Editor’s Survival Guide - Chapter 4

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Editor’s Survival Rules Episode 4

ep1. When the Siren Sounds (4)

The girl in school uniform struggled desperately to shake me off.

When that didn’t work, she spun around and kicked me with all her might.

Thud-!

That kick struck my injured arm.

I almost collapsed but forced myself to endure it.

“Let go of me…!”

The child tried to scream.

I hurriedly covered her mouth.

“Mmph, mmm…!”

When I gripped her jaw, the child’s struggling became even more violent.

So I held onto the child and whispered desperately.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…!”

I felt the child flinch at my voice.

I whispered even lower to calm the child down.

“Sorry for startling you. Just don’t scream. Then I’ll let you go.”

The resistance subsided at my request.

Soon the child looked at me and nodded.

When I slowly removed my hand, the child kept her promise and didn’t scream.

Instead, as if her strength had left her, she slumped down right there.

The kid looked to be around middle school age.

She was wearing an ordinary winter school uniform.

She had long hair tied back and was of average height.

Her face was pale as a sheet of paper, making it impossible to tell what her usual expression was like.

“Are you alone?”

At my question, the child looked up at me.

Her gaze was fierce rather than pitiful.

So I changed my question.

“How long have you been here?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Who are you waiting for?”

The child closed her mouth again.

It seemed she didn’t want to admit she was alone.

“If you’re alone, want to come with me?”

I said this because I couldn’t leave a young child behind.

But the child stared at me intently, then spoke in a stubborn tone.

“Fine, just drag me along then. But if we get out of here, just tell my mom that I died.”

“What are you talking about?”

When I asked back in confusion, the child spoke as if accusing me.

“You’re going to kill me to buy a train ticket, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Why are you surprised? It’s written in that paper.”

The child gestured toward the paper lying on the floor.

The rule book I had dropped when the door opened while I was putting it down.

As she said, that rule book did contain methods for getting out of here.

But what this kid was saying was news to me.

“There’s no method in there about killing people to get tickets.”

Among the successful cases of bartering with “the one in old military uniform,” there were no corpses.

No, that would actually be a prohibited item.

But the child didn’t listen to me and just frowned.

Feeling the conversation was going nowhere, I just took out the ticket I had and showed it to her.

“Look at this, I already have a ticket. So I don’t need to kill you.”

When I showed her the ticket, the child’s expression wavered slightly.

But she hadn’t completely lowered her guard.

I hurriedly continued speaking before that opening closed.

“How old are you?”

“…Fifteen.”

“Then you can get out of here right away.”

“What do you mean?”

The child looked at me in surprise.

Thanks to that, I became puzzled too.

This kid had spoken as if she knew about the rules.

But she was completely unaware of the content most advantageous to her.

I picked up the rule book that had fallen on the floor.

Then I showed the child the section I had skipped over since it was useless to me.

—

Route B. Escape through “Rag Doll”

This is an escape method available to children and adolescents under 16 years of age.

“Rag Doll” does not reveal itself to people 16 years or older.

If you do not meet this condition, please choose another route.

—

So this was a route that I, a 28-year-old adult, couldn’t even attempt.

Instead, this ‘Route B’ had limited targets but lower difficulty.

So there was a concept of youth protection here too, I had thought.

And this kid was exactly fifteen years old.

I looked at the child, thinking she would be relieved now.

But instead, the child started dropping tears.

Her face with lips bitten tight looked very frustrated and wronged.

“What’s wrong?”

“This existed, but nobody told me.”

“There were other people too?”

“Yes…”

“Where are those people now?”

“Some died, and some took the money and left.”

The mention of money made me puzzled again.

When I continued to not understand, the child added.

“Those bad people killed people and turned them into money.”

In that moment, I finally realized my mistake.

I had been thinking only about bartering with “the one in old military uniform” this whole time.

But what the child had been talking about wasn’t that.

Something that turned items into money.

That was the item storage locker on the 1st floor concourse that I had given up on early.

—

Put the item to be exchanged in row 7, column 1 of the item storage locker and close the door.

Then the item placed in the locker will disappear, and cash equivalent to 70 percent of that item’s market value will be automatically dispensed.

—

No way.

I recalled a thought I had while passing by earlier.

-If I removed organs from inside the body and put them in, wouldn’t that earn enough for a ticket?

I had dismissed it as a stupid idea.

But there were actually people who tried this?

I asked back in a daze.

“How many of these bad people you mentioned are there?”

“Three of them.”

“How many people did they kill?”

“More than two.”

Calculations ran through my head.

I had vaguely heard about organ trafficking prices somewhere, whether on the news or in movies.

I think three or four major organs were worth about 100-200 million won each.

Even conservatively calculating, one person’s body was worth 400 million won.

70 percent of 400 million is 280 million won.

The price of a ticket was 15.78 million won.

So what then?

So those bastards got their share of tickets but still committed more murders for money?

