Chapter 13: Ch 13: A-Class darkness...!
In <Dark Exploration Records>, when entering a ghost story, data
transmission and communication usually become impossible, isolating the
participants.
’This is the typical structure of a ghost story.’
But stories become more interesting when there is interaction and conflict.
I vaguely remember reading in a ghost story that some teams in <Daydream
Inc.> have a disposable item that allows for emergency communication.
’Is this button one of those?’
While my mind raced to deduce the situation, my mouth started talking
immediately. Time was of the essence!
"Are you the leader of D-squad?"
[Yes.]
"I’m Kim Soleum, the new recruit in D-squad. I have something urgent to
report."
I decided to lay it all out!
"In 30 minutes, all of D-squad will be dead."
Even if the other person was startled, it couldn’t be helped. This was the
most efficient way. I needed to calm him down and explain...
[I see.]
[I’ll take a five-minute briefing.]
"..."
Why is he so calm?
Sure, mass deaths are a routine occurrence in the Field Exploration Team,
but this is a bit...
’Is there something wrong with his humanity...?’
I almost got confused, but the situation was urgent, so I let it go. I quickly
summarized everything that had happened so far.
"There was an anomaly during the D-Class Darkness, Tuesday Talk Show."
I explained about the members of another squad who had intruded mid-
show, the quiz show’s sudden cancellation, and the insane choir segment
that had just begun.
[How many employees are left?]
"Three out of seven remain. All of D-squad is still alive, but once the break
ends, we’ll all be dead."
The D-squad leader responded concisely.
[I see.]
[Buy yourself another 30 minutes.]
"..."
Is that even possible?
"I don’t think that’s feasible."
[In that case, there’s nothing we can do.]
He has a knack for enraging people who are about to die in less than 30
seconds.
’I don’t have time to waste on this nonsense.’
It’s true that the higher you go in the Field Exploration Team, the more
some employees seem to lack basic morality or common sense, but
experiencing it firsthand is truly infuriating.
’Does he think his team members’ lives are a joke?’
I was about to hang up and figure things out on my own when...
"..."
Wait a second.
"What would change if we had 30 more minutes?"
Why did he ask for more time?
[Right.]
[If you could hold off until 55 minutes from now, I could get approval
from the security team and rent the strongest weapons and entry
devices.]
His low voice explained calmly.
[The entire process, even if handled retroactively, would take about 40
minutes, and it would take an additional 15 to 20 minutes to enter the
Darkness.]
"...If that process is completed, could D-squad be rescued?"
[Probably, yes.]
"..."
A Field Exploration Team member capable of entering an A-Class Darkness
alone and suppressing the supernatural phenomenon using special
equipment?
The only people capable of that would be...
’A named character.’
The person I was talking to had to be one of the employees I’d read about in
the <Dark Exploration Records>!
’Someone with a significant or memorable role...’
Chills ran down my spine.
Several candidates flashed through my mind. My brain was spinning.
"Stealing equipment from the security team... yeah, that’s impossible."
[...? Correct.]
The security team’s operations are heavily restricted to maintain narrative
coherence in the ghost stories, and their security is airtight. It’s true that
such an act would be impossible based on the rules.
’But if this person really is one of the employees I think he is...’
There might be a way!
I swallowed nervously and asked,
"...May I ask what mask you wear, sir?"
If he said the nickname I was thinking of...
[Lizard.]
"..."
Ah.
It’s you.
"Section Chief."
We had 20 minutes left.
"Based on what you’ve told me, I’ve come up with a plan."
Let’s go with this.
* * *
[Ah, Mr. Roe Deer!]
Break time was almost over.
Holding a water bottle from the waiting room, I returned to the talk show
set.
Human. Number 2. Human, human!
Against the backdrop of two employees who had been exposed to ’choir
practice’ for several minutes and whose complexions had drastically
worsened, the host with the old TV for a head extended his hand toward me.
[Are you feeling better? Ready to create the best broadcast ever?]
"Yes. Thank you for your consideration."
[Haha, a contestant’s condition is key to delivering the best moments on
the show!]
His tone was surprisingly friendly, considering the host’s previous behavior.
It seemed the Smiley Sticker’s effect was still active.
’So far, things are going as expected.’
I carefully chose my next words.
"...You really put a lot of passion and energy into this show, Mr. Host. I
think that’s why you always make such captivating broadcasts."
Perhaps it was the most extreme situation, but flattery was coming out of
my mouth effortlessly, without a trace of shame.
[Such high praise! But a broadcast is something everyone creates
together. Mr. Roe Deer, you are a part of that too!]
No, that’s not the direction I was going for...
