The Sacrificial Lamb
Archive TV. 800,000 subscribers. Among domestic channels exploring haunted spots, it boasts unparalleled recognition and influence. With systematic analysis and slick production, they've secured a dedicated fanbase. This time, at the invitation of upstart broadcaster M Corp, they've planned a haunted house real-variety program.
But Baek Si-woo, the owner and main host of Archive TV, wore a deeply troubled expression.
"PD, is this really all the applications we've got?"
He sighed at the thin stack of papers on his desk.
"Yes, Si-woo. Even including the ones that just came in, it's 48 people."
Choi PD, sitting across from him, replied with a troubled look.
Just 48. For a collaborative project with a broadcaster, it was pathetically low.
"We usually get thousands of emails begging to appear... where'd everyone go?"
"Bad timing. Right in the middle of recruitment, the Association had to drop that announcement."
"Ah, that damn ghost story reveal."
Baek Si-woo furrowed his brow. Right after the Hunter Association officially named 'anomalies' as ghost stories and warned of their dangers, 90% of applicants vanished. Once it became a matter of life and death, everyone bailed.
"Talk about bad luck. Why'd it have to blow up right now..."
"But think of it the other way, Si-woo."
Choi PD leaned forward, eyes sparkling.
"What's got the public hooked right now? Ghost stories. Fear means views."
"I get that, but we need people to film with first."
"This is exactly when we charge ahead. While everyone's too scared to move, we go explore and verify those haunted spots on camera? Ratings are guaranteed. The station head's expecting big things too."
"...Yeah, you're right."
Baek Si-woo had to concede the point. A crisis was just opportunity in disguise. Nail this project, and Archive TV could leap from YouTube to the big leagues.
"Alright. Let's pick the best from what we've got."
Baek Si-woo and Choi PD dove back into reviewing the files. For a long stretch, only the rustle of papers filled the office. Then Choi PD slid one sheet toward Baek Si-woo with a tap.
"What about passing this participant?"
Baek Si-woo picked it up and scanned the profile.
Name: Han Suho
Age: 26
Rank: F-rank hunter
Ability: Language Interpretation
"...Han Suho? F-rank hunter. Non-combat language ability. Kinda iffy."
"That's why we need him." Choi PD grinned slyly. "We need someone we can work like a cheap laborer."
"Huh?"
"Think about the visuals. If it's all tough guys flexing and acting badass, it's boring. Throw in a naive-looking kid like this? Perfect 'sacrificial lamb' role."
Choi PD's voice dropped low.
"Plus, guys like him are desperate for fame. They'll do anything we say."
"Sure, but..."
"And if—worst case—we actually run into a real ghost story?"
Choi PD tapped the desk with his index finger.
"Put him out front."
"...!"
"Rules are key, right? Someone's gotta go first to test, break the taboos so the rest survive. Can't waste aces on that."
A chill ran down Baek Si-woo's spine. Using someone openly as cannon fodder, said so casually. Revulsion surged, but he held his tongue. It wasn't wrong—for the show's success, for his own safety.
As Baek Si-woo fell silent with a queasy look, Choi PD waved it off, lightening the mood.
"Come on, Si-woo. Don't make that face. Just talking strategy. You think I'd really throw someone to the wolves?"
"..."
"The places we're going? We've scouted them five times over. No real ghost stories. Just ruined buildings, some staging for footage, done. Odds of actually meeting one? Slim to none."
"...You're sure?"
"Of course. On-site checks are ongoing. No worries."
Choi PD plopped Han Suho's file atop the 'accepted' pile with a confident smile. Baek Si-woo stared at it a moment, sighed shortly, and nodded.
"...Alright. We'll take him."
A heartless call, but unavoidable for the program's hit potential.
Two days flew by.
"Hey, kid! You empty the room yet? Gotta redo the wallpaper—move it!"
