Chapter 28: Ch 28: CreepyPasta#5: The Day I Died
...As I prepare to enter a creepypasta with A-squad, let’s go over what I
need to keep in mind.
Stipulations
1- I must not let them find out that I’m a coward.
2- I must not reveal that I already know the correct strategy to use.
3- I must survive this uncooperative squad leader’s corporate bullying.
’Just kill me already.’
I think I’ve said this to myself more times since joining this company than I
can count.
But there’s no helping it.
It’s my first time entering a creepypasta with a superior who actually wants
to see me fail!
’Every day feels like a new kind of hell...’
And then there’s the workaholic superior who would throw me straight into
the cleanup team the second they find out I’m a coward...
In other words, I’m entering a creepypasta alongside people who would
rather hinder my survival than help it.
’Maybe the only way out is to scrape together enough points and use a wish
ticket to escape from here.’
And the creepypasta we’re entering this time is just as anxiety-inducing,
filled with misleading clues.
"How does the place look to you?"
"...It seems like... an abandoned factory, ma’am."
A dark, oil-smelling abandoned factory.
Do you know how many creepypastas in the <Dark Exploration Records>
involve abandoned factories?? At least dozens.
And even more if you consider ghost stories where locations change
randomly, including abandoned factories!
I was hoping to quickly enter the identification code into the <Dark
Exploration Records> search bar as soon as I could get a moment to myself
away from the two A-squad members, but they didn’t give me a single
chance to be alone.
’T-They’re watching me like hawks.’
It was as if they were waiting for me to make a mistake, with both A-squad
superiors casting sidelong glances at me as they strolled slowly.
I was breaking into a cold sweat.
’There isn’t a single companion here to rely on...’
– Friend?
"...!"
– Oh! Another setting, I see. Hmm, not the most suitable for a filming
location, I must say! Such filthy conditions, like a bedraggled donkey!
Don’t you agree?
I quickly looked down.
The voice was coming from the keychain plushie, ’Good Friend’, in my
pocket.
Braun!
’I do have a cooperative companion!’
W-Wait, we’re standing right next to my two A-squad superiors, and if you
just start talking openly like that...
– Oh dear, are you worried our precious friendship might be disturbed? Fret
not! Those who are not friends have no right to hear my voice!
Huuu.
So, no one else can hear him talking.
’Now that I think of it, there were records of the ’Good Friend’ only
speaking to its owner.’
And it’s also said to be able to pick up on the mood or surface thoughts of
its companion.
I felt somewhat reassured and tapped my pocket a few times.
– Haha, that tickles a little!
I’m seriously gonna cry.
This situation, where a creepypasta monster is my only source of comfort...
"Squad Leader. There’s a door over there."
"Ah, right. Soleum-ssi, why don’t you go ahead and open it?"
"..."
"Soleum-ssi?"
"Yes, ma’am."
Swallowing a scream, I walked up to the rusty door.
They don’t even bother hiding the fact that they’re out to make things hard
for me, designating me specifically without even giving me the manual!
– Goodness... Mr. Roe Deer, you look as though you’re struggling. Is it an
issue of stamina?
Shake, shake.
I shook my head slightly, hoping it would go unnoticed.
– Then is it the filthy environment that’s troubling you?
Shake, shake.
Another small shake.
– Ah, I see. Then it must be that your companions are not quite suited to
your preferences!
Bingo.
This is tough. Both this horrid creepypasta setting and this workplace
harassment...
– Are these bad people tormenting my dear friend?
Shake, shake, shake, shake, shake.
– Oh, I see. Sometimes, there are those who clash with us, like two poles of
a magnet! Let’s keep going, cheerfully, friend!
Now my stomach hurts.
’On top of everything, I have to balance things so the plush doesn’t go
berserk.’
Is this normal?
Caught between terror and stomach cramps, I somehow managed to steady
myself and grab the rusty door handle.
Creeeeak.
As the rusty door opened, it revealed... the factory’s main work area.
It was filled with dust-covered cans and boxes, as though production had
halted long ago. Spoiled contents seeped out of broken canned beef
scattered around.
But something stood out more strongly than the smell.
The sharp, metallic stench of blood.
And... a body lying on the floor.
"..."
W-Wait a sec.
"Do you see it? There’s a corpse over there."
"...Yes."
"Soleum-ssi, go ahead and search it."
"Yes."
AAAAAAACKKK!
The only thing stopping me from collapsing in tears was the comforting
warmth of the keychain plush in my pocket.
’Abandoned factory... corpse, abandoned factory, corpse...’
I combed through the <Dark Exploration Records> wiki in my mind,
holding back an unbridled scream as I approached the body.
