"The fear of possibly dying."

It might just be the essence of all ghost stories.

I had already faced a government-managed disaster ghost story where someone had to die for the event to be theoretically resolved.

So, I was no stranger to the idea that people often die in ghost stories. I had grown used to it—perhaps even desensitized. After all, I’d managed to thread the needle and survive every time.

- Let’s start by finding a loophole.

This has become my default way of thinking over the past few months.

But this time…

"Originally, everyone would disappear. Only a headless body ever came back."

"......"

"Then, over time, we started to notice a pattern. Occasionally, one person would survive by sheer luck. We used their testimony to compile the manual."

The assistant manager explained the typical process for creating a high-grade Darkness exploration manual.

"But no matter what, one thing couldn’t be changed."

That was...

"A single death."

"......"

"The mechanism behind who gets picked? There isn’t one. No logic. It’s truly random. We’ve conducted thirty-seven iterations, and no matter what equipment or items were used, nothing had any effect."

"......"

"And it happens the moment you step inside, so there’s no time to prepare or react."

This was insanity.

It meant I had a 1/12 chance of dying instantly—just from stepping into the area.

With a twelve-member team, it was a brutal game of Russian roulette.

"You might think, ‘Why not send in expendable people instead of someone as competent as me?’"

"That’s not what I was thinking."

"Sure it wasn’t. But the thing about this damn urban legend is that it only clears if someone with a sharp mind goes in."

So, sending in disposable people wasn’t an option.

Assistant Manager Eun Ha-je’s lips curled in a sardonic smile.

"A B-grade Darkness with an 8.3% death rate is actually decent by average standards."

"......"

He wasn’t wrong.

Take, for instance, the exhibition ghost story. That one lacked a manual and was far deadlier, though even with a manual, fatalities were inevitable.

Still...

"It just feels absurdly unfair to be trapped by such odds."

"......"

He wasn’t alone in that sentiment.

The difference between dying without a fight—just "because"—and having the chance to struggle for survival was night and day.

The latter was a challenge; the former, a slaughter.

"Is that why you gave us three days? To prepare ourselves mentally?"

"Probably."

Three days was just enough time for the initial panic to subside, leading to more rational, hopeful thoughts.

“Surely, I won’t be the 1 in 12.”

"This is your first time encountering a ghost story like this, right, Deer?"

"......Yes."

"Go grab some coffee. Bring me one too."

I took his card and left the office, told to take my time.

It was clear the coffee run was an excuse—a subtle gesture to help me manage my nerves.

"Damn it."

Now, sitting on a café sofa with an Americano in front of me, I let my head fall back.

Fear? That wasn’t the issue—I hadn’t stopped being scared since joining this company.

This was different. It was the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"In this scenario, knowledge doesn’t matter."

For once, the Dark Exploration Records—my greatest edge—were meaningless. I realized that my confidence in surviving until now had always been tied to understanding the ghost stories better than others.

This? This was pure chance.

And that realization brought an unfamiliar sense of helplessness.

"Should I just quit?"

Would it be better to resign and find another way? Could I investigate ghost stories on my own, using the Dark Exploration Records?

- Oh, friend!

- How about entering the show business industry instead?

Excuse me??

- Of course! For you, my friend, opportunities abound. After all, what’s a friend for? Haha!

I nearly fell off the sofa in shock.

"No, thanks."

That woke me up.

- What a pity...

He wasn’t entirely wrong, though. In this line of work, worse fates than death were commonplace.

And going solo? Only a fool would forget they’re a coward.

Quitting because of a 1/12 chance of dying would be foolish.

"But doing nothing is just as foolish."

- Are you going to go in, then?

"Yes."

I decided to investigate further.

After buying coffee for the team, I returned to the office and pored over the tablet’s manual.

And...

"...Ha."

It was exactly as described: random.

The ghost story was already documented in the Dark Exploration Records. The problem was that everything I knew was already in the manual.

"No gaps."

Even the Dark Exploration Records explicitly stated: "The selection is random upon entry."

No exceptions. No suspicious details. It wasn’t even a major plot point—just an accepted premise. After all, fatalities were so common in ghost stories that this didn’t seem special.

Adding insult to injury:

"Team leaders won’t be entering. Only assistant managers and below will participate."

