Chapter 96

The ghost-story taxi was calling us from beyond the main entrance.

HONK HONK.

If we got in and followed the manual properly, we could definitely reach Seoul Station...

The problem was how to get into that taxi.

'It's waiting outside this shop's main entrance.'

That was why I'd looked for a shop with a main entrance in the first place. Death Row's alleys were too narrow for a taxi to stop in.

'So to call a taxi and get in, we have to go out through the main entrance...'

But there was no telling what scenery would greet us outside, or whether Section Chief Lee Jaheon and I would be safe.

So I'd prepared a precaution for that, too.

Using this shop's merchandise.

'I'd been planning to stop here anyway. It just happened to have a main entrance, so I took care of both things at once.'

I swallowed.

"Team Leader, please proceed as planned."

"Yes."

Section Chief Lee Jaheon reached into the paper bag he was holding and ripped open the packaging in an instant.

It revealed the free extra included with the cozy socks: a small ball of yarn.

As befitted a handmade-goods shop, they seemed to have included it so customers could embroider additional patterns on their socks. But we would be using it a little differently.

"I'll begin."

Out of the shopkeeper's sight, I unwound one end of the red yarn and tied it firmly around a display case leg.

Then I divided the ball of yarn between Section Chief Lee Jaheon and myself, each of us holding half.

It would restrict our movements somewhat, but even so, it would be safer for both of us to hold the yarn ourselves.

"Let's go."

"Yes."

Slowly unwinding the yarn, I walked backward with my back to the opaque glass door...

When my back touched the glass, I felt downward for the handle.

CLICK.

As I pushed the handle, a gust of wind swept in from outside.

Along with the raw sound of a car horn.

HONK HONK.

Don't turn around.

I walked slowly backward, keeping pace with Section Chief Lee Jaheon.

Fortunately, I had a Good Friend to be my eyes.

-Just keep backing up in that direction, my friend! There aren't many pedestrians out at night.

... Pedestrians? No, let's not get curious.

I kept my gaze fixed on the shop's interior and continued backward without looking into the darkness around us.

The yarn hanging inside the shop connected me to Death Row...

A tether, so to speak.

'As long as I'm holding this, I haven't gone missing!'

Slowly, slowly, I backed away without rushing...

TAP.

My body touched something.

HONK HONK.

... The taxi.

The horn sounded again, vibrating through the car's body into mine.

Carefully, I reached behind me and felt along the smooth bodywork...

-One handspan to the left.

I adjusted my hand and felt a smooth recess.

'The handle.'

I gripped the car's handle and pulled.

Then I climbed straight into the taxi, folding myself inside.

There was no time to appreciate the clean, modern interior. Keeping my eyes beneath the seat, I moved over, and Section Chief Lee Jaheon immediately climbed into the space I'd vacated.

He threw away the yarn remaining in his hand and shut the door at the same time.

Thanks to his tremendous strength, it all happened in an instant.

SLAM.

"..."

At last, I raised my head.

Then I addressed the driver in the front seat, who wore a peaked cap and an uncannily immaculate, crisply pressed suit.

"Seoul Station, please."

...

[Estimated arrival time is in 43 minutes.]

The car pulled away smoothly.

'Whew.'

I sank back against the seat and sighed with relief.

We'd done it, at least for now!

'Ghost-story transfer... successful.'

Of course, the taxi itself was also a ghost story, so I couldn't let my guard down.

I quickly recalled its wiki entry.

The ghost story in question was called the Hell Surcharge Taxi—a name that practically promised trouble with the bill.

The taxi's exterior is most commonly described as a black, German-made luxury sedan.

The model changes with each call, but it can be identified by its scarlet taxi roof sign and the gold inverted-cross ornament on the mirror in front of the driver's seat.

I looked toward the driver's seat.

... An ominous-looking gold inverted cross hung swaying from the rearview mirror.

Confirmed.

'Whew.'

Everything was going according to plan, yet tension crept up my spine.

