NoveLight ™
The remote mountain lodge was a chaotic mess, smeared with dismembered body parts and a blood-drawn pentagram.
Standing before an unconscious woman clutching a butcher knife was the government official.
And then there was me, watching the scene unfold from the second-floor railing.
If I didn’t know it was all fake, I’d have fainted on the spot at the madness in the living room.
But the lodge keeper who appeared from the back door was calm and courteous.
“Did you have a pleasant stay?”
Of course not.
Still, there was no point wasting energy, so I just stood there quietly.
The lodge keeper didn’t bother with clichés like, “I stayed away to ensure you weren’t disturbed.” Instead, he simply said:
“Three days have passed. The time has come.”
“…”
“You may now exchange the lodge’s inheritance for the cassette tape.”
Up until now, no one had died. But at this point, chaos would erupt as people turned on one another.
It was inevitable.
Only after the fear and shock of impending death had thoroughly accumulated would the cassette tape release the survivors.
“That’s why they crafted it this way.”
Fear and shock.
It wasn’t exactly pleasant by modern standards, but they’d scared people enough to make them believe death was real.
Apparently, all that effort had paid off.
The lodge keeper began delivering his scripted lines, and the fact that the living room remained peaceful—without any stabbing—was proof enough.
Of course, this peace wouldn’t last long.
The lodge keeper approached the unconscious “wife” on the sofa first.
“Guest.”
“…”
“Will you exchange the cassette tape?”
“Mmm… huh… w-what!? Aaaahhh!”
The woman, regaining consciousness, screamed as she scrambled to her feet and ran out of the lodge, tripping over herself several times.
Oh dear.
“She might’ve been better off staying unconscious.”
The lodge keeper, without hesitation, turned to the next person.
“Will you exchange the cassette tape?”
“…”
The government official stared at the lodge keeper before speaking slowly.
“I’ll declare my decision last.”
“Understood. In that case…”
The lodge keeper turned to the final person.
Me.
I met his gaze.
Despite his shabby and worn clothing, the ghostly figure spoke in refined Seoul dialect.
“Will you exchange the cassette tape?”
Exchange it?
“Yes.”
Of course, I would.
“I worked like a dog for the past three days to make this happen.”
When an entrant survives, they receive the promised hefty monetary reward.
That was the moment I’d been working toward.
The reason I even went so far as to pose as a serial killer was precisely…
“To get first priority in the exchange.”
I pulled the cassette tapes from the backpack I’d taken from one of the college students.
The couple’s tapes.
The students’ tapes.
Even Baek Saheon’s tape.
“Six in total. You have guaranteed priority for the exchange.”
For a moment, a strange glint of excitement flashed in the lodge keeper’s eyes. But it disappeared just as quickly, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.
“You may now claim ownership of this lodge. Will you accept?”
“No.”
“…”
When a serial killer accepts the lodge as a reward, their altered personality becomes permanently tied to it.
Even though I’d only faked being a killer, there was no reason to take on that kind of risk.
“Of course, I can’t just exchange it recklessly or outright refuse either.”
Whether you trade for gold, junk, or nothing at all; whether you torch the place and wait for it to burn down; the next cycle will start, and the killer’s belongings will mysteriously reappear, drawing people back to this cursed place.
The lodge will stand as if nothing had happened, and the bloodshed will repeat.
And there was something else.
“…I’m pretty sure that the moment I choose an exchange, the people I hid and pretended were dead will actually die.”
There were records of it.
-------------------------
#6
Personnel:
Summary of Events:
The official was successfully designated as the serial killer. However, during the third killing, they deviated from protocol, opting to use a unique item instead of the previously provided poison.
They attempted to end the disaster without killing the drafted individuals by inducing a near-death state.
Outcome:
Additional Note:
One entrant who was in a near-death state was later confirmed dead due to choking on vomit post-exchange ritual.
-------------------------
The lodge was ablaze with chaos, literally and figuratively. If by some "coincidence" the doors were locked, leaving everyone trapped inside, it’d be the perfect scenario to crown me as a real serial killer.
Even though these people were destined to die in this ghost story's twisted logic, it still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Let’s respect my humanity, shall we?"
After careful thought, I made my decision.
“I’d like to exchange one of the cassette tapes for the right to employ the lodge keeper.”
The lodge keeper seemed momentarily stunned.
“My employment contract?”
“Yes,” I nodded firmly.
You see, it’s worth noting that the Agency for Supernatural Disaster Management generally aims to eliminate ghost stories whenever possible. Unlike the crazy pharmaceutical company I work for, which profits from preserving and managing these anomalies, the government sees them as disasters, plain and simple.
And the official records reflect that some government-managed ghost stories… do successfully end.
For example, in the final exploration record of this very ghost story, the lodge keeper announced the end of their contract, the lodge vanished, and the area returned to an empty lot with no signs of supernatural activity.
In other words, this was a story with a definite ending, a period at the end of its sentence.
