Midnight Station.
The place announced over the train broadcast as having a casino was, from the platform itself, different from the pristine Se-gwang Station.
Red and yellow lights.
The moment our feet hit the floor, we saw tiny bulbs twinkling like little round carnival lights, strung in colorful lines and packed across the ceiling.
Some of the bulbs were burnt out, shattered, or in broken strands, which only deepened the eerie atmosphere.
The feel of an old, worn-out entertainment hall.
[Hmm. Looks like the place hasn’t been maintained properly.]
But the facility was only a fleeting focus.
Something far more shocking was unfolding around us.
The passengers who got off with us.
The long-term missing who poured through the train doors and staggered onto the platform of Midnight Station—at that moment, their true forms revealed themselves.
“...!!”
Clothes ragged and worn, coats rotted through, hair tangled and filthy, frames gaunt and hollow.
The look of those long isolated and abandoned.
Once freed from the train’s influence of “showing the passengers as they first appeared,” they now bore the unmistakable appearance of the long-term missing.
A chill of dread gripped our group.
But for people who had entered all manner of dangerous legends, this sight was something they were half-prepared for.
What shocked us was something else. For example—
Their bodies were in pieces.
“.......”
Arms, legs, sometimes hands, eyeballs, noses, ears, hair... the gaps showed plain on their bodies.
Not just one part, not in any consistent pattern. Some couldn’t walk properly, stumbling, crawling, or slamming into the screen doors.
And still, they moved.
Upward.
Toward the stairs, heading for the concourse.
An exhibition....
The sight called to mind the Blind Man’s Mansion, and the faces of both former and current field exploration teams who’d nearly died there tightened with remembered tension.
But there was a difference from the spectators and victims of that place.
The finish.
“...Too smooth.”
As if cut out of a doll or clay, the missing connections where their parts had been lost were far too clean.
Even places no human tool could possibly sever were simply gone; as they moved, you could see empty air pressing at the silhouettes of their clothes.
That uncanny effect.
The way it viciously scraped the uncanny valley, contrasting with the torn, filthy look typical of long-term missing, made for a scene all the more ghastly....
And ominous.
...Why do they look like that?
The question of what exactly was happening in this “casino” station made keywords and guesses flash through our heads.
All the more because we were seasoned.
“.......”
“.......”
“Hold position.”
We answered in silence.
Likewise, Section Chief Lee Jahaeon, whose gloves had returned in tatters, swapped them for spares while we stood mutely on the platform.
We waited until the crazed movement of the long-term missing subsided a little.
Then slowly moved.
Toward the stairs.
And as our feet landed, we realized—
From above, faint bright sounds trickled down.
Piano, brass, strings.
A coaxing melody.
[Ah, a cheap jazz recording. At the right time and place it might be romantic, but right now it only highlights the decay of the facility....]
“...Anyone feel pulled to the music, or anything strange? ...No? Okay. Let’s go.”
We climbed carefully, avoiding the “passengers” thrashing or tumbling down the steps.
And at last, the concourse should have come into view, but—
“...!”
The stairs ended in a wall.
A tiled wall.
And set into it, a door and a small unattended counter.
On the door, words were written—
Royal Casino
Open for Business
Enjoy a Fantastic Experience
“...By the look of it, all the missing went in here.”
The music was leaking from beyond.
Enticing.
“If Deputy Lee Seong-hae got off at this station, odds are good he’s in there.”
Whew.
Deputy Eunhaje kneaded his shoulders himself.
“Do we knock?”
“And if it kills us...”
“Then we end the exploration early.”
Knock knock.
He rapped the door.
And from the little unattended counter beside the door, a sign dangling on a stringed pen popped out.
“...!”
I turned at once to check. It read—
“An unattended pawn counter?”
A kind of instruction.
※ Body parts may be exchanged for casino coins. ※
On the provided slip, write down the body part you wish to exchange, and the fee will be shown.
Then submit the slip to the counter.
“...!”
“Fuck.”
And so we learned the rough mechanism.
“...An organ-trafficking casino.”
The wiki page updated.
Se-gwang Subway Map
Body Casino.
Midnight Station (Body Casino)
A subway station of Se-gwang Special City where a gambling hall named “■■ City Royal Casino” is located.
Originally a tourist casino for foreigners, linked to a hotel, but on Disaster Day in Se-gwang Special City, it mutated with a new form of currency.
For patrons who had no valuables left to barter, the casino offered new items of exchange.