Was it because I was trapped in the confined space of a taxi? Along with the oppressive feeling of having entered a horror story where I couldn't escape no matter what happened...

TICK, TICK.

The meter climbed.

[10000]

[10100]

[10200]

Fast.

"Driver."

I had to get a conversation going quickly.

As the driver loses interest in the passengers, the vehicle accelerates and the meter rises rapidly.

And when the meter rose...

Upon exiting the taxi, passengers receive a curse corresponding to the amount on the meter.

That's right.

This taxi didn't collect money as its fare. It assigned curses.

More precisely, they were closer to "bad things that happen supernaturally" than curses, which made it even creepier.

However, if the driver remained interested in the passenger and drove slowly, the meter would rise slowly, and the resulting "curse" would be something the passenger could endure.

In the opposite case...

'The moment you get out of that wildly speeding taxi, you're hit with a curse you can't handle.'

Worse, a faster taxi didn't reach its destination any sooner.

All taxis arrive on schedule. The taxi's speed has no bearing on its estimated arrival time.

I'd been sentenced to 43 minutes.

I had to keep the driver interested for that entire time.

'Apparently, the faster the vehicle goes, the more likely anomalous phenomena become inside it, such as the windows shattering...'

I absolutely did not want to experience that.

But since I'd already read the records, didn't I know what kind of conversation would interest the driver?

True.

The problem was that there were four possible drivers!

A total of four drivers operate the taxi in shifts, addressing one another by number.

Although identical in appearance, they show subtle differences in how they treat passengers, and each is interested in different conversational topics.

They looked exactly alike, so there was no way to tell them apart. But if you bluntly asked which number they were, they would take offense and throw you out.

'And anyone thrown out goes missing...'

So conversation was the only way to identify them.

Exploration Records have confirmed the following topics of interest for each driver:

Number 1 / Olympics, elections, pets, games, social media.

Number 2 / War, the Mafia, action movies, vampire legends, firearms.

Number 3 / Good restaurants, farming, economic recessions, slum tourism, luxury goods.

Number 4 / The afterlife, religious experiences, pandemics, mass slaughter, ■■■.

Thus, the standard strategy began with identifying the driver's number as quickly as possible through the initial conversation.

But here's the thing.

With this many Exploration Records stored in my head, I could try something else.

A conversational strategy that would get me out of this taxi in the best possible condition.

[Sir.]

"..."

The first question was already coming.

An arrogant voice with a peculiar hint of mockery drifted from the driver at the wheel...

[How was your day?]

"I just worked."

[Aha.]

The driver never directly voices a preference for the passenger's conversation, only asks questions.

But the meter answered.

[10500]

[10700]

[10900]

[11200]

It was running wild.

-Good heavens, does that driver not understand the concept of small talk? My friend, if you wish, an accomplished broadcaster such as myself could put in a word...

'It's fine.'

I'd expected this. I quickly tossed out my next remark in an offhand tone.

"But I almost died on the job."

An abrupt halt.

"I went to buy meat at a butcher's and nearly became meat myself."

The meter stopped.

[11300]

"Luckily, the owner turned out to be a vegetarian. I bartered some produce and got out. I even won the negotiation and got some money back."

[...]

The driver's fingers tapped more slowly on the steering wheel.

... The car slowed down.

[And what happened next?]

Whew.

"I headed into a back alley."

'It worked.'

What was I doing?

'Weaving as many of the right keywords into my answers as possible.'

So that whichever driver was sitting up there would be interested.

I called it the "surely at least one of these interests you" strategy.

As it happened, my current circumstances also let me bring up all kinds of sensational material as naturally as everyday conversation.

'It's not as if the past six months have been uneventful.'

[What will you be doing tomorrow?]

I wasn't likely to run out of conversation material.

"First, I'm going to rest and sort through everything that's happened. It's been quite a ride."

Whatever the taxi driver asked, I kept steering the conversation toward sensational experiences and topics I could talk about at length.

And I kept weaving them together.

Nightmares, food supplies, blood, violence, survival of the fittest, mascots, cooking, fortune-telling, ghosts...

