Chapter 24

Chodam Park—West Gate (3)

So the kiosk that had suddenly appeared wasn’t an anomalous phenomenon.

Judging by the repeated emphasis on preventing accidents, something dangerous would probably happen whenever the water-level gauge rose.

If that was the wrong answer, then what was the correct one—the method that would let us escape?

“About the loop. How do people normally escape from loops like this?”

“Hmm… Apparently, they often have to discover a certain number of anomalies or complete a certain number of circuits. Things like that.”

Either way, this looked like it would be a very long battle.

One circuit of the park seemed to cover roughly three kilometers.

“Ah! Look over there. The temporary booth is broken again.”

“So it is.”

The booth remained ruined, and the anomaly had disappeared just as before.

“Phew, what a relief. When I saw those bags, I honestly thought it was going to make us pick up garbage and bring it back.”

Her thought process was so positive that I could almost call her an optimist.

Or perhaps it wasn’t quite that simple.

“Haebin, you don’t really like cleaning, do you?”

“How did you know?”

Myeong Haebin’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.

“You looked like you didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t it be stranger if someone actually enjoyed it? Except for you, Senior.”

“I don’t like it that much either.”

I had never once thought, I love cleaning so much I could die!

I merely felt uncomfortable when I saw something disorderly and found it difficult to ignore. Cleaning just happened to be the method I knew for resolving that discomfort.

“Hmph. Liar.”

“I didn’t expect you to believe me anyway. I just… Never mind.”

I started to say something more, then closed my mouth.

An awkward silence passed briefly between us, but Myeong Haebin seemed unable to endure even that much and spoke again.

“Cleaning is a pain, but I like you, so I don’t mind.”

“Why do you like—”

Before I could finish, something behind the temporary booth entered my field of vision.

Every piece of exercise equipment from the fitness area had formed a line at the entrance.

Their fronts were all turned toward us—toward the walking trail.

“When did they move there?”

This was an anomalous phenomenon.

They definitely hadn’t been visible when we were farther away. But the moment we approached, they had suddenly appeared as though they had been waiting for us.

They didn’t attack or charge after us. Yet the gaze I sensed within their silence sent a chill crawling up my back until my hair stood on end.

Clank.

As I took a step, the exercise machines crowded against the path shifted slightly to follow my movement.

It was as though they were pressing their noses against the bars of a cage to watch us.

“Let’s hurry past them. Quickly.”

We decided not to look back.

Fortunately, the exercise equipment wasn’t the type to pursue us relentlessly.

This is creepy as hell too.

I would have preferred it if they acted like the teacher or the teddy bear and openly tried to kill us.

When we reached the pond after practically fleeing there, the original number of stepping-stones had returned.

So the missing stone really had been an anomalous phenomenon.

“Were there fish in the pond before?”

As the gauge had risen, the pond seemed to contain slightly more water.

Or perhaps it didn’t.

The difference was so subtle that it was difficult to tell.

In the distance, black shadows moved beneath fallen leaves and other debris. They were either fish or garbage, and considering how they moved through the stagnant water, fish seemed more likely.

“There weren’t any. Maybe they appeared as the water level rose?”

That was possible.

Then did the fish count as an anomalous phenomenon or not?

After passing the still-open kiosk, we again reached the point where we had to choose between the west gate and Gomyut.

“Why don’t we take the west gate this time? Going toward Gomyut only sent us back to the beginning.”

We had to go toward Gomyut. Anomalous phenomena had occurred.

But how was I supposed to explain that?

I had lived a life in which I was better suited to solving problems with action than words, so I had to wrack my brain.

“I have a different opinion.”

“Why? I thought my suggestion was quite reasonable!”

Oh, right. I could use that.

“Look. The path toward Gomyut has a place where we can mark the anomalies we’ve found. Why do you think it’s there? Because we’re supposed to mark them whenever we see them.”

“Hmm… That’s true.”

“Then wouldn’t the other path be for when there aren’t any anomalous phenomena to report?”

“That’s true too.”

Myeong Haebin was remarkably easy to persuade.

Even when she had doubts, a few words were usually enough to win her over.

It wasn’t as though my reasoning was completely illogical, but there were certainly gaps she could have challenged if she had wanted to.

“Then we have to mark the anomalies again this time.”

“The pond and the exercise area. But the temporary booth… bothers me.”

“What about it?”

The stepping-stones had returned to normal.

But the temporary booth was still ruined. Why?

“There are two possibilities. First, the same anomaly coincidentally occurred again. Second, the temporary booth was never an anomalous phenomenon, just like the kiosk.”

“Doesn’t the second possibility seem strange? If we’d been wrong about it, there would’ve been a notice.”

“By that logic, the first possibility would also be an extraordinary coincidence.”

Should we mark the temporary booth as an anomalous phenomenon or not?

There was only one way to find out.

