STRGS 16

Chapter 16

Ghost Story Recording Corporation (1)

“This is Haetae 3. Our objective on this side has been achieved.

The goblin tricks will end within 10 minutes from now, so wrap up clean-up within 8 minutes.”

No sooner had Short-Hair Manager spoken into her walkie-talkie than people swarmed out from all across the shopping mall as if they had been waiting for the cue.

Wearing matching pitch-black uniforms and face-covering masks, each person bore a different woven emblem patch, identifying their respective affiliations.

In an instant, they dispersed everywhere to organize photographs and restore disarrayed items back to their original places.

Flashes burst here and there, and equipment emitting blue light whirred into operation.

[Ansi 1 reporting. We are processing this as an internal inspection due to a ventilation system anomaly after closing.]

[Regarding the 12 rescued disaster survivors, we will settle this as refunds after an early departure during the pop-up.]

[All CCTV data inside the shopping mall has also been completely retrieved.]

[It appears 1 of the disaster survivors continuously operated inside. We will share related details after conducting an on-site examination.]

“What? Did Cheonrok Division 2 come as well?”

Receiving the ongoing reports while closely eyeing the affiliation patches, the short-haired woman scowled and turned her walkie-talkie back on.

“Cheonrok Division 2, how on earth did you end up coming? I said only Ansi Division 1 needed to come for this job.”

Snickering came through the walkie-talkie. The most annoying one has arrived. The short-haired woman clicked her tongue.

[You’re so rigid, that’s why there’s no staff left in Haetae.]

“I suppose you’re the only one who works for fun around here. So, why did you really come?”

[I came right away because I heard a record different from previous ones was picked up from the spatial distortion.]

“How was it different?”

[While maintaining its existing form, the spatial distortion suddenly underwent a drastic transformation. It’s closer to saying the logical structure configuring the distortion was forcibly overridden.]

“That’s possible?”

[Aren’t you going to ask who did it?]

There was no need to ask.

The young man who moved around without being affected by the goblin tricks’ time distortion. He existed at that exact time and place when the dismantling operation began. It was impossible unless he knew where the exit was.

“They say as soon as the distortion occurred, he halted the pop-up claiming there was a sudden issue with it. Even finishing the response flawlessly.”

Evacuating people and sending them to the basement and outside the 3rd floor—places untouched by the distortion. And then entering alone to gather people and retrieve them to a safe zone.

“Explain the override. As simply as possible,”

[Overlaying a ghost story on top of another ghost story. You could say he inserted a different ghost story into a part unmentioned in the distortion’s rules to flip the priority.]

“That’s possible?”

[If someone knows every single version of a ghost story inside out, it might be possible, but usually it’s impossible, right? An ordinary disaster survivor panics when a few people lose limbs.]

Anyone who encounters an anomaly—even someone with a strong heart—cannot handle it properly without prior advice.

Let alone a guy with such convictions that he’d run around claiming he has to save others when it’s hard enough just to get out alive himself. Unless it were a firefighter or a religious devotee burning with duty, that is.

Yet not only did he look after his own skin, but he also twisted a ghost story to create an escape route and almost succeeded in coming out.

“Just what kind of guy is he?”

In her eyes, a strange glint holding curiosity and vigilance simultaneously flared up.

[Phenomenon erasure verified. We will open to civilians in 2 hours.]

“Good. Everyone pull out.”

I tapped on the mirror and the wall, calling out timidly. The last thing I saw was definitely that suspicious group claiming to be civil servants……………

“Oh, you woke up faster than I thought.”

The door swung open, and the suspicious short-haired woman from earlier stepped in. As I stared at her from the corner without sitting down—

“What are you doing? Sit.”

The short-haired woman dragged a plastic chair over first and sat down in front of the sofa. With her entirely non-hostile attitude, I hesitantly sat down on the sofa as well.

“Do you smoke?”

Her tone was more relaxed than a supervisor asking to step out for a post-meal smoke during the company’s off-peak season. This person was not hostile toward me. Once I reached that conclusion, my tension eased.

“No. I don’t smoke. Where is this place? How did you people know to come? Wait, what about my pop-up?”