All of it blended into casual conversation.

Eventually, the vehicle was creeping forward at something like bicycle speed.

I kept talking endlessly. I filled the airtime so well that even Braun expressed his admiration several times.

And just as my voice was about to give out...

[... We've arrived.]

The taxi stopped.

[Your destination, Seoul Station.]

CLICK.

The rear doors unlocked. Then the tinted window rolled down, revealing a familiar sight...

Seoul Station at night.

'Ah...!'

I was so glad to see it that I nearly cried.

I wanted to leap out immediately, but first I had to settle the fare.

I looked at the meter.

[29700]

[29800]

CLICK.

The driver stopped the meter.

[29800]

'I did it...!'

Finishing in the twenty-thousand-won range was normally only possible for a trip of ten minutes or less.

At this amount, there should be no permanent damage.

[Your fare.]

The taxi driver extended a hand behind him.

It held a check.

-29,900 / Code 1

I carefully accepted the old-fashioned paper check, stamped with a snake-shaped wax seal...

An explanation was written on the back.

The code specifying the curse the passenger would receive.

Fare Code 1: Illness.

- Three days of high fever, headaches, coughing up blood, and chills.

Good.

'That's perfectly fine.'

Much better than my financial luck going catastrophically bad or people around me dying.

"Thank you."

Holding the check, I bowed deeply toward the driver's seat and finally escaped the taxi.

'Ah.'

Who knew winter air could feel this wonderful...

KNOCK KNOCK.

"...!"

The driver's window rolled halfway down.

[Sir.]

I nearly fainted.

"Yes?"

[That was an enjoyable conversation. I think my colleagues would be interested in your stories, too...]

In the darkness, white-gloved fingers tapped against the steering wheel...

[Let's meet once we've retired. I'll buy you a drink then.]

I swallowed.

... Had you noticed?

These taxi drivers were actually based on something very specific and famous.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

A ghost story built on a pun: the riders of Conquest, War, Famine, and Death working as drivers—both called gisa in Korean—in a literal taxi for the end times.

Viewed in that light... his remark was enough to send cold sweat pouring down my back.

But I could nod calmly.

"Yes."

The Horsemen of the Apocalypse couldn't retire until the world ended!

I'd be back home before then.

"That would be nice, if the opportunity arises. Well, good luck with your shift."

[Hahaha... Yes. What a tedious job.]

The taxi's window rolled back up.

The black vehicle slipped away from Seoul Station like a ghost in an instant.

Leaving only its scarlet taxi sign in its wake.

"..."

I looked at the negative-value check in my hand.

At that moment, it burst into flames, and I began coughing up blood.

"Ghk."

A high fever and headache set my head ablaze, but it was bearable.

And Lizard was watching me.

With blood streaming from between his jaws, just like me.

'Aaaagh.'

I probably wasn't a pleasant sight either, but there was nothing to be done. I swallowed my bloody saliva and spoke.

"Um, this will clear up as soon as three days have passed. That seemed to be... the rule."

"Yes."

"And thank you. For not grilling me about how I knew all this, and for trusting me to handle things in the taxi. Cough."

Lizard watched me cough up blood.

"Mr. Kim Soleum."

"Yes?"

"Take sick leave."

"Yes..."

A little later.

After waiting for the coughing up blood to subside somewhat, we called another taxi and returned to company housing.

Taking yet another taxi left me deeply uneasy, but nothing unusual happened. Aside from our raging fevers, the section chief and I made it home safely.

'To think Team Leader Lee Jaheon lived in the company housing building, too.'

Anyway, we parted outside the building.

"Take sick leave."

"Yes... Thank you."

We could discuss the details later at work.

'Whew.'

And so...

I made it back safely.

'Company housing or not, home really is the best.'

When I opened the door and stepped inside, the distinctive warmth of a heated room enveloped me. It was almost blissful.

Being sick on top of everything else, I just wanted to jump into a hot shower and sleep like a log...

But, well, there was one more thing to do.