A rainy Monday afternoon.
The staff of Team D hastily wrote their situation report at an unprecedented speed and even submitted it through their team leader's ID.
The reason?
A newbie cleared a time-gated ghost story way too easily!
“Wasn’t the deadline supposed to be three days?”
“It was.”
The deputy manager and supervisor sat across from the rookie on the sofa, spreading out snacks pilfered from the break room in front of him.
Exchanging glances and nodding in agreement, they decided it was finally time to ask.
“So, how did you manage to get out so quickly?”
“Oh.”
The new hire hesitated briefly, then, as if realizing something, replied,
“I sped up the time.”
‘He’s answered so casually as if he’s just talking about what he had for lunch…!’
Before they could say anything, the rookie began calmly explaining his method.
“Since there was a time limit, I thought there must be an event that tells the ghost about the passage of time. So I focused on that part…”
He even explained how he used expiration dates to trigger a ‘time alert.’
Listening in silence, the superiors had only one thought:
‘Genius.’
‘We can’t allow him to quit.’
An intuition and logic that grasped the essence of the ghost story in an instant?
He was a genius born to work in the Field Exploration Team. They couldn't let him escape—no, they had to help him adapt well!
“I’m not one to welcome or anything, Roe Deer-nim.”
“However, at this rate, you’ll probably even surpass me and get promoted soon.”
“…?!”
Such a rookie could never be replaced.
“If you make it big, don’t forget about us… and if you get a Wish Token, come brag about it…”
The new hire seemed a bit flustered.
“No, um, actually.”
“Hmm?”
As if making a significant confession, he added,
“I was just scared and wanted to get out quickly.”
“…”
Wait, is fear supposed to help you escape urban legends faster…?
It felt like their understanding of reality was breaking down as if this was an escape room.
‘Such overwhelming humility…!’
Yet the new hrie remained steadfast.
“Next time, please give me a heads-up. I was so scared I nearly fainted.”
“And this is coming from someone who cleared it in just one hour…?”
With a peculiar expression, the new hire said, “I thought I was going to die.”
‘Lies!’
If someone really thought they were about to die, would they be capable of breaking a record for clearing a time-gated ghost story? Even veteran staff wouldn’t dare attempt such insane feats.
Still, they understood the sense of betrayal.
‘To be fair, it was a bit extreme.’
Even if it was deemed safe, being thrown into a paranormal phenomenon alone was no trivial matter.
But the team knew how to soothe this bruised heart.
The ultimate cure for a working professional!!
The deputy manager sipped her coffee and asked,
“So, Roe, how much did you make?”
“Excuse me?”
“The money you get for clearing it.”
“Oh, yes. I earned 10 million won.”
That’s right. Clearing this F-grade darkness came with a reward.
And according to the manual, it was clearly stated that:
- When clearing a fully documented F-grade darkness, 50% of the profit is awarded as a bonus to the employee.
Conversely, it meant that 50% of the money earned by following the manual’s escape route was taken by the company.
However, the rookie’s first assigned darkness doesn’t fall under this clause!
The company argued that since these ghost stories were tested dozens or hundreds of times to ensure safety, they couldn’t justify hazard pay for rookies.
The new employee had already read this manual.
But here’s the thing:
“Well, normally, the company takes it all… but just keep it.”
“…What?”
Once you’ve been around long enough, you learn to work around the rules.
Since he had discovered a new escape method, the manual didn’t technically apply to his case. And loopholes? There are plenty to work with.
A massive sum landing in your account on your first day? Suddenly, everything would feel like sunshine and roses!
The deputy manager and senior staff grinned warmly at the rookie, as they were using the same trick they’d fallen victim to before.
“Hey, don’t sweat it. We’ll take care of everything.”
“…”
‘Actually, it was 20 million, but.’
Kim Soleum, who was planning to secretly take half, broke out in a cold sweat.
Suddenly, he had an extra ten million won that he couldn't explain the source of, and while he felt a sense of joy and guilt, he got up with his superiors.
“Well, now that you’ve successfully explored the darkness, it’s time for the most important thing.”
“The most important thing?”
“Yeah.”
The superior smiled mischievously.
“Employee welfare mall points!”
* * *
“Phew.”
Being in the middle of a crowded city in broad daylight felt like heaven.
It was to the point where I could even sleep with the lights on.
‘Having 20 million won in your pocket really does bring peace of mind…’
No matter how scary the ghost story was, this was still 21st-century South Korea, a capitalist society.
I finally sat down at my assigned desk, turned on the computer, and logged into the intranet.
Sitting in this well-lit office with a posture-correcting chair made the insane reality of confronting ghosts earlier feel like a complete lie.
There was even a cute set of stationery and a wide-eyed lizard figurine on the desk.
‘…Doesn’t it seem used?’
Hopefully, the previous user had won the lottery and quit suddenly, leaving their desk behind.
Anyway, the welfare mall was already bookmarked on the PC, so accessing it was easy.
