Ghost Story Worldview: Even if You Fall Into a Ghost Story, You Still Have to Go to Work Episode 146
When people are in a bad mood, they tend to walk with their eyes glued to the ground.
Though it happens less often nowadays because of smartphones, it's a common experience that everyone must have had at least once since the old days.
So, everyone probably has a memory of inadvertently but intently looking at this thing on the sidewalk or road at least once.
A manhole.
A gray circle commonly seen on any roadside if you're bored.
It is a worker's access tunnel that allows entry to the underground water pipes.
Everyone knows this.
So, looking at that round gray manhole cover, everyone must have imagined it at least once.
Imagining a person suddenly popping out from there.
Or… imagining myself opening that cover and stepping inside.
Of course, it wasn't easy to actually experience it in reality. In the first place, that cover isn't of a weight that anyone can easily lift. It usually weighs over 100 kg.
So, normally, it's something that only exists in one's imagination, but….
'What if something you imagined in your daily life actually happens in reality?'
A person instantly becomes more curious and pays attention.
The ghost story I was looking for started right from there.
“…….”
I raised my head.
It was a dark alley.
The sound of loud laughter, shouting, and music from people could be heard right nearby. The flashing lights and noise felt as though they would be heard just by turning the corner.
A bustling nightlife district.
But here, it was a musty alleyway where a shadowed silence flowed.
Location of Occurrence: Concrete ground near entertainment districts crowded with people heightened with excitement in the middle of the night, such as bars, clubs, and college areas.
And a single streetlamp was illuminating the concrete floor of the dirty alley.
The manhole cover was right there.
In the middle of that desolate light, placed casually like any ordinary city street, there was something strange about the manhole.
It was slightly open, and sticking out from it…
Was a human hand.
“…….”
Mysteriously, an arm protruding out of the slightly displaced manhole cover.
Five white fingers were standing still, swaying under the streetlamp light.
As if asking for help.
Appearance of the arms witnessed so far:
An elementary school student with nail art, a sanitation worker's uniform, a knit sweater, an old school uniform, a suit, a military uniform from the ■■s, an old man's hand with a wart, a nail-less ■■■ covered in ■■■ tattoos.
Usually, it's an unordinary sighting enough to make someone scream, flinch, or report it somewhere.
'But if you're drunk on alcohol or the atmosphere, you might inadvertently just approach it.'
Because it's a ghost story that targets and tempts people with that.
“…….”
I slowly approached the hand sticking out of the manhole.
The hand fluttered gently.
One step, another step. And when a distance about equal to my height was left.
“Phew.”
I turned around.
Then, I rummaged inside the backpack I was wearing, put my hand into the bag of salt I had brought along, and grabbed a handful of salt.
I threw it straight over my left shoulder.
Toward the manhole.
Screeeeeeech!!
A rupturing sound bursts out from behind my back. A roaring sound that is unbelievable to be a noise made by hitting salt powder.
And also a pungent smell, like burning filth.
'Ugh….'
Smoke billows up and approaches.
However, I absolutely do not look back. If I just hold my ground on the spot…….
Before I know it, both the sound and the smell completely vanish.
“…….”
Only then do I turn my head.
The arm has disappeared.
All that remains is the pitch-black manhole illuminated by the streetlamp light.
With its cover open, just a tiny bit.
'…It worked.'
If you dispel the 'arm' through a salt exorcism, you can temporarily use that manhole.
I stuff salt into both pockets and approach the manhole. The embossed patterns and letters on the manhole cover illuminated by the streetlamp also become increasingly clear.
Usually, on the outer part of the circle, the purpose and destination of this manhole are engraved, and in the center, the logo of the managing entity is engraved.
Looking closely at this manhole cover as well, I could tell its 'destination' and 'managing entity'….
Hell
Ghost Ghost Ghost Ghost Ghost (Preta/Preta/Preta/Preta/Preta) This doesn't lead to a sewer.
It's an entrance to somewhere else, something.
“…Ha.”
