Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work

I had just purchased everything from the alien shop.

‘Wow.’

My hands trembled slightly. It was the first time I’d blown 130 million won on a few items.

(Approx. 90,000 USD)

Still, having spent millions a few times before, I was a bit more used to it.

‘Let’s make the most of this.’

It would all serve as stepping stones for survival.

I boldly hit the checkout button.

PURCHASE SUCCESSFUL!

Your item is on a rocket!

Soon, just like before, a spatial rift opened mid-air, and a delivery box appeared.

With a pounding heart, I waited for the box to drop to the ground…

But—

The package remained suspended in mid-air.

Someone was holding it, gently and politely.

…With tentacles.

The tentacle softly shook the delivery box, as if asking, ‘Here? Is this okay?’

“……! Please place it on the ground.”

The package was smoothly set down with care.

“Thank you very much.”

But the tentacles didn’t disappear immediately.

Instead, they swiftly retrieved something from the spatial rift and handed it to me.

A small, golden, shimmering card.

I am a Space Shopping Mall VIP!

~ Special Thanks Included ~

“…Thank you?”

When I accepted the card, the tentacle waved—almost like it was saying goodbye—before retreating back into the rift.

Huh.

It seemed the alien shop had decided to treat me as a VIP…

‘That’s a good thing… right?’

I decided to keep the gratitude card. It shimmered brightly in golden hues…

– Good heavens, how could even a tag card look so appallingly designed?

Apparently, expecting decent design from the alien shop was a mistake.

I mean…

‘The important thing is functionality.’

I turned my attention to the delivery box.

It was time for the unboxing.

“Huuu.”

When I opened the box, the first thing I saw was the largest item.

A product priced at 28 million won.

‘Happy Maker.’

The pastel-toned box was cheerful and colorful, like something containing liquid antacid or vitamin drinks.

Inside were twelve glowing sticks, about the size of highlighters.

However, needles protruded from the ends of these glowing sticks.

An impeccable painkiller that was sold under the same name in the ghost story Delusion Home Shopping.

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Dark Exploration Records / Delusion Home Shopping

/ Items

Happy Maker

Is life painful?

Do you dread sleepless nights caused by mysterious aches or fear accidents?

Introducing your perfect savior: ‘Happy Maker,’ a rapid pain eliminator!

– September 9, 20XX, item description from ‘Delusion Home Shopping

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It was exactly as described.

I looked at the instructions on the box.

A quick and comforting shot

Say goodbye to pain!

The stick-type auto-injector pressed against the skin would automatically administer a shot that eliminated pain completely for a set period of time.

‘This is true overtechnology.’

Although the mechanism wasn’t scientific but rather paranormal, it didn’t change the fact that pain could cloud judgment in extreme situations.

Based on my experiences navigating countless injuries and threats, I could confidently say this would come in handy someday.

‘I hope I never have to use it… haah.’

I decided to let go of wishful thinking…

‘This damned creepypasta world…’

Resolving to carry the item carefully, I noted a tiny, unsettling addendum to its usage on the back.

In irreversible situations, use for euthanasia.

Nope. Absolutely not.

‘I’ll only ever use it as a painkiller.’

– Ah, painkillers. I used to take headache pills myself! The agony of creation… Such is the fate of an entertainer and show creator.

How would a ghost story resident with a TV for a head even take headache pills… No, let’s not imagine that.

I hurriedly erased the mental image and gave Braun a few compliments to lift his spirits before turning back to the box.

Phew.

‘Next item…’

Two items caught my attention simultaneously.

One was a dusty, ominous book sealed completely with dark red wax.

The other, rolled up neatly in the corner, was a modern, eco-friendly packaging material.

As literal as it gets, it was packaging material that functioned as an item itself.

Wrapper 12B357나

The wrapper bore an engraved barcode and description but lacked any further instructions.

Looks simple, right?

Wrong.

‘Here it is. Armor!’

A unique armor-like buffering material, this packaging material would prove to be my lifeline.

I carefully stored it away, resolving to use it only when necessary.

Then, I turned my gaze back to the box…

Necronomicon.

The sealed, dark red wax-covered book glared at me ominously.

Necronomicon

The infamous Book of the Dead.

A quintessential example of a magical tome of forbidden knowledge.

It’s a staple in countless stories spanning decades, so much so that it’s become synonymous with all things evil and arcane.

Of course, it was listed in the <Dark Exploration Records>—and now, here it was in my hands.

Let’s review the typical clichés associated with the Necronomicon.

1- Reading it drives you insane.

2- It’s bound in human skin.

Right.

Bound. In. Human. Skin.

The book’s cover—beneath the red wax—subtly revealed grotesque, twisted faces, as if preserved in eternal torment.

‘Ugh.’

It was the last thing I wanted to touch.

– Mr. Roe Deer, did I hear you say Necronomicon? Oh, that old translated classic—such a delight to recall!

Of course, Braun, the host of an American-themed talk show, recognized it. That wasn’t even surprising anymore.

But sadly…

‘This is not the Necronomicon you’re thinking of.’

– Hmm?

It’s something worse.

Without another word, I carefully tucked the wax-sealed Necronomicon into my arm tattoo inventory.

‘Phew.’

That took care of my intimidation tool.

Next, I turned to the Nostalgia Candy, a familiar item that I knew would be invaluable.

This was my emergency recovery tool.

If I ever found myself dangerously contaminated, it could stabilize me until I reached safety.

‘This will be a lifesaver.’

Finally, my attention returned to the smallest item in the package—a red button.

Its design was simple, almost cartoonishly so.

There was no doubt. This had to be:

We Can Help! – ₩66,666,666.

Ever hear of those creepy internet stories?

The kind where someone gives you a button and says, “Press this, and someone somewhere dies, but you’ll receive a billion won. Would you do it?”

This button seemed straight out of one of those tales.

On closer inspection, faint text was engraved along the edges.

‘What does this say?’

– Need a translation, Friend?

With Braun’s help, I deciphered the text:

– ‘Emergency Escape’.

‘So… pressing this activates an alien-assisted emergency escape?’

It sounded straightforward, but at 66 million won, it was an expensive gamble.

‘Let’s hope it’s worth it.’

Sure, it was a leap of faith, but I trusted the alien shop’s reputation.

If this button had come from another ghost story, I’d be worried that pressing it might eject my brain and serve it up as dinner.

But the alien shop? I’d take my chances.

“That’s everything.”

– Ah, my meticulous friend. Such admirable organization!

I carefully stored all my purchases in the tattoo inventory, confident that they’d stay safe until I needed them.

Not that I wanted to prove the inventory’s reliability again…

‘Haa.’

No use dwelling on it.

Thankfully, the unboxing hadn’t taken up the entire day. I had just enough time to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

But before I could even rest, my comm device buzzed.

[Go Yeongeun: Have you checked the intranet?]

[Go Yeongeun: The regular personnel transfer notice just went up!]

Regular personnel transfers.

That meant the vacant position in D-squad was about to be filled.

Who will it be?