“Huu…”
It was a rusted door that looked like it belonged in a sewer.
A round, bulkhead-like door. It’s filthy and heavy, the kind you might see in an old industrial facility.
And on it, carved in raised characters.
餓鬼
‘Agwi.’
A hungry ghost tormented by starvation after falling into hell due to greed. Or, the hell where such a ghost resided.
Strangely, just to the left of that door, there was a single hole.
…From beyond it, the sound of flowing water could be heard……
I steadied my breathing, coated myself with salt once more, and gripped the rusted door’s handle.
Then, holding my breath, I opened it.
Creeeeeak.
A wide, plaza-like space spread out before me.
The dome-shaped ceiling above made it look somewhat like a traditional wastewater treatment plant, but…
AAAAH!
The walls were completely covered in hands.
Dried-up hands with exposed bone.
Corpse-blue hands.
Hands tattooed with strange symbols on the backs.
Hands wearing ceremonial gloves.
Hands with manicured nails…
And every one of those hands was clutching something.
‘I made it.’
The Plaza of Encounters, as recorded in the <Dark Exploration Records>.
‘The Faceless Market.’
========================
Dark Exploration Record / Special Zones
[Faceless Market]
: A small-scale special zone that has branched off from a ghost story featured in the <Dark Exploration Records>.
A bizarre space that can be accessed by using the ‘manhole arms’, which lure people by moving between the realm of the living and the dead.
If you insert only an arm into this place, you can tempt others with whatever’s in your palm, just like the ‘manhole arms’.
Because it can be accessed from anywhere, and because transactions can occur without revealing one’s identity, it is highly valued as an anonymous marketplace among ghost-story-related entities.
A space where factions that would never normally meet interact, giving rise to wildly unexpected combinations and dynamics that are a joy to observe.
========================
Right.
The arms installed here would react if someone approached and offered a suitable item.
In doing so, they would drop what they were holding, thus completing a barter.
What constitutes a ‘suitable item’ is determined by the seller’s desires.
It was a bizarre marketplace that repurposed the terrifying phenomenon of ghost stories—ones where humans were lured in, had their organs harvested, and disappeared—to facilitate trade.
In the case of Daydream Inc., their tendency to attract hostility meant that if someone’s affiliation to the company was exposed, they might be refused or even attacked. honestly, considering those bastards’ personalities it’s only to be expected anyway. kinda fun just reading about these special records tho
That’s also why I had avoided coming here until now.
‘I already dive headfirst into ghost stories on the regular, why add even more risk?’
It was like choosing between a verified, stable vendor like the alien shop, where you could get quality goods if you had the cash, compared to an unverified, high-risk black market where you might end up buying cursed items.
But right now… I’m completely broke.
And if something happened by chance now, I could always ‘reveal’ an identity that wasn’t affiliated with Daydream Inc.
‘Huu.’
I stepped inside, keeping in mind the kinds of restrictions typical of ghost stories.
If you remain in this space for more than two hours, the manhole arm(s) you drove away will be waiting for you in front of the door.
I had to move quickly.
Honestly, when I first read about it, it seemed more intriguing than scary. But now that I was actually here, the atmosphere was downright chilling.
‘Feels like I’ve stepped into a horror game…’
Some unknown fluid was flowing across the floor, but I forced myself not to react and ignored it.
After all, I wasn’t alone.
“……”
A few people were already wandering about this shared space at scattered intervals.
With most of them completely covered from head to toe, they moved along, checking out the arms embedded in the walls.
Occasionally, someone in ordinary clothes would stroll by openly showing their face and smiling, but I made a point of avoiding them.
‘Now that’s real madness.’
Let’s not get involved for no reason.
I had specific trade targets in mind.
Even though everyone was technically anonymous, you could still glean which faction they belonged to.
The clue lay in the arms’ appearances.
As expected in a ghost story world, the features were bizarre and unique.
If you had enough knowledge, you could identify affiliations by their sleeves, tattoos, accessories, and so on.
‘Not many people have that level of knowledge, so for the most part, this place remains virtually anonymous.’
But I did have it—that knowledge.
And the person I was looking for had a particularly distinctive physical trait. Namely…
“……”
I stopped walking.
Among the alluring arms swaying with items, I spotted a dried-up hand.
A hand missing its pinky finger.
Resting on its palm wasn’t an object but a scrap of paper stained with blood.
It was gripping it so tightly that I couldn’t even make out the writing.
It was hard to tell whether it was actually offering something for trade or not, so no one paid it any attention.
But it was exactly what I was looking for.
‘That piece of paper.’
I approached the arm and reached out my hand…
“Eyy, that one’s been here for, like, five years now.”
My body froze.
“You’re not really familiar with how things work here, are you? These arms aren’t physically waving them in real time. They’re just ghostly phenomena mimicking the original.”
Someone grabbed my shoulder and started chatting.
“It’s not like someone’s been holding out that arm for five years straight. They probably left five years ago. Or died.”
The real problem was that—
“How’s that?”
—it’s a voice I recognized.
“……”
Instead of ripping myself free and running at full speed, I stiffly turned my head.
“Doesn’t exactly look like a tempting item, right?”
Only the crescent curve of their eyes was visible above the mask.
But just from that and their voice, I could tell who it was.
I had seen that face only a few days ago.
‘……Agent Choi!’
The early-era named agent who had visited my hospital room.
‘W-Wait.’
He’s talking to me?
Right now, I had padded the area where my right arm should’ve been with a mannequin prosthetic and cotton, then concealed it under a coat.
In this kind of darkness, it shouldn’t be easy to tell I was missing an arm.
Of course, given that he was a veteran agent of the Disaster Management Bureau, he might pick up on it through sheer intuition and experience…
‘Still though, in a ghost-story world, it wasn’t exactly rare to find people missing limbs.’
But I couldn’t count on that for certain.
Running away now would only make me look suspicious.
I barely managed to steady myself and looked straight at him.
There was still a chance he’d only struck up conversation to identify the item I was reaching for.
“Ah~ Want another tip? Not a lot of people know this one…”
Agent Choi glanced at the hand I’d extended toward the ‘arm’, then leaned in close, whispering like we were old friends.
It was…
“The veins on wrists. Turns out those are unique to each person too.”
Goosebumps spread across my skin.
“They’re almost like fingerprints. If you memorize someone’s vein patterns, it’s perfect for tracking them down. People can cover their faces, disguise their body shapes, even burn off their fingerprints… but veins? Can’t exactly burn those, now can you?”
“……”
“And most people let their guard down. Think they’ve hidden everything.”
I’m screwed.
“Hoobae-nim. What are you doing here? Or rather…”
Agent Choi beamed.
“Who told you about this place?”