Honestly, it’s not the first time people have mistaken me for a ghost-story resident.
No, before I became a literal nonhuman 130666, I actually nudged people into that misunderstanding and made good use of it.
But to have an actual Daydream person go, “No, you’re registration number such-and-such!” at me felt weird.
And while I was in cat form, at that.
I’m... a Daydream-registered ghost story?
On top of that...
Kang Ihak is in a worship-type contamination toward me...?
That person... it’s probably just because a cat told him about an item and showed him the way out...?
There seems to be a gulf-wide misunderstanding here.
Still, seeing the phrase “saves people,” I’m relieved it didn’t get distorted into something like “Cat Killing Machine: Mercilessly grinds humans,” at least...
Gwak Jegang reacted to that line like this.
“Do I look like it? Then should I beg for my life?”
“Section Chief!”
“Well, that’s better than dying, isn’t it? And if it helps people, it’s a decent gamble, statistically speaking!”
Snickering, he turned his head toward me and asked:
“Mr. Cat, where are we, by any chance?”
“In darkness not registered with Daydream.”
Thump.
Deputy Lee Yeonhwa fell backward.
“Ha ha ha!”
She stared at me—now back from cat to human—with a look that said she couldn’t believe it, shuffled away, bumped into the hydrant door, jolted, then caught her breath.
I’m sorry.
It was a decision I couldn’t avoid for the sake of impact...
“Y-you said you didn’t remember.”
“That was a lie.”
I understand your shock, but please hear me out a little more.
“If I’d advised you honestly, you would never have believed me and would have died while fleeing.”
I flicked my gaze toward the door as if looking outside the hydrant.
The two researchers—aside from Gwak Jegang—went pale again, as if they’d imagined the miserable things happening to the others right now.
Deputy Lee Yeonhwa spoke in a trembling voice.
“We’ll believe you now, so please answer again. ...Where are we, really?”
“......”
Being in this position, I get it.
It really is hard to tell the plain truth.
A city sealed to prevent further casualties after being entangled in a colossal ghost story, with government access and information blocked; a living nightmare itself; and Daydream is probably the cause?
You’re now trapped in this insane place and can’t get out?
But if I die, I can leave?
In the end, this is how it comes out.
“...Think of it as an abandoned city. That might be easier to grasp.”
“No. Not the easy-to-grasp version—please give us the truth.”
...!
“Right, because everyone listening is a researcher. Please feed the puréed baby food to your three-line-summary Shorts crowd—the delicate moderns who want that!”
Beaming, eyes glittering, Gwak Jegang said:
“Tell us!”
...Hmph.
I sat down.
Then I spoke to Gwak Jegang.
Strictly speaking, I stared at the missing last joint of his little finger.
“If you keep the promise you pinky-swore.”
“......!!”
“Fine. I’ll tell you.”
I watched a flicker of bafflement and surprise, then quickening elation, cross his face, held in a sigh, and continued.
And I explained Se-gwang Special City.
A city that, for certain reasons, got caught in an enormous ghost story and was ultimately sealed to prevent additional loss of life.
And, strangely, while the subway here remains more intact than the outside, the stations have each already been swallowed by different darknesses...
“And this station’s name is Noon Station. Nickname: Nap Shelter. ...Of course, sleeping here means death.”
I shared everything I knew about this station from the wiki, experience, and rumor.
At first the researchers listening turned ashen with despair, then were inevitably seized by their occupational disease.
Curiosity and analysis.
“This is fun. Is it that ‘drowsiness’ chases you so your neck gets ‘wrung’??”
“Pardon? Ah!”
“...You’re making a pun, Section Chief.”
“Yeah. Wordplay! During naps you’re often in REM, so you have weird dreams. In nonsense dreams like that, odd metaphors or associations get justified!”
Then he shot me a sidelong glance.
“This ghost story seems conceptually deep-linked with napping... Mr. Employee—no, Mr. Cat, what do you think?”
“...I thought along similar lines.”
Impressive.
“Given the name Noon Station, it’s probably that noon goes on forever, so the nap never ends.”
“Exactly! Death is an eternal sleep, isn’t it. For a darkness, metaphor and symbol working cleanly is delightful.”
His ideas spun fast.
I noticed something rather striking.
...He’s like me.
A habit of hunting for rules and gaps.
Granted, he felt more theoretical and less practical than I am, but still, seeing people start from a perspective so similar to mine—rather than me alone charging in with “I have an idea!”—was fascinating.
Is this... a ghost-story researcher?
[If my friend feels comfortable, that’s all that matters. Even if outside is a zombie apocalypse!]
Right. That was the real problem...
Shuffle.
“Shh.”