[Daydream Incorporation Employee Welfare Mall]
I quickly registered using my employee number and clicked on the ‘Point Registration’ tab, as my superiors had instructed.
- Select the grade of darkness you cleared, write your name, and attach the PDF before submitting.
I followed the process as instructed.
And five minutes later…
[Employee Kim Sol-eum / Points Earned: 100p]
“…!”
The points were credited astonishingly fast.
‘So, clearing an F-grade solo gets you 100 points.’
Even if the effort felt disproportionate, an F-grade was still an F-grade. Time to temper my expectations.
But since I had some points, I decided to check what 100p could get me.
And the very first page surprised me.
“…A robot vacuum cleaner?”
The product selection was better than expected.
Most items on sale were priced at 100p, while top-tier home appliances cost about 500p.
Meanwhile, the company’s unpublished experimental medicines were listed at around 1,000p, featuring jaw-dropping over-technologies like corneal regeneration potions.
Oh, and the hair-loss medication, which cost about 500,000 won in real world without insurance, was available here for just 100p.
‘This is actually pretty great.’
Feeling hopeful, I moved my mouse.
Now, it was time to check the most important item:
The name that shone at the top when sorted by ‘Highest Price’ under the ‘Company Products’ tab.
‘Wish Token.’
The miraculous item that was introduced as the ultimate employee benefit after surviving a deathmatch. Its price?
Wish Token: 500,000p
“…”
Is this a joke?
‘500,000p?!’
Clearing a ghost story alone earned me only 100p.
Five hundred thousand?
‘Even if I solo-cleared an F-grade every day, it’d take 15 years.’
But there’s no way it would be as simple.
‘If everything went as planned, this wouldn’t even be a legit company.’
It’s impossible to exclusively tackle F-grades daily. There would be various anomalies.
‘It’s highly probable that I’d just be pushed into a high grade darkness with team pretty often.’
Wait, does that mean I’d have to split the points, too?
I checked the points table for each grade of darkness.
F-grade: 100p
D-grade: 1,000p
C-grade: 2,500p
B-grade: 10,000p
A-grade: 100,000p
S-grade: Subject to Review
Additional bonuses were provided based on company-specific assessments, like urgency, lack of information, or added risks.
‘With three people per team, that means a standard split for clearing together…’
…So I’d need to clear a B-grade 150 times to get a Wish Token?
‘Are they insane?’
Even at B-grade, civilian survival rates plummet to 2%.
At that level, any choice you make leads to death—or worse.
Even entering B-grade darkness 150 times pretty much means death for a normal employee.
In such a crazy situation, you’d beg on your knees not to be sent in.
Speedrunning higher grade darkness seems clearly impossible.
‘In the end, to improve survival odds even slightly, I’ll have to commit over 10 years to this company.’
This isn’t some revenge tale of patience.
And somehow, if the Field Exploration Team gets the most points, employees in other departments might never even dream of earning a Wish Token during their career.
With so many other items available in the welfare mall, people in other departments might just settle for less and feel content.
But not me.
My goal is extremely surreal yet crystal clear.
Returning to my original world.
Living here for 15 years? Nah, I’d die of a heart attack before that!
“No way!”
I needed a plan.
“I have to carefully figure out which ghost stories I must get involved in and which ones to avoid.”
I had to maintain a golden balance with safety while collecting 500,000 points in the shortest time possible.
Just as I was about to plunge into serious contemplation, my supervisor tapped me on the back and asked,
“ Roe, have you registered? Is the computer working fine?”
“Yes. Oh, about these items on the desk…”
“Oh, that’s the team leader’s desk.”
“…”
No wonder it looked used!
“As long as you don’t break the monitor, you’re good. You can use it comfortably for today.”
Is this company… really okay?
Letting a new employee temporarily use a superior’s desk for a while—what kind of crazy practice is that?
“Now that I think about it, nothing here seems normal.”
This is a company that uses people to generate potions by tossing them into ghost stories. If I were to hold this place to the moral standards of a decent 21st-century Korean workplace, it’d be absurd at every turn.
…Maybe bending the rules a bit isn’t so wrong after all.
“Oh, Roe, you smoke?”
“No, I’m good.”
I didn’t follow the superiors for their smoke break.
Instead, I looked down at the desk I was using, took a deep breath, and flipped the keyboard over.
As expected, a sticky note was there.
[Lee Jaheon, Team Leader / 105105301]
ID: yongj1111
PW: dydajflgodks!111
It’s not surprising, but blaming them for a lack of security awareness would be hypocritical in a company where this kind of thing is so common.
“If he’s the team leader… then he’s probably the department manager.”
And in fact, in this company, there’s a certain site accessible only to managers and above…
It would certainly help in clearing high-grade ghost stories.
“…”
After seeing that insane target of 500,000 points, I can’t let this go to waste.
Alright.
“Let’s do this.”
Resolving myself, I accessed the benefits mall again.
But this time, not with my own ID.
ID: yongj1111
Password: dydajflgodks!111
Using Team Leader Lee Jaheon’s ID, I attempted to log in to the benefits mall.