Over ninety percent of those who evacuated to this station on Disaster Day are now dead or wandering addicts.
Seriously.
The conditions of a high-grade legend indeed....
And the most dangerous part was this:
“...To enter, you have to sell something.”
But—
“In that case, easy.”
Without hesitation, Deputy Eunhaje scribbled something on the slip behind the sign.
Left hand
“Citizen!”
“I don’t have that hand in reality anyway, and I’ve got equipment to replace it right now, so this makes sense. Let’s not waste time.”
And shockingly, rough handwriting scrawled itself across the slip.
Left hand — 32 coins
The price?
“Hard to say how much that’s worth. How many coins for a game, I wonder.”
Scratching his head, Deputy Eunhaje abruptly—without consensus—shoved the slip into the counter.
The slip vanished into the dark. From inside came the faint rattle of coins, and then—
“Ugh.”
Blood spurted from his wrist.
“...!”
“Deputy!”
I hurriedly pulled out a coagulant and pressed it to his mouth. The same stuff from Baekilmong’s infirmary.
He swallowed, the bleeding stopped, and his wrist was revealed—
The left hand was gone.
And then—
clink.
A small pouch popped out from the counter.
“Coins?”
He lifted it, trying to look inside.
At that moment—
We felt eyes.
“.......”
The long-term missing thrashing on the stairs were all staring at us.
Specifically, at the pouch in Deputy Eunhaje’s hand.
“.......”
clack.
The door opened. Colorful light spilled out.
“Inside, now.”
Deputy Eunhaje urgently handed out a coin or two from the pouch to each of us, then stepped forward. We hurried after him, coins in hand....
thunk.
The door shut before me.
“...!”
I grabbed the handle reflexively, but some force blocked it.
“...Looks like only the person who made the trade can enter.”
Whew.
At least, when the pouch vanished, the long-term missing averted their gaze....
“...So, anyone who wants in has to give up a body part.”
Exactly.
To enter, you must choose what to forfeit.
[Oh, friend... if you want to play, I could introduce you to a much better place.]
...I appreciate the thought, but I’m here for work.
I calmed the “kind friend” whispering dreadful things, and kept thinking.
What to cut?
Meanwhile, someone had already decided.
Right ring finger — 4 coins
Section Chief Lee Jahaeon.
“You chose the least useful finger?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Citizen, why not pick a toe instead?”
“I considered the risk to balance and mobility in emergencies.”
“Hm. You know how to choose.”
Everyone’s criteria were similar: pick the body part least used alone.
Surprisingly, even Baek Saheon, after much thought, chose the same as Section Chief Lee.
I’d thought he’d refuse to enter no matter what.
Because it’s a casino, maybe?
He seemed driven by a desire to get something.
...Hmm.
“An appendix fetches only 7 coins? These bastards must’ve eaten plenty of people.”
“Better choose something else, considering the risk of internal bleeding.”
I watched as the agents, after deliberation, each sold a left hand or right ring finger.
In the end, sensible choices converged.
But I felt it—
...Coins won’t be enough.
No way to know what awaited inside; better to have some emergency funds.
“So, just write it all down, drop it, and go right in. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“At least you answer clearly. Let’s go.”
I saw Section Chief Lee submit his slip, bind the wound with his gloves, collect the pouch from the counter, and enter the casino door.
The others, already scribbled slips in hand, moved with precision.
“Podo Agent.”
I watched as the last, Agent Cheongdong, picked up his pouch from the counter, then gripped my slip.
And then—
I raised the pen and erased what I’d written.
Right ring finger — 4 coins
“Agent!”
Right eye — 35 coins
I tossed it into the counter.
Blood burst across my vision, my right sight vanished.
“Now...!!”
“I-I’m fine.”
Not fine. It hurt like hell. So bad it made me want to curse out loud. It wouldn’t be strange to cry with the one eye I had left.
...But Deputy sold his living hand?
What, does he think he’s Xiahou Dun or something? For fuck’s sake.
I snatched the heavy pouch from the counter and dashed into the open door. Agent Cheongdong practically hauled me inside as the door closed.
clack.
“Are you insane?!”
“Enough. It’s not like the eye’s growing back.”
Deputy Eunhaje quickly stopped me and checked me over.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
I gulped Baekilmong’s stock emergency meds for clotting, then answered.
The pain ebbed slowly. I didn’t dare the reckless attempt of holding up a phone to the wound; instead, I glanced at the others’ severed parts.
...They have wounds.
Why had the long-term missing been cut so strangely smooth?
Contamination, then?