Whenever those oddly weak footsteps sounded outside the hydrant, I warned them. I could see the researchers’ shoulders lock up with tension.
When I signaled with my hand that it was fine now, Deputy Lee Yeonhwa swallowed and spoke.
“...Why are you helping us?”
I hesitated, then answered like this.
“Enough sapient beings have already died in this city. I don’t particularly like that.”
“Ah.”
Deputy Lee Yeonhwa nodded as if realizing, Oh, that kind of darkness.
Please keep misunderstanding me smoothly. Thank you...
“Then, to raise our survival odds, would you also find a solution to break this darkness?”
“Section Chief...?!”
I gave a small nod.
And added:
“If possible.”
“Ha ha ha, thank you. In that case, hm, if I were to predict the method you’ll use, Mr. Cat...”
Gwak Jegang’s eyes flashed strangely at me.
“Set every clock in this residential area to 7 p.m.? Make it not nap time! Ha ha, plausible, no?”
......!
A familiar clear method.
Alter the symbolism to shift the time slot.
Exactly... the method I used at the convenience-store ghost story when I was the lead rookie on the Daydream field survey team.
...He remembers my clear method.
It was almost eerie.
It was also a flex that he understood my identity rather well.
But I shook my head.
“Unless we change Noon Station’s station name, that sort of countermeasure will be difficult.”
Because the station name is a stronger symbol.
“Then what about changing the station name...”
“Stop.”
Gwak Jegang flinched and shut his mouth. Deputy Lee Yeonhwa looked at him like she couldn’t believe it.
“For now I’ll guide you to the platform. Hide in the hydrant there. I’ll handle the rest.”
“No, that’s...”
“Y-yes!”
The project researcher answered at once. Deputy Lee Yeonhwa, who’d been about to object, stared at him in disbelief, but he stood firm.
Right. A solid survival drive—very Daydream employee.
I stared straight at him.
“But before that, I have a question.”
“Y-yes...?”
I’ll be frank.
If this person dies before we reach the platform hydrant, I’ll lose my chance to ask, so I want it nailed down.
“You.”
I fixed my gaze on the one surviving project researcher from Director Ho’s team.
“Exactly what research were you doing when you ended up here?”
“...!”
“Don’t try to hide it.”
I deliberately framed his face with my hand.
“I already know this much: you were researching a way to enter this city, and an accident occurred during that process.”
“......!”
The researcher gauges the mood.
“Th-that... I, uh, you know, right? I... can’t give specifics...”
“If Director Ho Yuwon has placed a prohibition against divulging to non-project personnel, I’ll persuade the other researchers to cover their ears.”
“...!!”
Cold sweat beaded on the project researcher.
Gwak Jegang, who’d been watching all this with avid interest, made a wronged face, but I ignored him.
I got the other two to turn around and cover their ears, then faced the project researcher again.
“Go on.”
“.......”
“Please don’t make me conclude you’re trying to duck responsibility.”
Given that a shapeshifting bio-aberrant turned into a cat and created this much pressure, he won’t try a pointless lie.
“By what research did you enter Se-gwang Special City?”
“~!”
Eyes squeezed shut, the project researcher finally blurted, almost mumbling:
“We used a subway darkness...!”
“......”
“Among the stations you can get off at, there was a station name presumed to be Se-gwang Special City! It was a stabilized ghost story, so we thought it would be fine...”
......
“Fine enough to use for an employment test?”
“...!!”
I let go of the face I’d been holding as if brushing it off.
“The darkness you used was D-grade no. 16, ‘Welcome to the Abyss Transit Authority.’”
“...!! H-how—?”
How else. Your reaction confirmed it.
Wow.
What lunacy.
—Passengers, thank you for using the Abyss Transit Authority today... Our train does not stop.
The very first ghost story I encountered after joining Daydream, at the newbie OT.
Images flashed up: escaping via Taepyeong Station with Ko Yeonhwa, and Baek Saheon getting out alone by offering one eyeball.
Whew.
So its station themes can include a Se-gwang Special City station, huh.
Meanwhile, poked right in a sore spot, the researcher started spilling words like a complaint.
“S-sometimes, when the station theme shifts, there are rounds where it only lists stations that actually exist in reality, and if you get an unnamed station and get off there...”
He rambled about how the Abyss Transit Authority was basically a ghost story the company could play with; that as they widened its range of draw, other researchers besides himself got swept up; that the disembarkation step was experienced by a test subject; and so on...
It was chilling, but one thing stuck hard in my head.
A subway train.
They entered here via a ghost story about riding the subway.
And then.
“...If you used test subjects, that means you kept trying to shove ordinary people in here?”
“I-I don’t know. They must have died. We didn’t know it would be like this, we didn’t, why me, let me out, please...!”
“......”
