Assistant Manager Eun Ha-je’s thoughts were a tangled mess.

“I just wanted to leave quietly and peacefully…”

Clearly, that was asking too much.

“Hey! Move back! You already got one right—don’t think I didn’t notice!”

“Ugh! Back off! I haven’t even gotten one yet!”

“Damn trolls…”

It was utter chaos.

Up until a moment ago, they were acting as if this were a spectator sport, each trying to fend for themselves. Now, they were yelling and monitoring each other like rabid watchdogs.

Survival and points.

Two objectives, clashing and doubling the tension.

It was like watching a wheel stuck in place, generating nothing but friction and heat.

“That Soleum kid is something else…”

It had been a while since he’d seen political manipulation this good.

“At least he’s a nice kid.”

Judging by the current situation, they might actually manage to keep this charade going for over an hour.

“How long has it been? Twenty minutes?”

_ _ T R A _ _ R

And yet, they had only managed to complete one more letter in all that time.

[Here’s a hint for the 6th blank!]

[Whose obituary announcement caused Assistant Manager Eun Ha-je’s airplane trauma?]

“Assistant Manager Eun, who died—”

“Shut up.”

But what was the point of stalling? In the end, all his personal details would be exposed, and he’d die anyway.

“It’s not like I have any dignity left to preserve.”

Still, the prolonged wait left a bitter taste in his mouth and drained his energy.

Worse, every time he tried to guess what those two juniors were planning, he felt a cold dread.

“They’re probably cooking up something insane.”

Eun recalled Soleum’s earlier whisper.

–When you’re about to be executed, remember this…

“...”

It wasn’t even a suggestion—it had been an outright declaration.

But.

If they were serious about going through with it, shouldn’t he at least try to survive? It felt like the least he could do.

Though… who knew if those rookies would still feel the same in the end.

“Guess I’ll wait and see.”

Eun folded his arms, figuratively speaking, and leaned into the absurdity of his situation.

Twenty minutes passed.

Thirty.

Forty.

“Hell yeah! I got it! Believe’s B!”

[Correct!]

B _ T R A Y _ R

The word was starting to take shape.

And by this point, someone inevitably started putting the pieces together.

“Wait a minute.”

“Huh?”

The realization hit.

“Is this word…”

***

“Hey, Soleum, look.”

I lifted my head.

One hour and eight minutes had passed.

…The word was complete.

B E T R A Y E R

Betrayer.

“...”

[The word that best describes Assistant Manager Eun Ha-je is ‘Betrayer!’]

What?

[Four years ago, when Eun Ha-je was a journalist, he betrayed his longtime supervisor and team, trying to publish an exclusive story on his own. He failed, and the story was stolen from him.]

[In the process, he released false information, leaving his informants in severe emotional distress until one of them died from neglect!]

“...”

[And what’s the lesson here?]

[The answer is, ‘Those who betray their workplace deserve punishment!’]

Ha.

[Hangman is a wonderful mock play that teaches our ■■ Kindergarten students the value of poetic justice.]

“I swear, not being able to curse is the worst thing right now.”

“...”

“Soleum.”

Supervisor Park placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Hearing all this, it makes him sound like a terrible person, but…”

“We wouldn’t know the truth unless we heard it from him, would we?”

“...!”

“That’s the kind of ghost story this is.”

A story that isolates the victim, drags their secrets into the light, and forces compliance through psychological torment and penalties for the others.

“We can still talk about it after we all make it out alive.”

Park’s expression brightened.

“You’re right, Soleum! Exactly. So let’s—oh.”

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

I turned my head.

“…They’re coming.”

Beyond the open doors of the playroom, figures moved in unison, stepping smoothly and softly into the room.

No melting black sludge or screams.

Instead, they were dressed neatly in pastel uniforms, faces adorned with calm smiles, wearing aprons and name tags.

On their foreheads were branding marks:

[Sun Class ■■■]
[Chick Class ■■■]
[Dream Tree Class ■■■]

“…They’re fully contaminated. They’re no longer people—just monsters trapped here. Don’t make eye contact.”

“...”

“If you show fear, you might get influenced too.”

I turned my gaze away from the figures as much as possible.

[The game is over!]

[Now, let’s hang the Hangman!]

“It’s time,” Park said grimly.

“...”

I recalled the conversation during our preparation.

–Supervisor, if it’s too much for you—

–You’re suggesting I let you handle it?

–Pardon?

–Come on, that’s ridiculous. It’s my gear. You can’t even use it!

‘Not what I meant, but... thanks.’

And now, in his hands was his specialized gear.

A camouflage cloth.

‘Mimic Scarf,’ I think he called it.

Its appearance was no different from when it had helped me during the exhibition, except for one key difference.

“It’s soaking wet.”

The scarf was drenched with the last of the Alice Picnic Set drink concentrate I had left, the same one that had amplified the Smile Sticker’s effect in the quiz show.

‘We didn’t hold back.’

We’d carefully soaked the scarf without letting it dirty the floor too much—penalties for messiness were a risk—and sacrificed my blazer as a makeshift mat.

If the concentrate worked…

‘The disguise gear might deliver incredible results, even if it’s only temporary.’

So long as the scarf stayed damp, we could count on it.

And we were on a timer anyway.

“This better work,” Park muttered.

“It will,” I replied, nodding.

Park glanced at the stage, where the “kindergarten teachers” were slowly ascending, and quietly wrapped the scarf around himself.

And then—

He became one of them.

[Sprout Class ■■■]

“...!”

–Ah, splendid. That’s an excellent disguise. It won’t hold for long, though…

‘It just needs to last three minutes.’

And I had to move too.

I waited for Park to blend in with the teachers, then began moving with a slight delay.

‘Now.’

I had to get as close to the stage as possible so Braun could use his abilities.

And if I could draw a bit of attention, it might make things easier for Park to maneuver among the monsters.

‘Let’s begin—’

But as I lifted my head—

“...”

‘Ah.’

I had forgotten something critical.

I was a coward.