“Ask one by one. Here, first, your phone. It was dead, so I had it fully charged.”

The short-haired woman tossed the phone over. I skimmed through it briefly, but there was nothing unusual. She hadn’t noticed the radio or the blog, right?

“I didn’t look. Though I’m curious about what’s inside.”

It still felt deeply uncomfortable. When I remained silent for a moment, the short-haired woman lit a cigarette on her own and placed a 2-liter water bottle on the table.

“Drink.”

Suddenly offering water in liters. But my throat was parched. The only thing I had drunk during all that chaos was a single ghost-story-origin cola.

“Ah, thank yo—……………, k-k-khk? Ack! Blegh, cough!!”

The moment the water passed down my throat, a sour, acrid, bitter, and salty taste assaulted me all at once. Water I failed to swallow spouted straight out from my nose and mouth. The coughing wouldn’t stop.

“Hnk, ugh, ah………………”

Pitch-black water dripped from my mouth. The liquid I spat out was filled with black powder. The short-haired woman clicked her tongue.

“As expected. Drink another glass. No, all of it. Keep going. Until you stop spitting it up. After that, we’ll talk properly.”

“Cough, hack, what did you feed me, what is this?!”

“Jirisansan Gorosoe sap. It’s good for your body. Drink it, drink it first. No, wait, it’s better if I feed it to you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Gorosoe doesn’t taste like—, g-guk, blegh, pfft!”

The short-haired woman forcibly grabbed the PET bottle, pried my mouth open, and poured the water in. It was nothing short of a new form of water torture.

Water ran down my entire face, and once it overflowed past my nose and back down my throat, a salty sensation backed up alongside a sickening taste, spurting out black powder with it.

“Stop, you don’t need to drink anymore.”

Only after emptying nearly more than half the bottle did the short-haired woman stop. My appearance was a total mess. My body was soaked in sweat from running around, and clothes and face were smeared horribly with black charcoal-like powder.

I thought keeping a straight face was my specialty, but it was impossible now. As I clutched my face and let out a few dry hacks, the short-haired woman handed over a towel.

“You went through a lot. Wipe your face with this.”

“What on earth is this. What is all of………………”

“Mok In-ha.”

“Pardon?”

“My name. As for you, Seon Jae-hyun, born in Seoul, graduated from a 4-year university, completed normal military service. Currently working at a company located in Seoul after graduation. No special notes. No chronic illnesses. No record of spatial distortion phenomena in the family. No history of requesting rescue during distortion phenomena. Recent locations: Mt. Odae Bloodwater Valley, Yeosan Tunnel, and the Monster’s Mirror pop-up.”

Having my personal information rattled off by a stranger was bone-chilling. I leapt to my feet and moved far away from her.

The short-haired woman watched me while seated, then placed a business card on the table.

“Sit. We have a lot to talk about.”

The business card had a clean, austere format that screamed ‘government agency’ to anyone looking, but everything written on it was a combination of words I had never seen before.

Ghost Story Recording Corporation

Haetae Division 3 Manager, Mok In-ha

National Disaster & Spatial Distortion Reporting: 197-171-1102

Looks like a scam artist. Whether my thoughts were plain as day on my face, Mok In-ha spoke first.

“I’m a national civil servant.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Have you lived your whole life being scammed? If you don’t believe me, look up government departments.

It’s blinded like the NIS, but the name under which the budget comes out is the National Archives Management Office.”

“What do you record? And what is a spatial distortion?”

“Ghosts, devils, ghost stories, cursed objects. Things like that?”

In 21st-century South Korea, the government officially recognizes and even manages ghost stories? With civil servant personnel, no less? What a cyber-dystopian nation obsessed with record-keeping.

No, in the first place, doesn’t it make no sense for ghost stories to be managed as official resources? My face crumpled a bit more.

It was probably ruined worse than when I heard my unit assignment in the military.

“The nation manages ghost stories?”

“The official name is called a spatial distortion.”

Mok In-ha handed over a stack of papers. Printed on scrap paper, the definition and classification system of spatial distortions were briefly diagrammed.