The password is incorrect.
“Hmm…”
That’s fine. I anticipated this much of a hurdle.
Let’s see. Clicking on “Sign Up” shows the password requirements.
“Ah, there must be an uppercase letter.”
In that case, if I just capitalize the first letter of the password written under the keyboard, changing it to ‘Dydajflgodks!111’...
Ding!
[Welcome, Manager Lee Jaheon]
“I’m in!”
I clenched both fists under the desk. A small celebratory gesture I could make without drawing attention—though there was no one else in the office right now.
Anyway, what I needed to find on this page… was a kind of phishing link.
The so-called “Alien Shop.”
The <Chronicles of Darkness Exploration> contained quite a few ghost stories involving aliens, and some of them involved these beings trying to sell their goods to humans using weird communication methods.
“Though they weren’t malicious, from a human perspective, some of the things they sold were unsettling or dangerous.”
Still, most of them were funny, making them a rare wholesome part in ghost stories.
And they did seem to have a commercial mindset. Perhaps wanting to target potential customers, they had even planted ransomware-like ads on the company intranet.
‘Only visible to managers or higher on the benefits mall.’
I remembered exactly how to access those phishing links.
“If you randomly click around the benefits mall and then hit the back button five times in a row…”
Click, click, click…
Beep!
Suddenly, a small green hand appeared in the corner of the benefits mall screen.
A pixelated left hand waved as if to grab attention.
Above it floated a speech bubble.
1st Anniversary Discount! Up to 80% off!
Bored of your job? >> Click
Want to get stronger? >> Click
Want cool stuff? >> Click
‘Lame.’
It looked just like an old-school internet banner ad.
But surprisingly, clicking this ridiculous thing would…
Open an external internet site from the intranet, leading to the alien shop.
As much as I wanted to click it immediately!
‘I need to hold back.’
Instead, I right-clicked to copy the link, pasted it into Excel, and took a picture of it with my smartphone.
“Company PCs leave access logs for everything.”
There was nothing good about leaving a record that I clicked on alien ransomware—especially using someone else’s account.
Soon after, the supervisors returned from their smoke break, and I nodded casually, pretending nothing had happened.
“ Roe, when the Team Leader gets back, let’s have a welcome dinner. On the company card.”
“Yes, thank you.”
And then, I waited until the end of the workday.
* * *
That evening, even though my monumental first day at work ended…
My job wasn’t over yet.
“Let’s do this.”
I transferred 20 million won to my account and headed home.
Now, in my bedroom, I was using an image analyzer app on my phone’s gallery to extract the phishing link to the “Alien Shop.”
After fixing a few parts that weren’t scanned properly, I opened a browser and pasted the link into the address bar.
“Phew.”
I took a deep breath… and hit enter.
Click.
Following the complicated link in the address bar, the page began to load.
At first, a screen appeared that looked just like the company’s benefits mall… only to glitch and break apart.
And then, a new page appeared.
It looked straight out of the early 2000s internet, with underlined text and plain fonts.
<Space Shopping Mall>
※ Awesome Items from Outer Space ※~!!
>> I want to see the items
Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. In the corner, a pixelated green UFO spun around.
“So lame.”
But I couldn’t let it fool me.
Clicking “Items” here would reveal extraordinary supernatural products for sale.
…The prices, however, were also extraordinary.
The cheapest started at around a million won.
…It was the result of some ghost story creators’ inflated egos, leading to fictional hyperinflation of money.
Yesterday, I wouldn’t have been able to buy a single item from this list…
‘But now I have 20 million won.’
My heart raced slightly. The idea of buying fictional items in real life was definitely exhilarating.
‘Huuu.’
Finally, I clicked the “Items” tab.
The screen loaded.
Items
Bloodsucking Cutlery - ₩14,999,999
Long-Range Walkie-Talkie - ₩4,999,999
Alice’s Picnic Set - ₩11,999,999
We Help! - ₩66,666,666
※Discount!※ Silver Snake Coin - ₩4,999,999
₩19,999,999
“…”
I recognized over half of them.
Was my luck finally turning?
“Alright.”
In the midst of my elation, I quickly recalled what I knew.
Bloodsucking Cutlery:
A small fork and knife set that evolves by sucking the victim’s blood, becoming larger and sharper. A growth-type weapon.
Long-Range Walkie-Talkie:
A toy walkie-talkie that allows remote communication with others in ghost stories. Very useful when you have companions.
Alice’s Picnic Set:
As the name suggests, inspired by Alice in Wonderland. It includes a drink that temporarily doubles an item’s effect and cookies that halves it.
That’s what I knew about the items so far.
The remaining two were unfamiliar to me. But for now, “We Help!” was way beyond my budget, so I skipped it.
‘The Silver Snake Coin is on discount.’
Buying a discounted item seems like a fair deal.
“Hmm…”
I crossed my arms.
A weapon, a communication device, a buff potion… and a discounted item?
My budget was 20 million won.
What would be the most worthwhile purchase?
“Alright.”
I made up my mind and clicked.
