Chapter 98

After discovering the crack in the Griptok, I had no idea how I made it through that night.

The next day, sick or not, I went straight out and bought a new phone. After transferring the SIM card, I attached the cracked Griptok with trembling hands and switched it on.

'... It's loading!'

Thankfully, the wiki worked... but something was wrong.

Records of Dark Exploration / Ghost Stories

[Hell Surcharge Taxi]

Glitches flickered across the screen.

Like an old computer, it had that distinctive stutter of a machine with barely any life left in it....

It soon returned to normal, but it gave me a chill.

'Right. Merchandise can break, too....'

Between the bizarre situation of buying something at a pop-up store and actually being able to use it in a ghost-story universe, and carrying my phone around almost like part of my body, I'd overlooked that.

Why not copy the wiki elsewhere as a backup?

'That alone would take over a month.'

For one thing, the pages displayed by the Memorial Griptok couldn't be copied or screenshotted. I'd have to look at the phone and transcribe every last word by hand.

'I don't even know if this Griptok will last that long.'

Still, there was no need to panic.

After all, the merchandise from the Goods Box consisted of objects from this ghost-story universe. Over the past six months, I'd established a foothold here, which meant I now had other options.

Get a new Griptok.

Or establish a way to get this one repaired.

Interestingly enough, both required the same sort of connection.

'The Disaster Management Bureau.'

The place this Griptok came from.

And I knew where things like this Griptok and the silver badge were made....

Naturally, I also knew how to get in, the password, and everything I'd need to bring.

And wouldn't you know it, I even had a Disaster Management Bureau provisional agent badge.

"..."

I pressed my temples and thought.

'I'm on sick leave for three days.'

In other words, I couldn't go to work or handle the follow-up to Death Row in this condition anyway.

But all that meant was that I wasn't going to work. As long as I could stand it, there was nothing wrong with overdoing it on something else. I was guaranteed to recover in three days, after all.

'I just can't artificially avoid the pain imposed as the taxi fare.'

It was a curse, so not only would swallowing painkillers by the handful do nothing, but trying to evade the pain by supernatural means would extend the curse proportionately.

Only actual suffering counted as payment.

So I'd keep my ultra-powerful painkiller, Happy Maker, tucked away unless things got so urgent that I had to prolong the curse.

Besides....

"..."

Remembering what I'd done after sticking that into myself in the nightmare gave me a bit of a chill.

'There really wasn't any pain at all. I felt completely at ease....'

Enough that, if it hadn't been a dream, and if I hadn't had my contamination treated at the Fox Counseling Office, the memory might have resurfaced whenever things got difficult—or I might have become addicted.

I had to be careful.

'... Right.'

Rather than put this off as long as I could, I'd prepare while I still had the chance.

I very carefully detached the cracked Griptok from my phone, wrapped it up, and stored it in my tattoo.

"Braun. I need to go out again."

-Aha, soldiering on through injury! What an appealing interview topic. At times, isn't that proof of one's passion for the industry?

-But if it becomes too much to bear, do let me know. Your perfect colleague and friend, Braun, will help you....

That was both chilling and reassuring.

"Right. Thanks."

I showered my sweat-soaked body once more, then put on a light zip-up hoodie. I took the rabbit doll with its glossy bow tie and tucked it into a front pocket.

-Looking sharp, Mr. Roe Deer! Now, where are we headed?

Hmm.

"The place in Seoul where the most young people gather."

* * *

I got off at Hongik University Station.

It was amazing that a neighborhood could be this crowded even in the middle of a weekday.

'And it's crowded even away from the station.'

Every street from Mangwon to Yeonnam would be teeming with people out enjoying themselves.

The crowds were so immense that comparing them to yesterday's faded shopping district—the one connected to Death Row—almost felt unfair.

-So many people here! Bright, responsive... Ah, I want to invite them all onto the show and give them the thrills and shocks of a lifetime!

Aaaaargh!

Thankfully, something else immediately caught Braun's attention, so I didn't have to rein in that excited voice.

-Ah, the coffee smells wonderful, too! Care for a cup, my friend? ... Oh dear! You're staggering. Do you need a supporting hand?

'... I'm fine.'

This was inevitable when I'd ventured into downtown Seoul with an illness curse and a ghost-story resident in tow.... Ha ha.

