Got Dropped in a Ghost Story Chapter 9

A rainy Monday afternoon.

The members of Squad D of the Field Exploration Team raced through the situation report, finishing it in record time and even submitting it for approval using the squad leader’s ID.

The reason?

A rookie had cleared a time-limited ghost story far too quickly.

“Wasn’t the time limit supposed to be three days?”

“It was.”

Sitting across from the rookie on the sofa, Assistant Manager Eun and Supervisor Park spread out the snacks they had brought from the break room.

They exchanged glances and nodded.

It was finally time to ask him properly.

“So, how did you get out that fast?”

“Oh.”

The rookie hesitated briefly, then nodded as though he understood the question.

“I sped up the time.”

He’s saying it like he’s casually telling us what he had for lunch…!

Before either of them could react, the rookie calmly began explaining what he had done.

“Since there was a time limit, I thought there had to be some kind of event that indicated the passage of time. So I focused on that…”

He explained how he had used the expiration date to trigger a “time alarm.”

The two seniors listened in silence, thinking the same thing.

He’s a genius.

There’s no way we’re letting him quit.

The rookie’s instincts and reasoning were sharp enough to see straight through the core of the ghost story.

He was perfectly suited for the Field Exploration Team.

They absolutely had to make sure he couldn’t esca—

No.

That he adjusted well to the team as quickly as possible.

“I’m probably not the one who should be saying this, but welcome to the squad, Roe Deer-nim.”

“At this rate, you’ll probably outrank me soon and make assistant manager.”

“…!?”

Rookies like this didn’t come along often.

“When you succeed, don’t forget about us… And when you get that Wish Ticket, make sure you come back and brag about it…”

The rookie looked slightly flustered.

“No, um… actually—”

“Hm?”

Then, as though he were making a serious confession, he said,

“I just wanted to get out as quickly as possible because I was scared.”

“…”

Since when did being scared help someone escape a frightening urban legend?

It sounded like the kind of strange psychological effect you might encounter in an escape room.

Is he being modest, or…!?

But the rookie remained serious.

“I’d appreciate it if you warned me beforehand next time. I almost fainted from fear.”

“You cleared it in an hour, and that’s what you’re saying?”

The rookie made a somewhat awkward expression.

“I really thought I was going to die.”

Lies!

Someone who genuinely thought they were about to die wouldn’t try to speedrun it and set a record like a veteran employee.

Even veteran workers wouldn’t normally try something like that.

Still, they could understand why he felt betrayed.

To be fair, it was harsh.

Even if the ghost story was classified as “safe,” being thrown alone into a paranormal phenomenon was still a serious experience.

And they knew exactly how to comfort someone after something like that.

Workplace therapy.

Assistant Manager Eun took a sip of coffee and asked,

“So, Roe, how much did you get?”

“Huh?”

“The money. How much did you earn from clearing it?”

“Oh, right. I got 10 million won.”

That was right.

Clearing this F-Class ghost story came with a cash reward.

And the company manual clearly stated:

– When an employee clears an F-Class Darkness with a completed manual, 50% of any additional income earned will be paid to the employee as a bonus.

In other words, if you earned money inside a ghost story while following a fully documented manual, the company took 50%.

However, rookies on their first ghost story were exempt from that rule.

Because they were assigned only to ghost stories that had been proven safe through repeated attempts, the company did not consider the work dangerous enough to qualify for hazard pay.

The rookie had already read the manual, but—

“Normally, the company takes all of it… but just keep yours.”

“…Pardon?”

Once you’d worked there long enough, you learned plenty of ways to get around the rules.

Since the rookie had cleared it using a new method, they could simply argue that the method wasn’t covered by the manual.

There were plenty of loopholes.

And receiving a large bonus on your first day would certainly make the job feel a little better.

Assistant Manager Eun and Supervisor Park exchanged knowing smiles.

It was an old trick both of them had experienced before.

“Come on. Just keep it. We know how to deal with this.”

“…”

It was actually twenty million won.

Kim Soleum, who had been planning to quietly pocket half of it himself, broke out in a cold sweat.