I gripped the cover with trembling hands and pushed it.
It's heavy.
But beneath the black manhole cover that slowly slides away, a pitch-black hole is visible….
Thud.
The bottom where nothing can be seen.
An unpleasant emptiness.
“…….”
I checked that I was properly wearing my gloves, mask, and hat. And after sprinkling salt all over my body, I stepped down onto the ladder.
Clack, clat-clack.
Gradually, I moved further away from the noise above.
The light and presence of people vanish.
Downward. Further downward.
Me, all alone.
'…Maybe because I'm alone, it's even scarier.'
A chill ran down my spine, but I grit my teeth and descend. I am someone who just a few days ago survived for four days in a crazy mart…!
'I can do this.'
I grit my teeth and moved my feet.
After descending like that for a few tens of seconds, until one hand inside the glove became drenched in sweat….
Splat.
My foot touches the ground.
Ignoring the squelching, strange sensation as much as possible, I moved my feet mechanically.
A dark sewer where I couldn't fully straighten my body continued before my eyes.
Bizarrely, even though there was no light, that bleak passage was visible.
'This is driving me crazy, seriously.'
Enduring the spine-chilling silence, darkness, and chilly stench, I walk further in. To a disconnected place where neither phones nor cameras work….
Then, at some point.
'…… It's there.'
I finally find it.
“Phew.”
It was a rusty door fitting for a sewer.
The circular door, shaped like a moat, was a dirty and heavy door that looked like something you would see in an old industrial site.
And the word engraved in relief.
hungry ghost
'Preta'.
A ghost who fell to hell due to greed and suffers from starvation. Or the hell where that ghost resides.
And bizarrely, on the left side of that door, a hole was made.
…From beyond it, the sound of flowing water is heard…….
“…….”
Catching my breath, I tossed salt over my body once more and grabbed the handle of the rusty door.
And holding my breath, I open it.
Screeeech.
A space as wide as a square unfolded.
The space, which looked as if it were covered with a dome-like hemispherical lid, also looked like a typical sewage treatment plant, but….
Aaaah!
Countless hands were filling that wall.
Skinny hands with bones exposed, hands blue like corpses, hands with bizarre tattoos engraved on the back of the hand, hands wearing ceremonial gloves, hands with nail polish applied..
And every single one of those hands was clutching something.
'I've arrived.'
The Dark Exploration Record Meeting Square.
The 'Faceless Market'.
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Dark Exploration Record / Special Zone
[Faceless Market]
: A small-scale Special Zone derived from a ghost story appearing in the <Dark Exploration Record>.
A bizarre space that can be accessed using the 'Arms of the Manhole' that travel between the underworld and the living world to lure and devour people.
If you just stick your arm in here, you can lure the opponent with the item in your palm, just like the 'Arms of the Manhole'.
It is also a space for an anonymous market for those involved in ghost stories, highly spotlighted in that it can be accessed from anywhere and transactions can be made without exposing one's identity.
Since various factions that would normally never cross paths interact here, the pleasure of reading interactions of various combinations that one has only imagined is exquisite.
==========
That's right.
The arms inserted here react when someone approaches and offers a suitable item, snatching the item away.
In that process, a barter exchange takes place as they drop the sale item they were holding in their hand.
The item category of the 'suitable item' is determined according to the seller's desire.
It was a bizarre market used for transactions by utilizing the horrific phenomenon of a ghost story that lures humans, eats their organs, and creates disappearance stories.
In the case of Daydream Inc., due to their disposition, there are many hostile groups, so if their affiliation is discovered, transactions are refused or they are attacked. Considering the personality of these bastards, it might be natural. Reading these special records is also fun.
And this was also a place I hadn't come to for such reasons.
'I'm already entering ghost stories one after another, why would I increase the risk factors?'
To a place where one could buy such unverified, dangerous items instead of a stable and good trading partner like the Alien Shop, as long as one has money.
But right now… I don't have money.
