The remote mountain lodge was a complete mess, covered in severed body parts and blood-drawn pentagrams.
Inside, the civil servant stood holding a butcher knife in front of a woman who had fainted again.
And there I was, looking down at the scene from the second-floor railing.
If I hadn’t known it was fake, I would’ve passed out too—it was a lunatic’s living room.
But the lodge caretaker who entered through the back door was polite.
“Have you been comfortable during your stay?”
As if.
Still, there was no need to waste energy, so I just stood silently.
The lodge caretaker didn’t bother with clichéd lines like, “I stayed away so you could enjoy a peaceful stay without interruptions.”
He simply said this:
“It has been three days. The time has come.”
“……”
“You may now exchange the inheritance of this lodge for the cassette tapes.”
No one had died up to this point though? That was surprising.
From here on out, the chaos of people killing and being killed was unavoidable.
That’s the point.
The cassette tapes wouldn’t release any survivors until enough trauma and shock had accumulated.
‘That’s why I set up everything this way.’
To instill trauma and shock.
Not exactly appealing to modern sensibilities, but it was designed to scare people so badly that they truly believed they were going to die.
And apparently, my plan worked.
The lodge caretaker delivered his scripted lines, and the living room remained unnaturally peaceful, without any stabbings.
Of course, that peace wouldn’t last.
The caretaker approached the first person, the “wife,” who was unconscious on the sofa.
“Visitor.”
“……”
“Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?”
“Ugh, huh… huhhh?! AHHHHHHHH!”
The woman, regaining consciousness, stumbled a few times before bolting out of the lodge.
Well, that was unfortunate.
‘She might’ve been better off staying unconscious.’
The caretaker turned without hesitation and addressed the next person.
“Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?”
“……”
The civil servant stared at the caretaker for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth.
“I’ll declare my intention last.”
“Understood. Then…”
The caretaker turned to the final person.
Me.
I met the lodge caretaker’s gaze.
A figure from a ghost story, dressed in shabby, ragged clothes but speaking with an elegant Seoul accent.
“Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?”
Exchange, huh?
“Yes.”
Of course, I would.
‘I worked like a dog for three days just for this.’
If the intruder survives, they are entitled to a promised, substantial monetary reward.
This was the moment I had endured for—the reason I’d gone so far as to impersonate a serial killer.
‘Priority number one in the exchange.’
I took out the cassette tapes I had gathered from the backpack of one of the college students.
The couple’s tapes.
The students’ tapes.
And even Baek Saheon’s tape.
“Six in total. As the visitor, you have absolute priority in the exchange.”
A faint hint of excitement flickered in the caretaker’s expression before disappearing as he resumed his formal demeanor.
“You may now become the owner of this lodge. Will you do so?”
“No.”
“……”
If a surviving entrant chooses the disaster site (Horizon Mountain Lodge) as their reward, their altered traits will become permanently bound to them.
Even though I only pretended to be a serial killer, there was no reason to take on that kind of risk.
‘But that doesn’t mean I can just pick something at random or refuse the exchange outright.’
Whether you exchanged for gold, garbage, nothing at all, or even burned the lodge down and waited for it to be reduced to ashes, the same thing would happen.
In the next cycle, new items would mysteriously appear to draw people to this place, and the lodge would reappear in its pristine form, repeating the carnage.
Plus…
‘I’m pretty sure if I choose an exchange, anyone I ‘killed’ but left hidden would die for real as part of some gimmick.’
There was even a record of it.
-------------------------------
Personnel: 8 conscripts, 1 civil servant (Grade 8).
The civil servant was successfully designated as the serial killer but used a special item instead of the provided poison during the third murder, rendering the conscript comatose rather than killing them.
Attempted to conclude the disaster without killing the conscript.
Result: 1 Civil Servant survived (exchange refused).
※ The entrant, who had been comatose, was later found to have choked to death on vomit after the exchange ceremony.
-------------------------------
Like, if the place caught fire, I might accidentally trap people inside, preventing them from escaping.
That would make me an actual serial killer.
‘Even if these people are destined to die in this ghost story, I can’t help feeling uneasy about it.’
Let’s respect my humanity.
After weighing my options, I made my decision.
This.
“I want to exchange one cassette tape for the authority to hire the lodge caretaker.”
The lodge caretaker seemed momentarily stunned into silence.
“You mean my employment contract?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
You know what?
The Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau typically aims to eliminate ghost stories whenever possible.
Unlike the insane pharmaceutical company, which prioritizes preserving and managing them as much as possible.
For Daydream Inc., ghost stories might be a source of raw materials, but for the government, they’re just disasters.
Some creators reflect that stance in their fan works—disasters the government oversees can be successfully resolved.
For example, one official record stated.
-------------------------------
The lodge caretaker declared that their contract had ended following the exchange.
The site of the lodge became an empty field.
No signs of supernatural activity were observed in the area afterward.
Disaster resolved.
-------------------------------
This was the official final exploration record for this phenomenon.
A ‘full stop’ to the story.
‘So, why not end it myself before it repeats a few more times?’
Like this.
“It seems you still have time left on your contract with the previous lodge owner. I’d like to transfer that to me.”
I wouldn’t take ownership of the lodge.
But if I obtained the lodge caretaker’s employment rights and ended his contract, it would create the exact scenario described in the last record.
“……”
I waited for the lodge caretaker’s response.
Finally…
“In theory… it is possible.”
Right.
“However, I must respectfully inform you that certain qualifications are required of my employer.”
“Qualifications?”
“Yes.”
The caretaker’s polite tone briefly carried a faint trace of arrogance before returning to its usual deference.
