In <Chronicles of Darkness Exploration>, when you enter a ghost story, communication and data transmission are completely cut off, leaving everyone isolated.
‘It’s such a classic ghost story setup.’
But stories are always more fun when there’s some interaction and conflict involved.
To make this structure more intriguing, I vaguely recall reading in some ghost stories that a few teams under <Daydream Inc.> had access to single-use items enabling emergency communication.
‘Could this button be one of them?’
While my brain spun rapidly to deduce the answer, my mouth was already moving.
There’s no time to waste!
“Is this Team D’s leader?”
[Yes.]
“I’m Kim Sol-eum, a new hire from Team D. I have something urgent to report.”
Better to dive straight into the situation!
“In 30 minutes, everyone in Team D will die”
Even if the person on the other side might get shocked, this is the most efficient way. I should calm him down quickly and relay the information…
[I see.]
[Give me a 5 minute briefing.]
“…”
Why is he so calm?
Sure, mass casualties among field teams aren’t uncommon… but this? This feels inhuman.
‘Does he lack basic empathy…?’
I almost got flustered, but I shoved the thought aside because the situation was too urgent. I concisely summarized the events.
“There was an anomaly during the D-Grade Darkness, ‘Tuesday Talk Show.’”
The sudden interruption by employees from other teams, the abrupt cancellation of the quiz show,
and the chaotic transformation into the insane choir show.
[How many employees are left?]
“Three out of seven employees are alive. Everyone in Team D is safe but if nothing changes, all of us will die in 30 minutes.”
The Team D leader responded with unsettling simplicity.
[Understood.]
[Try to buy an additional 30 minutes.]
“…”
Can I do that?
“That’s impossible.”
[Then there’s no solution.]
Incredible. He somehow managed to infuriate me in less than thirty seconds, even while I was reporting a critical situation.
‘This is such a waste of time.’
I’d heard stories about higher-ups in the field teams being eccentric and detached, but actually speaking to one… it’s enraging.
‘Does he think his team members’ lives are a joke?’
I was about to hang up and come up with my own solution when…
“…”
Wait.
“What difference does it make if we buy an additional 30 minutes?”
Why did he ask for more time?
[Ah.]
[With 55 minutes to spare, I could secure authorization from the security team and get the strongest available weapons and entry devices.]
The voice on the other end explained calmly and methodically.
[Even if we handle all necessary post-procedures afterward, it will take 40 minutes to retrieve the equipment and another 15–20 minutes to deploy into the darkness.]
“…Does this mean Team D can be rescued if that process is completed?”
[Statistically, yes.]
“…”
Special equipment that allows a field exploration team member to enter A-Grade darkness alone and suppress anomalies?
There were only a handful of people in the field team capable of such a feat….
‘Named Characters’
The employee I’m speaking with right now—this has to be one of the characters I’ve read about in <Chronicles of Darkness Exploration>!
‘And not just any character—they probably played a fairly significant or memorable role…’
The realization sent shivers down my spine.
A few candidates came to mind, and my thoughts raced faster than ever.
“Stealing equipment from the security team would be… yeah. Impossible, right?”
[…? That’s correct.]
The security team’s operations are heavily restricted by the narrative logic of ghost stories, and their security measures are absurdly strict. It was, by design, impossible.
‘But if the person I’m speaking to really is one of the employees I know…’
That changes things!
I gulped hard and asked,
“Excuse me, but could I ask what mask you’re wearing?”
If they say the nickname I was thinking of…
[Lizard.]
“…”
Ah.
It’s you.
“Manager.”
There were 20 minutes left.
“…Based on what you’ve shared, I’ve come up with a plan.”
Let's go with this.
* * *
[Ah, Roe!]
Break time was almost over.
I returned to the talk show stage with a bottle of water from the waiting room.
‘It’s human. Option 2, humann, humaannn.’
In the background, two employees who had endured several dozen minutes of the ‘choir rehearsal’ looked utterly drained. The CRT TV-headed host extended a hand toward me cheerfully.
[How are you feeling? Are you ready to put on the best show ever?]
“Yes, thank you for your concern.”
[Haha, the better condition the contestants are in, the better the show turns out, don’t you think?]
Given the host’s prior behavior, his tone seemed strangely friendly.
The smiley sticker effect was still active.
‘So far, so good.’
I carefully chose my words.
“…You seem deeply passionate about your show, Mr. Host. Your continuous efforts are what makes the show captivating.”
Given the circumstances, I abandoned any shame or pride. Compliments rolled off my tongue with ease.
