Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work

In this dream, I could calmly review those.

As an adult.

For example…

‘Why do more than half the children we meet change every time agents come in?’

If all the children were different, I could logically assume, ‘Ah, there are multiple similar places like this due to the nature of the supernatural phenomenon.’

But if more than half change… that’s something else entirely.

That means more than half of them have disappeared.

At the very least, disappeared in a way that prevents them from meeting the agents.

And then…

Two eerie but simple and clear possibilities flashed through my mind.

Either they themselves are being influenced by this ghost story.

……Or there are truths they’re deliberately hiding from me, the rookie.

Maybe both.

‘If that’s the case…’

…Then don’t I have something perfect for this kind of situation?

Something that could support my insight.

Something I don’t need to ask the others for.

[Indeed! Clever boy. Grapes, a wise idea is a treasure for all time.]

[Don’t forget what you’ve learned in this dream when you wake up tomorrow.]

It felt like a wrinkled hand gently stroked my head in encouragement.

Ah, thank you, Elder.

……

……

“Ah.”

Kyararararara…

Laughter and the sound of chimes.

A new golden morning had begun.

“Let’s go see the Mermaid Princess!”

“I wanna play tag!”

Children chattered cheerfully as they woke up and began leaving the bedroom.

Normally, I’d immediately follow to gather information, but my mind was already focused on one clear idea.

Something I’d concluded during the dream.

“……”

I reached inside the thick coat I wore and carefully pulled out what I had packed to avoid breaking it—

Detective Syrup for Kids.

The syrup I’d made by pressing one of the emoji buttons in the Dream Incubator.

At Daydream Inc., it was officially called this.

Detection Potion

: When consumed, it brightens your vision to reveal what you need most at the moment.

If I drank the detective syrup, I’d see which child could be rescued.

Because right now, my mission—and what I most need—is to rescue a child.

‘Alright.’

Normally I’d have weighed this or that option, but…

Come on, this is about saving a kid. Being too calculating about it just makes me feel like scum.

‘Besides, I needed to test its effect anyway.’

I opened the sealed cap of the syrup and drank it in one go.

Just as the label described, the syrup had an artificial cherry scent and sweetness that slid down my throat.

“…Huu.”

I pocketed the empty bottle.

There was no dazzling, dramatic change like you’d expect from a healing potion, but I felt my heartbeat steady and my mind grow calm.

‘Now, let’s check.’

I turned my eyes to the children still in the common area, then to the kids running outside through the window.

Looking for the one who would ‘catch my eye’.

But…

“……”

Why can’t I see anything?

The kids running off, the ones laughing by the fountain in the distance.

They’re just kids. None of them stand out in any way.

For a moment, I started to feel a chill. Was there truly not a single viable target to rescue?

But then.

‘…Huh?’

I felt a presence elsewhere.

Something distinct and bright registered at the edge of my vision.

“……”

I turned my head to check what it was.

My coat’s opposite pocket.

The one holding the item I’d bought at the faceless market in the manhole.

‘Why is this…’

I reached in and pulled it out.

It was a sheet printed with four vintage stamps.

They looked like cheap fundraising seals or promotional stickers, each showing an old Korean street scene.

And if you looked closer, you could see things in the background that weren’t human.

Pigeons, rats, stray cats, sparrows, cockroaches.

Creatures that coexisted with people on the streets.

Street Stamp

: A strange stamp that allows the user to disguise themselves as one of the animals commonly seen on the streets of Yeongdeungpo-gu, Korea, during the 20th century.

Crafted by the Today’s Artifacts Dealership.

…I’d picked it up just in case I needed to run or hide while spying. I’d even broken into a cold sweat when Agent Choi suggested it himself.

And sweated more sorting through non–Daydream Inc. items to trade for it.

Anyway, the core ability of this item is exactly that.

‘I can transform into a non-human street animal.’

Sounds useful?

Of course, there’s a fatal side effect.

If the stamp’s effect lasts more than 2 hours continuously, the user’s body may begin to mutate into something from the stamp.

Not simply becoming an animal, but rather having their body infected with features from that animal.

Like something out of a bio-horror game.

Imagine growing a pigeon’s beak out of your jaw, or sparrow eyes on your forehead.

‘Ugh.’

Just thinking about it made my skin crawl. I vowed again never to exceed the time limit.

But… transforming into an animal in a ghost story that requires the form of a child to enter… was that really ‘what I need most’ at this very moment?

I felt uneasy.

But also something colder. A gut feeling told me I needed to check.

‘Daydream Inc. never scams people with their potions, even if they lie about other stuff.’

Their effects are always spot-on. There’s no need to fake it.

‘Alright.’

If something feels off, I’ll spit out the stamp immediately and return to my child form.

I took a deep breath and peeled off one of the stamps. Then placed it in my mouth.

“…!!”

My field of view dropped.

Even lower than when I’d turned into a child.

My back hunched, and I stood on all fours.

I felt fur. My ears rose. Whiskers twitched.

‘A cat, huh.’

I lifted my head.

It might’ve been more useful to be a pigeon, at least I could’ve flown. But at least I didn’t turn into a cockroach or a rat, which was comforting enough…

……

‘Oh.’

The golden city collapsed.

The blissful blue ocean, the fairytale-like brick houses and wide boulevards, the beautiful banners all lost their color and decayed.

And in their place, horrifying sights appeared. Rusty metal pipes. Flickering, broken streetlamps. Half-collapsed buildings. Scribbles of blood and filth. Grotesque, bulging, ulcer-like masses filled the cracks in the bricks and lampposts, pulsating and oozing. The whole space is infected! It’s wrong! It’s wrong! It’s everywhere! I’m contamin—

Spit it out!

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