Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work-Chapter 138

From the moment I looked at the mart's floor plan, I had been deliberating.

How much of my body would I need to cut off and place on the grill for this cursed ghost story to recognize it as a "barbecue"?

I considered everything from my wrist to my shoulder.

But the target had been decided from the start.

‘My right arm.’

If I cut off a leg, it would impede my mobility.

If I cut off my left arm, I wouldn’t be able to use my tattoo.

And since I was practically ambidextrous, I could function regardless of which arm remained.

So the conclusion was clear.

‘Cut a portion of the right arm.’

Of course, hacking through an adult forearm, bone and all, with a knife was insanity.

It obviously wouldn’t cut cleanly in one go.

‘A chainsaw would’ve been better.’

Thunk. Thunk.

I hacked at my arm with the massive butcher knife, tearing it apart more than cutting it. The sound of sobs from the people next to me mingled with the splatter of blood.

There was no pain, but I could feel it.

The sensation of the nerves in my arm severing.

Sweat trickled down ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) my back, and my head felt fuzzy. Fear and dread crashed over me like a blunt mental shock.

Despite injecting the Happy Maker, it still came.

‘Am I developing resistance to it?’

Or was the candle’s protective aura somehow interfering with the Happy Maker’s effects? Maybe it was just my imagination.

The important thing was that I hadn’t gone into shock and could still move.

And then...

Thunk.

With the final strike of the knife, my arm came off.

“...!!”

It was done.

I grabbed my severed right arm with my left and pressed the item I had prepared in advance against the stump.

A Vampiric Knife.

‘I can’t believe I’m using this to stop bleeding.’

Ignoring the vibrating hum as the knife absorbed my blood, I pulled it away and pressed the raw end of my stump onto the grill.

If I could still feel anything, I would have passed out.

When I judged that I had staunched the bleeding enough to avoid dying from blood loss, I moved again.

“Wha—what... what is... Agh!”

“Hold on.”

Thunk.

I halved the severed arm, cutting it to match the size of the other pieces already on the grill.

Without waiting for any reactions, I placed one half on the grill.

Sizzle.

It wasn’t just cooking—it was burning.

Burning flesh.

‘It’s just a piece of meat now.’

It was no longer mine.

As soon as the situation was resolved, I’d down a bottle of C-Class Regeneration Potion from Daydream Inc.

Then everything would be fine.

Stay calm.

I wiped the sweat from my face and stared unfocused at the grill.

After what felt like an eternity of madness.

Ding.

Among the dozens of grills scattered throughout the "Flesh for Sale Lucky Mart" store, a sound came from one that blended in like part of the decor.

The counter.

On a makeshift register, a white envelope with "Thank you for participating in the event" written on it sat waiting.

Barely managing with one hand, I opened the envelope.

Inside was a poorly made gift certificate that resembled counterfeit money, with both Korean and English text clumsily printed on it.

[₩50,000]

For a regular mart, this would be a very generous event prize.

But given the current situation, whether it would be sufficient was uncertain.

“What... what is this? What are you...”

“Just a moment.”

I repeated the process.

This time, though, it wasn’t me but the high school student who placed the remaining piece on another grill.

“Ugh... ugh...”

The student was on the verge of passing out, but they gritted their teeth and held on. It was painful to watch, but there was no choice.

Go Yeong-eun had to hold the candle, and I couldn’t participate again since I’d already been counted.

Once we received another ₩50,000 gift certificate, I finally allowed myself to pop a piece of Nostalgia Candy into my mouth.

‘Hah.’

I had held out this long to avoid any chance of a miscalculation.

The moment the candy touched my tongue, it restored me to the "healthiest state" I’d ever been in.

The magic of Nostalgia.

“Look, I’m fine now. See?”

“Ugh... hic...”

The high school student couldn’t bring themselves to look at my regenerated arm, let alone nod.

Go Yeong-eun, now pale as a sheet, also couldn’t turn around or react too strongly, likely due to her focus on the candle.

She probably only managed to keep it together because she knew I had access to Daydream’s special regeneration potions.

“Agent, did you just take the potion?”

“No. It’s just an item that temporarily restores appearances.”

Her shoulders twitched slightly.

