I looked around at the traces left in the wedding hall, now more like a crime scene.
My head swam.
How many people had died?
There were still some “trainee pupils” sitting in the guest seats, poor souls caught up in this insane Groom Class ghost story.
All of them looked vacant, their expressions drained.
I counted the empty seats.
Out of fifteen, eleven dead.
Not even a third remained.
A thirty-percent survival rate...
Well, better than being roasted alive by reptilian plasma fire.
I’d already judged it impossible to save everyone. No matter what we did, there would inevitably be casualties. But to die like this—just for the sake of setting the mood in a TV show...
...
“You’re slow to answer, my friend. Still lost in the afterglow of the live broadcast, are you?”
But I knew very well.
There was no point in saying something like, “Was that really necessary?” to Brown.
Handing the reins over to a ghost-story host who would do anything for a successful broadcast—this was exactly what I should have expected. Especially after his warning just beforehand.
Maybe it was lucky that not everyone had been wiped out. Maybe it was fortunate that at least a few survived.
The bitterest part?
I wasn’t even that shocked by the deaths anymore.
It wasn’t just that I’d grown numb.
I was a mind barely holding itself together, clinging to sanity through a bell in this shapeless body.
Being able to feel even this much, to feel a trace of sorrow for the dead, was actually a blessing.
...
Focus on whether the survivors can get out.
And then—
“Brown.”
“Hm.”
When Brown asked, “What do you think?” the right way to answer was—
“You really lived up to being a legendary host.”
“...!”
“I expected you to wreck the wedding, but I didn’t think you’d rebuild it even more successfully. Thanks to you, the Bride seems satisfied.”
From what had just happened, I realized something.
If we’d simply sabotaged the wedding and bolted, who knows what disaster would have followed.
Because the Bride was satisfied, the situation ended up calmer, safer than expected.
But.
“...You’re not planning to keep making this into a series, are you?”
The way Brown had basked in the ratings of the live broadcast—
I couldn’t shake it.
What if he made this into a new series of the Midnight Talk Show? What if Groom Class mutated into a higher-grade ghost story because of it...
“Mr. Roe Deer.”
Brown’s cheerful voice was suddenly gentle.
“You’re saying the obvious, and so cautiously!”
...!!
“Of course, if conditions allow, I’ll think about producing another season. A producer mustn’t waste the moment when the viewers are hot. You sensed that? My friend, you have a true sense for broadcast.”
“Brown.”
“Yes, friend?”
“You do know the Midnight Talk Show is much more fun, right?”
A pause.
“Oh, of course. You state the obvious, Mr. Roe Deer! Don’t worry—I won’t neglect the Midnight Talk Show. I only meant that if the conditions are right, production is possible. For now, let’s close it out with an epilogue broadcast.”
Phew.
“And now the crew will strike the set.”
Clap, clap.
At the sound from empty air, the cameras, lights, and band in the wedding hall were dismantled with military precision by faceless staff.
They had no features, and yet a few of them looked °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° oddly familiar... No. Don’t think about it.
Go too deep, and you get dragged in.
I already felt on edge just for mentioning it.
I averted my focus from the staff, and my shared vision naturally shifted to something at the end of the white velvet carpet: the altar.
“......”
It was shattered, reduced to scattered stone shards blown outward. The carpet torn, the floor scarred.
And beneath where the altar had stood—
A black hole.
A depthless dark.
“......”
A moment ago.
The Bride had come from there.
Even censored by Lee Jahaeon’s perception, the chaos of it was overwhelming. That thing, slumbering below, barely bound into the framework of a wedding ritual...
“Mr. Roe Deer.”
...
“Don’t try to turn your eyes away.”
...!
I jolted back to awareness.
At some point I’d seized control of Lee Jahaeon’s body, trying to wrench his gaze aside.
“...Thank you.”
“Yes.”
Throughout the entire broadcast, Lee Jahaeon had remained silent, but now that it was over, he’d taken back his body.
He had simply observed the wedding hall calmly.
He’d tolerated his own body being used to wink at the camera and host a live broadcast. A true veteran field agent, his judgment was sharp as ever.
And now he was letting Brown’s words conclude without interference.
“Mr. Roe Deer. Do you want my advice?”
...
“...If I said yes, what advice would you give?”
“Yes. Remove the talk-show host ghost story called Brown from your mental system.”
Aagh!
“Oh, listen to the pitiful swordsman who, if not for the broadcast, would have ended up as a wedding cake instead of walking out on his own two feet.”
W-wait a second.
“Section Chief. At least we can be certain that now, escape is possible without plasma bombardment. Right?”
“Yes.”
Phew.
“And who created this ‘situation’? Why, the Midnight Talk Show host—the entertainer who whipped up a live broadcast program in a single day. Anyone with sense ought to be thanking him.”
“I see. Thank you.”
“......”
“Now remove him.”
For once, I saw a talk-show host ghost story struck speechless.
“...Still, it was worth it, wasn’t it?”
“I hear a sound disappearing.”
......
Right...
Anyway, the tension seemed to ease at last.
“...Let’s just get out.”
Time to separate those two, fast.
In every sense, I was exhausted.
“For now, let’s head straight out the front gate, Section Chief.”
The boarding school’s front gate had reappeared, thrown wide as if declaring surrender to the broadcast, letting the crew come and go.
