I really agonized over it.
How could Section Chief Lee Jahaeon possibly get out of this insane Groom Class ghost story alive?
‘I really, really considered every single method....’
The loopholes that might slip through the rules.
From confessing that he was already married and therefore couldn’t marry again, to trying to convince them he had some fatal flaw unfit for a groom.
But when I thought about the trend of the exploration records, all I could predict was a spine-chilling outcome....
‘It’ll probably end with him getting grilled by the education supervisor for lying about being qualified in the first place, and then subjected to some outlandish punishment to “make him qualified” before the record gets censored and erased....’
From the beginning, this ghost story’s records were all about how cleverly one could keep answering the “answer sheet” of groomly virtues, no matter the unexpected situation—that was the thrill of it.
Or, if they failed, just how absurdly and horrifically they would die.
Whether it was disqualification or unfitness, anyone who failed to meet the “standards of a groom” was overwhelmingly likely to face nothing but the eerie, ominous gutter-ending that ghost stories love.
Groom Class.
A mental and physical labyrinth that drives people insane, precisely because it never gives up on its pupils.
If that was the case....
‘The only answer... is head-on breakthrough.’
And the one with the stats needed for this “head-on breakthrough” I had in mind was none other than—
Brown.
A force of nature, a talk-show host incarnate, the very spirit of entertainment.
A being inside the ghost story itself, able to move by rules other than ours.
—If Brown became the groom candidate, it would definitely help.
‘It’s worth trying.’
That was the conclusion I came to after hearing the features of this place, the nature of these educators called supervisors, and their descriptions of the wedding.
The problem was....
[Mr. Roe Deer, it seems this Brown must have picked up the wrong signal. Good heavens, my friend couldn’t possibly have asked me to wear the body of a terrorist, could he!]
Yeah.
The problem was that I had to convince both sides....
—Brown.
[But of course.]
[If it’s the desperate request of a friend, I must comply. That’s the duty of a good friend, after all. A being who helps his friend without expecting any reward in return.]
...His voice grew closer.
[But Mr. Roe Deer, oh, it looks a bit precarious—just how long can a person who receives one-sided services keep exploiting this concept of “friendship”...?]
......
Good thing I wasn’t in a human body right now.
Otherwise I’d have frozen stiff with terror.
And yet—
—Wait, Brown.
I could say this calmly.
—This isn’t me requesting a service. You’re here too, so I’m inviting you to join in.
Because—
—This way is the most fun.
[...!]
—Wouldn’t you hate to reach a hollow ending, where things just play out like any other exploration case? You wouldn’t really want that kind of predictable development, would you?
—Not when you’re participating?
Of course not.
Of course not!
—If you could take this cliché setup and steer it yourself with wit and flair, I know you’d be more than willing.
—Like your show.
[.......]
Brown was briefly silent.
But then—
[Mr. Roe Deer, you really...!]
Along with a voice that sounded a little moved came a warm pressure tapping my shoulder—how the hell??—that I could actually feel.
[You know how to persuade. And also....]
The grip on my shoulder grew heavier.
[You even know how to invoke my pride as an entertainer only when you want to, sometimes reacting as if hurt, as if accusing, at other times....]
My heart nearly dropped.
And then—
[......Hm. Up to this time, I’ll allow it! That fickleness, too, is the quality of a star, after all.]
The weight lifted off my shoulder with a brushing pat.
[But don’t forget—I have that quality too.]
[At this rate, the moment when that quality meets with you, Mr. Roe Deer, may turn out to be something quite dramatic....]
......
[Though not right now!]
Phew.
—Of course.
...That was close.
‘He meant: there won’t be a next time.’
From here on out, I’d really have to tread carefully.
Still—for now, the persuasion had gone well.
‘Good.’
Suppressing a sigh of relief, I turned to the rightful owner of the body, who had been quietly listening to our conversation up to this point.
—Section Chief.
—Just this once, let’s gamble.
Brown will—
‘Raise all hell for us.’
***
A cloudy morning at St. Anticus Boarding Academy.
“Mm, mmhmm.”
The groom candidate was wiping away the last of the shaving cream in a small washbasin mirror, finishing his shave. Soon, a cleanly tended jawline emerged.
