Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work-Chapter 150
The radio just… mentioned the host of a ghost story talk show I know really well?
For a moment, I thought I was hearing things.
Driving a ghost to a cemetery at 2 AM while listening to the radio—it was a reasonable assumption that my brain was playing tricks on me.
But then, a voice came through the speakers.
[Oh dear, such high praise! I'm absolutely flattered!]
"……."
A voice I knew.
[It’s a pleasure to be here, dear listeners. Allow me to tell you a story with my utmost sincerity….]
I need to turn this off.
No matter how I looked at it, listening to an A-rank or higher ghost story promising to tell me something ‘with sincerity’ didn’t seem like a good idea.
Especially not while a ghost was sitting next to me…
‘Wait, hold on.’
Wouldn’t it be better if its attention was divided?
“Kekekekekekekekekekekekekeke, funny radio kekekekekekekekekekeke.”
The ghost in the passenger seat let out a laugh.
It wasn’t actually laughing. It was just imitating laughter, a distorted mockery, an eerie mimicry of sound.
A visceral kind of fear.
‘Damn it.’
I hesitated, my hand hovering over the radio controls.
The smooth voice of the radio host and the lively tone of the talk show guest continued their conversation.
I kept my focus on the dark road, using their voices as background noise to distract myself.
[Recently, the Purgatory Choir sent a special instrument to the late-night talk show’s band. Rumor has it that it was a gesture of apology and gratitude. Is that true…?]
It sounded just like the kind of banter you’d hear when a famous talk show host made a guest appearance on a radio program.
Casual updates, recent events, personal anecdotes, fan inquiries.
The format was perfectly standard—but if you listened carefully, something was deeply twisted and chilling about it.
The nouns weren’t realistic, the verbs didn’t match, and the phrasing combined into grotesque statements.
[Which do you think is the true source of love—the heart or the head? The next guest on our late-night talk show conducted an incredibly delicate study to find out. Their precision with surgical removal is astonishing! A must-watch episode, for sure.]
[Oh, absolutely! We look forward to it… with great anticipation.]
"……."
Cold sweat pooled in my left palm, which was gripping the wheel.
At some point, the ghost had turned to face me.
It was staring.
Just… staring.
"Uh… are you enjoying the show?"
"……."
"I asked if you’re enjoying it."
"A-ah, my apologies. I was focusing on driving, so I only caught bits and pieces… But the host is very eloquent."
"Hehehehehehehehehehehehe."
I was going insane.
Meanwhile, the radio continued smoothly.
[Late-night talk shows are always thrillingly fun! But tell me, Mr. Brown, what hobbies do you enjoy when you’re not hosting?]
[Ah! Hobbies, you say… Playing the piano, selecting fine wines, and bathing are all wonderful companions in life. Choosing hobbies that inspire the soul is a chronic condition among entertainers. And of course…]
[Conversing with good friends is always delightful.]
"……."
[Mr. Brown’s friends, you say! Can you tell us more? Perhaps a live call-in—AARGH connection or something….]
Oh, hell.
[Ah, unfortunately, we’ve lost touch recently, so a call-in wouldn’t be possible.]
[Oh dear, how unfortunate.]
[Ah, a heart-wrenching loss! But fortunately…]
[I already know quite a few updates about my friend.]
My throat went dry.
"Hey."
[They recently participated in a barbecue event at the mart. And apparently, they purchased an ugly little doll. My goodness, what a charmingly foolish thing to do. And…]
"This is getting a bit loud… Could you lower the volume…? Please."
I reached for the radio, trying to keep my hand from shaking.
[Right now, they have glass instead of an arm!]
"……."
[Oh dear, a glass arm! Doesn’t it feel fragile and difficult to move? Oh, is this how I should say it? Please tell me this is the right way to say it!]
[Oh, indeed! It deeply concerns me, Brown! Especially if some stupid, useless creature were to be stuck inside that glass… wouldn’t that be even more pitiful?]
Cold sweat trickled down my back.
[Such utter foolishness…]
I slammed the power button.
Click.
"……."
"……."
The radio shut off.
For a brief moment, silence returned.
And then—
[…A wise decision indeed! My goodness!]
The radio turned itself back on.
[How unfortunate that my friend is unreachable. I truly regret not being able to share these thoughts with them.]
"It won’t turn off. Why is it so unfriendly?"
Then, a whisper from the passenger seat.
"If you’re not turning it off… then let me out.
I need to get off, open the door…"
The ghost's voice was right next to me.
"And help me down… I can’t get off alone… because I don’t have any feet."
"……."
[Can we check if the connection is still active?]
I turned my head.
Only now did I notice—the passenger in the front seat had no legs.
Or more precisely, the lower half of its legs had been completely severed from the ankles down.
It was only pretending to walk by swaying its body, mimicking a limp.