[Such praise! But broadcasting is a collaborative effort. You’re part of this, too, Roe!]
No, no. Not that direction…
“Thank you, but it can’t compare to the work you do, leading such a grand talk show.”
That’s the angle.
“That’s why it surprised me to see the show’s format changed so suddenly.”
[…]
“No live audience, pre-recorded applause, the penalties removed… even the band’s size was reduced.”
I thought of the black-and-white posters in the waiting room, all displaying live talk shows with vibrant, interactive audiences.
That is, assuming that space is the host’s personal space.
‘This host probably dislikes the changes.’
“It feels like these changes were made to cut costs.”
A single mishap could make the host perceive this as an insult to his show, and I’d lose my head. But staying silent meant death anyway.
Let’s do this.
I glanced at the stage, pretending to examine something.
At the choir conductor with the severed pig’s head.
“…Did they perhaps use up the budget to invite that guest?”
[!]
The TV screen on the host’s head briefly went blank.
It then turned to smiling emoji.
[That’s not something a contestant needs to worry about.]
“I apologize.”
Please spare me.
Frankly, that pig-headed thing terrified me so much that I couldn’t even look at it properly.
“I was just such a big fan of the Tuesday Quiz Show. I’d been looking forward to participating, so I guess I got carried away. I’m really sad it’s been canceled….”
[Ah, thank you for your kind words! But… show business is indeed brutal.]
The host’s screen went dark.
[If viewers prefer this new format, then adapting quickly is the skill of a true entertainer.]
“I see.”
I gulped hard.
“But isn’t it still unclear how viewers feel about the change? At least for me, I preferred the old format… the lively interactions with the audience, the energy of a live show…”
[…]
“And to change it so suddenly, without even consulting the ho— I’m sorry, I’ve spoken out of turn.”
I hesitated before adding,
“I just… I found myself enjoying the live broadcast earlier. It was exhilarating.”
[—]
The host stood still, saying nothing.
Their screen crackled faintly with static, then…
Ding-ding-ding!
[Ah! Only 60 seconds left until filming resumes!]
The cheerful emoji returned, and an announcement echoed across the set.
[Let’s give it our all for the final stretch!]
[Roe, please go back to your podium.]
“…Yes.”
[Alright, starting in… 10, 9, 8….]
As the host counted down, he no longer seemed as transfixed by the camera as before.
However, it seemed that my conversation had left some sort of impression, as the host no longer appeared as entranced by the camera as before.
‘Good.’
The bait is set.
I nodded at the host and stepped onto my podium.
Moments later, the show resumed.
[Alright, Badger.]
[It’s finally time to give your answer!]
The show restarted.
[Will Badger be able to join the prestigious choir as one of its members?]
Supervisor Park Minseong seemed to have come to terms with the situation by now, wearing a resigned, bitter expression.
I saw him quickly mouthing something in my direction.
–“Thank you.”
What was he saying? "Thanks for helping me prepare to die...?" Wait, hold on.
I mouthed my own response back.
–“Answer it correctly.”
“…?!”
Minseong looked at me like I was insane.
Fair enough, I understand.
“Being burned to death or becoming some grotesque human instrument that endlessly repeats your last words are both terrifying fates…”
but this is the best way forward.
Supervisor Park, looking rattled, turned toward the deputy manager.
She gave him a firm nod.
[Badger? You have three seconds left.]
“A-Ah, yes! I’ll answer!...”
Supervisor Park clenched his eyes shut and yelled,
“Option four: Burns!”
[Ohhhh!]
A recording of the audience’s murmurs echoed across the stage.
And then I saw it.
Flutter.
From the dark, unlit corner of the stage, something appeared.
A postcard.
The same bizarre postcard we used to enter this place.
My earlier conversation with Manager Lee Jaheon flashed through my mind.
–“So, manager, you’re saying we can interact with the ghost story using that equipment as a medium?”
– “That’s correct. But what I have is for emergency supply transfers—only enough to transfer small items.”
–“That’s enough. Just…”
The postcard shimmered faintly as it fell to the ground, and then—
A small AAA battery shot out at an unbelievable speed.
“…!”
The battery flew straight toward the conductor with the severed pig’s head and with a thunderous impact,
it struck a silver tray.
– “Please throw it with all your might.”
The tray crumpled like paper as if the battery had punctured it.
A display of physical force that defied belief.
‘As expected.’
I recalled the description of Manager Lee Jaheon from <Chronicles of Darkness Exploration>.
-------------------------------
Employee D
Nickname: Lizard.
Final Position: Team Leader.
