Chapter 84
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Monster Tale Specialist Office: Red Mask (1)
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In the pitch-black early morning hours, the alleyway was silent. Streetlights flickered occasionally.
It was a neighborhood packed with low-rise villas and apartment buildings. No bars nearby, no major roads close by. The occasional yowls from stray cats were the noisiest thing around—a thoroughly ordinary place.
The silence was so profound that even the sound of footsteps carried from a distance.
No lights shone from any windows. Everyone must have been asleep.
A lone figure staggered through the alley. Heavily intoxicated, he wobbled with every step. Good thing no one was around; if there had been, they'd have wrinkled their noses at the stench of booze from several paces away.
“Ugh, I’m dying. Why’s the ground shaking like this?”
He hiccuped once and paused to catch his breath.
It had been ages since he’d drunk this much, and this was his first time heading home at such a late hour this year.
“Whoa, everything’s spinning. This path looks totally unfamiliar.”
Hic—another hiccup escaped him.
As he stood there, something strange caught his eye far down the way. A figure stood there like a ghost, wearing a mask. It looked like a woman’s silhouette. In a spot where no streetlight reached, just faintly illuminated, she stared silently at him.
“What the hell?”
He definitely hadn’t heard any footsteps besides his own.
When did that woman show up? A chill crept over him, and he felt a twinge of fear.
“Hey, what are you doing there?”
He shouted, trying to mask his fear. But the woman didn’t respond. She just kept staring at him.
“What’re you staring at? You’re pissing me off.”
He spoke gruffly, acting tough, but she remained silent. He rolled his eyes, bored. Probably just some crazy chick.
“Pfft—whatever!”
He kicked at the ground and continued on his way. Home was just a short walk away.
He brushed past her, reeking of alcohol.
“Hm?”
After a few more steps, he heard footsteps behind him. Faint, but unmistakable.
That woman was following him.
He thought about glancing back but didn’t want to make eye contact. Instead, he quickened his pace.
Tap, tap.
Tap, tap.
But the footsteps matched his rhythm.
Was she doing it on purpose? One step from him, one from her. Slow down a bit, and she adjusted.
A shiver ran down his spine. He picked up speed.
If it was just some crazy woman, he could shake her off easily.
But he couldn’t.
No matter how fast he went, the footsteps didn’t fade.
Before he knew it, he was practically running. His breath grew ragged. But the footsteps weren’t getting farther—they were closing in.
Thud, tap-tap, tap-tap-tap.
They synced with his steps, yet drew nearer.
Only then did he realize he couldn’t escape.
At that moment.
The footsteps stopped right behind him.
“Gah!”
Unsure what had happened, he looked down at the sharp something protruding from his chest.
He opened his mouth to scream, but only air hissed out.
Blood welled up in his gaping mouth, and as his gasping breaths faded, a soft laugh came from behind.
“Hee hee, kekeke—”
The voice whispered right in his ear.
“Do I still look young?”
It sounded maddeningly sweet. He tried to answer, but his throat was blocked. No sound came.
Instead, blood overflowed from his mouth.
“No answer, huh?”
The voice giggled.
“Of course not. Why would I make a mistake like that? No, no~”
Her playful, exaggerated tone rang in his ears as his body slowly tilted.
It slid forward, and the blade pulled free.
Thud.
With his last ounce of strength, he twisted his head to see his killer. The white mask was soaked red with blood.
His breaths grew shallow, and the woman in the red mask looked down at him, interest waning.
Then, as if something amused her, she snapped her head up, eyes crinkling widely.
“Bye-bye, teacher?”
She waved grandly at empty air and vanished quietly.
* * *
Someone had died. A murder. The perp, thought to be caught quickly, was still at large.
The killing from a week ago had gripped the entire nation. Portal sites, TV, newspapers—everywhere you looked, it was all about the murder.
“Still nothing but killer talk.”
Taeju yawned as he skimmed the paper.