"I can’t walk alone… you have to go with me."
Drip. Drip.
Blood fell.
No, it had been dripping this entire time.
The seat beneath the ghost was completely soaked. Now, the blood was gushing out from underneath the front seat, pooling across the floor, overflowing.
Seeping toward the driver’s side.
Reaching my shoes.
Touching the pedals.
[Oh, wait a moment.]
"……."
[No need to check for now. My friend must be doing their best as well.]
The voice deepened.
[Ah, a famous saying comes to mind: 'Heaven helps those who help themselves.' Interestingly, many different cultures have recorded eerily similar phrases. And in that spirit…]
[My dear friend, who is doing their very best, deserves a special kind of assistance.]
A warm voice spoke through the speakers.
[Now, it’s fine to turn off the radio. Friend.]
"……."
[Ah, and look—we have a new passenger.]
Screeeech.
I barely managed to slam the brakes.
I almost hit someone.
‘Damn it.’
A hand appeared in my windshield reflection, raised like someone hitchhiking with a thumbs-up.
The goblin fire in my right arm mimicked the gesture, raising a thumbs-up before lowering it.
‘No way.’
Cold sweat dripped down my back.
At some point, I must have accidentally turned off the radio while gripping the steering wheel.
"Ah! A person…! That’s a person, right?"
The ghost in the passenger seat shifted its attention.
To the potential new passenger outside.
If a new passenger attempts to board midway, do not refuse. It is safer to let them into the back seat quietly.
There have been cases where, if refused, the ghost followed the rejected passenger out of the vehicle.
Tock tock.
A hand tapped on the rear window, and then, somewhat clumsily, the door creaked open.
However, note that there have been sightings of non-human entities attempting to board as passengers.
Your assigned taxi has already become part of a supernatural phenomenon. You must remember: Unusual beings may try to enter.
In such cases, for your own safety, you are allowed to refuse. Remember—your survival is the priority.
‘Shit.’
Please just go away.
Blood was still flooding the front of the car.
If the new passenger was human, they’d probably scream and run away on their own, even if I didn’t refuse.
Maybe I’d get lucky…
"Excuse me."
"……."
A calm voice spoke.
"Uh… am I doing this right? I need a ride to Seoul Station High-Speed Rail."
"……."
Why the hell is he here?
The rearview mirror reflected the new passenger.
Pale skin. Messy hair. A thin, lethargic frame.
A perpetually exhausted expression, looking completely unbothered by the situation.
‘J3.’
The security captain of Hundred Dreams Corporation was standing outside my taxi, speaking in his usual bored tone.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
Security teams were allowed to go out at night, but why was he here?
And why the hell was he asking for Seoul Station?
Was the taxi’s supernatural state drawing in contaminated people?
I had no idea.
What mattered was this:
- The security captain believes I died a month ago.
‘…Did he recognize me?’
No, probably not.
My hair was messy, I was wearing glasses, and he could only see the back of my head.
Stay calm. Stay calm.
"Uh… I already have a passenger, so I have to take them to their destination first."
"I don’t mind."
His voice remained completely indifferent.
This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.
Even though the car reeked of burning incense and blood, he sounded unfazed.
"Oh, one more person! One more person! So happy."
"Ah, good. Then I’ll get in."
The security captain sat down carefully in the back seat and closed the door.
"……."
"Uh… why aren’t we moving?"
‘This is insane.’
I started the taxi again.
Silence filled the car as I followed the navigation route once more.
- You are entering a speed control zone.
I slowed down.
"Hurry up."
A flat whisper came from the passenger seat.
I wanted to hurry the hell up and get out of this nightmare, but I couldn’t.
If the driver violates traffic laws, the passenger ghost will clap excitedly and cause an accident. Afterward, they will attempt to exit the vehicle. You must not let this happen.
‘Damn it.’
"I might get pulled over. Just hang on a bit."
"……."
The long-haired ghost turned its head toward me.
Its gaze locked onto mine.
"Excuse me."
"Hey. Hurry up."
"Do you not see it chasing us? It’s right behind us."
"I can see it. Oh? Oh no. It caught up."
THUMP.
A red handprint slammed against the passenger-side window.
THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP.
Every window was suddenly covered in bloody handprints.
The windshield.
The side mirrors.
Deep, dark red stains smeared across the glass, thick and wet.
… Dripping inside the car.
And then I realized—
The hands were not coming from the outside.
They were being pressed against the glass from the inside.
As if something inside the car was trying to get out.
"……."
Cold sweat ran down the back of my neck.
The ghost in the passenger seat tilted its head.
And then tilted it further.
And further—
Until its entire head flipped upside down.
Revealing its gaping mouth.
"Let us out. Hurry up, or let us out. Hurry, hurry, hurry—"
"Hm."
A quiet cough came from the back seat.