One of the rare combat specialists in the Field Exploration Team.
Known for solving ghost stories reliant on logic or narrative by using brute force instead.
???: "Isn’t it just that your body’s so messed up your brain has to pick up the slack?"
Conversely, when his brute force fails, it signals the true beginning of catastrophe.
-------------------------------
If I’d tried to attack the pig-headed conductor directly, I might’ve gotten a firsthand taste of what “catastrophe” felt like.
But the tray?
But what if it’s just a silver tray?
"Since he’s an employee with the ‘ghost stories can be exorcised with physical force,’ type.
I thought it might work.
And my prediction was correct.
The tray was nearly punctured, riddled with damage.
“Then…”
Sweat dripped down my face as I let out a satisfied grin.
[Wow! Badger, that’s the correct answer!]
Normally, this would when the winner’s head would be severed and added to the silver tray to join the choir.
But now, with the conductor’s precious “instrument” damaged….
[…Conductor?]
The dead pig’s mouth gaped open.
Its rotting jaw stretched unnaturally wide, tearing the decayed flesh as it went.
The prerecorded sound of applause abruptly stopped, leaving only an eerie silence.
[…It seems our guest has come up with a groundbreaking new way to perform! I’m so excited to see what they have in store for us!]
The pig screamed.
From its torn snout, a horrifying sound began to emerge…
[…The contestant is waiting. Conductor, please welcome them as a new member of the choir!]
A bloodcurdling scream pierced through me.
My stomach churned. What on earth have I done? What horrible, absurd thing have I unleashed? Did I awaken a nightmare? A beast? Did you see it? The crawling worms? This mistake, this terrible choice—inevitable… inevitable doom!
Praise the Throne of Pure Silver. Death—
The band’s sound roared, drowning out the scream.
“Gah!”
This is insane.
Drip. Drip.
Blood started dripping onto the platform.
It was mine. My nose was bleeding profusely.
But I had to block my ears. I had to wait. The band was going quiet.
[You.]
Drip.
[You don’t respect the show.]
I lifted my head.
Amid the silence,
Whoosh
The once-dominant, ominous presence of the conductor burned away to ash in an instant.
I’d seen this many times before.
‘Incineration.’
A unique authority wielded by the host. Within this D-Grade darkness, the host of the "Tuesday Quiz Show" could incinerate participants who disrupted the broadcast.
But now….
“A D-Grade Darkness… just incenerate an A-Grade Darkness completely?”
Something about this felt wrong.
My plan was simply to agitate the host to temporarily halt today’s broadcast. But instead….
[Yes, the essence of a show lies not in flashy guests but in staying true to its core.]
I looked around.
The staff, the lights, the band, the recording devices, the cameras—
They all burned to ash.
Only the host’s vintage TV remained, flickering vibrantly.
[The thrill of witnessing, the joy of communication, the unpredictability of the narrative…]
[You ■■■ creators don’t realize that. You don’t deserve to produce these shows.]
[But I! I can do it!]
The host spread his arms like a savior, the television screen glowing brightly.
He turned toward me.
[Roe!]
[Thank you! You’ve given me a new vision!]
[My mind is so clear now. Yes, from now on, I’ll recruit contestants every day of the week!]
He leaned closer.
[I can see it. You have the talent to be a show creator yourself.]
[I hope you’ll join me as part of the crew for my new talk show, Mr. Roe!]
This is bad. Very bad.
[New contestants, a new set, new music, a new season… I’ll send you an invitation once everything’s ready!]
However.
[It’s such a shame today’s broadcast has to end like this… but your enthusiastic participation was truly impressive.]
[See you in the next broadcast!]
It worked.
I blinked.
As my vision blurred, I saw the figure of the host waving at me, dressed impeccably in a suit, as they vanished.
And in the next moment—
“…”
I found myself sitting on a sofa in a bright, quiet office.
I turned my head.
Supervisor Park and Deputy Manager Eun sat next to me, both looking at me with blood dripping from their noses and ears.
We all realized it at the same time.
We’d survived.
“Woohooooo!!”
“You absolute lunatic, you genius!”
In the midst of cheers and hugs, I slumped onto the sofa, exhausted.
We’d survived.
We’d escaped… alive!
“…Hey! Your collector!”
That wasn’t the end.
The deputy manager pulled something out of my suit pocket.
It was the Dream Essence Collector.
It was filled with a golden liquid.
Unlike the F-Grade reward from last time, this one was…
“A-Grade.”
“…”
“Roe, you cleared an A-Grade darkness on your second day at work…!”
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