The silence that had settled inside the elevator weighed down like a heavy drag, as the space descended.
Downward.
Into a pitch-black abyss.
To the 96th basement floor.
“...You pressed it?”
I did.
I had chosen the option that led to the distant, unfathomable depths of the urban legend.
...It would be a lie to say I didn’t hesitate.
I still don’t have the confidence to face the dream incubator I emerged from and remain sane.
But...
‘In other words, aside from that, I’m not afraid.’
Right now, I’m in a state where I can’t feel fear.
If, as Brown said, my emotions will gradually return just like my rationality did, then eventually, every time I explore the basement levels of this main building’s Euphemism Research Institute, I’ll be wracked with terror.
‘It might be better to understand what I can before that happens.’
A sort of vaccine.
[Ah, a technique for eliminating fear through repetition. A classic and proven learning method...]
[However, there’s an entirely unpredictable variable beside you.]
Ho Yuwon.
[That, too, is part of the charm of live broadcast, I suppose—but if it’s uncomfortable, why not just leave him behind? If you need the host’s assistance, I can lend a hand!]
...No. For now, I’m bringing him along.
[Hm?]
‘That employee ID badge he’s wearing is bothering me.’
The ID badge hanging from Ho Yuwon’s neck—an employee badge from Euphemism Research Institute.
I glanced at it again.
To my surprise, I had already seen something just like it before.
In the underground dream incubation room with the prototype incubator—the dead employee there had it.
Euphemism Researcher
■■■
The part where "Euphemism" was written had been roughly scratched out with a pen. I used it to activate the incubator.
It’s probably still stuck in that incubator even now... unless someone else has taken it.
‘...Even if so, I’m not sure I’d be able to retrieve it.’
At any rate, it wouldn’t hurt to observe what effect wearing that employee ID might have in the context of this Euphemism Research Institute urban legend.
Ho Yuwon, catching my eye, drops the slight look of surprise he had when I pressed the button without hesitation, and smiles again.
His face is still completely busted.
“You surprised me. Noru-nim, you’re very brave.”
......
“With that kind of courage, I’m sure you’ll be a great explorer too. I’ll do my best to follow along.”
What a truly aggravating bastard.
I ignored his comment.
The negative numbers ticking rapidly downward on the elevator display finally stopped at the destination.
B96.
Ding—with the same cheerful chime, the doors opened...
And—
A peaceful corridor appeared.
“......”
From the offices, the sound of people occasionally laughing or typing lightly on keyboards could be heard... and that was it.
As if we’d returned to the second basement level—utterly normal.
Which made it even more bizarre.
This can’t be right.
“Noru-nim?”
......
“Noru-nim, aren’t you getting off? It’s just a regular office hallway... Don’t tell me, are you scared? If you’re really that scared, cover your eyes. I’ll give you a gentle little shove—”
⚠ Warning 1
Reason: Disruption of operations (intentional)
Warnings accumulated: 1 / 2 before disciplinary action
“Eh? But I was just trying to help... That’s really sad.”
Sigh.
“And I wonder if you’ll even be able to carry out the disciplinary action properly. You failed earlier, didn’t you...”
Proof of successful disciplinary action:
: Check your own left cheek
Only then did he go quiet.
‘Please shut your mouth already...’
How can his face be half-pulped and still act like this?
In any case, I stepped forward cautiously, watching the floor dust and the presence near the office doors.
I exited the elevator.
Tap, tap.
I muffled my footsteps as much as possible. Even without fear, I had vigilance.
I cloaked myself in thick performance.
‘There’s definitely something here.’
I walked slowly to the end of the corridor.
......
But along the peaceful corridor of the Euphemism Research Institute, bathed in a twilight glow... there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Just a quiet office hallway.
“That’s really strange... Isn’t it?”
I reached for the doorknob of the most silent office.
“Ah. Shall we try going in that office? But inside there, there might be...”
I hear a music box playing.
Cheongdong and I turned our heads at the same time.
But no one had spoken to us.
Instead, a single door stood wide open at the far end next to the elevator...
The emergency exit.
Under the emergency light, something was emerging into the corridor from deep within the pitch-dark stairwell—windowless and hollow....
Fire.
Flames burst forth from the emergency staircase into the office.
“...!!”
A loud alarm began to wail throughout the hallway.
And then, all the office doors opened.
“Ah.”
I immediately pressed myself against the wall. Past me, Cheongdong flattened himself along the corner.
A multitude of presences came flooding out from the offices.
Inhabitants of the Yukhoe Research Lab invisible to Explorers.
[Ordinarily, during a fire, the basic safety protocol is to evacuate using the stairs. However...]
[This time, that path has become a corridor of death!]
Exactly.
You could feel the tremors of footsteps made by those now barred from reaching the emergency exit. Disoriented, frightened, panicked...
One of them must have tried to pry open a window—there was a creaking sound from a window frame. Another, perhaps boldly ran into the restroom to fetch water—the faucet clicked on.
But the majority made an instinctive choice.
[Oh, they’re running for the elevator!]
Ding.
The elevator doors opened, and there was a dull thud as human bodies slammed into its interior.
A warning tone blared, followed by the elevator’s automated announcement:
—Maximum occupancy exceeded. Maximum occupancy exceeded...
I wondered—where could that possibly take them?
No, the scene didn’t even look like they would be able to depart safely.
The door wouldn’t close.
Even without seeing it, I could imagine it.
Researchers from the Yukhoe Research Lab crowding into the elevator, getting caught in the door, the weight exceeding the limit and setting off the warning...
Eventually suffocating in place, or burning to death in the flames.