Chased by the landlady's nagging, he packed up. His belongings? Just some clothes and basics. The rest was rusty junk for the scrap dealer—no regrets dumping it.
Finding a new place right away's tough.
He'd gotten his deposit back, but it wouldn't snag anything decent immediately. Solution: the jjimjilbang. 10,000 won a day covered bed, bath, and meals of sikhye or roasted eggs. Unbeatable value till he found work.
After unpacking, he shuttled between gym and library.
"Hoo, hoo..."
An F-rank hunter's body was honest. Weights built muscle as pumped; books stacked knowledge neatly in his brain. Days blurred in self-improvement, awaiting word.
Final screening day arrived, and the message pinged.
Ghost Hunter
You have passed the document screening.
"...I passed."
Relief mixed with puzzlement overrode joy.
Why pick me?
Not that he wanted rejection, but objectively, his specs were trash. F-rank, non-combat language hunter. Big projects craved C-ranks minimum, D at lowest.
Broadcaster's hurting more than I thought?
Maybe filler for low turnout.
Either way, it's my shot.
He chose optimism. Whatever the reason, he'd snagged a seat at the table.
Interview day. He showed up sharp at Archive TV's studio. A bustling staffer blocked the entrance.
"How'd you get in? Authorized personnel only."
"Here for Ghost Hunter interview. Passed docs."
"Ah! You're a candidate. One sec."
She checked the list and nodded.
"Han Suho, right? Waiting room's end of that hall. They'll call you."
"Thanks."
He bowed lightly and opened the door. Then froze.
"..."
Chaos incarnate. Corner: shaman-dressed woman muttering with a rattle. Beside her: priest in robes fingering beads. And more—a tattooed skinhead giant, fluorescent tights gym bro, black-suited sunglasses mobster types. Thirteen in total. Personalities so outsized, eyes didn't know where to land.
Whoa, intimidating.
Commoner like him felt out of place. He slipped quietly to a dim corner seat, surveying with a deep sigh.
...This won't be easy.
Exploring haunted spots with these eccentrics? Headache incoming. He minimized presence, hunkering down—but life rarely cooperates.
Tinkle.
A faint rattle approached. Looking up: fresh-faced girl in modern hanbok staring down. The shaman from the corner.
She shoved her face inches from his.
"You possessed?"
"...Pardon?"
Out of nowhere with ghosts. Stunned, he gaped; she tilted her head.
"Not? Weird."
She circled, sniffing.
"Yin so thick, but not pure—yang mixed in. Unusual."
"Hey?"
"Sorry. Your aura's too unique."
She beamed, offering a hand.
"Kang Chae-young. Shaman hunter."
"Uh... Han Suho. F-rank hunter."
He shook reflexively. Her hand was ice-cold. She plopped beside him.
"So why're you here, bro?"
"...Bro?"
"Uncle then? You look older."
"Nah, whatever's comfy."
Her instant friendliness floored him. He hesitated, then answered straight.
"For the cash. They pay."
"Love the honesty. Money's king."
She giggled.
"You? Shamans don't need risky shows."
She blinked wide, shrugged.
"Curious."
"Curious?"
"Yeah. Everyone's buzzing 'ghost stories.' Wanna see how they differ from spirits."
Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"We shamans soothe ghosts, right? But Association says ghost stories are structurally different—rules and all."
"So you're checking firsthand?"
"Yep. And even if not, doesn't matter."
She leaned in, voice low.
"Haunted houses are yin-soaked pools. For me? All-you-can-eat buffet. Breathe it in, boosts my practice. No loss."
"...I see."
He nodded, listening. She looked like a bubbly high schooler, but pure shaman inside. Comparing yin to a buffet? Ironclad mentality.
"You know anything?"
"Nah, just average F-rank. Nothing special."
"Boo, boring."
She pouted. Then—
Creeeak.
The door opened. A familiar face from YouTube entered.
Baek Si-woo.
The main host stood before them.