I resolved to be wary as I looked around.
Agent Cheongdong looked like he had plenty to say, but when Choi Agent gripped his shoulder, he pressed his mask and turned away.
Hoo.
“Everyone, return the coins Deputy Peregrine handed out.”
“Well. Fine.”
Baek Saheon scowled but gauged the mood and returned his coins to Deputy Eunhaje.
I too handed over the cheap, metal-coated tokens I was holding, politely, to the deputy.
Then I took in the casino interior.
Similar to the platform’s feel.
We were still at the entrance.
Strings of carnival bulbs, gambling hall colors. Black, gold, red everywhere. The mutilated sat in corners, muttering.
No staff in sight.
But slot machines dotted the space—some broken, some still running.
The air was like a deserted casino someone had left switched on.
Long-term missing pressed close to the working machines, feeding in coins—a sight full of foreboding.
“There’s another pawn-like place there. Right by the door we came through—so that’s connected?”
“...Looks like the storage for the body parts exchanged for coins.”
Exactly.
Right beside the door we entered. Through dusty, filth-streaked glass, countless “stored” body parts were piled.
And at the only open window in that glass wall, I saw another use for coins.
Casino Coin Rewards of the Day
“As expected.”
Items you could buy with coins were listed.
Water — 1 coin
■■ canned food — 2 coins
Kitchen knife — 4 coins
Pig’s head — 7 coins
Left ear — 21 coins
Whipped cream cake — 53 coins
Gas range — 152 coins
Golden goblet — 256 coins
Bath of Youth — 1810 coins
※ For other items and special rewards, please inquire at the counter.
[I see a familiar name. Never thought they’d stock it in such a shabby place.]
A familiar item indeed, but more importantly, a crucial clue.
“There’s food.”
Absurdly overpriced, but still, available. That mattered.
“...Could Deputy Lee have counted on this?”
He couldn’t have known in detail.
But he might have hoped.
“Seeing so many people get off, he may have judged there’d be something helpful for survival.”
Outside, Se-gwang Special City was an extinction-class legend.
The subway, an entirely unknown legend.
Contamination was unavoidable, danger inescapable.
With the train broadcast naming a casino, it was soundest to pick a place that at least seemed to promise supplies.
If no one got off, that’d be the real red flag.
I guessed Deputy Lee must have thought the same.
And then—
“...Citizens, take a look there.”
Choi Agent pointed above the list of coin goods, to an old banner.
Royal Casino Exclusive
Special Product
Emergency Exit — 10,000 coins
The hot item that lets you leave anywhere! A high-class means of transport for busy ■■ modern people—premium luxury for the top 0.01%!
“Could that be a way out?”
“...Quite possibly.”
Aside from the insanity of having to save up 10,000 coins when a single eyeball fetched only 35.
Hoo.
My hand rose reflexively to my empty socket, and when I met Agent Cheongdong’s gaze with my remaining eye, I muttered an excuse:
“It’s fine. I chose considering it’s a casino.”
Even with one eye, gambling wasn’t much hindered.
Depth perception isn’t vital in gambling.
With the place named casino, all the more so.
Casinos are mostly cards and slots.
Losing an ear or hand would be worse. Missing a card shuffle or being unable to use both hands—that’d be fatal.
And besides—
If Deputy Lee made a similar calculation....
.......
“I’ve found it.”
On the pawn display among the countless body parts, I finally spotted one.
A green glimmer, a black iris with a clear pupil.
Deputy Lee Seong-hae’s eye.
“...Looks like he made the same call as you. Smart ones really are cut from different cloth.”
Deputy Eunhaje flexed the equipment that replaced his left hand and said:
“Sell a hand, and gambling gets rough. There’s a reason cheats in card games lose their hands.”
“...Citizen, how would you know that?”
“Call it rich experience for journalism. Anyway, it’s certain Deputy Lee got off at this station.”
.......
“The question is whether he’s still here.”
And another—
How much has he already lost?
...We need to find him fast.
My body was already moving with urgency.
“Then let’s split into pairs and—”
“Hello there.”
.......
I froze.
“First time at the Royal Casino, right? Looking over the goods, visitor?”
A familiar voice.
“I came to meet you, to inform you that since your party’s exchange exceeded 50 coins, you’re eligible to play games beyond just the slot machines.”
I turned my head.
The casino’s dealer, come to greet a new customer, stood behind us.
“Please, come this way.”
It was Deputy Lee Seong-hae.
Looking at us with a face missing one eye.