Got Dropped in a Ghost Story Chapter 13

In <Dark Exploration Records>, entering a ghost story usually cut off all data transmission and outside communication, leaving the people inside completely isolated.

‘Classic horror-story setup.’

But stories became more interesting when people could communicate and interact.

I vaguely remembered reading somewhere that some teams had disposable items for emergency communication.

Is this button one of them?

My mind raced through the possibilities, but my mouth was already moving.

There was no time to waste.

“Are you the leader of Squad D?”

[Yes.]

“I’m Kim Soleum, the new recruit assigned to Squad D. I have something urgent to report.”

There was no point beating around the bush.

“In thirty minutes, everyone in Squad D will be dead.”

Even if that startled him, it couldn’t be helped.

This was the fastest way to explain the situation.

I just needed to calm him down afterward and—

[I see.]

[I’ll give you five minutes. Brief me.]

“…”

Why was he so calm?

Even if losing your entire squad was practically an everyday occurrence in the Field Exploration Team, this seemed a little inhuman.

‘Is there something wrong with this guy…?’

For a moment, I was genuinely thrown off.

But the situation was too urgent to dwell on it, so I quickly explained everything that had happened.

“There was an anomaly in the D-Class Darkness, Tuesday Talk Show.”

I told him about another squad entering in the middle of our broadcast.

About the sudden cancellation of the quiz segment.

And about the insane choir segment that had started afterward.

[How many employees are still alive?]

“Three out of seven. Everyone from Squad D is still alive, but once the break ends, we’re probably all dead.”

The squad leader answered without hesitation.

[I see.]

[Buy another thirty minutes.]

“…”

Was he serious?

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

[Then there’s nothing we can do.]

“…”

He really had a talent for infuriating someone who might be dead in less than thirty minutes.

I don’t have time for this.

I knew that the higher someone climbed in the Field Exploration Team, the more likely they were to lose their basic sense of morality and common sense.

But experiencing it firsthand was incredibly irritating.

Does he think his own team members’ lives are a joke?

I was about to end the call and figure something out on my own when—

“…”

Wait.

“Why do you need another thirty minutes?”

There had to be a reason he asked for more time.

[Right.]

[If you can hold out for another fifty-five minutes, I can get authorization from the Security Team and borrow their strongest weapons and entry equipment.]

His voice remained perfectly calm.

[Even if the paperwork is handled retroactively, the process will take around forty minutes.]

[Entering the Darkness afterward will take another fifteen to twenty.]

“…If you manage all that, can you rescue Squad D?”

[Probably.]

“…”

Someone from the Field Exploration Team who could enter an A-Class Darkness alone and suppress the supernatural phenomenon with specialized equipment.

There couldn’t be many people capable of that.

A named character.

The man on the other end of this call had to be one of the employees I had read about in <Dark Exploration Records>.

Someone important enough to leave a memorable record…

A chill ran down my spine.

Several possibilities flashed through my mind.

My thoughts spun rapidly.

“Stealing equipment from the Security Team… That’s impossible.”

[…? Correct.]

Security Team operations were heavily restricted to preserve the internal logic of ghost stories.

And their security was airtight.

According to the established rules, stealing from them should have been impossible.

But if this person really is who I think he is…

There might be a way.

I swallowed.

“…Section Chief, may I ask what mask you wear?”

If he gave the nickname I was thinking of—

[Lizard.]

“…”

Ah.

It’s you.

“Section Chief.”

We had twenty minutes left.

“Based on what you’ve told me, I think I have a plan.”

Let’s do this.

======================

[Ah, Mr. Roe Deer!]

The break was nearly over.

Holding a bottle of water from the waiting room, I returned to the talk-show set.

“Human. Number 2. Human, human!”

The two employees who had been exposed to the choir practice for several minutes looked noticeably worse than before.

Against that eerie singing, the TV-headed host extended a hand toward me.

[Are you feeling better? Ready to make the best broadcast possible?]

“Yes. Thank you for your consideration.”

[Haha! A contestant’s condition is essential to capturing the best moments on television!]

His tone was surprisingly warm compared to before.

It seemed the Smiley Stickers were still working.

So far, everything’s going according to plan.

I carefully chose my words.

“…You put an incredible amount of passion and energy into this program, Mr. Host. I think that’s why your broadcasts are always so captivating.”

Maybe it was because I was in such an extreme situation, but the flattery came out effortlessly.

Not even a hint of embarrassment.

[Such high praise! But television is something everyone creates together! Mr. Roe Deer, you’re part of the show too!]

No.

That wasn’t where I wanted this conversation to go.

“I appreciate that, but someone like me can’t compare to you. You’re the one leading this entire talk show.”

This was where I needed it to go.

“But I was a little surprised that someone as important as you wasn’t informed in advance that the format would be changing.”