And then—
I realized I didn’t need to imagine it at all.
Thud.
It started with one corpse.
But with each passing moment, they multiplied exponentially. Two, five, eight, fifteen...
Dead researchers from the Yukhoe Research Lab.
They began to fill the elevator and the corridor.
The dead...
Were classified as objects.
And the corpses of the “Yukhoe Research Lab Entities”—long recorded in exploration logs as terrifying, unknown anomalies capable of causing disappearance upon contact...
Now looked like ordinary people.
Broken fingernails scraping at the elevator doors, disheveled hair, one collapsing with another in the hallway as they tried to shield each other with lab coats, both consumed by fire.
Until the very last one.
Until death.
“Mr. Deer.”
.......
“You see them, don’t you? You can see them now.”
Cheongdong frowned slightly, smiling with what seemed like pity.
“Tragic, isn’t it?”
.......
“But congratulations. You chose a good floor. The 96th should be much easier to navigate now.”
I realized I had just recovered another emotion.
Revulsion.
In a body no longer affected by toxic gas or extreme heat, I stood still and endured that revulsion...
Together with the equally unscathed counselor from the Fox Counseling Office.
Ssssshhhh.
The sprinklers finally activated—too late.
Strangely, black water came pouring down.
It reeked of fresh blood—iron, brine.
The flames in the corridor subsided slightly as they were soaked by the black liquid, and a completely charred office door dropped into the hallway.
The smoke lightened just a little.
Cough.
Cheongdong coughed.
Deliberately, it seemed. But if you turned your head, you’d see not a single hair on his head had been singed.
It was impossible to believe he’d just been breathing toxic smoke in the midst of a firestorm.
I asked the ghost story:
Question: The sounds made by those trying to evacuate.
“Hmm. Sorry, but my hearing’s not great... Also, I think they’re all dead now.”
.......
⚠️ WARNING 2
Reason: Non-cooperation
Accumulated Warnings: 2 / 1 to Disciplinary Action
“You’re so cruel...”
Do what you want.
I peeled myself off the wall and stepped into the scene of the Yukhoe Research Lab incident.
Squelch.
...A wet crunch came from beneath the corridor floor.
[Hoo, to think my friend’s feet are touching such a filthy surface.]
It doesn’t matter. I’m not scared.
Where should I start?
I looked upon the burning Yukhoe Research Lab—glass shattered, walls scorched, the inside of the office now laid bare like a single open space...
That’s why it came into view immediately. Over there—beyond the collapsed, broken right wall. That transparent cylindrical device, in the sealed room now exposed—
The Dream Incubator.
The Dream Incubator is here.
I—I—II—I had to confirm it? I think I did, but it’s difficult because my body isinside theincubator
“Mr. Deer.”
Deer?
“That doesn’t look like the one you were incubated in.”
.......
Ah.
“It’s broken.”
I stumbled and straightened myself.
At some point, I had nearly collapsed to the floor.
Next to me, Cheongdong was brushing ash from his hair and adjusting his clothing. He leaned down kindly and extended a hand to me.
“You’ve sat down. You must have a lot on your mind.”
I rose without taking his hand.
Cheongdong looked at me with an expression of disappointment, but I already knew he felt no such emotion.
Instead, he glanced at the flames slowly spreading again through the corridor and asked:
“Ah. Were you worried the fire might ride the elevator and spread to other floors?”
.......
Denial.
No.
I hadn’t worried about that.
From the start, the floors weren’t even connected. Because—
Reason: Separate time zones.
“...!”
Yes.
Do you remember? The Yukhoe Research Lab has identical layouts on every floor.
So identical, in fact, that even scratches on the wall matched.
The Guard Captain had mentioned this too. And at that time, he had a theory...
—Same offices... Same structure, even down to the marks, so it is the same place, but... It kind of feels like... each one's from a different time?
“Ah. So you knew that much already?”
No.
Actually, I didn’t stop there...
I built a hypothesis on that testimony even before entering.
[Indeed!]
If all these underground levels were reflections of different time periods within the same space—
And if that space was part of the Yukhoe Research Lab—
Then descending deeper wouldn’t just mean the landscape became more grotesque...
It would mean descending into the Lab’s most important moments.
[Oho.]
Because there was a pattern.
The upper floors—
The Yukhoe Research Lab here is sparsely populated, or slightly outside of working hours.
Lunch break, vacation season, after hours.
But as you go lower, work-related keywords start to appear.
By the mid-levels, even the nuance shifts. Celebrations, meetings... The population density starts increasing.
So then what about the lower, deep floors?
Looking at the trend, the answer becomes clear.
You’ll encounter moments even more directly tied to work—intense ones.
Critical incidents from the Yukhoe Research Lab.
Which means it’s possible to make a similar guess about this situation.
[That this fire is a key incident related to that toy shop’s work...]
[Is that what you’re saying, friend?]
That’s right.
And we already know well enough what the Yukhoe Research Lab was working on.
The development of play-based ghost story products.
A place like that being devastated by an ordinary fire was strange from the start.
So maybe this fire wasn’t natural at all—but a ghost story in and of itself.
A cataclysm so monumental it determined the Lab’s fate.
And thinking back to the experiment log that summoned me here...
This must have been the final research project of the Yukhoe Research Lab.
There’s a strong chance it’s tied directly to the reason I was called.
I need to remember this.
I took a deep mental breath and slowly stepped toward the broken Dream Incubator.
And reached out for the place I remembered—
The card key registration slot on the incubator.
Click.
A card key slid out from the slot, and a perfectly intact employee ID began to emerge...