“It requires innate and existential nobility.”
For someone in charge of running a murderous mountain lodge?
It seems he lacks quite a bit in terms of ethics and morals compared to the average modern person...
“– Haha! A worker at this small lodge is acting like an 18th-century butler mistaking his master's authority as his own!”
“– Why not just take over the lodge and fire them?”
Braun... That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid by doing things this way.
‘Wait a second. I think there might be another way.’
“– You’re remarkably patient, Roe Deer!”
Sure, sure.
I gave a vague response while rubbing my chin.
‘...Nobility, huh.’
Actually, something did come to mind.
It’s true I couldn’t bring along any items, but there’s one thing I always carry in my pocket because it’s so small.
‘My merch.’
The most recent item that popped out of the merch box, the "Silver Heart," rattled in my hand.
An item that amplifies one’s influence when worn by a kind-hearted person.
‘I needed to test it out anyway.’
I carefully used one hand to open tweezers inside my pocket, then maneuvered the small silver badge onto the fabric.
And then...
“……”
“……”
There was no particular reaction from the other side.
‘Ah.’
It must be an issue with the scope of its effect.
‘The caretaker probably isn’t a human.’
The wearer gains reverence from others based on accumulated altruistic actions.
Hmm, I already had questions about the definition of nobility anyway, so this was just an experiment.
I quickly shifted gears.
If that’s the case...
“Are you saying I lack innate and existential nobility?”
I had no choice but to keep talking.
“It’s hard to find someone who meets those criteria, so I hope you won’t feel too discouraged, sir.”
“No, that’s not the issue. So, are you saying the exchange is difficult because I don’t qualify?”
“That is correct.”
“That doesn’t make much sense to me.”
I deliberately furrowed my brows, like a customer filing a complaint.
“Didn’t you say, ‘If you bring me the cassette tapes, I’ll exchange them for anything I have’? That was the condition, wasn’t it? It’s confusing when the terms suddenly change.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be tired.
“Three days. That’s how much time I’ve spent here. And now, at the last moment, you’re saying qualifications are required? That’s not what we agreed upon.”
The caretaker seemed a bit flustered.
“There seems to be some misunderstanding.”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
“The terms remain the same. However, if you inherit my employment rights, there may be difficulties in exercising actual control.”
The lodge caretaker kindly explained.
“If you take ownership of the lodge itself, I will continue to work here under the existing contract. However, inheriting ‘employment rights’ only allows you to use that authority where it is valid.”
To summarize: "Yeah, I’ll keep working under my current terms, but I won’t listen to you.”
“So, it would just be a piece of paper, a contract that can’t actually be enforced?”
“Exactly.”
Wow.
“I don’t mind.”
“……”
This is even better!
It can be nullified!
“Then, as long as I’m aware of that, I can still proceed with the exchange, right? If I wish to go through with it despite knowing the limitations, there’s no reason to stop me.”
“...If that’s the case.”
The lodge caretaker extended both hands.
“Then you are correct.”
He conceded.
“Please place the cassette tapes you wish to exchange.”
Sure thing.
I quickly handed over the tapes I was holding.
Tap, tap, tap.
Six tapes left my hand and fell into the lodge caretaker’s rough palms.
The lodge caretaker smoothly stored the tapes within his tattered clothes. Then, carefully adjusted his frayed sleeves before pulling out a thin, old object.
It was a piece of paper.
It appeared to be made of traditional Korean Hanji paper but was oddly Western in shape, rolled up and sealed with red wax.
“This is the original copy of my contract.”
The moment I took hold of it...
The old paper ignited.
“…!”
The traditional paper burned with an orange glow, disintegrating into sparks that soared into the air.
Then, it wrapped around my wrist.
Specifically, the spot where the theme park mascot had left its tattoo!
‘Hold on a seconddd.’
: Socius :
The tattoo heated up and began to glow.
The sparks collided with the tattoo as if they were wrestling, then bounced away as if surrendering.
Finally, they settled vertically near my forearm.
: 恩主 :
“……”
Now I have two tattoos.
‘This wasn’t what I intended.’
I was planning to keep the physical contract as an item, but this... it feels oddly bound to me. Though, in terms of portability, this might actually be better.
“– Benefactor (恩主), huh? That’s quite an old-fashioned term as well.”
Even Braun didn’t say anything ominous or unsettling about it.
Judging from past experiences, civil servants probably can’t see this tattoo anyway, so that’s a relief.
If he thinks the contract simply vanished into thin air, even better.
‘Not like I’m going to summon the caretaker anyway.’
I looked up.
As expected, the lodge caretaker had disappeared without a trace, as if they were never there.
What remained was a blood-stained lodge straight out of a horror movie.
And there I was, standing next to a civil servant.
‘Everything’s wrapped up.’
Strangely enough, at that moment, a soft light began streaming through the window.
It was sunlight.
“The weather cleared up.”
“……”
Alright, everything’s sorted.
With the mood lightened, I’ll disappear quietly, and the agent can go his own way.
The identities of the people tied up and unconscious in the basement will probably be handled by the government.
‘Since the ghost story itself is gone, I doubt I’ll be flagged or have my personal details recorded.’
Governments and corporations typically don’t put much effort into cases that don’t require follow-up.
‘Even if it’s marked as an unusual record, it should be fine. I didn’t kill anyone, after all.’
As long as I play it cool and explain myself well, I should be able to walk away cleanly...
“You there.”
The civil servant climbed up the stairs from below.
Striding towards me, he grabbed my arm and asked with a serious expression.
“Have you ever considered a career change?”
Excuse me?
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