Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work-Chapter 149

I had already experienced this firsthand several times before, but most of the ghost stories handled by the Disaster Management Bureau involved fatalities.

A supernatural disaster is only registered if there are casualties.

In that sense, even as an agent of the Disaster Management Bureau, being assigned to a task that kept me one step away from actual deaths… could seem rather appealing.

No, I get it, but still.

"At dawn, uh… driving with a ghost in the passenger seat?"

"Yes."

"……."

Are you serious?

"Don’t worry. There have been no recorded cases of the driver dying."

"……."

"The worst that's happened was a mild heart attack or fainting. You won’t need any major mental preparation."

Yes, I do.

I barely managed to suppress the overwhelming sense of betrayal and shock that surged through me as I glanced at the Bronze Agent.

‘Wait a minute.’

…If I openly admitted that I was terrified right now, wouldn't they just tell me to quit?

I had already whined once to escape from the emergency response team. If I refused again, the already awkwardly distant Bronze Agent might straightforwardly suggest I start looking for another career.

‘No way!’

That would be the worst possible route for a spy.

So, I changed my strategy.

"But… I can’t drive in my current condition."

"……."

Lowering my head slightly, I put on a pitiful expression and glanced toward the empty space where my right arm used to be.

Yeah.

‘They wouldn’t make me do something as insane as driving with one hand… right?!’

If someone had been trained to drive with just one hand from the start, maybe. But how was a person who suddenly lost an arm supposed to drive a car—especially at two in the morning—with a ghost in the seat next to them?

With this, I could naturally get reassigned to another task…

"You don’t need to worry about that."

……

"Excuse me?"

For the first time in days, the Bronze Agent gave me a faint smile.

"It’s time to take care of your arm."

Ah.

***

Thinking about it, it was obvious.

The Disaster Management Bureau wasn’t stupid enough to just throw a one-armed agent into the driver’s seat.

Of course, before assigning me this task, they would have to do something about my missing right arm.

‘Should I be laughing or crying about this?’

Honestly, I kind of wanted to cry.

Either way, thanks to this, I finally got to enter the Disaster Management Bureau's main headquarters alongside the Bronze Agent.

‘I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.’

"This way."

"Right…!"

Instead of stepping inside the busy city hall building where government employees were working, I found myself following the Bronze Agent outside. We walked between City Hall and the Seoul Library.

The path behind the buildings was dim, cast in their overlapping shadows.

After passing the automated book return booth behind the Seoul Library…

‘Here.’

Above us stretched a glass-covered passage connecting City Hall and the library.

As we stepped underneath the bridge—

Spark.

The metal badge I was wearing gave off a faint glimmer, casting light onto a narrow flower bed beneath the library windows.

And then, a door that hadn’t been visible before came into view.

"…!!"

The flower bed expanded, deepening into a hidden space, revealing a sleek, opaque glass door with a sign.

[Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau]

"Please enter."

And so, in the narrow alley between Seoul City Hall and the Seoul Library, where countless pedestrians passed by without a second glance, we stepped through the hidden door into the headquarters of the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau.

By the way, it was an automatic door.

‘Wow.’

And inside the headquarters… was surprisingly just like any other government office.

A slightly aged building with depreciating interior fixtures. Adults of various ages, all dressed in suits, moving around and working on tasks.

The only difference was the conversations they were having.

"How many died?"

"Fifteen."

"Jeez, what the hell is up with Dobong-gu these days? That damn telephone booth just keeps—"

And they were all busy.

Some of them had strange lights or shadows trailing behind them, further emphasizing the eerie and bizarre nature of this agency.

"The Bureau's main facilities are underground. It’s harder to conceal things above ground."

"That makes sense…."

I followed the Bronze Agent into an elevator.

The elevator itself was fairly modern but slightly worn down, nothing out of the ordinary. However, instead of numbered buttons, the floor selection was done through a keypad.

‘They probably designed it this way so no one would figure out how many basement levels exist….’

[07]

The Bronze Agent quickly keyed in the number.

"The Equipment Management Division is on B7."

We descended, and upon reaching the underground seventh floor, the Bronze Agent knocked on the door directly in front of us.

[Supernatural Equipment Registration Office]

When we entered, a middle-aged government employee sitting alone in a small office looked up and greeted us.

"Bronze Agent! I was just about to contact your team leader—oh, so this must be the new recruit!"

"…Yes. That’s correct."