Then he slicked back his hair with scented oil. A low, pleasant humming vibrated from his throat as the brush swept deftly through his hair.
Beneath the white hair, a fine face was revealed.
Lee Jahaeon.
He wore the same attire as yesterday: the boarding academy’s uniform.
And yet, oddly, he looked sharper. The way he wore it, the way he adjusted the collar, had changed....
“Much better.”
The touch of a professional.
The monster whose very essence was to stand before cameras, to present himself to the public, smiled at the mirror.
Then he stepped out briskly into the hall.
Creak.
The austere, ascetic interior of the boarding school was now elegantly adorned with blue candles and white velvet.
Roses, lilies of the valley, baby’s breath, silver ornaments beneath the melted patterns of candles burning with blue flames—it was all so....
Classical, and unimpressive.
“Oh. A pleasure to see you.”
Lee Jahaeon sat down at the breakfast table.
That mask—no, that ideal pale body and face created by expert makeup—took its place in the chair.
The day’s menu was pared down, to purify the body before the wedding.
Jahaeon cheerfully asked without touching the single cup of willow sap at his lips:
“Tomorrow’s the wedding we’ve all been waiting for, isn’t it?”
The supervisor confirmed, while gently correcting the groom candidate’s manner of speech. It was too flamboyant, too polished, too accented—hardly the reverent impression a groom ought to give.
The pronunciation was altogether too New World.
“Oh, I’ll keep that in mind.”
With a witty, graceful gesture, he mimed zipping his mouth shut.
It was hardly the behavior of a White Bride’s groom either, but not judged “disqualifying,” so no penalty points were issued.
Still, it affected the assessment.
The supervisor, one brow raised, glanced around the table and lifted a hand, lightly striking a silver goblet.
Like the sound of a bell announcing the time.
♩–
And proclaimed it.
Out of all the candidates, only one.
The most excellent, perfect pupil who would become tomorrow’s groom.
That candidate was....
......
Not Lee Jahaeon.
The alias he had used to infiltrate this place was not called.
Lee Jahaeon would not be groom.
Regrettably!
“Hooh.”
But the supervisor encouraged all the groom candidates, assuring them they would each have a role to play in the wedding.
That much Jahaeon had already heard.
And with the announcement closed, it was declared they would all move together in the afternoon to the wedding hall, for introductions and preparations.
Oh, and one trainee failed at breakfast. He vomited under the table.
“Ack...!”
As a penalty, he was ordered to pull his own stomach up through his throat and wash it clean.
And with that, all instruction officially concluded.
Amid expectation, sorrow, and dread, the pupils went through purification baths and meditation.
No lunch was provided.
Instead, a single glass of white wine with salt was served.
Jahaeon experienced it all with a smiling face.
And then—
♩– ♩–
The final bell rang.
The supervisor now led the pupils to the place of the wedding.
Downward.
A door to the school’s underground was opened. The supervisor urged the pupils to go barefoot, and they removed their shoes, descending barefoot steps lit by candles melting at each landing.
The stairs turned to stone and opened onto the outdoors. The place was—
A dark cave.
“......”
A primeval quartz cavern, its walls long ago touched by human hands.
Farther in, the space widened.
The wedding hall.
On stone walls inscribed with unreadable letters, chairs for guests, decorations, even an altar for vows were prepared.
Ancient silver ornaments, which should have rusted long ago, still gleamed in the candlelight under obsessive care.
The damp air was burned away by the blue flame of candles, while roses, lilies, and baby’s breath bloomed with unnatural freshness.
And there—
The bride’s seat, laid with white garments.
Here it is.
The supervisor spoke.
The groom candidates would have the honor of becoming important, beautiful, artistic elements to illuminate the wedding—elements that, once the ceremony was finished, would be shared out as mementos to the guests.
So he said.
Were they excited?
“Oh, of course. To be art! My heart races at what grand piece you have planned.”
Smiling at the insolent tone before correcting it to be more groom-like, the supervisor explained.
From now on—
You will be the wedding cake.
Wasn’t it marvelous?
They had the privilege of playing the role that would crown the wedding’s finale. They might even have the chance to become part of the groom’s mouth. Some candidates wiped away tears of emotion.