"......"

The team leader wouldn’t be joining this exploration. The reasoning? If a leader became the victim, their authority might cause confusion among the team, leading to a chaotic chain of command.

"No cleanup or elite teams, either. We’ve tried that, and it ended in disaster."

Apparently, when an elite team member was chosen as the victim, their refusal to accept their fate led to "unnecessary casualties."

This company really had a way of sticking to its grim logic.

"Thank you for the information."

"No need to thank me."

Assistant Manager Eun Ha-je looked like he was finding solace in smoking as Senior Staff Member Park joined him for a cigarette break.

"Have you seen the roster? The people going in with us..."

"Honestly, if any of them died, I wouldn’t even feel the need to attend their funeral. Did they pick the least likable ones on purpose?"

"Come on, that’s not us!"

I continued comparing the Dark Exploration Records with the manual, desperate to find a loophole.

A gap in the rules.

Then, that afternoon, a potential workaround presented itself—though in an unexpected way.

"Kim Soleum!"

"Team Leader."

Manager Lee Byungjin approached me. As the manual review officer, he didn’t visit our floor without a reason.

"I heard! You’re being sent into that insane Russian roulette Darkness, right?"

"......"

I’ve said it before, but this man has a knack for pissing people off.

Still, he wasn’t here to gawk.

Lowering his voice, he leaned in conspiratorially.

"Why not talk to Director Ho?"

"...!"

"I hear he’s been keeping an eye on your achievements."

"Are you suggesting..." I trailed off, meeting his gaze.

"If you mention it to him, he might pull you out."

"......"

"This company always claims fairness, but I’m against it. Talented people like you should get a break. You were the top recruit, after all!"

There it was: the real escape route.

I could dodge this entirely if a superior intervened.

But I shook my head.

"No, thank you."

"Wha—what?"

This was the one option I couldn’t choose.

"It would stand out too much."

Accepting such preferential treatment would effectively label me as part of a specific faction within the company.

In a ghost story company, where even executives weren’t ordinary, relying on desperate survival tactics like this was a surefire way to become a target.

Worse, if word got out, my colleagues would resent me.

"It’s a form of selfishness."

Avoiding the shared burden would undermine any credibility I’d built in the field. In an environment where teamwork was essential, being seen as selfish was a death sentence.

"Thank you for the suggestion, but I’d prefer to follow company procedures. There’s always a reason behind how tasks are assigned. I’ll do my part."

"You’re sure...?"

Despite some protests, Manager Lee eventually accepted my decision and left.

It took everything I had not to cling to him and beg.

"Consider it character development."

That was the only consolation.

Sighing, I returned to my desk.

But even after rereading the Dark Exploration Records and the manual, I found no gaps.

Every explorer was subject to the same rule.

"Which means every participant is part of this death lottery..."

"......"

Wait a second.

"Could this be...?"

I reread the records, my mind racing.

"Is this a loophole?"

I couldn’t be sure.

"It’s a possibility, at least."

In a situation like this, even the faintest chance was worth pursuing.

- Have you come up with an amusing idea, Deer?

Not amusing, but an idea nonetheless.

"An exception."

- Hmm?

Every explorer in this ghost story was subject to the 1/12 death rule.

But what if there was a shared condition among all participants?

A condition

that had never been broken?

- What kind of condition?

...

"Being human."

Both the manual and the Dark Exploration Records only documented human participants. There were no mentions of other life forms.

But in this world, humans weren’t the only intelligent beings.

Expanding the scope to include other creatures—animals, perhaps—opened up new possibilities.

"If a non-human entity entered, could they escape the rule?"

Based on the irregular trends in the Dark Exploration Records, this seemed like the most plausible exception.

- Deer, are you saying you want to stop being human?

"No, no, that’s not it."

I just wanted to temporarily appear as something else.

Like an actor in disguise.

- Fascinating.

"Braun, could you do that?"

- Of course!

Braun’s voice brimmed with energy, like a showman ready for the stage.

- Assuming a new identity is an entertainer’s specialty. I have countless masks... Ah, I could even lend one to you right now!

Jackpot.

"Let’s try it."

I leaned back, letting out a deep breath.