So why not bring it to a close myself?
“I understand you’re still under contract with the previous lodge owner,” I continued, “but I’d like to transfer that contract to myself.”
I had no intention of owning the lodge. However, if I could obtain the lodge keeper’s employment rights and end his contract, I could replicate the circumstances of the final record and bring this disaster to an end.
The lodge keeper fell silent for a moment before replying, “In theory… it is possible.”
Exactly.
“However, I must inform you that my employer must meet certain qualifications.”
“Qualifications?”
“Yes.”
There was a subtle arrogance in his otherwise polite tone.
“An inherent and existential nobility is required.”
Nobility? To manage a murder lodge? That seemed... at odds with modern ethical standards.
Braun’s voice chimed in my head:
“Braun,” I muttered internally, “I’m trying to avoid that.”
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “Nobility,” huh? I did have something on hand that might fit the bill.
In my pocket, I always carried a small item—something from the latest "goods box" I’d received: the Silver Heart badge. A trinket designed to amplify the wearer’s influence if they were a genuinely good person.
‘Might as well test it.’
Carefully, I moved the badge within my pocket and clipped it to the fabric.
“…”
The lodge keeper didn’t react.
‘Oh.’
Perhaps it didn’t apply to him since he wasn’t human.
The badge’s effect depended on accumulated altruistic actions, but its definition of "nobility" was vague anyway. I quickly switched tactics.
“So, are you saying I lack inherent and existential nobility?”
I began talking, the best weapon at my disposal.
“Finding someone who fits those criteria must be pretty difficult. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
“No, not at all. The issue lies elsewhere. Without the necessary qualifications, the exchange cannot proceed.”
“Oh, I see. So, I can’t make the exchange because I don’t meet the qualifications?” I furrowed my brow and sighed dramatically, like a frustrated customer.
“I spent three days here. Now, at the very end, you’re telling me there are new requirements? That wasn’t part of the deal.”
The lodge keeper seemed slightly flustered.
“It appears there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“What kind of misunderstanding?”
“The agreement remains unchanged. However, if you only inherit my employment rights, you may find it challenging to exercise actual authority over me.”
He explained further, “If you were to inherit the lodge itself, I would continue to work here under the original contract. But merely acquiring ‘employment rights’ means they can only be exercised under certain conditions.”
In short: “Sure, take the contract, but I’ll still only follow the original terms. Not yours.”
“So it’d just be a symbolic contract, with no practical use?”
“Precisely.”
Wow.
“That’s fine by me.”
“…”
In fact, that’s even better.
“Then as long as I understand the limitations, we can proceed with the exchange, correct? Surely you won’t stop me if I’m aware of the terms.”
“…”
The lodge keeper extended his hands.
“You’re correct, guest.”
He had relented.
“Please place the cassette tapes for the exchange.”
With that, I handed over the tapes. Six of them.
Tap, tap, tap.
The tapes left my hand and landed in the lodge keeper’s rough palms. He carefully tucked them into the folds of his shabby clothing before straightening his appearance and withdrawing a thin, aged document.
It was parchment, resembling traditional Korean hanji, but oddly formatted in a Western scroll style, sealed with red wax.
“This is my original contract.”
The moment I took it, the paper caught fire.
“…!”
The hanji burned with an orange glow, disintegrating into embers that rose into the air.
Then, the embers wrapped around my wrist.
Specifically, the spot where the tattoo from the amusement park mascot was etched.
‘Wait a second.’
The text shifted:
: Socius :
The embers clashed with the tattoo as if wrestling for dominance, before settling near my forearm in a vertical position.
: 恩主 : (Eunju, meaning "Benefactor" in an archaic sense.)
“…”
Now I had two tattoos.
‘Not what I was expecting.’
I had hoped to keep the contract as a physical item, but this arrangement felt oddly binding. Still, it did offer better mobility.
Thankfully, Braun didn’t raise any ominous alarms about the situation. And based on previous experiences, the tattoo was likely invisible to the government official, which was just as well.
To them, it would appear as though the contract simply disappeared into thin air.
‘Not like I plan on calling on the lodge keeper anyway.’
I looked up, and as expected, the lodge keeper was gone.
What remained was a bloody scene straight out of a horror film. Just me and the official, standing amidst the chaos.
‘It’s all wrapped up now.’
Amusingly, sunlight began streaming through the window.
“Looks like the weather cleared up.”
“…”
Everything was settled. The vibe was perfect for me to quietly leave, while the official could head off to handle his own business. The identities of the unconscious people in the basement? The government could figure that out.
With the ghost story erased, there was little chance I’d be tracked or recorded in detail.
‘Even if this goes down as an unusual case, I didn’t actually kill anyone, so it’s fine.’
As long as I played my cards right and explained things to the official, I could walk away scot-free…
“You there.”
The official came up the stairs, striding over to me with purpose. He grabbed my arm and asked with a serious expression:
“Have you ever considered switching jobs?”
Excuse me?