“But is it okay to spill all this info? Nice for us—we can investigate from our desks thanks to them.”
The media raced to publish stories on the case.
A man stabbed to death in the middle of a residential neighborhood? Prime sensational bait.
“Well, they start the fire and sell the water. They’re the ones who blew it up in the first place.”
Taeju grumbled. Sure, the papers made their job easier, but they’d created the mess too.
“Eh, what can you do.”
It was mostly just venting. Couldn’t blame them for chasing clicks.
But this time, there was cause for worry. People loved juicy scandals.
And this murder wasn’t just sensational—it was mysterious.
Faced with intrigue, folks played detective, spinning theories with whatever evidence they fancied.
Whether those guesses held water didn’t matter. They just latched onto the most plausible one from what they’d seen and thought.
That’s why murder stories spread like urban legends.
Taeju sighed.
“Sigh, hope this one doesn’t stir up trouble.”
Usually, wild speculation fizzled out harmlessly. But sometimes rumors snowballed into full-blown tales with real power. That was the danger.
Unfortunately, this case had all the ingredients.
‘Body in a crowded neighborhood went unnoticed till dawn.’
‘No one heard screams.’
‘Stabbed, but bizarrely little blood.’
‘No CCTV footage.’
‘Only one witness: a homeless guy. Not exactly credible.’
“No, come on, homeless or not, that’s too much.”
The last bit was especially troubling.
“Why print a homeless guy’s interview?”
And that article had put the office on high alert. Taeju fumed.
“Money talks, huh?”
He got it—the interview was clickbait gold. Some inconsistencies, sure, but eerie alignments too.
Like naming the backstab before wound details went public.
Or testifying the victim didn’t scream right after the strike, pre-autopsy.
Sure, he spun wild tales, like the woman waving at him.
But the rest fit too neatly to dismiss as luck.
So more people bought his story than you’d think.
‘The killer’s a woman in a red mask!’
That’s what the homeless guy said.
Debate raged over the red mask. Papers didn’t confirm it. Didn’t need to for the story to stick.
Thus, the case got its moniker.
“The Red Mask Murder.”
Why the office watched closely.
“Perfect name for spawning a legend.”
Taeju sighed again.
Sia was fumbling through research she wasn’t great at, and the two students were prowling the neighborhood post-school, gauging the vibe.
“Can’t take a killer-linked tale lightly.”
Even the Director showed rare interest.
Usually aloof, as if everything was expected, he’d stepped up to look into it.
And hadn’t returned for days.
“What’s taking him so long?”
Taeju crossed his arms, face serious.
“Something’s off.”
As he mulled it over, the door rattled violently.
“Welco—”
“Help! Save me!”
The man’s yell made even unflappable Taeju step back.
“Pardon?”
A big guy had charged right up, face tear-streaked.
He grabbed Taeju’s hand in panic.
“Please, help me! I’m begging you!”
Fear? Grief? Both? Taeju regained composure.
“Calm down first.”
He didn’t pull away. The man looked half-mad.
Taeju waited for him to let go. The grip was iron-strong. His hand ached faintly; Taeju winced ever so slightly.
Seeing it, the man realized his rudeness and released quickly. Staring at his hand in disbelief.
“Sorry.”
“What brings you here?”
At Taeju’s question, the man clenched his fists, tense. He repeated it a few times, took a deep breath, then spoke.
“I’m... being chased. I might die.”
“You might die?”
Without context, it sounded absurd.
“Of all times...”
Taeju muttered under his breath.
The murder had them swamped already. Now this? He resented the timing.
“Sorry, I don’t follow. Could you explain in more detail?”
Taeju’s voice stayed even.
The man’s lips trembled as he wet them.
“You know the Red Mask? Not the folktale—the murder!”
“Yeah, we’re looking into it.”
The man brightened a bit. Taeju felt a headache coming on.
No way.
“That Red Mask is after me!!!”
“Oh, crap.”