Just then, Assistant Manager Eun and Senior Staff Member Park returned from their break, waving at me.

"......"

Damn it.

"Braun, about this ‘mask’ ability—can it be used on multiple people?"

- Multiple? For someone other than my friend?

"Including me."

- Hmm. If I could recover some of my former glory, it might be possible. Back in my prime, I could transform entire studios of people—hundreds, even!"

Perfect.

"Braun."

- Yes, my friend?

I patted my pocket.

"Let’s give you a bath."

- ...!?

***

"Deer, while I appreciate the effort, I’m not exactly a cult-obsessed celebrity who enjoys bathing in my friend’s blood."

"I know," I replied.

Even if Braun was a quiz show host who’d popped guests’ heads for fun, he was still, at heart, my "good friend."

But there was no other way.

Stealing blood packs from the hospital wasn’t an option—the freshness wouldn’t cut it. Borrowing someone else’s blood? Out of the question. And summoning another ghostly creature like before? Not feasible.

The last remaining option was obvious.

My own blood.

I looked down at the elegant, checkered bathtub I’d purchased from the alien shop. A "Blood Bath," as it was marketed.

Now it was time to fill it with my blood.

"I can’t give too much—maybe half a cup at most."

About 180 milliliters, if I had to estimate.

- Half a cup! Tight, but sufficient for a small body stuffed with cotton. Dilution... wait, no, that’s not quite right. Are you sure about this?

I was.

"I can do this."

Taking a deep breath, I gripped the kitchen knife. Beside me was a bottle of wound-healing potion I’d kept from the company’s medical supplies.

"Alright..."

With practiced determination, I pressed the blade against my arm and made a clean incision.

- My goodness!

Blood gushed out, flowing quickly into the tub. The cut was deliberate, hitting an artery, and the sight was both unsettling and mesmerizing.

Remember, I told myself. It’s the creepy situations I’m afraid of, not the sight of blood itself...

This wasn’t creepy. It was just practical.

Repeating this mantra, I calmed myself, letting the promised amount of blood flow into the tub.

"That should be half a cup," I muttered.

But I didn’t stop there.

- Deer?

A little more.

- It’s enough, friend!

Just a bit more.

- Friend?!

This should do it.

Quickly, I applied the wound-healing potion to my arm. The magical liquid worked wonders, sealing the arterial bleed almost instantly.

Though the blood loss left me slightly light-headed, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.

I’ll just down a potion later. By the time I’m sent into the ghost story in two days, I’ll be fine.

What mattered now was...

The tub was emanating a fragrant aroma, almost floral.

That’s a good sign, I thought, leaning over to inspect it. The tub’s steam wafted up, tinged with a pleasant, almost earthy smell.

"I think it worked."

Roughly 500 milliliters of blood, judging by the amount pooled in the bath, had transformed into a rich, aromatic solution.

The scent was faintly woody—like a forest after rain. It was strangely reminiscent of the cursed forest from the Chang-gwi ghost story, which gave me an uneasy feeling, but at least it wasn’t a foul or unsettling odor.

I nodded in satisfaction and turned to Braun.

"You’re good to go. How’s the scent?"

- Oh, delightful. It’s as unpredictable and whimsical as your decision-making, Deer.

I smiled wryly. "Was that sarcasm? Because I gave more blood than I said I would?"

- Sarcasm is a vital skill for any talk show host! But I don’t always employ it, you know.

"Thanks for worrying."

- …

"I’ll take care of myself properly, I promise. And I won’t do this again."

- At last, some wisdom, friend.

Was it wisdom? Truthfully, I’d done this intentionally.

If I shocked my "good friend" enough, he might be more hesitant to bathe in my blood in the future.

And judging by his reaction, it seemed to have worked.

If I’d given the expected amount, he might’ve accepted it as normal.

That wouldn’t do.

This needs to be a one-time thing.

I reached to place Braun into the tub, but he refused.

- I’ll walk in on my own, with dignity.

Suit yourself.

Turning my back, I listened to the sound of his tiny footsteps entering the tub, followed by the gentle ripple of water.

The bath had begun.

But then, after a brief silence:

- Deer, this bath solution you’ve created…

- Hmm, it’s quite unique!

"...Huh?"