[…]

“There’s no live audience anymore. The applause is pre-recorded. The penalties are gone… Even the band has fewer members.”

I remembered the black-and-white broadcast posters covering the waiting-room walls.

Every one of them showed talk shows with live audiences.

Programs built around real-time interaction with the crowd.

If that waiting room really belonged to the host…

There’s a good chance he doesn’t actually like this new format.

“It almost feels like they changed everything to cut costs.”

This was dangerous.

If the host interpreted my comment as insulting the program, I could lose my head on the spot.

But doing nothing meant dying anyway.

I had to push forward.

I glanced toward the stage as though I were merely observing the set.

The dead pig-headed conductor stood there.

“…Could this revamp have happened because it was expensive to bring in that guest?”

[!]

The emoticon vanished from the host’s screen.

For a moment, the television went blank.

Then the smiling face returned.

[That isn’t something a contestant needs to worry about.]

“I apologize.”

Please don’t kill me.

Truthfully, I was so terrified that I still hadn’t managed to properly look at the pig-headed thing.

“I was just a huge fan of the Tuesday Quiz Show, and I’d really been looking forward to appearing on it.”

“I suppose I got carried away because I was disappointed to hear it had been canceled…”

[Ah, what a kind thing to say! But… show business is ruthless.]

The host’s television screen slowly went dark.

[If this is the format our viewers prefer, then as an entertainer, it’s my responsibility to adapt quickly to what they want…]

“I understand.”

I swallowed.

“But we don’t actually know what the viewers think yet, do we?”

[…]

“At least personally, I preferred the old format.”

“The real-time interaction with the audience. The excitement of the live Tuesday Quiz Show.”

[…]

“And changing the program so suddenly without even discussing it with the host…”

I stopped myself.

“Ah, never mind. I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn.”

I deliberately hesitated before adding, “I just… really enjoyed the live broadcast earlier.”

“My heart was pounding the entire time.”

“It was exciting.”

[—]

The host remained silent.

Static faintly crackled from his television screen.

Beep-beep-beep!

[…Ah! Only sixty seconds until filming resumes!]

At the sound of the alarm, the emoticon returned to the screen.

[All right, everyone! Let’s give it everything we have until the very end!]

[Mr. Roe Deer, please return to your podium.]

“…Yes.”

[We’re starting! Ten, nine, eight…]

The host turned back toward the camera and resumed his countdown as usual.

But—

he didn’t seem quite as absorbed in the camera as he had been before.

Good.

The groundwork was done.

I gave the host a small nod and returned to my podium.

And moments later—

[Now! Mr. Badger!]

[It’s finally time for your answer!]

The show resumed.

[Will Mr. Badger earn himself a glorious place in the choir?]

Supervisor Park Minseong seemed to have accepted his fate.

His expression was bitter, but strangely calm.

Then I saw his lips move.

He was mouthing something toward me.

Thank you.

What?

Thanks for giving me time to prepare myself…

No.

Wait.

I quickly mouthed back—

Give the correct answer.

“…?!”

Supervisor Park stared at me as though I had completely lost my mind.

I understood why.

Getting incinerated was probably better than becoming a living instrument, endlessly repeating your final words after your head was cut off…

But this was necessary.

Still looking confused, Supervisor Park shook his head and glanced toward Assistant Manager Eun.

She nodded as well.

[Mr. Badger? You have three seconds.]

“Ah! Um, yes. My answer is…”

Supervisor Park squeezed his eyes shut.

“Number 4, burns!”

[Ooooooh!]

As the recorded audience murmured—

I finally saw it.

Flutter—

Something appeared in a dark corner of the stage, beyond the reach of the spotlights.

A postcard.

The same strange postcard we had used to enter this place.

I remembered my conversation with Section Chief Lee Jaheon just before returning to the set.

– So, Section Chief, you’re saying that equipment can access the ghost story through an object?

– Yes. But the equipment I have is meant for emergency supply drops. It can only send small objects into the Darkness.

– That’s enough. Let’s use it…

I stared at the postcard.

It quietly fluttered to the floor in the shadows.

And then—

something shot out of it at terrifying speed.

A small AAA battery.

“…!”

The battery flew straight toward the ominous conductor with tremendous force.

In an instant, it crossed the stage—

and slammed into one of the silver platters.

– Throw it as hard as you can, sir.

Crunch!

The thick silver platter crumpled inward around the impact point.

The sheer physical force behind it was absurd.

As expected.

I recalled the description of Section Chief Lee Jaheon from <Dark Exploration Records>.

======================

Employee D

Nickname: Lizard

Final Position: Team Leader

One of the few combat specialists in the Field Exploration Team.

Known for resolving ghost stories—which normally require wit and strategy—through brute force.