“With only my right arm gone, there shouldn’t be any problems escaping. Don’t worry.”

“Are you seriously saying that right now...! Fine. ...Alright.”

Her composure was appreciated.

Finally taking the Nostalgia Candy I’d been saving for the right moment, I recovered after three days without proper sleep or food.

And now my condition was...

‘Wow.’

What insanity.

My newly clear mind processed all the reckless, crazed actions I’d taken over the past three days.

‘I wasn’t in my right mind after the second day.’

I thought I had thoroughly searched the mart for a Bronze Agent, leaving the student in the second-floor food court.

But that wasn’t the case.

‘It’s impossible to “thoroughly search” a place this large in just a couple of hours.’

This isn’t some convenience store or small supermarket—it’s a massive chain mart. The idea of "searching every corner" was nonsensical.

Especially considering the seemingly endless expanse of the third floor.

‘I’ve been making terrible decisions.’

It wasn’t just the high school student who had been panicking. I had spent the past three days in a half-panicked state myself.

“...Let’s return to the emergency stairs.”

“Yes.”

As I hid behind Go Yeong-eun, following her candlelight, I wiped the butcher knife clean of blood, rewrapped it, and returned it to the original display.

Mistakes.

I started reviewing the faulty assumptions I had made.

Does the Bronze Agent really escape after three days?Let’s check the exploration records I barely managed to recall.

Exploration Record #3:

A dispatched agent responded to a civilian’s rescue request and entered the mart around 7 p.m. (Agent: ???)

Due to ??? circumstances, Lucky Mart’s operations ended early. Communication with the agent was lost for three days.

Result: Rescue failed. Agent returned alone.

First Rebuttal:

The entry time is different.We entered after 8 p.m.

The record states 7 p.m.

While it’s possible my presence delayed the entry time by about an hour—considering the time spent talking to me and receiving items—the key point is that this situation has already diverged from the record.

‘I can’t force this scenario to match the record.’

Second Rebuttal:

The record doesn’t specify when the agent escaped.‘The report said contact was lost for three days, not that the agent escaped after three days.’

In other words, my earlier assumption that the mart would reopen after three days was more like blind faith than a rational conclusion.

‘...Hah.’

Let’s step back and think more logically.

From the start, something didn’t add up.

‘Why would the Disaster Management Agency send a newly hired rookie into a high-level ghost story?’

This isn’t Daydream Inc., after all.

They wouldn’t send someone into a ghost story with a wave pattern akin to Daydream’s B-grade threats without proper safety measures.

...Unless there were reliable contingencies in place.

‘If I base my reasoning on that...’

I can start to piece things together.

Disaster Management agents are sometimes issued emergency escape items for ghost stories below a certain grade.

Rookies, prone to panic, often waste such items. As a result, the decision to use them is typically left to the senior officer.

So, if the Bronze Agent had indeed been issued one of these items...

‘They would have tried to ensure my escape at all costs.’

It’s a matter of responsibility.

“Agent?”

“Please, give me a moment.”

I stopped walking and began reconstructing the events of the first day from the Bronze Agent’s perspective.

A senior agent separated from their rookie.

No explicit meeting point, no means of direct communication—just a glance exchanged to indicate “meet upstairs.”

A sudden emergency in a high-grade ghost story.

A veteran’s field judgment after working with rookies countless times.

“......”

Ah.

“Agent.”

“Yes?”

“I think I might know where my senior officer is.”

“...!”

* * *

Go Yeong-eun, after hearing my succinct argument about how reuniting with the veteran would make escape more feasible, agreed to use the candle for additional exploration.

Our destination was...

“This escalator, right?”

“Yes.”

The escalator that led from the first to the second floor.

That was the place.

Three of us stood at the base of the escalator on the first floor. The silent rails were shrouded in darkness.

We had never used this escalator before.

Both the high school student and I had only used the downward escalator on the opposite side, climbing it in reverse to reach the second floor.

‘And that’s the only one I’ve used since.’

Every time I explored the mart, I checked between the escalators and around the floors, hoping to recover any items I’d used earlier.

I was that desperate.

But...

‘Most people would instinctively use the upward escalator to go up.’

The Bronze Agent would have assumed I’d do the same.