"Nice to meet you…! I’m Agent Grape."

"Hahaha, I see. Welcome! I’m Oh Jung-hye, the chief administrator for the Equipment Management Division. Since I’m in administration, I don’t have a codename."

The middle-aged chief administrator smiled and motioned for me and the Bronze Agent to follow her inside.

She opened a door that looked like a deep-colored, antique wooden display cabinet… but beyond it, a long row of shelves stretched into a storage room.

"…!"

"Now then, what you’ll be receiving today is…"

As her voice gradually faded into the distance, the storage room darkened.

And then—

"This one!"

Spark.

Something gleamed, like moonlight striking a glass surface.

I looked toward the nearest shelf.

An old, cracked glass lantern.

Despite its age, the craftsmanship was remarkably intricate, and through the delicate glasswork, a faint light flickered.

Inside, a pale blue flame crackled and sputtered the moment it saw me.

"This is today’s incoming will-o’-the-wisp! It’s been waiting eagerly to assist you!"

Oh, hell.

They really did choose the most dramatic and exciting option.

---------------------=

[Darkness Exploration Record / Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau]

/ Item: Will-o’-the-Wisp Lantern

A glass lantern infused with divine energy after a hundred days of spiritual offering.

A mischievous but generally benevolent goblin fire spirit resides inside, suppressing its own heat and focusing on its training.

The lantern naturally adapts to its user, allowing it to accompany them seamlessly. At times, it can even replace a lost body part.

When a user with strong compatibility wields it, they can perform a few minor goblin pranks.

Item Usage Conditions: Only authorized agents of the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau.

---------------------=

"Would you like to try holding it?"

With trembling fingers, I carefully picked up the glass lantern with my left hand.

The moment I did—

The glass lantern shattered.

"……!"

The transparent shards, like ice fragments, reconstructed themselves with a clear chime—reforming into my right arm.

And as the will-o’-the-wisp enveloped it…

"It worked!"

I now had a fully functional arm.

I flexed my fingers.

It moved… smoothly.

Without a single hint of pain.

‘Wow.’

Honestly, among the phenomena classified as ghost stories, this one was by far the warmest and most reassuring.

‘This feels more like a folktale or a legend.’

I flexed and relaxed my right hand a few times, moving it at will. It was strangely cool and smooth to the touch.

And then—

My hand suddenly raised a thumbs-up on its own before lowering it again.

“…?!”

"Ah, it has a bit of a mischievous streak. But that’ll actually be useful for your work. Haha!"

"…Right."

So, this is what happens when bureaucrats are immersed in a world of ghost stories.

And just like that, I filled the void of my missing right arm with a spiritual goblin fire.

Of course, it wasn’t permanent.

"It wasn’t made specifically for you with a dedicated spiritual offering, so after three days, it’ll revert back into a lantern. Just come back to recharge it."

Yeah, I figured they wouldn’t just hand over a custom-made goblin fire lantern to a rookie.

It seemed like what I received wasn’t a true goblin fire lantern that let me perform actual goblin pranks, but more of a general-use item, a standard-issue piece of equipment.

‘If they handed these out to every agent, the Disaster Management Bureau would be completely overpowered.’

"If they make a customized one, you can’t just take it as a temporary issue like this. The agent has to go through a goblin trial… ugh, it’s powerful, but it’s a hassle."

Besides, that kind of treatment was only reserved for team aces or division heads in the Bureau.

‘Still, having an excuse for using a regeneration-type item will come in handy.’

Either way, I gave a deep bow of gratitude to the two government employees who had helped process my equipment request.

"Thank you."

"Oh, don’t mention it."

Then, the senior administrator in charge of the Equipment Management Division gave me a wink from behind her glasses and leaned in conspiratorially.

"The Bronze Agent has never taken care of a rookie this much before."

"…!"

"He’s always overworking himself without ever showing it, and while I respect him, I sometimes feel bad for him. But it looks like he’s getting along well with you."

"Ah, thank you…."

"Really, it’s nothing."

I wasn’t entirely sure if ‘getting along’ was the right way to describe it, but after spending the day together, I did get the impression that he was much more polite and considerate than I had initially thought.

Had he sorted out his thoughts while I was hospitalized?

‘Maybe he just decided to tolerate me since I owe him my life.’

Either way, I was grateful.

As we made our way back, the Bronze Agent said something to me.

