A corporate employee typically carries a resignation letter, whether physically or mentally, at all times.

But usually, it’s kept hidden.

"Revealing it to a rookie?"

And from the direct supervisor, no less.

"I’ve almost gathered enough points. Don’t go spreading it around."

"......"

I had always thought Assistant Manager Eun Ha-je would keep a poker face until the very day of his resignation. The kind of guy who wouldn’t say a word until the last moment.

"Are you sure you’re okay telling me this?"

"It’s not a bad thing, is it? Besides, this company has plenty of people who openly brag about how many points they’ve accumulated."

The assistant manager gave me a firm pat on the shoulder.

"I just wanted to let our team know ahead of time."

"Wow, this is truly moving to witness firsthand, sir!"

"Cut it out."

Park Minseong, the senior staff member next to me, was practically bouncing with excitement. It was clear he already knew about this.

"Must be the nature of the company," I thought.

After all, it’s a job where people gamble their lives to fulfill impossible wishes. Knowing that everyone wants to escape eventually, hiding it doesn’t seem as important.

Still, it felt bittersweet that a supervisor who made things easier for us was leaving. But it was good news for him, so it deserved congratulations.

However, I did have one question.

"Assistant Manager."

"Yeah?"

"Does that mean you’ve collected all 500,000 points?"

"What?! 500,000? No way...."

Eun Ha-je’s shocked reaction was soon followed by a small chuckle, as if he had realized something.

"Oh, did you think I was aiming for the Wish Token?"

"...?"

Well, wasn’t he? Isn’t that the whole point?

"Oh, I was aiming for that at first when I joined. But after a while, I realized there are other ways to get what I want."

"...!"

Ah.

"That makes sense."

Thinking about it, not everyone might need the Wish Token.

"If what you want can be bought from the employee points mall, then that’s good enough."

"I just need one of the high-grade magical potions this company offers."

Of course.

"Is it okay to ask how many points that costs?"

"170,000. I’ve got less than 5,000 left to go. But, well... since the bonus points I’ve been racking up thanks to you are about to run dry, I’ll still have to work for a few more months."

For someone like him, the wink he gave was surprisingly playful.

"I’ll talk to the team leader and make sure you can stick around until the next personnel reshuffle."

That meant if I held on a little longer, I’d naturally remain in Team D after he left.

Because his departure would balance out the team numbers.

"Such a thoughtful comment."

And the confidence that I would be happy staying on this team made it even more so.

"Sir, before you go, we need to have a proper farewell dinner! Stay in touch with us afterward, okay? We could go to a baseball game or something!"

"Sure thing. Hang in there. You just need to survive for a few more years."

"Me? Nah, I’m stuck saving up the full 500,000."

Park Minseong scratched his head, but he still looked cheerful.

"Anyway, does this mean ‘Deer’ will get to stay with our team?"

"If the team leader manages things right."

And when the ‘team leader’ returned from a meeting, he confirmed it in his usual calm tone.

"The probability is high."

"Whoa!"

"But it’s still a probability. Don’t base your work plans on assuming you’ll stay."

"...Hear that, Deer?"

"Yes...."

Typical lizard-like pragmatism.

"Anyway, congratulations, Assistant Manager."

"Thanks."

With a smile, Assistant Manager Eun Ha-je headed outside for a cigarette. His back already looked considerably lighter.

"...What happens to employees after they quit?"

There weren’t any rumors about them being silenced or locked in labs for secrecy.

"Some have been described as retiring quite happily."

You know, like those beloved side characters everyone roots for—so much so that even the wiki insists on a positive ending.

"...I hope he gets that kind of story."

After a brief prayer, I got back to work.

The team leader had handed out new assignments after finishing his meeting.

"The Darkness we’ll be exploring this time is a C-grade spider-based anomaly. It’s already documented and categorized."

"Oh... so the points per person will be around six or seven hundred?"

"Yes."

"Deer, good thing we pushed hard for points when the new job opportunities were rolling in."

The surge of "new Darkness manual completion missions" that had been almost exclusive to Team D was starting to dry up.

"There’s usually a burst of new Darkness classifications around deadlines when the research team scrambles to finalize things."

"Ah."

It’s very... corporate, isn’t it?

Of course, there’s no benefit for a rookie to point that out.

I smiled and said, "Then we can all work relatively safely for a while."

"See, that’s what I like about you, Deer! Always so positive~!"

The senior staff member laughed and handed me a tablet displaying the mission’s PDF manual.

"Even though it’s C-grade, don’t get complacent just because there’s a manual. Read it thoroughly and let me know once you’ve memorized it."

"Yes."

"Looks like we just have to survive one day in a specific location."

Hmm.

I took the tablet and started reading.

The official manual was written in the same format as usual, detailed and derived from our collected data. It resembled the style of the wiki.

"Let’s see...."

The story described a space in a nearly empty commercial building that you could accidentally wander into—a classic "backroom"-type legend on the internet.

"......"

As I read the next paragraph, a strong premonition hit me.

"This is..."

After months of cross-referencing and the manuals to deduce the truth behind ghost stories, this felt different.

It wasn’t fear.

It was excitement.

"This is... good!"

Oh my god, it’s a wholesome ghost story!

If fear were measured, this would be a zero. Even someone easily scared could get through it once they knew the spoilers.

But why is it C-grade?

"Because Daydream Inc. misclassified it!"

This was one of those delightful, misunderstanding-based ghost stories. It looked dangerous but was actually safe and gentle—more magical than scary. A perfect blend of absurdity and charm.

"Honestly, it’s more like a heartwarming experience than a ghost story...."

Cases like this were rare in the .

My heart raced.

I was going to explore this place?

