Chapter 50.2

Chapter 50.2

‘The odds of survival are higher if I run out of here rather than being trapped inside.’

I sprinted toward the entrance, intending to escape through the main door, but...

The floor was already partially destroyed.

“......”

– Oh dear! What a mess this is.

A flood of wild possibilities raced through my mind.

But then, I saw someone standing in the middle of the broken lobby floor, their foot firmly pinning down something shattered.

“......!”

It was the black-clad staff member from the front desk.

Judging by their stance and the way they seemed to have ‘subdued’ the Darkness...

‘They must be a Security Team member!’

The situation already seemed resolved.

The sounds I had heard earlier must have been the noise created while the Security Team handled the situation.

‘So they don’t just let anyone sit at the annex front desk.’

I hesitated, then spoke from about four meters away.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

The black-clad staff member shook their head.

Thank goodness...

I’d better get out of here quickly.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way.”

The staff member looked at me briefly, then reached over to the desk and picked up something.

A post-it note.

Have a good evening.

So they’re surprisingly sociable, huh?

“Thank you.”

I bowed politely. The entirely black-clad desk worker gave me a slight nod in return and stepped back to sit down at their desk.

The shattered fragments of what appeared to be the medium of the Darkness, likely some kind of glass, sparkled on the broken floor.

In the reflection of the shards, I briefly noticed the shadow of the staff member’s leg twist unnaturally, making their foot appear like a cloven hoof...

...and then return to a normal human form.

‘Phew...’

Let’s not dwell on it.

Avoiding eye contact with anything, I exited the annex.

“This is just... unbelievable.”

These bizarre incidents feel so routine.

‘I guess fixing one positive daily event into my life was a good call.’

Life was tough and exhausting, but it felt like I was managing to navigate through it somehow, and that gave me a bit of comfort.

Come to think of it, I once communicated in writing just like that desk staff did.

[Have a nice day ^^]

It was during a face-to-face transaction on a secondhand market where I sold cursed food for 40 million won.

I even communicated in writing to hide my voice back then.

I’d sold the churros given to me by the blue dragon mascot from that theme park.

‘I still have one more bag of those churros.’

I don’t plan to sell them unless absolutely necessary, but... hmm.

I realized that I actually have quite a few food-related items in my possession.

* * *

Still, it was worth trying to negotiate.

“In that case, I’ll purchase them for half the original price each.”

Thank you for the smooth transaction.

‘If this person finds out about the existence of the alien shop, would they be so upset they’d try to kill me?’

Just in case, I decided to lay some groundwork.

Hastily, I scribbled something in the notebook.

[Thank you. I really needed the money.]

“......”

[These don’t seem as dangerous as other foods, but since the expiration date is close, I suggest conducting your research soon. I’ll add a couple more for you.]

I then slipped a small packet with one or two extra cookies into the bag.

‘Think of it as a bonus.’

This was a trust-building move to encourage continued transactions. It was supposed to be for negotiations, but it came in handy here.

At this point, I felt like I was an exceptionally considerate secondhand seller. In a ghost story world, even more so.

As I was about to leave, holding the cash-filled drink box handed to me by the buyer, their voice called out to me.

“Excuse me.”

Hmm?

“How do you acquire things like this?”

Hmm.

[I’m afraid I can’t tell you. My apologies.]

That should suffice.

It’s a platform for trading supernatural items—everyone has their stories. Better to let their imagination fill in the blanks.

‘The alien shop is one of those places where, unless you’ve seen the ad for it yourself, it just redirects to a nonexistent page.’

I was preparing to bolt if they pressed further, but instead...

“......”

The buyer pulled a pen from their pocket and wrote something on my notebook.

“If you ever find yourself in danger, contact this number.”

Huh?

“Then, bye.”

The buyer left, and I looked at the note.

1717 8282 42

“......!”

‘This is a government number.’

It was a direct emergency assistance hotline for the Disaster Management Bureau.

In short, the ghost story equivalent of 911.

‘So they were connected to the government?’

No wonder they used the terminology commonly associated with the Bureau.

I shrugged and carefully secured the cash and the notepad.

Daydream Inc., being the awful mega-conglomerate that it was, had a notoriously bad relationship with the government.

As an employee of such a company, there was no way I’d ever need to call that number.

‘Definitely not.’

Yup. Nuh-uh.

And yet!

That very evening, when I returned to the company dorm...