The mountain lodge was a mess—a pentagram drawn in blood and dismembered body parts strewn across the living room.
In this macabre scene stood the civil servant, holding a butcher's knife before a fainted woman.
From the second-floor railing, I watched it all.
If I didn't know it was fake, I myself might have fainted at such a grotesque sight.
But the lodge caretaker who entered through the back door was polite as ever.
"Did you have a comfortable stay?"
As if that were possible.
Still, there was no point in wasting energy responding, so I simply stayed silent.
The caretaker didn't waste time on clichés like, 'I stayed out of your way so you could rest undisturbed.'
Instead, he simply said this one thing.
"Three days have passed. The time has come."
"..."
"You may now exchange the cassette tapes for the inheritance of this lodge."
No one has died up to this point though?
This is where chaos erupts, where people start killing each other. It's inevitable.
The accumulated fear and trauma must reach a peak before the cassette tapes will release their survivors.
'That's why I made sure to create it.'
The fear and trauma, that is.
Modern sensibilities didn't make it any less distasteful, but I'd scared them enough to believe they were really dying.
It seemed my efforts had paid off.
The caretaker recited his lines, and the fact that the living room was still peaceful, without bloodshed, proved it.
Of course, this peace wouldn't last.
The caretaker's first approach was toward the fainted 'wife' on the sofa.
"Dear guest."
"..."
"Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?"
"Mmh, what… H-Huuh? AAAAHHHHH!!"
The woman woke up screaming, stumbled a few times, and bolted out of the lodge.
What a shame.
'She would've been better off staying unconscious.'
Unbothered, the caretaker turned and addressed the next person.
"Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?"
"..."
The civil servant stared at the caretaker for a moment before speaking slowly.
"I'll reveal my decision last."
"Understood. In that case…"
The caretaker turned to the final person.
Me.
I met his gaze.
Despite his tattered clothing, his speech carried the refined cadence of Seoul's old aristocracy.
"Would you like to exchange your cassette tape?"
Would I?
"Yes."
Of course, I would.
'I've worked like a deckhand on a shrimp boat for the past three days to get to this point.'
Entrants are promised significant monetary rewards if they stay within the Disaster for a designated period.
This was why I had gone so far as to play the role of a serial killer.
'Exchange priority.'
I retrieved the cassette tapes from a backpack belonging to the deceased college student.
The couple's tapes.
The students' tapes.
Even Baek Saheon's tape.
"Six tapes. You are guaranteed first priority for the exchange."
As the caretaker spoke, his tone momentarily revealed his excitement before reverting to politeness.
"You may now claim ownership of this lodge, sir. Would you like to?"
"No."
"..."
If an entrant choses to inherit the place of Disaster (Horizon Mountain Lodge) as their reward, their altered psyche would become permanently tied to it.
Even if my 'serial killing' was a ruse, there was no need to risk taking on such a burden.
'But I can't just make a random exchange or refuse outright either.'
Whether you exchange the tapes for gold, garbage, nothing at all, or even burn the lodge to the ground, the cycle restarts.
When the next round comes, the serial killer's items are redistributed, drawing new victims to this very place.
The lodge would reappear as if nothing had happened, perpetuating the carnage.
Besides.
'I'm pretty sure if I make the exchange, the people I pretended to kill and hid will all actually die.'
There was this record.
========================
#6
Personnel : 8 conscripts, 1 civil servant (Grade-8).
The civil servant was successfully designated as the serial killer but deviated during the third murder, using a special item instead of the provided poison.
Attempted to conclude the disaster without killing conscripts by inducing near-death states.
Outcome : 1 civil servant survived (refused the exchange). ※ The conscript in a near-death state was later confirmed to have died after choking on vomit post-exchange.
========================
The idea of locking everyone up so they couldn't escape during a fire, conveniently preventing their survival? That's how I'd end up a genuine serial killer.
Even if these people were destined to die in this cursed tale, it would still feel wrong.
Let me respect my humanity, however fragile it may be.
After much consideration, I made my choice.
"I want to exchange one cassette tape for the employment contract of the lodge caretaker."
The caretaker seemed momentarily stunned.
"My employment contract?"
"Yes."
I nodded.
Did you know?
The Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau typically aims to eliminate curses like this.
The insane pharmaceutical company I work for aims to ensure employees escape while deftly preserving and managing phenomena—it's never about actually resolving anything.
For Daydream Inc., these ghost stories might serve as raw material supply sources, but for the government, they're just catastrophes to be dealt with. This difference has even inspired some creative reinterpretations in the wiki.
In short, government-managed phenomena can… 'successfully disappear'.
For instance.
The lodge caretaker announces the contract period has ended with this exchange.
The location of the lodge becomes an empty lot, with no signs of paranormal activity to date.
Disaster resolved.
This is the official conclusion of the last recorded investigation into this phenomenon. A definitive end.
Which means…
'Why not terminate it before the next cycle even begins?'
That's how I arrived at this.
"I assume your current employment contract is tied to the previous lodge owner. I'd like to transfer that contract to myself."
Not taking the lodge itself, but inheriting the caretaker's employment rights and terminating his contract?
If I could replicate the scenario in the official records, this Disaster could finally conclude.
"..."
I waited for the caretaker's response. And…
"It is… theoretically possible."
Exactly.
"However, with all due respect, the employer must meet certain qualifications."
"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."
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?