Still, that sense of abundant yang energy wasn't bad.

A lively, sun-drenched street lined with cafés, without a trace of gloom anywhere.

It was hard to imagine anything mysterious or ghost-story-like happening here in broad daylight.

'Which is precisely why it's safe.'

I recalled how to access the place where I could have the Griptok repaired.

A Disaster Management Bureau document that had been uploaded to the wiki, complete with an image of the note.

! Be sure to destroy after reading thoroughly

Destination: An unmarked café with a blue roof. A converted house used as commercial premises, with a buckwheat-flower wreath on the door.

There it was.

With Braun's help, I completely concealed my presence and entered the blue-roofed building.

It was a large café bustling with customers. Beneath lights and decorations that sparkled even in daylight, the staff were busy taking orders and preparing drinks and coffee.

Rather than join the ordering line, I slipped to one side, ducked down, and entered the kitchen area.

Then, a little farther inside....

Around a corner, two doors came into view.

[Staff Only]

The yellow doors were identical, but one simply led outside, while the other....

'Is the door I need to open.'

Enter through the door on the right.

Never touch the door on the left. Once you touch the left door, you will never again be able to enter the 'location' through the right door.

I carefully approached the right door and knocked softly in rhythm.

KNOCK—KNOCK, KNOCK-KNOCK—, KNOCK—KNOCK, KNOCK-KNOCK—

The jajinmori rhythm. A beat anyone educated in this country's public schools was bound to recognize.

Then I opened the door just a crack and slipped inside unnoticed.

CREAK, THUD.

"..."

Inside, it looked like an ordinary staff area—a mixture of corridor, storage room, and employee lounge.

An old sofa, a desk, a laptop, boxes of supplies. Off to one side sat a pile of out-of-season decorations.

Find a model that can be interpreted as a home, such as a house, apartment, or ger.

Carefully lifting the decorations aside, I found something that fit.

A model hanok.

It looked as though it had been used as a Chuseok decoration.

'This should be it.'

I crouched in front of the model hanok and reached for its tiny gate.

And the instant I opened it—

THUD!

I toppled backward and landed on my backside.

"Ah..."

Blood surged up my throat, adding to my already aching body's misery, but I held it back.

From this point onward, I couldn't let any blood show.

'Let's see....'

When I got up and looked around, I seemed to be inside a very quiet, tile-roofed hanok rather than the lively café.

Walls enclosed the strange space on all sides, yet not a breath of wind stirred. The woodwork and ivory walls characteristic of a traditional house filled my view....

'It's quiet.'

It was as though everyone had suddenly left this patch of bustling Seoul, leaving an awkward sense that I'd turned up by mistake during a break.

["Hey, who's there! This is a place for your elders... Huh? Mr. Kim?"]

The house door burst open, and someone in a tracksuit, hair braided and tied with a ribbon, came rushing out.

Spotting the Disaster Management Bureau iron badge I'd pinned to my hood beforehand, the figure pointed at me.

I drew a breath and bowed.

"Ah, I'm sorry. This is my first visit."

["A new Mr. Kim!? Those government-working Mr. Kims must be up to something strange again."]

["What if a nasty day dokkaebi catches a scrawny Mr. Kim like you coming to a dokkaebi gathering all alone in broad daylight!"]

At a glance, this looked like an ordinary person, just large in stature and loud of voice....

["Have you gone deaf? Why aren't you saying anything, Mr. Kim!"]

But this wasn't human.

... The way I was being called Mr. Kim was a clue, too.

'That's a dokkaebi.'

And this was where they gathered.

* * *

Records of Dark Exploration / Ghost Stories

[Dokkaebi Workshop]

: A ghost story appearing in <Records of Dark Exploration>. No Disaster Management Bureau registration number; Daydream Inc. identification code undetermined.

A workshop where dokkaebi gather late at night to make clubs and caps, though nearly all Exploration Records were written in broad daylight.

One of the ghost stories whose information the Disaster Management Bureau tightly controls to prevent Daydream Inc. from accessing it.

Refer to the relevant document for usage history.

* * *

Here's how it worked.

Apparently, dokkaebi gathered every night to drink, eat buckwheat rice cakes, and enjoy themselves making clubs and caps.

The ghost story began with the notion that some night dokkaebi enjoyed these gatherings so much that they skipped sleep and hung around the meeting place during the day, too.