For a brief moment, he was torn between the joy of unexpectedly ending up with another ten million won and a stab of guilt.

Still, he quickly stood up and followed his seniors.

“Now that you’ve successfully completed the Darkness exploration, it’s time to start accumulating the most important thing.”

“Accumulating… what?”

“Points.”

Supervisor Park grinned.

“Employee welfare mall points.”

─────

“Huuu.”

I had never realized how comforting it could feel to stand in the middle of a crowded city in broad daylight.

I already knew I’d probably have trouble sleeping tonight, even with the lights on, but that was a problem for later.

Maybe having twenty million won in my pocket really did give me some peace of mind….

No matter how horrifying the ghost story had been, this was still twenty-first-century South Korea.

A capitalist society.

I finally sat down at the desk assigned to me, turned on the computer, and logged into the company intranet.

Under the bright fluorescent lights, sitting in a proper office chair that actually supported my back, everything I had just experienced felt almost unreal.

There were even some unexpectedly cute stationery supplies on my desk, along with a wide-eyed lizard plushie.

‘…Doesn’t this stuff look kind of used?’

I could only hope the previous owner had suddenly won the lottery and quit.

The employee welfare mall was already saved in the browser bookmarks, so I opened it right away.

[Daydream Inc. Employee Welfare Mall]

After signing up with my employee ID, I clicked the Point Registration tab, just as my seniors had instructed.

– Select the class of the ghost story you cleared, enter your name, and attach the PDF file.

I followed the instructions exactly.

Five minutes later—

[Employee Kim Soleum / Accumulated Points: 100P]

“…!”

The review had been completed absurdly fast.

My points were already there.

So clearing an F-Class gives 100 points.

Well, no matter how hellish the experience had been, an F-Class was still just an F-Class.

I told myself not to expect too much.

Still, now that I actually had points, I wanted to see what I could buy with 100 points.

The very first page caught me off guard.

“…A robot vacuum cleaner?”

The products were much better than I’d expected.

Most of the discounted special items cost around 100 points, while even expensive home appliances—the kind people usually bought when moving into a new house—were only around 500 points.

And then there were Daydream Inc.’s unreleased medicines.

Those were priced at roughly 1,000 points.

Some of them were practically beyond modern technology, like medicine capable of regenerating a damaged cornea.

For comparison, the company’s famous hair-loss treatment, which normally sold for around 500,000 won, was available here for only 100 points.

This is actually pretty good.

Feeling a little more optimistic, I kept scrolling.

Then it was time to check the one thing that really mattered.

I opened the Company Products category and sorted everything by highest price.

At the very top was the name I had been looking for.

Wish Ticket.

The miracle item that had been introduced as the ultimate employee benefit after surviving that death match.

And its price was—

Wish Ticket : 500,000P

“…”

Was this a joke?

Five hundred thousand points?

I had just risked my life clearing a ghost story and earned 100 points.

And this thing costs 500,000?

Theoretically… even if I cleared one F-Class by myself every single day, it would still take about fifteen years.

Of course, there was no way things would ever work that neatly.

The company would never let me do that.

There was no chance I’d be allowed to clear only F-Class ghost stories every day.

Eventually, something would go wrong.

More likely, I’ll be sent into higher-class ghost stories with a squad.

Wait.

If we cleared one as a squad, would the points be divided among us?

I searched through the welfare mall and found the standard point rewards for each class.

─────

F-Class : 100P

D-Class : 1,000P

C-Class : 2,500P

B-Class : 10,000P

A-Class : 100,000P

S-Class : Special Review Required

───── There were also extra bonuses based on the company’s internal assessment, depending on factors like urgency, lack of prior information, or additional danger.

So if there are three people in a squad, and all three clear a ghost story together…

Then, to earn enough points for the Wish Ticket—

you’d have to clear a B-Class ghost story around 150 times.

Are these people insane?

Even in a B-Class ghost story, the survival rate for an ordinary person dropped to roughly two percent.

At that level, it didn’t matter what choice you made.

You either died—

or ended up in a state worse than death.

For a normal employee, entering something like that 150 times was basically the same as signing your own death warrant.

spend more than ten years doing this.

