‘The fear of possibly dying.’
Perhaps that’s the essence of ghost stories.
Recently, I even experienced a government-managed Disaster where someone had to die for the scenario to be theoretically cleared.
So, I’ve grown quite accustomed to the idea that “people usually die in ghost stories.” I’ve even become a bit desensitized to it.
After all, I’ve managed to squeeze through the needle’s eye and survive.
– Let’s figure out an escape route first, no matter how impossible it seems.
This had become my default mindset over the past few months.
But now…
“Initially, everyone disappeared. Only one headless corpse ever came back.”
“……”
“But after a few repetitions, someone lucky enough managed to survive and return. Based on their testimony, we pieced together the manual.”
This was the standard process for completing a high-level exploration manual.
“But there was one thing we could never change.”
That was…
“Someone always dies.”
“……”
“The mechanism behind who gets chosen? There isn’t one. No logic, no pattern. It’s completely random. It’s happened 37 times so far, and no matter what gear or items are brought in, it doesn’t make any difference.”
“……”
“And since the designation happens the moment you enter, there’s no time to prepare or respond.”
This situation was absurd.
Literally a game of chance, where I had a 1-in-12 chance of instant death.
Including the rest of the squad, the odds were 1 in 3—absolutely ludicrous.
Someone would just… die.
“You might think, ‘Why not send someone expendable instead of a competent person like me’…”
“I didn’t, ma’am.”
“Really? Because I sure did.”
“……”
“But we don’t have a choice. This damned urban legend demands a challenger with a sharp mind to allow for a clear scenario resolution.”
In other words, we couldn’t just throw away a sacrificial pawn.
Assistant Manager Eun Haje smirked faintly.
“An 8.3% death rate in a B-class Darkness is actually quite reasonable.”
“……”
It was true.
Think about the exhibition ghost story. That one didn’t even have a manual, making it far worse. Even when manuals are complete, fatalities weren’t uncommon.
But still…
“The idea of being trapped in that probability—it feels wrong. So unfair.”
“……”
It wasn’t unusual to feel that way.
The difference between dying without a chance to fight back and dying after at least trying is significant.
The former feels like slaughter. The latter, a challenge.
“…Does giving us three days mean it’s to help us mentally prepare?”
“Most likely.”
After three days, your mind cools down, and you start to think rationally and optimistically.
‘Surely I won’t be the one in 12?’ That kind of thought process…
“Roe, this must be your first time facing a Darkness like this, right?”
“…Yes.”
“Go grab a coffee. Get me one too while you’re at it.”
Taking the hint that I could take my time, I accepted Assistant Manager Eun Haje’s card and headed out.
The coffee errand was probably just an excuse for some mental health management.
‘This is driving me nuts.’
Now I was leaning back on a café sofa, an Americano in front of me.
Fear? I wouldn’t say that’s the issue. I haven’t not been scared since arriving here, so that’s nothing new.
What I felt was unease.
‘Information doesn’t matter in this situation.’
Maybe it’s because I realized how much I’ve relied on having clearer conditions than most employees. It left me with a strange sense of self-reproach.
And an overwhelming sense of danger.
“……”
‘Should I just quit?’
Wouldn’t it be better to leave now and figure out another path?
Investigating ghost stories independently using the <Dark Exploration Records> as a guide…
– Ah, Friend!
– Why not consider a career in show business?
Excuse me??
– Oh, absolutely. There’s always a spot for you in my world, my friend. Isn’t that what friends are for? Hahaha!
I almost fell off the sofa.
‘Hard pass.’
That snapped me out of it.
– What a shame…
Yes, in this world, there are plenty of fates worse than death.
And investigating alone? Only an idiot would forget they’re a coward and make such a foolish choice.
Quitting over a 1/12 chance of death would be stupid.
‘But doing nothing about it would be equally idiotic.’
– So, are you going in?
‘Yes.’
First, I needed to learn more about this ghost story.
I returned to the office with the takeout coffees for the squad and began thoroughly reading the tablet PC.
And…
‘…Hah.’
It really was random.
The ghost story matched what I already knew from the <Dark Exploration Records>, but the problem was that everything I had read was already documented in the manual.
‘There’s no new information.’
I didn’t know anything that others didn’t.
‘No gaps to exploit.’
Even in the <Dark Exploration Records>, the description blatantly stated, ‘random upon entry’.
There were no exceptions or suspicious loopholes. It wasn’t treated as particularly significant, probably because deaths in ghost stories were common enough to feel unremarkable.
And then…
“For this deployment, squad leaders are excluded. Only those ranked assistant manager or below will enter.”
“……”
Chief Lizard wouldn’t be accompanying us this time.
This was to prevent ‘priority confusion’ among staff if a squad leader were designated as the sacrifice due to their higher rank.
“None from the Round-Off Team or the elite squads would be included either. Last time they went in, it caused a huge mess.”
Apparently, during one deployment, an elite squad member from the A, B, or C squads had been designated as the sacrifice. Their desperate attempts to avoid death ended up causing ‘unnecessary casualties’, taking down several other employees with them.
I didn’t regret not being placed on the A-squad, but this company was as consistent as ever.
“Thank you for letting me know.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Assistant Manager Eun seemed caught somewhere between resignation and irritation, finding solace in a cigarette as Supervisor Park joined him for a smoke break.
“Did you see the roster? The employees going in, too…”
“Yeah, honestly, I wouldn’t even attend some of their funerals. Did they select the lowest-ranked based on personality or something?”
“Hey, at least we’re not included!”
I kept comparing with the manual, desperately searching for something.
A gap to slip through.
A small loophole in the rules.
And then, unexpectedly, that afternoon, a potential way to bypass the rules appeared.
Though it came in a slightly different form.
“Supervisor Kim!”
“Section Chief.”
Section Chief Lee Byeongjin had come to find me. As the manual revisions officer, he wouldn’t have come all this way just ‘in passing’.
“I heard! You’re going into that insane Russian roulette ghost story, aren’t you?”
“……”
I had thought it before, but he truly had a knack for irritating people.
But Section Chief Lee wasn’t here just to make a fuss.
After lowering his voice and ensuring no one else was around, he leaned in and spoke quietly.
“Why don’t you talk to Director Ho about this?”
“……!”
“Apparently, the director’s been impressed by your performance.”
“Are you saying…”
I looked at him.
“…if I speak to the director, I’ll be excluded from this?”
“Exactly!”
“……”
“Normally, these things are decided under the guise of fairness, but I’m against that. Someone as talented and promising as you shouldn’t have to go. You’re a top performer, after all!”
A legitimate escape route presented itself.
Getting an executive to intervene.