitter smack of my lips when,
"Ugh!"
My head throbbed like a stab.
"Again...?"
A new vision wormed into my mind—not my sunlit morning room, but a completely unfamiliar one.
In the slowly focusing view,
I saw the Responding Bear Doll
and that woman.
- "You know? I was an orphan. That's why I live like this, with nothing."
The woman said.
Definitely. Her place was a tiny one-pyeong goshiwon without even a window.
Poor bedding. Poor furnishings caught my eye.
- "I've begged so many times in my life. 'Please, anyone, just help me once. If you help me now, I'll give you everything I have.'"
Her eyes lost focus, as if dredging up distant, sad memories.
- "But no one... not once... responded. Except today!"
Sparkle! Her eyes lit up. A smile bloomed.
- "Thank you. Really."
She reached out and gently lifted the bear doll's tag.
Responding Bear Doll from KEH
My eyes narrowed involuntarily.
KEH?
What the hell is that?
My initials? I do use KIM E-HAN in English...
- "Thank you. KE. It said you sent it, Responding Bear. I'll never forget this kindness. And thank you, Responding Bear."
The woman hugged the bear doll and rested her head on it.
The bear doll hugged back, glanced my way,
and fade to black.
"Ugh!"
Whoosh! The vision vanished. But this time, it wasn't as dizzying or confusing as the first.
"That just now..."
It didn't show when I tried to see, but suddenly appeared. Questions swirled, but my mind focused elsewhere.
Her smile.
Her desperation.
Her thanks...
"Maybe."
A ghost story coexisting with humans... might be possible?
Like how the Responding Bear saved that woman.
Is that really impossible?
Chill. Chill.
Goosebumps kept rising on my skin.
My ghost story came to life,
saved someone else. She gave me sincere thanks.
And gave me enough money to live without bending over for a while.
Really. Couldn't it work?
A ghost story that lives with people, gives and takes fairly, helps me too...
Just once.
Try it...?
"Ah."
In that instant, inspiration struck like lightning.
Suddenly, I recalled a vending capsule machine abandoned near my house.
Like possessed, I hurriedly put on shoes and dashed outside.
I found the capsule machine I'd just thought of.
Dust thickly layered,
handle rusted,
top cracked open about a fist's width.
Capsule machine.
It felt strange.
Something squirmed in my head.
Michelangelo said it, right?
He didn't sculpt—he freed the form trapped in the stone.
Exactly that feeling.
With the sense of awakening something beneath rigid matter by shaking it...
I said,
"You are..."