I handed another piece of Nostalgia Candy to the high school student, standing in front of the escalator.

‘...Three pieces left.’

I’d have to use them more sparingly now. But for this moment, efficiency was crucial.

“Agent, please lead the way up the escalator.”

“I’ll move carefully. Watch your step.”

Go Yeong-eun led the way as we climbed the escalator manually.

‘If my reasoning is correct, the Bronze Agent would have tried to predict my behavior...’

And being more rational than my panicked self, they would have made better judgments.

Unless they’d faced a nightmare scenario like hiding under a mixer while people were ground alive or encountering a high schooler with a broken ankle that needed immediate rescue...

Reconstruct their thought process.

- Rookie agent. Appears inexperienced and clumsy due to trauma despite having prior experience with ghost stories.

If I’d moved more hesitantly on the first day, what choices would I have made?

‘I’d have entered the second floor much later.’

Instead of rushing upstairs, I’d have lingered on the first floor, searching for safe hiding spots and hesitating like a typical rookie.

‘The Bronze Agent would have expected us to arrive on the second floor much later.’

But if they’d identified a safer location for themselves? If they’d considered that their absence on the second floor might send the rookie into a panic?

Then the answer was obvious.

‘They’d leave a message before heading upstairs.’

I scanned the escalator’s advertising panels.

Underneath a bright red ad, a receipt peeked out, as if it were part of the panel.

An instruction from the Supernatural Disaster Management Agency.

“Hmm?”

It was subtle enough to blend in with the mart’s decor but stood out like a lightning bolt to those in the know.

Ignoring the murmurs of my companions, I pulled it free and unfolded it.

Scrawled across the back in thick, hurried handwriting were the words:

Season Off Winter Camping Sale

Third floor, far-left wall, 12th section

“I think I found it.”

I had uncovered the Bronze Agent’s signal.

* * *

We moved quickly, the candlelight and mist cloaking us as we navigated the mart.

The three of us moved almost as if in a three-legged race.

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“It’s the 12th section, right? The 12th.”

“Yes...!”

Even the high school student, now motivated by the prospect of reuniting with their friend, pushed forward with determined steps.

Through the repeated, unnervingly similar sections of the mart, we finally arrived.

[Season Off Winter Camping Sale]

The display resembled a campsite, complete with tents, bonfires, portable burners, and chairs.

Zzzzzp.

A tent flap opened slightly, and an anxious face peeked out.

“Hey! Kim Jae-hoon!”

The high school student with us bolted toward the tent.

No wonder—they had just spotted their friend, the one the Bronze Agent had rescued.

“Oh, oh, oh!”

“Are you okay?”

“H-hah...”

The two embraced, sobbing uncontrollably.

I briefly worried that their cries outside the candlelight might draw something dangerous, but nothing stirred.

‘The Bronze Agent must have secured the area.’

Relieved, both Go Yeong-eun and I relaxed slightly as we approached them.

“Should we extinguish the candle for now?”

“Let’s do that.”

In the safe zone the veteran had prepared.

After a few minutes, the two high schoolers finally calmed down.

The one who had been with the Bronze Agent seemed emotionally worn but bore no serious injuries or signs of exhaustion.

‘They must have taken good care of him.’

As expected, a veteran was far better at handling rescues than a rookie.

I watched them with a hint of guilt, glancing at the high schooler I’d been responsible for.

Chewing on a piece of Nostalgia Candy, they offered a forced smile.

“It’s a relief you’re safe.”

“...Yeah.”

Something felt off.

Even accounting for the ordeal of being trapped in a ghost story for days, the Bronze Agent’s high schooler seemed unusually shaken.

“Agent, the person we’re looking for isn’t that high schooler, right?”

“...No.”

“Then where are they?”

A strange and foreboding feeling crept over me.

‘No way.’

I locked eyes with the high schooler rescued by the Bronze Agent. They flinched.

“Where is the agent?”

Tears welled in their eyes before spilling over.

“The agent... got caught by the staff...! Th-they chased us with dozens of them, oh, oh no!”

“...!”

“Th-they dragged them away, I think... h-heuh.”

Three days trapped in the mart.

The Bronze Agent had... already become inventory.