...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...
I’m on the Disaster Management Bureau’s rescue team, huh.
Having to go into a ghost story to save civilians, when I can barely look after myself as it is…
And I even had to enter a ghost story right this moment to rescue someone.
Exactly an hour and thirty minutes had passed since I finished the aptitude test and was appointed.
Yet, here I was, already receiving agent gear at headquarters due to the urgent directive Agent Bronze had received.
And now I was riding a Disaster Management Bureau bicycle, heading toward the site of the ghost story.
Riding a bike in this cold, through the dark, makes me shiver—and so many thoughts run through my head…
“Citizens caught up in a Disaster can request rescue using the number provided on the Bureau’s informational leaflets.”
‘And I’m also aware that this number sometimes miraculously works even inside the ghost story.’
Just listening to this impromptu rescue briefing, which was so like the Disaster Management Bureau, was already making my head spin.
I kept pedaling mechanically after the agent.
“When entering a Disaster, traveling by bicycle is actually safer than going by car.”
‘Yes. Since most means of transportation either don’t work inside ghost stories, or else trigger some of the worst mishaps…’
It was a fun worldbuilding tidbit when I was only reading about it, but experiencing it in reality was really cold and grueling.
For reference, the gear I received this time was more extensive than what I had as a temporary agent.
A glass handgun, an iron badge, a notebook, and… a fishing line.
“Whatever you do, don’t lose the fishing line. It’s the tool you’ll need to make an emergency solo escape in this Disaster.”
Remembering what happened when I was a temporary agent left me slightly uneasy, though I can’t deny there was a bit of excitement, too.
Which ghost story am I entering right now…!
“The Disaster we’re heading into for this civilian rescue is…”
Noticing my expression, Agent Bronze paused briefly, then spoke in a slightly more reassuring tone.
“…You don’t have to be so nervous. The civilian who called for help isn’t going to die just from listening to the explanation.”
His kindness was somewhat misplaced…
“First, let me explain everything.”
All right, I get it already.
Facing forward again, Agent Bronze pedaled along a deserted neighborhood bike path and spoke.
“Kim Soleum-ssi, do you remember a chain store called Lucky Mart?”
“They pulled out of Korea eleven years ago, but they’re still well-known in English-speaking countries… Agent?”
“Yes. I’ve heard of them.”
It’s more than just ‘heard of’.
I know it so well, it’s practically a problem.
A giant supermarket chain by the name of Lucky Mart.
It became the motif for a certain ghost story.
Back in the earliest days when the had still been archived under the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau, this ghost story was the seventh ‘original’ ghost story documented.
People rushing to find a supermarket late at night would stumble on a Lucky Mart branch by chance and go in…
========================
: A ghost story featured in
: Disaster Management Bureau registration number – 1793PSYA.2001.나31
A bizarre phenomenon mimicking a large-scale shopping mall, trapping those who enter to wander forever, unable to escape.
Associated with at least 300 disappearances over the course of decades, it’s classified by the Bureau as a Fracture-sanctioned Disaster.
A known method to end or seal it does not exist, and proactively preventing disappearances is likewise impossible.
However, informational leaflets assisting individuals in escaping have been placed throughout this ghost-story mart. Using those leaflets, certain citizens managed to return to reality, and their reports formed the basis for the exploration record.
========================
A massive shopping mall.
A setting that feels comfortable and familiar in everyday life, yet also one that magnifies fear with its vast, mechanical repetition—making for a thrilling, chilling story.
That is, when you’re just reading it.
‘It’s Fracture-sanctioned.’
Compared to the Bureau’s classification, it’s two whole tiers above that mountain lodge swarming with a serial killer where I met Agent Bronze.
If this were Daydream Inc. standards, it’d be close to B-grade!
I broke out in a cold sweat as I turned it over in my head.
‘…Have there been many cases where a Disaster Management Bureau agent entered Looky Mart to rescue civilians and brought them out safely?’
Mostly… I think they got out fine.
Sure, there were plenty of special cases in the exploration records where things went wrong. But typically, the wiki focuses in detail on such exceptional situations, so maybe it’s nothing to stress over… Damn.
‘I do want to see it for myself though.’
I have no idea why the item still isn’t repaired.
The Memorial Popsocket!
I recalled my checking item, which still had unset adhesive on it, and let out a silent sigh.
‘That person told me it would definitely be fixed in a month.’
That agent who pretended to be a dokkaebi didn’t seem like he was lying.
‘…It must be one of two things.’
Either because it came out of that merch box, so the repair didn’t go through properly…
…Or because I spent the past month in a ghost story, so it didn’t count as a proper ‘period of time’.
‘In either case, I need a backup plan.’
Looky Mart was such a famous ghost story that I could pretty much remember all its details. In that sense, I guess I should be thankful it’s a named ghost story…
‘But there’ll come a time when this kind of luck won’t cut it.’
Whenever I’d recall that time on the Tamra Express, where I couldn’t remember anything about the owner of the Silver Heart, it would still send chills down my spine.
To avoid another crisis like that, the Memorial Popsocket was absolutely necessary.
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