The corpse was sprawled face-down on the tracks, wearing a suit.
A man in a suit, bleeding from the back of his head.
He looked familiar, perhaps because he was around my age and wearing a
suit.
’I’m going crazy.’
There was no way I could touch him directly...! Without taking a single
breath, I quickly summoned my special equipment, hovering my hands in
the air to examine the corpse from various angles.
Thank god it transmitted only pain and not touch—truly, truly a relief.
"...Male, height estimated between the high 170s and low 180s, wearing a
suit, with bleeding localized to the back of the head. It appears he was
struck by something with a diameter over 10 cm."
"Hmm. Not bad. Now, flip him over."
"Yes, ma’am."
Kim Soleum will remember this moment...
I glared at A-squad’s leader with all the strength I could muster, holding
back a retch as I forced myself to flip the corpse over in one swift motion.
The face lay exposed, eyes closed.
It was...
My face, bleeding on the floor.
"..."
Holy sh— Holy fucking shit—!!
These damn ghost stories, seriously!!
"Oh, it looks exactly like Soleum-ssi, doesn’t it? Could it be a trap?"
"Squad Leader, maybe it’s time to at least give him the basic manual...?"
"Oh, sure. I suppose you’re right?"
A-squad’s leader looked at me, seemingly weighing the idea, then finally
spoke slowly, as if granting a rare favor.
"Soleum-ssi, you’re inside a story."
"..."
"Think of it as entering a novel or a movie."
Yeah I mean, I already figured that out myself.
The moment I saw my own corpse, I realized which Darkness this was.
========================
Dark Exploration Records / Ghost Story
[The Day I Died]
: A ghost story featured in <Dark Exploration Records>
: Daydream Inc. identification code – Qterw-C-406
A ghost story that pulls the victim into an unsuccessful thriller-mystery,
making them the sacrificed character.
The first witness is always faced with the discovery of their own
sacrificial corpse.
Exploration Records indicate a total of up to 25 entries.
========================
It’s a creepypasta tailor-made to drive someone to the edge of a mental
breakdown.
’This is... a potato—a potato.’
I tried to brainwash myself as best as I could, looking away from the
corpse-shaped thing in front of me...
"Don’t use your special equipment. Check it directly. Look carefully and
examine every detail..."
Are you kidding me?
"No, I can’t."
I replied without even taking a breath.
The eyes behind the teal duck mask narrowed.
"...Hm?"
Oh no.
I just talked back to a superior who’s already prone to workplace
harassment?
’I need to fix this, pronto!’
Instinctively, I added more, smoothly following a well-tested routine I’d
already used once.
"There’s a faster way to escape."
Not again.
Why does it always go this way...?
* * *
My work conditions just expanded.
Stipulations
1- I must not let them find out that I’m a coward.
2- I must not reveal that I already know the correct strategy to use.
3- I must survive this uncooperative squad leader’s corporate bullying.
4- I must pull off a timed escape. (NEW!)
...Still, the one good thing is that seeing my own corpse allowed me to
confirm exactly which creepypasta this is.
’And the standard strategy for this creepypasta is... this.’
========================
To succeed, restructure the story so that the victim does not die.
========================
In this creepypasta, the more you explore, the further back in time you go.
So, typically, you’d have to investigate the entire factory, figuring out why
’my corpse’ ended up dead and piecing together the story step by step.
========================
Failure to alter the story within the time limit will result in the victim’s
confirmed death.
========================
Normally, you’d spend half a day in tense, desperate pursuit, racing against
time to avoid the fixed fate of one guaranteed kill...
’Um. At this rate, my stomach will give out first.’
My digestive system won’t survive this.
If there’s no shortcut, I’ll have to make one. Help me out, <Dark
Exploration Records>!
With a total of 25 documented exploration attempts, surely there’s a record
of someone breaking the pattern with some creative or unconventional
approach. Something that might serve as a hint!
I quickly scanned through records in my mind.
’Let’s see, any unique experiences I can reference...’
========================
Exploration Record #21
Entered by Assistant Manager Han So-eun and two others.
As soon as they entered the ghost story in the form of an abandoned
lodge, the squad immediately recognized which story they were in.
It was a widely mocked, failed thriller that became a meme online.
Responses included ridicule, meme reenactments, bursts of laughter,
and spoiler-filled derision.
Result : The setting suddenly collapsed, transporting them to a
different story (continued in Exploration Record #22). Testimonies
indicate that crying, whimpering sounds were heard.
Aigoo, is this a failed director’s poltergeist or something?
Even the fragile mentality is spot on.