"I appreciate your kind words, but there’s no comparing me to you, the one
who leads this great talk show."
This was the direction I needed.
"But I was surprised that the format of the show changed without notice to
someone as important as you..."
[...]
"There’s no live audience, we’re using recorded applause, the punishments
are gone... even the band has fewer members."
I recalled the black-and-white broadcast posters in the waiting room.
They were all talk shows with live audiences, where real-time
communication was part of the experience.
If that waiting room was the host’s personal space...
’There’s a good chance the host doesn’t like this new format...!’
"It feels like the changes were made to cut costs across the board."
There was a risk of being beheaded if the host misinterpreted my comment
as an insult to the talk show. But staying silent would lead to death anyway.
I had to do this.
I glanced back, pretending to look at the stage, and managed to continue
speaking.
The conductor with the dead pig’s head.
"...Could the reason for this revamp be that it cost a lot to book that guest
over there?"
[!]
The emoticon on the host’s TV screen disappeared.
But it soon returned with a smiling emoticon.
[That’s none of the contestant’s concern.]
"I apologize."
Please, spare me.
Honestly, I’m so scared I haven’t even properly looked at that pig-headed
creature.
"I was just such a huge fan of the Tuesday Quiz Show and was really
looking forward to participating. I must have said something rude because I
was disappointed by its cancellation..."
[Ah, what a kind thing to say! But... show business is ruthless.]
The host’s TV screen quietly turned black.
[If the viewers prefer this format, then as an entertainer, it’s my job to
adapt quickly to what they want...]
"I see."
I swallowed hard.
"But isn’t it still uncertain how the viewers feel? ...At least for me, I
preferred the old format. The real-time interaction with the audience and the
excitement of the live Tuesday Quiz Show."
[...]
"To change the show so abruptly, without even discussing it with the host...
ah, never mind. I’m sorry. I’ve spoken out of turn."
I pretended to hesitate, then added,
"I just... I had a lot of fun earlier during the live broadcast. My heart was
racing, and it was quite exciting."
[ – ]
The host stood silently.
The TV screen made a faint static noise...
Beep-beep-beep!
[...Ah! There are only 60 seconds left before filming resumes!]
At the sound of the alert filling the set, the emoticon returned.
[Alright, everyone, let’s give it our all until the end!]
[Mr. Roe Deer, you should get back to your podium.]
"...Yes."
[We’re starting! 10, 9, 8...]
The host resumed the countdown, looking into the camera as usual.
But it seemed like my conversation had left an impression, as he didn’t
seem as entranced by the camera as before.
’Good.’
The groundwork had been laid.
I nodded to the host and headed back to my podium.
And moments later.
[Now! Mr. Badger!]
[It’s finally time to give your answer!]
The show had resumed.
[Will Mr. Badger become a proud member of the choir?]
Supervisor Park Minseong seemed to have come to terms with his fate, his
expression bitter but resigned.
I saw him mouthing something quickly at me.
– Thank you.
What was he saying? ’Thanks for helping me get prepared...’ No, wait. Let
me talk too!
I mouthed the words back.
– Give the correct answer.
"...?!"
Supervisor Park looked at me as if I were insane.
I understand.
’Being incinerated is probably better than becoming a living instrument that
repeats the last thing you said before your head was cut off...’
But this was necessary.
Supervisor Park, still confused, shook his head and glanced at Assistant
Manager Eun.
She nodded too.
[Mr. Badger? You have 3 seconds.]
"Ah! Umm, yes. I’ll give my answer..."
Supervisor Park squeezed his eyes shut and shouted,
"Number 4, burns!"
[Oooooh!]
As the recorded audience murmured,
I finally saw it.
Flutter—
In the corner of the stage where the lights had gone out, something
appeared.
A postcard.
The strange postcard we used to enter this place.
I remembered the conversation I had with Section Chief Lee Jaheon just
before.
– So, Section Chief, you’re saying we can use that equipment to access the
ghost story through an object?
– Yes. However, the equipment I have is for emergency supply drops, only
for delivering small items into the Darkness.
– That’s enough. Let’s use it...
I looked at the postcard.
It quietly fell to the floor from the shadows where the light didn’t reach...
And then, with terrifying speed, a small AAA battery shot out from it.
"...!"
The battery shot toward the ominous conductor with tremendous force,
closing the distance in an instant.
It struck one of the silver trays.
– Throw it with all your might, sir.
The thick tray crumpled as if pierced by the battery.
The sheer physical force was unbelievable.
’As expected.’
I recalled the description of Section Chief Lee Jaheon from <Dark
Exploration Records>.