One trainee, screaming and trying to flee, seemed unable to accept the disappointment of not being made into the cake.
As encouragement, the supervisors promised to use him as practice cake before the main event. Of course, he wouldn’t be served.
That could provoke the dissatisfaction of She Who Dwells Beneath the Earth, the White-Handed Bride of Wrath.
A trainee unworthy to be groom could not be used.
Becoming part of the wedding was a privilege owed to those who were thankful to have been groom-trained. Those who didn’t measure up would have to content themselves with attending.
“Hm.”
And there was an even more glorious part of the wedding cake.
The top tier.
“What sort of glory is that?”
The glory of belonging to the Bride.
The top tier would be cut and served to the White Bride, offered on the altar itself.
“Indeed.”
Thus the supervisor declared which candidate would enjoy that honor....
You.
“Me?”
Yes.
Among them, your face is the fairest to present to the White Bride.
Your tongue, which fell farthest from groomly standards, will be cut away, and the space filled with rose cream.
“......”
The groom candidates seized Lee Jahaeon. Laughing with joy and camaraderie, fellow cake-to-be.
The already dead.
An eternal ghost wedding, repeated by souls buried alive and bound long ago by some strange, powerful being beneath the earth, was about to begin....
“Well, now....”
The entertainment ghost story smiled broadly.
“How classical.”
Huh?
“A White Bride! Oh, using the name of ‘wedding’ for human sacrifice—now that’s truly classic. A kind of metaphor, isn’t it? Old-fashioned, easy to grasp, simple.”
The words spilled out.
“Clearly, you’ve struggled to interpret an overwhelming, incomprehensible being through the framework of human civilization!”
Clap, clap, clap....
“Don’t misunderstand. It’s not criticism, just pity. Tradition is important. But isn’t it sad when it’s nothing but useless pomp?”
At some point, he had slipped gloves from his pocket and donned them with flair, straightening his attire once more.
Then he asked:
“Who here has discovered something new about the White Bride’s tastes lately?”
Silence.
“I thought so. No sense of adventure among you.”
“How many times has this been repeated? The Bride must be sick of it by now. Bored to death, being offered barely tolerable grooms and sacrifices just to humor her!”
“At the very least, shouldn’t the ceremony itself be entertaining enough to keep her watching? But a wedding cake? Guest invitations? Party favors? Dull, dull, dull.”
Piercing words lashed them.
The frozen candidates stood stiff, listening to that voice.
All but one, who clenched his fists, holding back a cheer.
‘That’s it.’
Well done, Brown!
It was Kim Soleum, inside Jahaeon’s mind.
He had been watching nervously as Brown acted through Jahaeon’s body, but now he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
‘It really works....’
This was the true head-on breakthrough.
Namely—
‘Wreck the wedding!’
Raise such chaos that the academy itself would break down and release all the pupils, postponing the wedding.
Of course, that meant pulling off the insane combo of not dying, not being punished, and successfully persuading the ghost story.
Amazingly, the one who could do all that—the being within their minds—was already here.
A talk-show host.
A legendary entertainer.
And since the very essence of this boarding school ghost story was an event, it could hardly resist his overwhelming influence....
Just look at this spectacle.
‘And no blood sacrifice needed as a bonus.’
Perfect.
“Now then, do you know what must happen next?”
In Soleum’s view, Brown—using Jahaeon’s body—raised a hand high.
Yes, tell them: for the next wedding, think it over better, and for now, dissolve this gathering....
“Survival!”
......
Huh?
“A refined yet desperate battle—until only one groom candidate survives!”
Wait a second.
***
Clink.
Eunhaje dropped the spoon from his mouth.
Only the day before yesterday had he finally been released from the Disaster Management Agency with the status “Resigned from Baekilmong. No charges,” and returned to his MySweet officetel....
“...The hell is this now?”
He saw it.
On his officetel TV, tuned to a late-night channel, some insane broadcast was playing.
Your Perfect Groom: Be Chosen by the Bride.
On the screen, styled like an early 20th-century black-and-white TV, a matchmaking show was airing.
And a familiar face was standing there as the host.
“Chief?”