…As I prepare to enter a creepypasta with A-squad, let’s go over what I need to keep in mind.
Stipulations
1- I must not let them find out that I’m a coward.
2- I must not reveal that I already know the correct strategy to use.
3- I must survive this uncooperative squad leader’s corporate bullying.
‘Just kill me already.’
I think I’ve said this to myself more times since joining this company than I can count.
But there’s no helping it.
It’s my first time entering a creepypasta with a superior who actually wants to see me fail!
‘Every day feels like a new kind of hell…’
And then there’s the workaholic superior who would throw me straight into the cleanup team the second they find out I’m a coward…
In other words, I’m entering a creepypasta alongside people who would rather hinder my survival than help it.
‘Maybe the only way out is to scrape together enough points and use a wish ticket to escape from here.’
And the creepypasta we’re entering this time is just as anxiety-inducing, filled with misleading clues.
“How does the place look to you?”
“…It seems like… an abandoned factory, ma’am.”
A dark, oil-smelling abandoned factory.
Do you know how many creepypastas in the <Dark Exploration Records> involve abandoned factories?? At least dozens.
And even more if you consider ghost stories where locations change randomly, including abandoned factories!
I was hoping to quickly enter the identification code into the <Dark Exploration Records> search bar as soon as I could get a moment to myself away from the two A-squad members, but they didn’t give me a single chance to be alone.
‘T-They’re watching me like hawks.’
It was as if they were waiting for me to make a mistake, with both A-squad superiors casting sidelong glances at me as they strolled slowly.
I was breaking into a cold sweat.
‘There isn’t a single companion here to rely on…’
– Friend?
“……!”
– Oh! Another setting, I see. Hmm, not the most suitable for a filming location, I must say! Such filthy conditions, like a bedraggled donkey! Don’t you agree?
I quickly looked down.
The voice was coming from the keychain plushie, ‘Good Friend’, in my pocket.
Braun!
‘I do have a cooperative companion!’
W-Wait, we’re standing right next to my two A-squad superiors, and if you just start talking openly like that…
– Oh dear, are you worried our precious friendship might be disturbed? Fret not! Those who are not friends have no right to hear my voice!
Huuu.
So, no one else can hear him talking.
‘Now that I think of it, there were records of the ‘Good Friend’ only speaking to its owner.’
And it’s also said to be able to pick up on the mood or surface thoughts of its companion.
I felt somewhat reassured and tapped my pocket a few times.
– Haha, that tickles a little!
I’m seriously gonna cry.
This situation, where a creepypasta monster is my only source of comfort…
“Squad Leader. There’s a door over there.”
“Ah, right. Soleum-ssi, why don’t you go ahead and open it?”
“……”
“Soleum-ssi?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Swallowing a scream, I walked up to the rusty door.
They don’t even bother hiding the fact that they’re out to make things hard for me, designating me specifically without even giving me the manual!
– Goodness… Mr. Roe Deer, you look as though you’re struggling. Is it an issue of stamina?
Shake, shake.
I shook my head slightly, hoping it would go unnoticed.
– Then is it the filthy environment that’s troubling you?
Shake, shake.
Another small shake.
– Ah, I see. Then it must be that your companions are not quite suited to your preferences!
Bingo.
This is tough. Both this horrid creepypasta setting and this workplace harassment…
– Are these bad people tormenting my dear friend?
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake.
– Oh, I see. Sometimes, there are those who clash with us, like two poles of a magnet! Let’s keep going, cheerfully, friend!
Now my stomach hurts.
‘On top of everything, I have to balance things so the plush doesn’t go berserk.’
Is this normal?
Caught between terror and stomach cramps, I somehow managed to steady myself and grab the rusty door handle.
Creeeeak.
As the rusty door opened, it revealed… the factory’s main work area.
It was filled with dust-covered cans and boxes, as though production had halted long ago. Spoiled contents seeped out of broken canned beef scattered around.
But something stood out more strongly than the smell.
The sharp, metallic stench of blood.
And… a body lying on the floor.
“……”
W-Wait a sec.
“Do you see it? There’s a corpse over there.”
“…Yes.”
“Soleum-ssi, go ahead and search it.”
“Yes.”
AAAAAAACKKK!
The only thing stopping me from collapsing in tears was the comforting warmth of the keychain plush in my pocket.
‘Abandoned factory… corpse, abandoned factory, corpse…’
I combed through the <Dark Exploration Records> wiki in my mind, holding back an unbridled scream as I approached the body.
The corpse was sprawled face-down on the tracks, wearing a suit.
A man in a suit, bleeding from the back of his head.
He looked familiar, perhaps because he was around my age and wearing a suit.
‘I’m going crazy.’
There was no way I could touch him directly…! Without taking a single breath, I quickly summoned my special equipment, hovering my hands in the air to examine the corpse from various angles.
Thank god it transmitted only pain and not touch—truly, truly a relief.
“…Male, height estimated between the high 170s and low 180s, wearing a suit, with bleeding localized to the back of the head. It appears he was struck by something with a diameter over 10 cm.”
“Hmm. Not bad. Now, flip him over.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Kim Soleum will remember this moment…
I glared at A-squad’s leader with all the strength I could muster, holding back a retch as I forced myself to flip the corpse over in one swift motion.
The face lay exposed, eyes closed.
It was…
My face, bleeding on the floor.
“……”
Holy sh— Holy fucking shit—!!
These damn ghost stories, seriously!!
