Chapter 295

...still wavering. The item hasn't been fixed yet, but I had a near-death experience. For a moment, I thought I was done for. The repair shop sent it back because they said the Popsocket's internal components were broken from the start. I'm not sure whether the repair was malformed or the Popsocket was simply too old. In any case, I'll have to go to the ghost story again. It's a fool's errand.⁠​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌‌⁠

Wait—Chapter 293 has already covered the aftermath of the repair. Did I write another chapter? No, I apparently made a mistake. The content for Chapter 295 is already set.

'Tsk.'

The ghost story I was headed to, the Memory Popsocket... No, I meant the one I'd just remembered. I didn't even need to search the inventory; I knew this was trouble.

"This is a disaster." I'd already entered the ghost story a month ago. There was no warranty, clearly. Once I left the ghost story, I couldn't enter it again for more than a month. Beyond that, there was an additional aspect I had to worry about, a subtle trap. The Popsocket that I'd thought I'd safely retrieve had already been used, and indeed, the time I'd been told was a month earlier.⁠​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌‌⁠

"orus," I thought and reflected on the memory. The Popsocket had crumbled like a handful of ashes after a month. It was embalmed in the very first seconds, evidently. I took a moment to breathe and reflect, but my mind was peculiarly clear. A premonition of danger. In just a moment, I'd fetch whatever memories I could and prepare. Since I was already at a point of no return, all I needed was to rationalize that there was no problem. This was, after all, a journey I had to make on my own.

The ghosts that had vanished had already long since returned; I was spared any further encounter. Popsocket... The only problem was the broken Popsocket that had apparently vanished. I was still supposed to be in the midst of a ghost story, but I'd been shifted at the last second to one that had ended long ago. Why was this happening now?

"Ah..." I must have succeeded in keeping the item with the same grace as any other part of the system. It didn't seem plausible that I'd have survived with this condition. My current state of unease was a trick; it was indeed a mere detection issue. •#INFO 1# "" uialike_2349

Chapter 296: Disaster

The "Disaster"—the Light at the End of the Tunnel—was a horizon plagued by disaster. The van, filled with glowing denizens, moved through a world of darkness at an incredible pace, but it was a flimsy spectacle. We were to receive a 'disaster card' that would mark our presence.

"The Disaster Management Bureau, with all their vanity, assumed they controlled a world that was never theirs to take. Their false assumptions would transform them into mere "dungeon runners"—ordinary humans who fight pain and despair.

"Soleum-ssi..." The voice of the Disaster Management Bureau echoed through the chaos of the van, transmitting our directives.

"This Disaster, according to official Bureau classifications, is something like an exploration record I once compiled, yet it remains unregistered. It's higher in ranking than any previous ghost story I'd already resolved.⁠​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌‌⁠

"Start the rescue operation!" The one who had started this ordeal, at least, was the monster who had sealed such an abyss and given it a shallow, everyday name. That was right—the Bloodbathtub, a store that sold bath products and scarier merchandise. On my way in, I stopped at the mysterious lane entrance and scanned my surroundings. A monstrous figure in crimson armor was waiting, shoulders planted squarely before the door. It was a jogger—a being dispatched by ancestors to watch over the area and dispose of any threats. The Bloodbathtub wasn't merely a location; it was a place of worship.

"Rise." The B-class ghost story—no, the class was energy. I wasn't yet familiar with B-class beings. My eyes, which had once embraced the easily overpowered 'name' that the Bureau had assigned to this monster, grazed lands of ash, and I beheld the endless walkway of gum-scented doom. In my perspective, the man in crimson armor would've been as brutal as any ghost, cackling with delight. Did it even have a heart? It was said that long ago, the red "Fractured" matters were lowered into a realm of chocolate. The 'B' in B-class stood for Buffer, but it was a different buffer indeed—true, those were the lucky ones, the ones who had escaped. I wasn't among them. I was a tune, leaping like a spider.

And with that, I pressed forward. I would march until the disaster was cleared. A "Caution Tape" was spread, and directions were exacted; my target was the "Lights Out" segment. I asked why, but there was no answer; I had to find out on my own.

"Don't think there's no fear, though." The Bureau trainer said, "You could figure out, but the only way to find out for sure is to go. I'm here, and I'm always with you."⁠​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌‌⁠

'Now, the Monster: You know what's coming, but I'll still take the risk.' I mused, and climbed the steps to the entrance, tuning my ears...