“Where are those people now? Were you hiding here because of them?”

“That’s…”

Weeeeeng-!

The siren sound I heard earlier came again.

The rule book said the siren rings every 47 minutes.

I guess I’ve been wandering around here for about an hour already.

I covered my ears at the sound that shook the entire station.

But the child screamed and covered their head, not their ears.

The siren stopped abruptly after just a few seconds, just like before.

As soon as the sound stopped, the child frantically looked around.

Then they looked at me and let out a sigh of relief.

“Those people probably all left. Because of this sound.”

“This sound?”

“When the siren rings, one person always dies.”

“What?”

I gasped in surprise.

This was the first time I’d heard this.

But there was a scene that suddenly came to mind.

“How do they die?”

“They just… get crushed. Like bugs.”

So this was it.

The reason the man who gave me the rule book died.

A chilling feeling ran up my spine.

I had already heard the siren sound twice.

It meant death had brushed past me twice.

But why wasn’t this written in the rule book?

Did the author fail to figure it out?

No, that couldn’t be.

They figured out the siren rings every 47 minutes, but didn’t know people die each time?

This was deliberately left out.

But with what intention?

Because even knowing this, you can’t avoid or prevent it?

I forced myself to swallow the shock.

Then I tried to deduce what the child had experienced here.

The child seemed to have been with several people from the beginning.

They gathered to discuss countermeasures and must have found the rule book too.

I don’t know which Archimedes thought of putting people in the item storage lockers.

Anyway, they tried it and succeeded. Eureka.

After that, whether they were blinded by the taste of money or bewitched by the taste of blood, I don’t know.

Several people started hunting in groups.

They stuffed people into item storage lockers one after another.

But that didn’t last long either.

Every time the siren rang, mysterious crushing deaths occurred.

At first, they probably thought it was coincidence.

But the second time brought suspicion, and the third time brought certainty.

Then they would have fled without delay.

Taking with them money made from other people’s corpses.

I sighed as I pictured this situation in my head.

I finally understood why the child had been so wary.

The child was still looking at me anxiously.

As if afraid I might turn just like them after hearing the story.

I watched the child avoiding my eyes for a moment, then opened my bag.

Then I took out the portable first aid kit that had been rejected in the trade.

“Here.”

“What’s this?”

“There are bandages in there, so put them on. Your neck is bleeding.”

It had been bothering me for a while.

For some reason, the child’s neck was full of scratched wounds.

They looked like nail marks.

The child looked back and forth between me and the first aid kit with surprised eyes.

Then they spoke in an even smaller voice.

“But you’re bleeding much more, mister…”

“Huh?”

When I didn’t understand, the child pointed at my head with their hand.

I felt around my forehead and touched something slippery.

Wondering what it was, I looked and saw my hand was stained bright red.

“Ugh…!”

What’s this? Blood?

Don’t tell me I’m bleeding this?

Come to think of it, I wondered why I was sweating so much!

I must have gotten cut when the glass broke earlier…!

When I was startled at the sight of blood, the child stared at me intently.

Then they tore off a bunch of tissues and handed them to me, and I frantically pressed them against the wound on my head.

The child found and took out disinfectant and gauze from the first aid kit.

Even after finishing the first aid with those, I was somehow still in shock and sat there dazed.

Then the child muttered barely audibly.

“You managed to survive even like that, mister.”

Somehow there was an edge to those words.

“If you have a ticket, you should leave quickly. What if you keep showing it around and it gets stolen?”

It wasn’t my imagination.

The child was scolding me.

“I showed it because you can get out even without a ticket…”

The child snorted at my excuse.

It was a very dismissive tone, but it was the first smile they had shown anyway.

Perhaps their guard had lowered a bit, as the child also took out a bandage and started putting it on their own wounds.

I watched her and opened my mouth.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Lee Sol.”

“Lee Sori?”

“Lee, Sol. It’s a single character.”

Her name is Sol.

Won’t she get teased for being named after a cleaning tool? Is that really okay?

“Alright, Lee Sol. I’m Seo Do-un, and I have a ticket. You have another way to get out of here. If we waste time here and the siren sounds again, it might be our turn next. So let’s focus on getting out now. How about it?”

I held back my urge to tease her about her name and spoke quite seriously.

The kid, Sol, stared at me for a while.

Then she nodded slightly and said in a barely audible voice.

“I’m sorry for kicking you earlier.”

Yes, I should accept this apology.

I really almost died back then.

I couldn’t bring myself to say it was okay, so I just smiled petty and nodded.

—

If you are a child or adolescent under 16 years of age, bring cutting tools such as knives or scissors and proceed to the lost and found center.

Upon arriving at the lost and found center, running is prohibited.

Smiling is prohibited.

Crying is prohibited.

Looking around is prohibited.

Breathing too much is prohibited.

The actions you must take to earn the mercy of “Rag Doll” are as follows.

Please memorize them precisely and return safely.

—

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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