I returned the pen to its holder without marking the booth.

“What if we’re wrong?”

At her question, I simply laughed.

“It’s not as if we’ll die.”

[Chodam Park—Gomyut]

[Our Pond Is Currently]

[Parched] … [Insufficient] … [Average] … [High] … [Abundant] … [Perfect]

[Notice]

Some facilities inside the park may require repairs.

Please report them immediately upon discovery.

※ This notice is intended to prevent safety accidents.

—Chodam Park—

The consequences of my words came far too quickly.

I didn’t expect to be proven wrong immediately.

The temporary booth was the only facility that needed repairs.

“Damn it. Then why didn’t they repair it earlier? Why leave it broken again just to confuse us?”

“Um… Senior. It’s still broken over there.”

Myeong Haebin pointed toward the temporary booth, barely visible around a distant curve.

Still unrepaired, half its banner had come loose and flapped in the wind.

At least we now know that recurring anomalies have to be reported every time.

The water level had reached [Average].

We had already submitted two incorrect answers.

I couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved that no immediate penalty had appeared or become even more anxious because of it.

Either way, there was nothing else we could do.

We could only continue walking around the park.

Pop.

As I prepared to cross the stepping-stones, a translucent, rustling fish approached my feet and opened and closed its mouth.

No—was that really a fish?

A faded store logo was printed across its back. Its eight freely waving fins made it resemble a plastic bag more than a fish.

Its grayish-white eyes stared at us without focus while its crinkling mouth twitched. The sight was utterly revolting.

“It wouldn’t even come near us before.”

“The pond has filled up quite a bit. Maybe that’s why?”

The water lapped dangerously close to spilling over the first stepping-stone.

This was the penalty for our incorrect judgments.

What would happen once the gauge filled completely?

It couldn’t be anything good.

But could we even escape before the pond filled?

I should have realized then that this was the question we needed to consider first.

[Chodam Park—Gomyut]

My breathing had grown ragged. I wiped the glistening sweat from my face with the back of my hand.

“How many circuits has it been?”

“This makes… twelve.”

Thirty-six kilometers.

That was how far we had walked.

I had once heard that an average adult man walked at roughly five kilometers per hour. If so, we had effectively been walking for more than seven hours.

“This is driving me insane.”

I had expected something like this from a loop, but it felt as though time itself had stopped.

The sun never rose, and the moon never shifted from its position.

“Pant… What did you say?”

“Nothing. Let’s take a break.”

“Please. Thank you so much.”

The bench was only ten steps away, but even that seemed too far for Myeong Haebin. She dropped to the ground where she stood.

I was equally exhausted. I used the inside of my uniform to roughly wipe away the sweat covering my face.

“Let’s hope the ground doesn’t start acting up again.”

“Good idea.”

We had learned several things over the course of walking thirty-six kilometers.

This park had a ridiculous number of anomalous phenomena.

And it wasn’t as though only one appeared per circuit.

“Aagh! Grab me, please!”

Sometimes the path undulated like waves. Sometimes the pond boiled over and surged toward us. Once, the moon in the sky grew larger and larger before rolling toward us like a massive boulder.

Nor were all the anomalies that obvious.

“Doesn’t this duck have three legs?”

Once, the illustration on the sign beside the pond had changed ever so slightly.

“The directions on the sign have been reversed. That’s the wrong way.”

“Huh? Oh! You’re right!”

Just as we grew familiar with the geography, the path would subtly rearrange itself.

The number of products displayed at the kiosk would arbitrarily increase or decrease as well.

But we couldn’t simply report every detail we were uncertain about.

[Our Pond Is Currently]

[Parched] … [Insufficient] … [Average] … [High] … [Abundant] … [Perfect]

“See? I told you that you were being too sensitive, Senior.”

“I could’ve sworn I saw a shadow… That wasn’t an anomaly?”

After repeatedly encountering such minute changes, our nerves had become so hypersensitive that we even started seeing things that weren’t there.

We had tried nearly everything we could think of.

We stayed in one circuit for as long as possible. We ran an entire circuit without resting. We had already attempted every plausible method, but none of them worked.

Of course, I knew the app had proposed “cleaning” as the method of clearing ghost stories.

But what was the point of cleaning when all the garbage returned after every circuit?

How are we supposed to break this loop?

I sat slumped on the ground, unconcerned that the dirt was ruining the seat of my uniform, and held out my hand to Myeong Haebin.

“Haebin, give me some water. You can drink first.”

It was practically the only asset we had left after being reduced to penniless beggars, so we had conserved it as much as possible.

But it was about time we at least moistened our lips.

“You drink first, Senior. Do you want the energy bar I swiped from that man too? I have some candy as well.”

Myeong Haebin rummaged through her pockets and displayed several items, but all I could see was the water.

“Thanks.”

I twisted open the sealed bottle and raised it to my mouth.