If I ever got ordered into something like that, I’d have to get down on my knees and beg them not to send me.

Speedrunning higher-class ghost stories wasn’t a realistic option either.

So if I want to improve my chances of survival even a little, I’ll have to spend more than ten years doing this.

What is this, some story about a nobleman spending years plotting revenge?

And if the Field Exploration Team was supposedly the fastest department for earning points, then employees in other departments had even less chance of ever earning enough for a Wish Ticket during their careers.

With so many other attractive products available in the welfare mall, most employees in other departments had probably accepted that reality and settled for something more attainable.

But I couldn’t.

My goal was far more unrealistic.

And far more absolute.

Returning to my original world.

They expected me to survive here for fifteen years?

I’d probably die from the stress before then.

No chance in hell.

I needed a plan.

A proper strategy.

I have to figure out which ghost stories I should enter and which ones I need to avoid.

I needed to find the right balance between staying safe and moving quickly enough to gather 500,000 points as soon as possible.

Just as I was about to seriously think it through, Supervisor Park walked over and gave me a friendly pat on the back.

“Hey, did you finish registering everything? Computer working okay?”

“Yes. By the way, these personal belongings on the desk…”

“Oh, that’s the squad leader’s desk.”

“…”

No wonder it looked like someone had been using it.

“Just don’t break the monitor. You can use it for today, so don’t worry.”

Was this company serious?

They were letting a brand-new employee use the squad leader’s desk for the day.

Was that something a normal company would do?

Then again, nothing about this place is normal.

This was a company that produced miraculous medicine by sending people into ghost stories.

Trying to judge it by the standards of an ordinary twenty-first-century Korean workplace would only leave me shocked again and again.

…Maybe bending the rules a little wouldn’t hurt either.

“Hey, Roe. You smoke?”

“No, I’m good.”

I didn’t follow my seniors out for their smoke break.

Instead, I looked down at the desk in front of me, took a quiet breath, and flipped the keyboard over.

As expected—

there was a Post-it note stuck underneath.

[Squad Leader Lee Jaheon / 105105301]

ID: yongj1111

PW: dydajflgodks!111

At this point, I’d seen so many terrible security habits around the company that I wasn’t even sure it was worth criticizing anymore.

If he’s the squad leader, then he’s probably a section chief.

And there was a certain website within the company that only section chiefs and higher could access.

One that could be extremely useful for clearing higher-class ghost stories.

“…”

Now that I’d seen the absurd goal of 500,000 points, this felt like an opportunity I couldn’t afford to pass up.

Fine.

Let’s do it.

I opened the welfare mall login page again.

This time, however, I didn’t use my own ID.

ID: yongj1111

Password: dydajflgodks!111

I tried logging in with Squad D Leader Lee Jaheon’s credentials.

[Incorrect password.]

“Hm…”

No problem.

I’d expected at least this much.

Let’s see…

If I opened the registration page, I could check the password requirements.

‘It requires an uppercase letter.’

Then if I changed the first letter of the password written on the Post-it to uppercase—

Dydajflgodks!111

—and tried again…

Ding.

[Welcome, Section Chief Lee Jaheon.]

I’m in.

I quietly pumped my fists beneath the desk.

A small victory celebration you could pull off in an office without attracting attention.

Not that there was anyone around to notice me right now anyway.

Now then.

What I needed to find on this page was a kind of bait link.

The so-called Alien Shop.

There were quite a few alien-related ghost stories in <Dark Exploration Records>, and some of them involved extraterrestrials trying to sell products to Earthlings through bizarre forms of communication.

They weren’t trying to harm anyone.

The problem was that some of the things they sold were unsettling or dangerous from a human perspective.

Still, those ghost stories tended to be more quirky than frightening, and sometimes even strangely heartwarming.

And apparently, the aliens had a bit of a business mindset too.

They wanted to reach potential customers, so—

they had embedded something resembling ransomware into Daydream Inc.’s intranet.

Only section chiefs and higher can see the shopping mall’s phishing ad.

I also remembered how to make it appear.

While randomly clicking around the welfare mall, press the back button five times in a row…

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Beep.