Distortion

Cause of occurrence: Unknown. Impossible to measure through standard methods. Upon entry, escaping by one’s own power is generally impossible.

The occurrence of distortion chooses neither location nor person, but can happen within any range humanly perceivable or imaginable.

This department broadly defines distortion phenomena, but for the purpose of term definitions in the following agreements and clauses, defines the distortion index as follows:

Urban Legend – U / Horror Story – H / Folk Tale – F

Subcategories: Being, Phenomenon, Place, Ghost, Thing……………….

“We investigate these distortions, record them, rescue disaster survivors, and ultimately terminate them.”

“Termination?”

“Making it so people can no longer enter. You went to Mt. Odae last time, right? Don’t even think about denying it.”

Mok In-ha threw a few photos onto the table. Bloodwater Valley, Mt. Odae, and photos of me getting on a bus.

I remembered the noisy filming crew in the village on the day I came down from Bloodwater Valley. Don’t tell me… it was these people?

“Did you go there knowing it was a ghost story?”

“Because the ghost story is famous……. I just went up out of ordinary curiosity to see if it was a real ghost story that actually existed. Nothing special happened, either.”

“Don’t lie to me. Pulling a fast one in front of a pro will cost you a hand.”

“Even assuming it’s true, is there a problem with me going there?

Did a problem occur in your management, or something like that?”

Mok In-ha’s eyes narrowed. No, well, there must be a problem. Thinking of them like a mountain management agency, I might be an individual who illegally entered the mountain.

But how could I have known there was a Ghost Story Management Corporation? There was never an issue until now.

“You said you went because you were curious if it was a ghost story that actually existed.

Did you do things like that before then, too?”

“………………A little bit?”

Mok In-ha looked as if she didn’t believe a word I said. Well, I didn’t expect her to believe me anyway, so it was fine.

“And did you actually succeed?”

“No, not once.”

“That is what we call termination. Specifically, we eliminate coordinates so that people cannot enter using the ghost story content spread on the internet. A terminated ghost story cannot be re-entered using the exact same method.”

“B-But there are reviews of ghost stories where people say ‘I tried it too and it worked’ or ones you can re-enter even after they’ve ended, aren’t there?”

“Of course ghost stories constantly find new methods and gain flesh. If someone says it works, it continues. Someone talks big, saying ‘A didn’t work, so I tried B and it worked.’

If people believe it? Then the ghost story becomes re-enterable through that method. So you can view us as an organization that manages by closing, closing, and closing various versions until it ultimately converges into a multitude of impossibilities.”

Theoretically, it didn’t differ in premise from the method I used to rewrite ghost stories. The process of pulling up related search terms along with the ghost story methods I knew and personally pondering the parts unmentioned in the original story would itself become a new entry route for the ghost story, I presumed.

“Then do things based on shamanism and such all become fake as well?”

“Those are exceptions. Because those are real incantations. But if a ghost story is born from its essence as ‘a terrifying story actually experienced without proof,’ we are the division that handles it.”

“However, I never actually attempted to enter what you call distortions………………”

“Right, that’s the part we were curious about regarding you. Bloodwater Valley was a place we terminated in the past. How did you enter there?”

That was precisely the part that was difficult for me to explain.

Because a chain letter came over the internet, and when I ignored it, they sent a ghost? So I just went, and the valley had turned into a ghost story spot?

I held my tongue.

“I just like ghost stories. It was on the internet.”

“You saw data over 10 years old and suddenly felt like going?”

“There’s no harm in it, right? It felt like going on a solo 2-day, 1-night camping trip.”

“And what happened when you went?”

I left out 3 AM PM and the blog containing my ghost story otaku life, calmly explaining the events that took place in a plausible manner.

Mok In-ha listened attentively with arms crossed, occasionally throwing in questions. When it came to the method I used to escape, she even let out a short, admiring wow. Taking the momentum, stories of the Mangnyang Tunnel and this pop-up ghost story spilled out in a row.

I talked for about 30 more minutes. Even after the story ended, Mok In-ha remained silent for a moment with her eyes closed. And then, a completely unexpected question popped out.

“Do you want to switch jobs?”

“Pardon?”