– Researcher Kwak Jaekang
========================
Oh.
"Squad Leader, Assistant Manager, could you give me just ten minutes?"
"Hmm, alright."
First things first, I decided not to leave any room for interference from my
superiors. If I wanted to avoid workplace harassment disrupting this, I’d
have to handle everything myself, no matter how frustrating or unfair it
felt...
’...I just need to do it quickly before I throw up or scream.’
I swiftly used my special equipment to recheck the indentation on the sticky
back of the corpse’s head (uuuuugh!). Then I checked the footprints around
the body, as well as the surrounding bloodstains...
"Why are you using your special equipment when you could just use your
hands?"
"Because handling it directly could damage the evidence. I thought this was
the best approach to preserve the scene."
I hadn’t realized I had a talent for rapid-fire responses.
"Evidence? You sound like you’re in a detective novel."
"It’s not quite deduction—just a simple guess. And..."
I stood up.
"I found it."
"What?"
"The answer."
Immediately, I surveyed the area. Naturally, I used my special equipment to
do this remotely.
Let’s see here.
In a shadowy corner, partially hidden but not entirely, in a place that would
be easy to overlook if you weren’t paying attention...
’There it is.’
I pulled out a cylindrical object from a musty corner under the shelf.
"That’s... a can of food?"
"Yes."
"Hmm, there are cans all over the place here, though."
Yes. After all, this place does seem like an abandoned canning factory.
But this one was different.
The can I picked up had a slightly dented edge with bloodstains on it.
It was a classic cliché—the ’hidden in plain sight’ trope.
– Hooh, Mr. Roe Deer! If this were a mystery story, this would be the
decisive evidence. The shape matches perfectly with the wound on the
head.
Exactly.
"This matches the indentation left by the blunt-force trauma on the back of
the head."
– Ah, classic. The weapon was just an everyday object in the background
that no one noticed! This is the structure of a typical work of fiction...
Right, right.
Anyway, A-squad’s assistant manager seemed to accept this, nodding.
"So that’s the weapon, then...?"
Tuk.
I let the potential ’weapon’—the can—drop to the ground.
Then, I stomped on it with full force, crushing it hard.
"...??"
"...????"
– ?!??!
"Ah."
I tilted my head to the side.
"There’s no way a human skull would be damaged by something with this
level of force... Hmm. It doesn’t add up."
Tremble, tremble.
At that moment, the space around us shook slightly.
– But no matter how you look at it, it seems like they were struck with a
can!
That’s what I’m saying.
I nodded, as if just realizing something.
"Oh... This can is aluminum."
"So what?"
"Typically, cans are made of steel."
A frown.
"Why would canned goods be made from aluminum, like a drink can...?
Hmm, could it be...?"
– Intriguing...
I intentionally paused for dramatic effect.
"A plot hole?"
Rattle.
At that moment, the cans around me began to tremble slightly.
But I ignored it and continued muttering to myself.
"That’s certainly possible. After all, we encounter drink cans more often
than canned food, so it wouldn’t be too surprising if someone accidentally
used the wrong material and labeled it as aluminum..."
– Hoooh...
But then.
I stopped talking and gave a small, mocking laugh.
"But, heyyy. No way."
"...Soleum-ssi?"
"Anyone could look it up with a quick search—no one would make such a
basic mistake. Tricks are the most crucial part of any work of the mystery
genre. They shouldn’t be so sloppy."
– Hahaha!
"When you think about it, a murder happening in a canning factory with a
can as the weapon is way too predictable, don’t you think?"
I actually meant this.
"It lacks freshness and surprise... A writer with any sense wouldn’t try to
pass this off as their big plot twist."
– Oh, I agree!
The space began to shake more violently.
"Honestly, this is so poorly done..."
I finished with a bored tone.
"Even an amateur wouldn’t write something this sloppy these days."
Boom!
After a brief pause—
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
Cans exploded all around us.
"What’s happening?!"
The space seemed to weep as it melted away, dripping like tears from all the
ruptured cans.
And then, everything vanished.
Just before the last remnants disappeared, there was the sound of someone
sobbing, their cry filled with agony...
The next moment—
We found ourselves back in the familiar, luxurious lounge on the company’s
15th floor.
Covered in exploded canned meat.
"..."
"..."
"We... got out."
For the first time, A-squad’s leader faltered, visibly shaken.
"The Darkness let us out... but why?"
Wiping chunks of burst canned beef from my face, I answered quietly.
"It had a mental breakdown."
* * *
After escaping from the creepypasta featuring my own corpse, I cleaned off
all the canned beef remains in the shower attached to the office. Then we
gathered in the lounge once again.