A tiny green hand suddenly appeared in the corner of the welfare mall screen.

It was a pixelated left hand, waving as though trying to grab my attention.

A speech bubble floated above it.

[First Anniversary Appreciation Discount! ~80%]

[Is your job boring? >>Click]

[Do you want to get stronger? >>Click]

[Want cool items? >>Click]

This is trash.

It looked exactly like one of those ancient banner ads from the early days of the internet.

But surprisingly—

if you clicked this clumsy-looking thing, you’d be taken from the company intranet to an external website as if by magic.

Straight to the Alien Shop.

I was tempted to click it immediately.

But—

Wait.

Instead, I right-clicked the link and copied the address.

Then I pasted it into an Excel sheet and took a photo of the screen with my phone.

Company PCs record everything.

I didn’t want to leave behind any evidence that I had clicked on an alien ransomware link.

Especially while logged into someone else’s account.

A little while later, my seniors returned from their smoke break.

I greeted them with a casual nod, acting as though nothing had happened.

“Roe~ Once the squad leader gets back from field duty, let’s have a welcome dinner. We’ll use the company card.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

After that, I simply waited for the workday to end.

─────

That evening, even after my monumental first day at work, I still had something left to do.

“Let’s do this.”

After depositing the 20 million won, I went home.

Now, sitting in my bedroom, I was reconstructing the Alien Shop phishing link from the photo in my phone gallery using image analysis.

After correcting a few parts that were hard to read, I opened a browser and pasted the link into the address bar.

“Huuuu.”

Deep breath.

Then—

Enter.

Click.

The browser followed the long, complicated link.

For a moment, a page appeared that looked almost identical to Daydream Inc.’s welfare mall.

Then the entire page shattered apart and disappeared.

A new website opened in its place.

It looked like something straight out of the early 2000s, complete with obvious underlined links and outdated fonts.

[※Amazing Items From Outer Space※~!!]

[>>I’ll take a look at the items Boing Boing Boing.]

A tiny green spaceship spun around in the corner of the screen.

This is so lame.

But I couldn’t let the tackiness fool me.

If I clicked Items, I’d find bizarre supernatural products for sale.

The problem was that the prices were just as ridiculous.

The cheapest ones started at around one million won.

…This is probably what happens when ghost-story writers with oversized imaginations keep thinking, “I need to use an even more expensive item!”

That had been me until yesterday.

Back then, I wouldn’t have been able to afford a single thing on this list.

But now—

I have 20 million won.

My heart started beating a little faster.

The thought that I could actually buy items from what had once been a fictional world gave me a serious rush.

“Huu.”

Finally, I clicked the [Items] tab.

The page loaded.

[Items]

Bloodsucking Cutlery – ₩14,999,999

Wide-Range Walkie-Talkie – ₩4,999,999

Alice Picnic Set – ₩11,999,999

We Can Help! – ₩66,666,666

[※Discount!※ Silver Coin Snake– ₩4,999,999 ₩19,999,999]

“…!”

I recognized most of the items on the list.

Finally.

My luck was starting to turn around.

Hell yeah.

Excited, I quickly went over what I knew about each one.

Bloodsucking Cutlery.

A weapon set consisting of a small fork and knife.

The more blood they absorbed from their victims, the larger and sharper they became.

You could basically call them growth weapons.

Wide-Range Walkie-Talkie.

A toy walkie-talkie that allowed remote communication with others, even inside ghost stories.

It would be extremely useful if I had companions with me.

Alice Picnic Set.

As the name suggested, it was inspired by Alice in Wonderland and contained food items.

There was a drink that temporarily doubled the effects of items, along with cookies that reduced those effects by half.

That was about as far as my knowledge went.

I didn’t know what the remaining two items did.

But We Can Help! was far beyond my budget anyway, so I ignored it.

The Silver Coin Snake is on sale.

For some reason, seeing something discounted always made it feel like I was coming out ahead.

“Hm…”

I crossed my arms and stared at the screen.

A weapon.

A communication item.

A buff item.

And… a discounted item?

My budget was 20 million won.

What should I buy to get the best value?

“Alright.”

I made my decision.

Then I clicked.