My head feels like it cooled to ice.
A company of sociopathic bastards...
I held back a sigh at the project researcher huddled in a corner, muttering defensively and weeping in self-pity, then patted the other two on the back.
“Oh, are you done?”
“You didn’t secretly eavesdrop, did you, Section Chief.”
“Hey now, would I! I want to stay on Mr. Cat’s good side!”
Deputy Lee Yeonhwa stifled a sigh at Gwak Jegang smacking his lips and grinning.
...Strangely, it feels like shared suffering. In a madman’s world, we share the sensitivity of small citizens...
“More importantly! Sitting over there alone, I came up with a stunning method.”
With a sly grin, Gwak Jegang rubbed his palms and adjusted his glasses.
“What if we send a signal that the nap is over, that it’s time to go to work? Who knows—maybe everyone whose necks have turned and fallen asleep will wake up!”
“What do you mean by a signal?”
“When you think residential neighborhood, a few ideas pop right up. Shouts about heading out to work, a school bell marking the end of lunch, a voice saying get up and eat. Lots we could try, really!”
“......”
“Come on! It’s not like hiding passively in hydrants will solve things, please!”
Practically grabbing my pant leg, Gwak Jegang clung.
“Just one! Let’s try just one...”
“......”
I turned my head.
Disastrously, Deputy Lee Yeonhwa was looking at me with nearly the same expression...
“If it works, it’s a jackpot!”
***
And forty-five minutes later.
“Uwaaaah!!”
We were screwed.
Stifling a curse, I yanked Gwak Jegang—whose neck was about to twist—out of a turned-neck’s grip and saved him.
“Gkh—one more second and I’d have died—keh,”
This man is going to drive me insane.
“Wow, to think none of it would work! Ha ha, seems this method only draws attention, huh?”
You’d better know the only reason you’re getting leniency is that you weren’t trolling on purpose.
“S-save—kgh, save me...”
“......”
I ran past a researcher lying dead in the alley, with Deputy Lee Yeonhwa and the project researcher under either arm.
Cold sweat dampened my back with dread.
There are too many.
It feels like the residential lanes are shrinking, somehow.
And on every street, the spawn rate of turned-neck entities is rising.
We shouldn’t have tried Gwak Jegang’s method.
I should have stuffed all three into the platform hydrant immediately.
Cold sweat slid down my temple, but luckily it pooled inside the cat mask and didn’t show outside.
Even if I try to console myself that at least we learned those methods don’t work, the fact that three researchers’ lifelines are in my hands makes my heart feel like it’ll burst.
Maybe it’s because I’ve seen too many dead researchers and too many corpses of turned-neck people.
What do I do?
Of all times, it’s three, which makes it hard to run with one under each arm.
I kept a calm face, but my brain was racing.
If I turn into a cat now, I don’t think I can keep up with their pace.
Still, I should at least pop up and check the route once? No—no matter how easily my cat contamination falls off and reattaches compared to others, I don’t know what risks it carries like other contaminations...
No good.
We’ll find another hydrant, shove them all in, then chart a path again.
“If you see a shiny silver rectangle, tell me.”
I’ll go straight there and check if it’s a hydrant.
I had just decided to turn into a cat and spring up onto a wall when—
“M-Mr. Cat, over there...”
I reflexively turned my head.
“That... looks like a silver rectangle!”
At the far edge of sight where Deputy Lee Yeonhwa pointed, along one side of the shabby residential block—
There was a silver rectangle.
But it wasn’t a hydrant.
Like a recently trendy sign stuck half-heartedly in a neighborhood—like a café or a small select shop—the sign sat there.
And I could read the letters on it.
Moonlight Tattoo Shop
......!!
“Uwaaaah!”
[Oh dear, they’re pouring in from the other side again!]
I clamped a hand over the project researcher’s screaming mouth and issued rapid orders.
“Get inside.”
“Pardon?”
“I know the owner there. We’ll be welcomed—go in.”
“...?!”
No time to say more. Dodging the turned-neck, I rushed to the sign and opened the tattoo shop door.
Then, herding them like sheep, I shoved all the researchers inside, stepped in myself, and shut the door.
Thump.
“......”
Third visit.
The interior of the tattoo shop, now familiar to my eyes, came into view.
Even the artificial moonlight pouring down from the central ceiling.
Why is this shop in Se-gwang Special City?
I don’t know, but I’m grateful just to catch my breath.
And there—the shop owner, the tattooist sitting at the table—had already risen at the sight of four customers bursting in.
Up to here matched, more or less, the picture I’d sketched from the moment I saw the shop and charged inside.
...But there was something I hadn’t imagined at all.
Good Child
The blue dragon mascot’s form sat opposite the tattooist, teacup in hand.