"…It’ll take some time, but eventually, we’ll find a goblin fire lantern tailored for you."

"…Thank you."

I was honestly curious.

What kind of form would it take?

‘If I could actually use goblin pranks, escaping from ghost stories would become so much easier.’

Of course, there was a good chance my spy mission would end before that ever happened, and that would be preferable for my well-being… but the idea itself wasn’t bad.

…Though I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that the thing attached to my right side wasn’t truly mine.

……And the fact that I was currently waiting until dawn to play chauffeur for a ghost.

‘Help me.’

I endured the waiting time in silence, suppressing my groans.

With both arms restored, I had no excuse left to avoid driving.

‘Damn it.’

Time passed relentlessly, and eventually, the moment arrived.

2 AM.

***

A dark Express Terminal Station.

And of course, it was raining.

Public transportation had shut down, the crowds had disappeared, and a heavy silence had settled over the area.

Only two or three taxis, including mine, were lined up by the roadside, waiting for the late-night fare surge and stranded passengers.

"……."

I gripped the steering wheel tightly.

At around 12:45 AM, three citizens had reported being trapped inside a restroom near Express Terminal Station after encountering a ghost. They had since been successfully rescued and returned to reality.

Now, all that remained was to safely return the ghost to its original location to conclude the supernatural phenomenon.

And I was the one assigned to ‘safely return the ghost to its original location.’

‘…The Bronze Agent said he’d be waiting at the destination.’

Exhaling slowly, I sat in the car, surrounded by the empty silence.

A ghost that had already lost its intended victim couldn’t directly harm the driver.

However, inside the vehicle, eerie phenomena would occur. The key was to remain calm and handle them properly.

Before we begin, let’s review the Bureau-issued vehicle specifications.

The car assigned to me was a four-seater taxi with at least two eights on the license plate.

The very car I was now sitting in, desperately trying to steady my nerves.

The ghost would check the license plate before getting into the agent’s vehicle.

And then—

From the dark street outside, a long-haired figure peered through the windshield.

Its head was tilted downward, staring at the license plate.

"…!"

I forced my grip on the wheel to remain steady, struggling to maintain a calm and composed expression.

If the driver showed signs of distress, the ghost could leave the taxi.

If that happened, the supernatural disaster would not end.

The long-haired silhouette swayed unnaturally before staggering toward the passenger side.

And then—

Knock, knock.

It rapped on the door.

I unlocked it.

A person stepped inside—wearing faded summer clothes unsuited for the current weather, their face mostly concealed by long, dark hair.

As they settled into the seat, they muttered:

"Take me to Sajiyuk Cemetery…."

Click.

The passenger door closed.

"Understood."

"This car’s number… I like it. The number… it’s great… eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight…"

I nearly blacked out.

"That’s good to hear."

Doing my best to remain calm, I entered the destination into the GPS.

Sajiyuk… Cemetery.

Search complete.

A location that normally shouldn’t have existed was found, and the navigation system began plotting a route.

Estimated arrival time: 4:04 AM.

"……."

Two hours.

I barely managed to press the accelerator.

The car moved forward, leaving Express Terminal Station behind.

Woooom….

The hum of the engine was the only sound in the car.

For the next two hours, I would be sitting alone in this confined space… with a ghost.

While driving.

"……."

"……."

A strange chill settled inside the vehicle.

On the dashboard, a small plaster air freshener swayed slightly, releasing a scent that wasn’t floral.

The smell of something burning.

An oppressive silence.

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Turn left in 200 meters.

My hands twitched on the steering wheel.

Even the emotionless voice of the navigation system sent chills down my spine.

"……."

I focused all my energy on not reacting.

Which meant not looking to the side.

But somehow, not looking felt even more terrifying. My palms were sweaty, and my eyes struggled to focus on the dark road ahead.

Maybe looking would be better. Not seeing anything was making my imagination run wild, filling my mind with suffocating dread.

‘Wait, wait a second.’

"……."

I glanced sideways—and saw the long-haired woman sitting quietly in the passenger seat.

Her head was twisted backward.

"I'm… suffocating."

I looked back at the wheel.

"Someone… is chasing us."

I fixed my gaze firmly on the road ahead.

Cold sweat trickled down the back of my neck. My mind kept replaying what I had just seen—her completely twisted head, her face pressed against the headrest, her black hair covering the back of her skull….

"Driver! There's something chasing us! Look! Look behind you!"