========================
Employee D
Nickname : Lizard
Final position : Team Leader
One of the few combat specialists in the Field Exploration Team.
Known for solving ghost stories, which usually require wit and strategy,
by brute force.
??? : "If the body suffers, the mind suffers even more, isn’t that right?"
Conversely, when his brute force doesn’t work, it signifies that true
doom is upon you.
========================
If we had tried to attack the pig-head conductor directly, I might have
experienced that ’doom’ firsthand.
But a silver tray?
’He’s a staff member with a ’physical exorcism works in ghost stories’
gimmick, so I thought it might work...’
And I was right.
The tray was almost punctured, leaving a deep dent.
’In that case.’
Despite sweating profusely, I couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction.
[Wow! Mr. Badger, that’s the correct answer!]
Normally, this would be the point where the correct contestant’s head would
be ripped off and added to the choir on another silver tray.
But the conductor’s reaction to his precious ’instrument’ being damaged...
[...Mr. Conductor?]
The dead pig opened its mouth wide.
Its decaying flesh tore apart, and its jaw dislocated unnaturally.
The canned applause abruptly cut off, leaving the atmosphere confused and
disjointed.
[...It seems our guest is thinking of a new way to perform! I wonder
what brilliant method they’re coming up with? My heart is racing!]
The pig began to scream.
The split mouth emitted a horrific sound...
[...The contestant is waiting. Mr. Conductor, please welcome him into
the choir!]
A terrifying scream rose in my throat.
What did I just do? What kind of horrific mistake have I made? Did you see
the worm that spawned from the ground? How I want to sing, how I made
the wrong choice, judgment, indeed—
Praise to the silver throne, death—
The band’s sound drowned out the scream.
"Hah!"
This is insane.
Drip. Drip.
Red spots appeared on the podium.
It was my nosebleed.
But I had to cover my ears. I had to block out the sound... but the band’s
sound was fading away.
[You—]
Drip.
[Do not respect the show.]
I lifted my head.
Amidst the silence.
Whoosh.
The grand and ominous guest at the center of the stage burst into black
flames and turned to ash.
It was a scene I had seen many times before.
’Incineration.’
A punishment the host carried out autonomously. In the D-Class Darkness
known as the ’Tuesday Quiz Show’, this was the fate of any contestant who
disrupted the broadcast.
But now...
’Did a D-Class Darkness... incinerate an A-Class Darkness entirely?’
Something’s wrong... something’s very wrong.
All I intended was for the host to lose his temper at the guest’s
incompetence, causing today’s broadcast to be cut short.
[As expected, the essence of a show isn’t in flashy guests, but in staying
true to its core.]
I looked around.
The staff, the lights, the band, the recording equipment, the cameras.
All of them were burning and turning to ash.
Only the host’s old TV screen flickered with color, glowing brightly.
[The joy of witnessing, the thrill of communication, the excitement of
unpredictable developments, anticipation...]
[You ■■■ creators don’t understand that. You don’t deserve to make
shows.]
[But I do! I can make them!]
The host raised his arms majestically, like a liberator.
He turned to me.
[Mr. Roe Deer!]
[Thank you! You’ve given me a new vision!]
[My mind feels so clear. Ah... yes! From now on, I’ll accept
participants for the show on different days of the week.]
The host stared directly at me.
[I can tell. You have the talent of a show creator.]
[I hope you join the crew of my new talk show as well, Mr. Roe Deer,
Mr. Roe Deer!]
This is bad.
[New participants, a new set, new music, a new season... I’ll invite you
when the filming is ready!]
But.
[It’s such a pity today’s broadcast had to end this way... but your
passionate participation was very impressive.]
[Let’s meet again in the next show!]
It worked.
I blinked.
Beyond my blurring vision, I saw the suited figure with a TV for a head
wave as he disappeared...
In the next moment—
"..."
I realized I was sitting on a brightly lit, quiet office sofa.
I turned my head.
Supervisor Park and the Assistant Manager Eun, both bleeding from their
noses and ears, were staring at me with dumbfounded expressions.
And I realized.
I’m alive.
"Waaaaah!!"
"You amazing bastard! You crazy idiot!"
Amid the shower of cheers and hugs, I slid down onto the sofa.
I’m alive.
I escaped...!
"...! The collector!"
But that wasn’t the end.
Supervisor Park, still hugging me, quickly pulled something out of my suit
pocket.
It was the ’Dream Essence Collector’.
It was filled with golden liquid.
Unlike the time when I cleared the F-Class ghost story, this time, the color
was...
"A-Class."
"..."
"Roe, you cleared an A-Class Darkness after just two days on the job...!"