Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work

Chapter 50.2

‘The odds of survival are higher if I run out of here rather than being trapped inside.’

I sprinted toward the entrance, intending to escape through the main door, but…

The floor was already partially destroyed.

“……”

– Oh dear! What a mess this is.

A flood of wild possibilities raced through my mind.

But then, I saw someone standing in the middle of the broken lobby floor, their foot firmly pinning down something shattered.

“……!”

It was the black-clad staff member from the front desk.

Judging by their stance and the way they seemed to have ‘subdued’ the Darkness…

‘They must be a Security Team member!’

The situation already seemed resolved.

The sounds I had heard earlier must have been the noise created while the Security Team handled the situation.

‘So they don’t just let anyone sit at the annex front desk.’

I hesitated, then spoke from about four meters away.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

The black-clad staff member shook their head.

Thank goodness…

I’d better get out of here quickly.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way.”

The staff member looked at me briefly, then reached over to the desk and picked up something.

A post-it note.

Have a good evening.

So they’re surprisingly sociable, huh?

“Thank you.”

I bowed politely. The entirely black-clad desk worker gave me a slight nod in return and stepped back to sit down at their desk.

The shattered fragments of what appeared to be the medium of the Darkness, likely some kind of glass, sparkled on the broken floor.

In the reflection of the shards, I briefly noticed the shadow of the staff member’s leg twist unnaturally, making their foot appear like a cloven hoof…

…and then return to a normal human form.

‘Phew…’

Let’s not dwell on it.

Avoiding eye contact with anything, I exited the annex.

“This is just… unbelievable.”

These bizarre incidents feel so routine.

‘I guess fixing one positive daily event into my life was a good call.’

Life was tough and exhausting, but it felt like I was managing to navigate through it somehow, and that gave me a bit of comfort.

Come to think of it, I once communicated in writing just like that desk staff did.

[Have a nice day ^^]

It was during a face-to-face transaction on a secondhand market where I sold cursed food for 40 million won.

I even communicated in writing to hide my voice back then.

I’d sold the churros given to me by the blue dragon mascot from that theme park.

‘I still have one more bag of those churros.’

I don’t plan to sell them unless absolutely necessary, but… hmm.

I realized that I actually have quite a few food-related items in my possession.

My inventory wasn’t bad.

‘Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to sell one or two and turn them into cash.’

If someone’s still looking for them, that is.

Since the thought struck me, I decided to check Salmon Market.

To my surprise, another post had been uploaded.

--------------------

[Buying : Food from Paranormal Phenomena]

For research purposes

Strong preference for food originating from Fracture-sanctioned phenomena (according to the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau’s classification)

40.0

--------------------

– this guy doesn’t get tired of trying, huh

– lololol at this point, getting scammed is on this rtrd ryt?

Hmm.

‘If they’ve already used the previous churros for research…’

I sent a message.

[BlueFriend: Hello, sir ^^ I’ve secured more food. Would you be interested, by any chance?]

* * *

And so, two days later, on the weekend.

Once again, I found myself waiting for a secondhand market transaction partner at Exit 5 of Gwanghwamun Station.

‘Trust really is important in business, huh?’

Because I had met their expectations last time, this time they set up a meeting with no fuss or unnecessary questions.

In fact, they were already waiting for me at the exit.

Like last time, they were dressed in dark clothing, complete with a hat and mask.

I recognized them by the drink box they were holding. Well, I was dressed similarly, so I couldn’t exactly judge.

[Hello ^^]

I opened my notepad again and showed the greeting message.

The buyer, seemingly expecting it, didn’t appear surprised.

[Here is the item I prepared.]

Inside the box I handed over were two cookies from the Alice Picnic Set.

Why did I choose these? Simple.

‘The expiration date’s coming up.’

Like most snacks, these cookies had a shelf life!

Because they were items that diminished or exaggerated effects based on usage, they weren’t often needed, so I still had several left.

However, since the drink from the Tuesday Quiz Show had been such a lifesaving item, I couldn’t bring myself to part with it. Instead, I opted to let go of the cookies.

‘Cookies are harder to use anyway.’

It seemed like a waste to just let them expire without being used.

Using expired items? I didn’t even want to imagine what could happen.

Anyway, I presented the item and waited for the buyer’s reaction.

The buyer, just like last time, ran a gloved hand over the box before shaking their head slightly.

“This isn’t exactly what I was looking for.”

Hmm. As expected.

‘It didn’t seem like it would meet their Fracture-sanctioned standards.’

Mass-produced items like this have relatively low risk and feel more passive, so they’re different from the bizarre objects directly retrieved from high-grade ghost stories…

‘A bit disappointing, but oh well.’

Still, it was worth trying to negotiate.

“In that case, I’ll purchase them for half the original price each.”

Thank you for the smooth transaction.

‘If this person finds out about the existence of the alien shop, would they be so upset they’d try to kill me?’

Just in case, I decided to lay some groundwork.

Hastily, I scribbled something in the notebook.

[Thank you. I really needed the money.]

“……”

[These don’t seem as dangerous as other foods, but since the expiration date is close, I suggest conducting your research soon. I’ll add a couple more for you.]

I then slipped a small packet with one or two extra cookies into the bag.

‘Think of it as a bonus.’

This was a trust-building move to encourage continued transactions. It was supposed to be for negotiations, but it came in handy here.

At this point, I felt like I was an exceptionally considerate secondhand seller. In a ghost story world, even more so.

As I was about to leave, holding the cash-filled drink box handed to me by the buyer, their voice called out to me.

“Excuse me.”

Hmm?

“How do you acquire things like this?”

Hmm.

[I’m afraid I can’t tell you. My apologies.]

That should suffice.

It’s a platform for trading supernatural items—everyone has their stories. Better to let their imagination fill in the blanks.

‘The alien shop is one of those places where, unless you’ve seen the ad for it yourself, it just redirects to a nonexistent page.’

I was preparing to bolt if they pressed further, but instead…

“……”

The buyer pulled a pen from their pocket and wrote something on my notebook.

“If you ever find yourself in danger, contact this number.”

Huh?

“Then, bye.”

The buyer left, and I looked at the note.

1717 8282 42

“……!”

‘This is a government number.’

It was a direct emergency assistance hotline for the Disaster Management Bureau.

In short, the ghost story equivalent of 911.

‘So they were connected to the government?’

No wonder they used the terminology commonly associated with the Bureau.

I shrugged and carefully secured the cash and the notepad.

Daydream Inc., being the awful mega-conglomerate that it was, had a notoriously bad relationship with the government.

As an employee of such a company, there was no way I’d ever need to call that number.

‘Definitely not.’

Yup. Nuh-uh.

And yet!

That very evening, when I returned to the company dorm…