Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work

“Qualifications?”

“Yes.”

The caretaker’s formal tone carried a faint, fleeting trace of arrogance.

“There must be inherent, existential nobility.”

For the person running a murder lodge?

It seems the ethics of this role are vastly out of sync with modern sensibilities.

– Ha! The caretaker is acting like an 18th-century butler, mistaking his master’s authority for his own!

– Why not just take over the lodge and fire them?

Braun, I’m going out of my way not to do exactly that.

‘Hold on. I think I might have another way.’

– Your patience is admirable, Mr. Roe Deer!

Sure, sure.

I idly scratched my chin.

‘…Nobility, huh?’

Actually, something did come to mind.

It’s true that I didn’t bring much in terms of items, but I always carry one small thing in my pocket.

‘My merch.’

The latest trinket from the merch box: the Silver Heart.

A small, silver badge that enhances one’s persuasiveness when worn by a kind individual.

‘It’s a good opportunity to test it, too.’

I had carefully handled the tiny badge in my pocket, using a pair of tweezers to affix it to the fabric.

Then, as expected…

“……”

“……”

The other party showed no particular reaction.

‘Ah.’

Maybe it’s an issue of application range.

‘He probably isn’t human.’

The wearer earns the reverence of others proportional to their cumulative altruistic actions.

Well, I had doubts about the definition of ‘nobility’ anyway, so this was just a test.

I quickly adjusted my approach.

In that case…

“Are you saying I lack innate, existential nobility?”

I had no choice but to start talking.

“Finding someone who meets such criteria is certainly difficult. I hope you won’t feel disheartened, sir.”

“No, that’s not the issue. What’s important is this—are you saying the exchange is difficult because I don’t meet the qualifications?”

“Correct.”

“I don’t quite understand that.”

I deliberately furrowed my brows, like a customer filing a complaint.

“The condition was, ‘Bring the cassette tape, and I’ll exchange it for anything I possess’, correct? Suddenly changing the terms at the end is disconcerting.” ꭆâƝỌʙƐŝ

I sighed dramatically, as if weary.

“Three days. That’s how much time I’ve spent here. And now, at the last moment, you’re introducing qualifications that contradict the promise.”

The caretaker seemed slightly flustered.

“There seems to be some misunderstanding.”

“What kind of misunderstanding?”

“The promise remains intact. However, if you inherit only my employment authority, it may be challenging to exercise that authority in practice.”

The caretaker kindly elaborated.

“If you were to inherit the lodge itself, I would continue to work here under the original contract. But inheriting ’employment authority’ means that right would only be usable when applicable.”

In simpler terms: Sure, I’ll keep working under my old contract, but I won’t take your orders.

“So, it’s just a symbolic contract without practical application? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Precisely.”

Wow.

“That’s fine with me.”

“……”

Even better!

It’s invalid!

“So as long as I’m aware of these terms, the exchange can proceed, right? If I still wish to proceed knowing this, there’s no reason to stop me, correct?”

“…If that’s the case.”

The caretaker extended both hands.

“You are correct, dear guest.”

He conceded.

“Please place the cassette tapes you wish to exchange.”

Yessir.

I quickly handed over the tapes I was holding.

Clack, clack, clack.

Six tapes left my hand and landed in the caretaker’s rough palms.

The caretaker smoothly tucked the tapes into the folds of his worn clothing. Then, after adjusting his tattered attire with deliberate precision, he produced a thin, ancient-looking object.

It was a piece of paper.

It looked like traditional Korean hanji paper, yet curiously Western in its cutting and design. Rolled up and sealed with red wax.

“This is the original contract document.”

The moment I took it, the old paper caught fire.

“……!”

The hanji began burning in a vivid orange hue, disintegrating into embers that rose into the air.

Then, they coiled around my wrist.

Specifically, the spot where the mascot’s tattoo from the theme park remained!

‘W-Wait.’

: Socius :

The tattoo glowed as if it were heating up.

The embers clashed with the tattoo, almost as if they were wrestling with it, before finally yielding and springing away.

They then settled slightly higher on my arm, closer to my forearm, aligning themselves vertically.

: 恩主 :

“……”

Now I got two tattoos.

‘This isn’t what I wanted.’

I had expected to keep the physical contract as an item, but this?

It felt oddly binding. But… in terms of portability, this was actually more convenient.

– Eunju, or benefactor. Hm. Another old-fashioned expression.

Even Braun refrained from making ominous remarks this time.

Based on prior experience, the tattoo likely wouldn’t be visible to the public—certainly not to the civil servant standing here—so that worked out fine.

If the contract simply vanished into thin air, that was probably better.

‘Not like I’d ever call on him anyway.’

I raised my head.

As expected, the lodge caretaker had vanished as if he had never existed.

All that remained was the blood-soaked lodge, a scene straight out of a horror movie.

And standing in it, just me and the civil servant.

‘It’s all wrapped up now.’

Amusingly, at that moment, soft light began filtering through the windows.

Sunlight.

“The weather’s cleared.”

“……”

Welp, everything’s in good order.

With the mood set, I could vanish quietly, and the civil servant could go about his business.

The unconscious survivors tied up in the basement? The government could handle their identities and clean up the aftermath.

‘Since the creepypasta itself had disappeared, I likely wouldn’t end up as a target of investigation or detailed recordkeeping.’

Whether it was the government or a corporation, they usually didn’t exert themselves over neatly resolved cases.

‘Even if it’s logged as a peculiar case, I didn’t actually kill anyone, so it should be fine.’

I just needed to play my cards right with the civil servant and offer a reasonable explanation. Everything would blow over nicely…

“You there.”

The civil servant ascended the stairs and strode toward me.

Grabbing my arm, he looked me straight in the eye and asked, quite seriously,

“Have you ever considered a career shift?”

Pardon?

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