"Wait a second."

If I play this right...

"This could be more than just heartwarming—it could change my life."

My mind spun quickly.

To make the most of this, I’d definitely need...

"Tomorrow's deployment is scheduled for the afternoon, so you've got plenty of time. Take your time reading. Well... not that I need to explain this stuff to you, Deer!"

"In that case... would it be alright if I took a short leave during lunch tomorrow?"

"Huh? Well, neither the team leader nor the assistant manager are the type to fuss over something like that, but why? If it’s for a doctor’s visit, I can make sure they allow you extra time."

"Oh, it’s not that. It’s just…."

I mentally calculated the balance in my bank account.

"There’s something I need to buy."

"...?"

To make the most out of this heartwarming ghost story, I needed to be prepared.

With something very expensive!

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day, after lunch.

We found ourselves riding in Assistant Manager Eun Ha-je’s car, heading toward the site of the Darkness we were about to enter.

"You’ve packed everything you need, right?"

"Yes."

The "expensive item" I had purchased during lunch was securely stowed in my briefcase. Assistant Manager Eun, driving, glanced back to confirm.

"This’ll be your first time entering a real-world urban legend, right? Not just some artifact-based ghost story or accidental abduction?"

Not exactly. I recently spent some quality time in a haunted lodge, pretending to be a serial killer with dismembered body parts. Almost threw up, by the way.

...But there was no need to mention that.

"Yes, this feels like my first real field mission."

"Haha. You’re still in your twenties, right, Deer? This must be your first job, then."

The atmosphere in the car was lighthearted as we drove. There was some casual chatter along the way.

"Did you know? Our team leader supposedly broke three steering wheels during work. So unless it’s a zombie apocalypse, there’s no way he’s ever driving again."

"......"

Noted. I’ll refrain from asking him about it directly.

After about 40 minutes, we arrived at our destination.

"Here we are."

It was a cluster of commercial buildings in a suburban town near Seoul. Once a booming area during a real estate craze, it had been left desolate and hollow after urban development shifted elsewhere—a ghost of a "new town."

Empty storefronts lined the streets, their glass windows covered with faded "For Sale" signs from real estate agents.

"One of these buildings is tied to the urban legend. If you enter at sunset on a clear day, something strange happens."

"Understood."

Accompanied by my colleagues, who were kindly reiterating what I had already read in the manual, I approached the designated building.

"It looks like security measures are in place to keep civilians out. They’ll recognize our gear and let us through."

Hmm.

"Once we’re inside, be careful," Senior Staff Member Park whispered with an overly serious tone. "There are plenty of horrifying reports. We need to stay vigilant."

"..."

Horrifying, you say?

Exploration Record #12:

Among the employees deployed, one (Seojeong Jeong) found a shop operating near the emergency exit on the 4th floor, in room 404.
The sign read "■■■ Café."
As the employee approached, strange noises began emanating from the café—barking, shouting, and howling, layered upon one another and growing louder.
The employee panicked and fled down the emergency stairs, narrowly avoiding the café door as it slammed open.
They were later found unconscious outside the building, suffering severe injuries: multiple fractures and spinal trauma. They were placed on indefinite leave, reporting persistent PTSD afterward.

Sure, that sounds spooky and traumatic at first glance.

But here’s the thing:

"It’s just... a dog-friendly café."

The poor employee freaked out at the barking, fell down the stairs, and ended up with multiple injuries. The "ghost story" simply spat him out after his unfortunate accident.

This Darkness is nothing more than a space where old stores mysteriously resume normal operations. Its weirdest feature is... being entirely mundane.

Of course, my colleagues, unaware of the harmless nature of this tale, were diligently offering their advice.

"Be cautious. This place has a history of harming those who enter."

No, it doesn’t.

"Whatever you do, don’t lose consciousness. People who do tend to suffer serious injuries."

If you pass out, it just politely ejects you once closing time hits....

Still, pointing this out might lead them to overthink: "Oh no, this ghost story causes mental contamination!" and create an entirely new comedy of errors. So I decided to keep my thoughts to myself.

Instead, I readily agreed when they proposed splitting up for a more efficient exploration.

"You sure you’ll be okay on your own, Deer?"

"Yes."

Normally, I’d be desperate to cling to someone for safety, but today was different. Today was Coward’s Day!

"If anything happens, call immediately."

"Understood."

Armed with a two-way radio provided by the security team—which looked suspiciously like a toy walkie-talkie from an alien-themed gift shop—I headed off alone.

- Are there any shops you’re planning to visit? Several appear to be operational.

Yes, and here’s the kicker:

There’s a trick to finding the right one.

The warped layout of this space made floors and directions a chaotic mess, but certain patterns and rules occasionally emerged. Among them:

On the 7th floor, there’s a small chance the button for the basement appears in the elevator.

After a few tries, I finally spotted the button labeled "B1."

- Ah, a hidden location? It reminds me of that elegant exhibit hall....

Do we have to bring that up?

I’m still haunted by nightmares of wandering aimlessly in the exhibit’s underground maze, running into spider-bots, and losing half my organs.

"This place is friendly... this place is friendly...." I whispered to myself, willing away the trauma as I pressed the button.

Ding.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a dimly lit underground parking garage.

"Someone once passed out here after honking a car horn in shock, right?"

That wasn’t the important part.

I carefully followed the instructions I remembered:

"Turn left three times."

Circling the garage, I came across a previously invisible section with a new parking zone number:

A19.

This was it.

My heart raced as I approached. At the edge of this parking area was a door leading into another section of the building. Instead of taking the elevator inside, I turned to the side, where a small shop appeared.

And there it was.

Moonlight Tattoo Parlor.

A magical place.