"Wow... The rumors were true. You’re really known for clearing fast
without a manual."
"It’s nothing."
"This isn’t the time to be modest, Soleum-ssi."
The A-squad’s leader, having checked that the Dream Essence Collector
was filling with yellow liquid as expected, turned to look at me with
admiration in her eyes.
"How did you reach this result?"
Yes, I knew she’d ask this.
I clasped my hands behind my back and took a formal stance, ready to
present as if in a lecture. It was my defensive stance, to avoid getting
nitpicked for any signs of fear or incompetence in case my supervisor’s
workplace harassment tendencies decided to flare up again.
"I followed a standard deductive process."
"Hmm."
"First... Since I was repeatedly told to examine the corpse and survey the
surroundings, I deduced that the corpse was likely central to our escape."
Of course, it was probably just an excuse to make things harder on me, but
the method with which you present your facts is everything.
"And since you mentioned this was a ’story’, I figured it was a narrative
where someone ends up as a corpse... meaning it had to be a murder
mystery, either a film or a novel. So, I guessed that preventing my own
death would be the standard method to clear it."
I shrugged.
"But that would take too long."
"...?!"
"Since you called me up for this, I wanted to finish it, preferably by this
morning."
A-squad’s leader looked at me with a face that practically said, ’What on
earth are you talking about, rookie?’
But honestly, a bit of eccentricity is better than fear, isn’t it, Section Chief!
"So, I looked for a shortcut."
"And how did you do that?"
"There were hints."
I looked at the two of them.
"In the way both of you acted."
"...!"
"You’d read the manual, hadn’t you? I noticed that your actions were giving
me clues."
Like how you kept pushing me to observe the corpse.
’If those hints were intentional, then there were probably even more subtle
hints you weren’t aware of.’
I recalled the most crucial clue.
– Right. Soleum-ssi, why don’t you go ahead?
– Soleum-ssi?
"When we entered the Darkness, you called me by my real name."
"...!"
Normally, in creepypastas, it’s a strict recommendation not to use real
names but to stick with nicknames derived from the masks.
There’s a risk that real names can be exploited in harmful ways.
Yet, A-squad’s leader called me ’Soleum’ instead of ’Roe Deer’.
If someone as experienced and elite as her did that, there could only be one
reason.
She already knew it would be safe.
"That meant there was no sentient entity in this Darkness that could harm
me upon hearing my real name."
It also implied that, aside from the death that had already occurred, there
was no other supernatural interference at play.
I added this explanation before continuing.
"So, realizing I had more freedom... I thought, why not be a bit more
aggressive? I decided to attack the story itself and destabilize it."
"...??"
"You... thought that?"
"Yes. A story loses its meaning if its foundation crumbles."
I nodded.
"So I undermined its plausibility, causing the story to collapse and freeing
us. That’s all."
"..."
"..."
Their faces were blank, as if processing what I’d just said.
"You inferred all that not just from the surroundings, but also from our
conversation and behavior...?"
"Yes, ma’am."
Not really.
The truth is, I benchmarked off the exploration logs.
– The setting suddenly collapsed, transporting them to a different story
(continued in Exploration Record #22). Testimonies indicate that crying,
whimpering sounds were heard.
Apparently, just mocking the failed story had shattered its mental stability
enough for it to reassemble itself into a different story.
I figured that if I just steadily dismantled its logic and insulted its creator’s
self-esteem, the whole thing would unravel, new story and all.
’And it worked.’
Yay.
Just then, A-squad’s leader looked at me and slowly spoke.
"You explain this... very casually, Soleum-ssi."
Whoops.
"Well, it’s not exactly the standard method. You could call it a shortcut, if
you’d like."
Did I step on her toes?
I quickly added, dropping my head apologetically to show remorse.
Hopefully, it would look genuine enough.
"Of course, I’m prepared to accept any reprimands."
Yes, please, just let it be a scolding.
I waited quietly, ready for the next wave of workplace harassment.
But instead...
Clap, clap, clap...
Applause?
I looked up to see A-squad’s leader, her teal duck mask now removed,
gazing at me with a mix of surprise and satisfaction.
"You follow rules and orders. But you don’t shy away from unconventional
means."
Excuse me?
"Very good. That’s exactly the type of person we’re looking for."
Me?
"Soleum-ssi. You pass."
"What—"
"There’s a vacancy on A-squad. You know that, right?"
At that moment, I understood.
’Oh.’
This wasn’t workplace harassment.
It was a test.
"How about you fill that position officially?"
"...!!"
My god.
This was a recruitment test for A-squad!