I watched as Lee Jahaeon sent the survivors out first, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
An ethical choice.
Good.
Then he too stepped through.
Wide open.
Through the shared vision, I saw light spilling through the gate.
Something never seen in this eternally overcast boarding school ghost story.
Sunlight.
We stepped into it...
...
“Customer.”
I opened my eyes.
A white space. A place of light and geometry. Somehow, I was seated there.
And before me—
“We confirm the attempt and success of rescuing the entity ‘Lee Jahaeon’ from the Space Shopping Mall.”
The Space Shopping Mall lizard.
This time, jade-green.
It seemed I was meeting them again through a mechanism similar to the VIP Personal Shopping.
“Section Chief Lee Jahaeon returned safely?”
“Yes.”
“I want to speak to him directly.”
“Yes. That is why ‘we’ are here.”
I blinked, then understood.
For them, speaking with “us” was the same as speaking directly with Jahaeon.
Because Jahaeon was us.
One vast shared mental system, sharing all experience and judgment.
Which meant—
They felt no sense of “cutting off” a member like Lee Jahaeon.
To them it was no different from discarding a fingernail, cutting away a burn, amputating a festering limb.
Regret, maybe, but never guilt.
Because they were them.
It was a strange sensation.
“I’m sorry, but I’d like to speak to the individual Section Chief Lee Jahaeon.”
“There is no difference in experience or judgment.”
“Please.”
A pause.
“Confirmed. The entity Lee Jahaeon will contact you directly in reality.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
At least he had returned safely.
“Then I just go back to my body?”
When I’d gone to rescue Section Chief Jahaeon, the Space Shopping Mall explained that as the final step of the ‘We Help!’ item’s function.
—When the rescue of the caller succeeds, the responder’s spirit returns to its original coordinates.
“Yes.”
The lizard nodded.
Time to go back, then.
“You will claim your reward later?”
“My reward...?”
“Our reward for rescuing the entity Lee Jahaeon.”
...!
“The Space Shopping Mall is giving me a reward?”
“No.”
The lizard’s gaze turned oddly cordial. More meaningful.
“We will reward you.”
...
“We,” broader than the Shopping Mall.
“What do you want?”
My mind snapped clear.
This was no ordinary chance.
“...Can you help me rescue someone in Segwang Special City?”
“Not recommended.”
I expected that.
They hadn’t recommended the “We Help!” button either.
So, aside from that urgent matter...
...I needed to think more carefully.
Don’t answer hastily.
After long deliberation, I settled on one.
...
...
Of all the goals I’d set in Baekilmong’s underground isolation ward, the clearest one.
“I want to regain a human body.”
I want to be human again.
I want to have a body.
“By ‘human body,’ do you mean that of a twenty-first-century Earth human?”
“Yes. Is it possible?”
The reply was immediate.
“It is possible.”
...!
“How?”
“Use the body of a human whose self is extinguished.”
Wait—that meant...
Switch bodies?
Such an alien way of thinking. And even harder for me to act on.
...Maybe shift the nuance.
“What about making my current body usable like a human’s? Like when I was still a Baekilmong junior staffer.”
I swallowed, watching the lizard’s muzzle.
Slowly, its mouth opened.
“Yes.”
...!
“Then that’s the help I want.”
“Yes. We will deliver the reward once preparation is complete.”
Good.
I nearly clenched my fist in triumph and said I was leaving—then a thought struck me.
What if?
“My helping to rescue him—it saved you the cost of plasma bombardment, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then... will my help be tallied like that bombardment cost, as Shopping Mall purchase credit?”
The lizard met my eyes and nodded.
“We deem your statement rational deduction.”
And—
“Congratulations on your membership upgrade.”
It handed me something.
A VIP gratitude card?
It looked like one. But had I actually advanced past VIP?
So there was a higher tier.
Of course there was. This was the Mall.
I opened the ornate golden card—
I’m a Space Shopping Mall VVIP!
Amazing upgrade!
Gratitude cells enclosed
“......”
“......”
“...About this design,” I asked.
“Yes?”
“You make it yourselves?”
“Yes.”
...
Somehow I understood a lot.
“Thank you. I’ll be going.”
“Yes.”
I carefully pocketed the card.
“See you again.”
And I was swept out of the shopping space.
***
A gentle sensation.
“Podo.”
I opened my eyes. At some point—
“You awake?”
I was lying on the wooden floor of my Disaster Management Agency lodging.
The agents had slid the paper door open, faces peering in.
Black Tortoise 1 Team.
Ah.
I was back.
I lifted my hand. A thermometer and pulse reader tumbled away. They must have tucked them into my clothes, checking desperately for signs of life.
They had prepared so much.
A lump rose in my throat as I sat up.
And I quickly reported:
Report and Thanks:
▶ Safe return
▶ Successful rescue of Section Chief Lizard
A very satisfying result.
“Oh, impressive,” Agent Choi said, grinning as he clapped my shoulder.
“Then can I ask you one more thing?”
Yes.
“Okay! Look at this.”
He held something up.
The little rabbit doll I’d kept in my pocket.
“Your friend Brown.”
Right.
The agents had said they’d returned it to me.
I’d meant to thank them. Once again it must have slipped out of my clothes, and they’d picked it up.
“The talk-show host, right?”
...
...!!