My mouth was so dry that the water curling over the tip of my tongue felt both slimy and gritty. It even seemed to smell fishy.

Then a soft, round lump flowed into my mouth, making me cough.

“Cough!”

The moment I jerked my head aside, something resembling green algae splattered onto the ground with the water.

No, it looked more like a mass of fungal spores that had been allowed to grow unchecked.

I looked inside the bottle and immediately spat out all the water still in my mouth.

Damn it.

So I hadn’t imagined it.

“Isn’t that mold?”

“It is.”

The bottle I had just been drinking from was now filled with cloudy, moss-like growth. Pieces of a substance I had no desire to identify floated throughout the water.

I wanted to scrape my tongue clean.

At the very least, I wanted to rinse my mouth with fresh water. But there was nothing I could do except spit out as much as possible.

“Let me see it.”

“Here.”

Myeong Haebin took the bottle, insisting that it definitely hadn’t looked like this when she handed it over. She examined it from several angles, opened the cap, and sniffed before grimacing.

“It smells horribly fishy. How did you drink this? Doesn’t your stomach hurt?”

“Not yet.”

I didn’t think it would.

In fact, far from hurting, I hated to admit that I felt slightly better now that some moisture had entered my body.

Who would have thought eating that grotesque food in the cafeteria would benefit me like this?

That didn’t mean I intended to drink any more of it.

“Give me the energy bar.”

“One moment. Hmm…”

Myeong Haebin opened the energy bar she had clearly received from Team Leader Yong—the brand was identical—and carefully examined it for some time. After smelling it, she held it out to me.

“Here. It’s melted a little, but this one is definitely fine!”

Crunch.

As if mocking her confident declaration, blood began flowing from my gums and lips after a single bite.

“Blood! You’re bleeding! Tissues… Here! I should’ve checked the inside too. I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine.”

I had expected something like this.

A broken fishhook jutted from the bitten cross-section of the energy bar. The other objects embedded between the nuts appeared to be small nails.

The piece I spat out, afraid it would tear apart my esophagus if swallowed, was equally riddled with sharp metal.

“Give me the other energy bar. I’ll check it first.”

I snapped Myeong Haebin’s unopened bar in half.

This one was perfectly normal. Caramel stretched between the halves, the nuts were intact, and the sweet scent of chocolate filled the air.

“It seems that whenever we try to eat something, it becomes inedible.”

Food forever beyond our reach.

For a ghost story that kept people trapped in a park indefinitely, this place was remarkably cruel.

I pressed a tissue against the torn inside of my lip until the bleeding roughly stopped. Then I carefully wrapped the damaged energy bar in its packaging and shoved it into my pocket.

“Aah, what a waste! It was hard work sneaking that out!”

“You said it yourself. Even if we bring food into a ghost story, there are plenty of situations where we can’t eat it. We’ll just have to accept that.”

“I know! But it still feels like such a waste every time.”

I silently stood, then reached down and helped Myeong Haebin to her feet.

“Let’s go. The sooner we get out, the sooner we can wash ourselves and drink some cold water.”

“All right. Break’s over!”

The bizarre space known as a ghost story wouldn’t let anyone rest peacefully, even when they desperately needed to.

The longer we remained, the more the park’s peculiar dampness seemed to seep into our bodies. It didn’t feel safe.

It was time to start walking again.

***

Forty-two kilometers.

We had finally covered the distance of a marathon.

At least marathons had water stations along the way. This damned ghost story wouldn’t even give us that much.

Abandoning our human dignity, we even tried the faucet beside the recycling station. But its water was so acidic that it felt as though it were burning the inside of my mouth, so that option failed too.

“This is driving me insane.”

The anomalies in this park neither chased nor threatened us.

They simply forced us to walk endlessly along the same endlessly repeating trail.

This loop slowly devoured people.

Its terror didn’t come from a blade cutting through your neck in an instant. It came from the pressure of being ground down like grain beneath a millstone while the water around you rose little by little.

It squeezed and eroded us with excruciating slowness, but with absolute certainty.

Our breaks grew more frequent and lasted longer. Despite that, our bodies—deprived of both calories and water—continued to deteriorate.

What the hell am I supposed to clean?

Damn app.

No matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t find the answer.

What was the obscured fourth rule?

What else could I possibly do here?

The headache brought on by my thirst stabbed relentlessly through my skull.

We had to either drink or eat something.

We had two choices: consume the energy bar and water stuffed inside my pockets, or—

“Haebin, let’s go find some water.”

“How? Are you planning to drink from the pond?”

“…Not that.”

The pond was visibly filled with garbage fish. How could I possibly drink from it?

Instead, I pointed to the container that had conveniently appeared ahead of us as we approached the forty-five-kilometer mark.

“Let’s visit the kiosk.”

We couldn’t consume food or drinks brought in from outside.

Then what about the products being sold inside the ghost story?