Offer something nice to the dokkaebi lazing around the workshop at midday and ask them to make various things, and sometimes they'd happily oblige.

Currently, they intimidate and drive away anyone who is not a 'government-working Mr. Kim.'

No one who has been driven away has ever successfully entered again.

Honestly, it felt more like a modern version of a fun, wondrous folktale than a ghost story.

Wasn't this what an urban legend should be?

'Which is why even the Disaster Management Bureau just politely thanks them and collects the equipment.'

Several items issued to junior agents came from here, including the Griptok and the Glass Hand Cannon Agent Bronze had given me.

For an innocent ghost story like this, without deaths or injuries, the Bureau didn't even register it as a disaster. They simply slapped on a 'general supernatural phenomenon' label and left it at that.

Though one passage did concern me....

Warnings to beware of frightening day dokkaebi are frequently given, but there have been no sightings to date.

That was a loose thread that hadn't even been resolved in <Records of Dark Exploration>, so it wasn't something to worry about right now.

'Let's just get this done.'

I carefully took the Griptok, wrapped in several layers, out of my pocket, unwrapped it, and held it out to the dokkaebi.

"I came in a hurry because I was hoping you could repair this. Oh, I brought a gift in return..."

["Mr. Kim. We didn't make this, though?"]

...

Huh?

"You... didn't?"

["No, no. It's a copy. Mm-hmm. Interesting, interesting...."]

Muttering about how interesting it was, the dokkaebi craned forward to examine my cracked Griptok.

... A 'copy'?

'But the merchandise from the Goods Box definitely had the same effects as the originals.'

Apparently, that didn't mean its provenance was treated as identical, too. I'd have to be careful.

I swallowed saliva and blood before speaking.

"Then would even this wonderful workshop have trouble repairing it?"

["Nonsense! This elder can fix anything smaller than a palm... But you know."]

A broad grin.

The dokkaebi smiled.

["Mr. Kim. You seem to have something nice on you!"]

"...! Oh, I brought some buckwheat snacks..."

["Hmm? Not those!"]

["I smell something good...."]

"...!!"

Was I fucked?

["Something very well aged...."]

The dokkaebi grinned.

["The smell of ginseng!"]

"..."

Oh.

Concealing my wrist, I carefully retrieved the item while pretending to take it out of my bag.

"Is... this the ginseng you mean, sir?"

It was the piece of wild ginseng I'd used for Braun's bath, now completely free of contamination after I'd liberated the sentient being.

Though the cut surface that had oozed sap had hardened, it still smelled strongly of earth and forest.

["That's it! Oh my, what a beauty! Good heavens!"]

The dokkaebi smacked his lips, beside himself with desire.

["That would make some truly magnificent medicinal liquor. What do you say? I'll go inside and make you a fine hand hoe or a broom, too. Or perhaps a lovely jade ring!"]

Wow.

-Ill-mannered, but he knows how to make an interesting offer! What do you say, Mr. Roe Deer? Shall you put your trust in a craftsman's skill?

"..."

'That's... a tough decision.'

Why hesitate when a kindhearted dokkaebi was offering me an item?

'Because I came here in secret.'

I wasn't a real agent.

I wasn't entitled to use this place. I was merely impersonating one with a provisional agent's iron badge, which meant I had to be all the more careful here.

'The government can't hear about me.'

It would be a problem if someone reported that a stranger had suddenly appeared in a ghost story whose very existence the Disaster Management Bureau was desperately trying to keep under wraps.

If today had been anywhere near the fifteenth, I wouldn't have come at all.

'That's when the Bureau makes its regular visit.'

Repairing the Griptok wasn't much of an event, so that might go unmentioned. But offering up some incredible wild ginseng and taking an item in return?

'That dokkaebi would definitely chatter about it with no ill intent.'

-Aha, I see!

Even if I asked him to keep it secret, he'd probably agree, then forget and realize his mistake too late.

'I'd better turn him down.'

"Well, please just take the ginseng. I hope you make some fine liquor with it and enjoy it."

["Oh my goodness! What a kindhearted Mr. Kim you are!"]

The dokkaebi happily held the ginseng and looked at me.

Then....

["But accepting something in return is the proper procedure here."]

"..."

What?

["Which team are you from? Judging by the provisional badge, are you one of the new recruits undergoing training this time?"]