And even if a problem occurs by any chance, I can 'show off' an identity that is not Daydream Inc.
'Whew.'
I moved my steps inside.
While recalling the restrictions appropriate for a ghost story.
However, if you stay in that space for more than 2 hours, the arms of the manhole you chased away will be waiting in front of the door.
I have to be quick.
In fact, when reading it, it was a space where the element of interest was much greater than fear, but coming here in person, the image itself was nothing short of eerie.
'It feels like I've entered a horror game….'
Some unknown liquid was flowing on the floor, but I ignored it without being shaken as much as possible.
Because I wasn't alone.
“…….”
A few people were already walking sparsely in this cavern.
They, who were walking around checking the arms filling the walls, were mostly covered from head to toe.
Occasionally, there were people walking with a smile while exposing their entire faces in ordinary clothing, but I rather avoided that side as much as possible.
'That is real madness.'
Let's not get involved for no reason.
I had exactly the candidate trading partners I wanted.
Even if it's anonymous, it's just that individual identities are unknown; there were hints as to what kind of faction they were.
Right, the appearance of the arm.
Because there are bizarre characteristics fitting for a Ghost Story Worldview.
If one had enough knowledge, one could specify the affiliation through sleeves, tattoos, accessories, etc.
'There aren't many people with such knowledge, so it's virtually anonymous, though.'
Because I have it.
And there is a prominent physical characteristic in the number one priority I'm looking for as well. That is….
“…….”
I stopped in my tracks.
Among the tempting arms holding and shaking items, a withered hand was visible.
A hand missing the pinky finger.
What was placed on top of the palm was not an item, but a blood-stained scrap of paper.
It was holding it so tightly that the phrase inside couldn't even be seen properly.
It was to the point that one couldn't tell whether it was put forward with the intention of selling it or not, so the people passing by didn't even spare a glance.
But it was exactly what I was looking for.
'That paper.'
I approached the arm in question and reached out my hand….
“Ay, that thing has already been here for about 5 years.”
My body froze.
“You don't really know how things work around here, do you? The arms here aren't actual people waving their arms, it's an Anomalous Phenomenon imitating that.”
Someone grabs my shoulder and chatters away.
“It means they haven't been holding out here with their arm stuck in for 5 years. It means they might have already left 5 years ago and become deceased.”
The problem was,
“How about it?”
That it was a familiar voice.
“…….”
Instead of shaking it off and running at full speed, I stiffly turned my head.
“You don't think it's a very attractive item, do you?”
What is visible from the face wearing a mask is only the roundly curved eye area.
But I could recognize him just by hearing that eye shape and voice.
Because it was a face I saw just a few days ago.
'……Agent Choi!'
The early-stage Named Agent who had come to visit me in my hospital room was right there.
'W-Wait.'
But he talked to me?
Right now, I was in a state where I had deliberately filled the area of my missing right arm with a mannequin prosthetic hand and cotton, and then covered it with a coat.
It means it's not easy to notice that one arm is missing in this darkness.
Of course, if it's a veteran agent of the Disaster Management Bureau, they might notice it because they have a lot of experience, but….
'It's not like there's only one or two humans who lost an arm in the Ghost Story Worldview.'
He wouldn't be able to be certain.
If I ran away, it would rather be suspicious.
I barely calmed down and looked at the opponent.
Because he might have struck up a conversation to find out the identity of this item.
“Ah~ Shall I tell you one more tip? This is something people don't know well….”
Agent Choi glanced at my hand reached out toward the 'arm', and then whispered to me familiarly.
That was….
“The shape of the blood vessels on the wrist is also different for each person?”
I got goosebumps.
“It's almost like a fingerprint, if you memorize this, it's perfect for finding someone you know. Even if people cover their faces, deceive their body shapes, and burn their fingerprints, they can't burn their blood vessels.”
“…….”
“And they let their guard down. Thinking they've covered everything.”
I'm screwed.
“Hubae-nim. What are you doing here? No….”
Agent Choi grinned.
“Who told you about this place?”
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