??? : “If the body suffers, the mind suffers even more, doesn’t it?”

Conversely, when his brute force fails, it means things are truly fucked.

======================

If we had tried attacking the pig-headed conductor itself, we might have found out exactly what that “truly fucked” situation looked like.

But one silver platter?

He’s a character whose entire gimmick is that physical exorcism actually works in ghost stories. I thought he might be able to damage it…

And I was right.

The platter hadn’t been pierced completely, but a deep dent had been punched into it.

In that case…

Even with sweat pouring down my body, I couldn’t help but smile faintly.

[Wow! Mr. Badger, that’s the correct answer!]

Normally, this would have been the moment when the successful contestant had their head torn off and placed on another silver platter.

But now—

the conductor had just seen one of its precious “instruments” damaged.

[…Mr. Conductor?]

The dead pig opened its mouth.

Wide.

Wider.

Its rotting flesh split apart as its jaw dislocated at an impossible angle.

The canned applause abruptly stopped.

The entire atmosphere of the studio seemed to lose its rhythm.

[…It appears our guest is considering a new performance method! I wonder what brilliant idea he’s come up with? How exciting!]

Then the pig screamed.

A horrifying sound poured from its torn mouth.

[…Our contestant is waiting! Mr. Conductor, please welcome him into the choir!]

A scream nearly tore its way out of my own throat.

What did I just do?

What kind of horrible mistake did I make?

Did you see the worm born from the earth? How I long to sing, how I chose wrongly, judgment, indeed—praise the silver throne, death—

The band blasted over the sound.

“Hah!”

This was insane.

Drip.

Drip.

Red spots appeared on the podium in front of me.

A nosebleed.

But I had to cover my ears.

I needed to block out that sound—

except the band music was getting quieter.

[You—]

Drip.

[Do not respect the show.]

I raised my head.

Silence.

Then—

Whoosh!

The grand, horrifying guest standing in the center of the stage erupted into black flames.

In seconds, it burned down to ash.

I knew that sight.

I had seen it several times already.

Incineration.

The host’s personal authority.

In the D-Class Darkness known as the Tuesday Quiz Show, that was what happened to contestants who disrupted the broadcast.

Except this time—

Did a D-Class Darkness just completely incinerate an A-Class Darkness?

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

This wasn’t what I had intended at all.

All I had wanted was for the host to get angry at the guest for failing to do its job and end today’s filming early.

[As I thought, the essence of a show doesn’t lie in flashy guests.]

[It lies in remaining true to its core.]

I looked around.

The staff.

The lights.

The band.

The recording equipment.

The cameras.

One after another, they burst into flames and crumbled into ash.

Only the host remained.

The screen of his old television head flickered brightly with vivid color.

[The joy of watching.]

[The thrill of communication.]

[The excitement of unexpected developments.]

[Anticipation…]

[You ■■■ creators understand none of that.]

[You have no right to make shows.]

[But I do!]

[I can make them!]

The host threw his arms wide like some victorious liberator.

Then he turned toward me.

[Mr. Roe Deer!]

[Thank you!]

[You’ve given me an entirely new vision!]

[My mind feels so clear now. Ah… yes! From now on, I’ll accept participants on other days of the week as well!]

The host stared directly at me.

[I can tell.]

[You have the talent of a show creator.]

[I hope you’ll join the crew of my new talk show too, Mr. Roe Deer! Mr. Roe Deer!]

This is bad.

[New participants! A new set! New music! A new season!]

[I’ll invite you once everything is ready for filming!]

But—

[It’s unfortunate that today’s broadcast had to end this way…]

[Still, your passionate participation was truly impressive.]

[Let’s meet again on the next show!]

It worked.

I blinked.

Through my rapidly blurring vision, I saw the suited figure with the television head waving goodbye as he faded away.

And then—

“…”

I found myself sitting on a sofa.

Bright fluorescent lights.

A quiet office.

I slowly turned my head.

Supervisor Park and Assistant Manager Eun were sitting nearby.

Blood was running from their noses and ears.

Both of them were staring at me in complete disbelief.

And then I realized.

I’m alive.

“Waaaaah!!”

“You incredible bastard!”

“You crazy idiot!”

Cheers erupted.

Someone grabbed me.

Then another person hugged me.

Amid all the shouting and excitement, I slowly slid down against the sofa.

I’m alive.

I escaped…!

“…! The collector!”

But it wasn’t over yet.

Supervisor Park, still half-hugging me, hurriedly pulled something from my suit pocket.

The Dream Essence Collector.

Golden liquid filled the container.

Unlike when I had cleared the F-Class ghost story—

this time, its color was…

“A-Class.”

“…”

“Roe.”

Supervisor Park stared at it.

“You cleared an A-Class Darkness after only two days on the job…!”