Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work - Chapter 375

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Even If You Fall Into Ghost Stories, You Still Have to Go to Work — Episode 375
And so a bleak, pathetic morning broke.
—Morning has arrived. All workers, please prepare for today’s assignments~
I woke in a narrow worker break room with a corpse, my body still in a wretched state.
I’d harbored a slim hope that maybe I was back in my own bed at home, but it was a vain wish.
‘Ugh….’
Of course this couldn’t be real.
‘As if this ghost story worldview would let me off that easily.’
I washed my face with cupped hands and hauled myself up from the torn, dessicated mattress.
My body, sustained only on chocolate, screamed with joint pain; my head swam. And all the while I was trying not to look at that corpse at the far end of the wall, its eyes still wide open.
‘Ugh.’
I lay there at a distance, brainwashing myself that it was a dummy. At least my wrecked condition had knocked me out cold, even if only barely….
‘This garbage conditioning is actually working in my favor.’
—Morning roll call in ten minutes. Have a prosperous day~
Even the morning broadcast had the feel of an illegal labor den for debtors. I was genuinely worried my mind might snap.
Go into a ghost story in this state? It was a different kind of terror than when I was on the Security Team.
‘Those regular employee days, when goods used to descend from the mysterious black box… it feels like a dream now….’
Yet even wrapped in this garbage condition, my mind was still turning.
And my plan was clear.
‘…Alright.’
I took a deep breath, then staggered to the door.
Fwoosh!
Moments later, the door slid open.
I immediately surveyed the corridor outside.
Workers in shabby uniforms were streaming out from every worker break room door along the hallway.
…Just as the diary described—people with vacant, glassy stares.
[Workers in the Z800s and 900s, beginning movement. Don’t dawdle.]
A deadpan employee’s voice came through the announcement system, and the workers began moving with practiced ease.
‘Ugh.’
I clenched my teeth and forced my legs to follow.
But as I drew closer to their group, several workers made faces of obvious disdain, stepping aside—and when our eyes met, they hurled profanities.
“What the hell are you staring at?”
One even tried to shove me with a kick.
Though someone else held him back for different reasons.
“Hey, what filthy thing are you touching?”
“If you stick to us, your legs are the first thing going.”
“…….”
I’m seriously losing it.
‘Probably because I’m the lowest number here.’
Let it go. I don’t have the calories to spare on walking anyway….
‘Good grief.’
Even in this hellish environment, even within the ‘worker’ collective, there was a sharp hierarchy at play. Or maybe it was because the labor conditions were so abysmal that the pecking order became even sharper.
‘For now, just don’t stand out.’
I had to remember this was a reconnaissance run. I followed quietly from the back of the queue.
After a short walk, the corridor’s end came into view.
The passage to the ‘Rest Area’ was still sealed shut—the place where I’d woken to find that dried-up, withered ritual table.
But the door beside it had opened instead, and a new space lay exposed.
‘…!’
…A spacious indoor area divided into three sections, like a worship hall.
Work Standby Area
The atmosphere of the rusty, decrepit facility remained unchanged, but a clean signboard bearing Daydream’s standard specifications had been affixed to the top, as if hastily tacked on.
And in each section stood ‘Personnel’ wearing full-body protective suits.
‘Related staff.’
It was my first time seeing non-workers inside this place. And the logo and name tag on their uniforms….
…I knew them well.
‘They’re Security Team staff.’
Daydream security badge. The moment it registered, my thoughts seemed to accelerate reflexively.
‘So this really is a facility under Daydream after all.’
The moment it felt real, a creeping sense like the opposite of joy flickered briefly across my chest.
[Yes, yes. Get your work assignment from the personnel in charge.]
The security employees holding clipboards approached the people filling each section, checking headcounts starting with the lower numbers.
I stood quietly in a corner where Team Z lined up, gathering intelligence on the worker crowd from the corner of my eye.
Relatively… the ones who looked in better condition were Team X.
“491? Uh, that guy’s out of it, right? Said he wouldn’t come out of his room.”
“Heard? His mind’s gone. Hilarious.”
“Some genius getting scared of ghosts and losing his marbles~”
Two people from Team X were snickering as they talked about someone from Team Y who didn’t show for roll call—and they looked familiar.
‘Those are the guys I saw when I woke up.’
The ones who poured water on my head and beat me at the ritual table.
Let me check their numbers from the red stickers stuck to their bodies….
‘X145, X141.’
Definitely higher numbers than my Z999.
Based on what was in the diary, those seemed to be among the better rankings in this workshop.
—”They seem to divide workers into grades X, Y, Z or something… I got X. Looking at the rooms, seems like better conditions go in alphabetical order”
‘So they’re bragging about having a decent grade here….’
One wrong darkness and they’d go the same way as the person in my room—all in an instant.
I almost felt pity for these people who didn’t realize they were running barefoot through a minefield with duds scattered everywhere, but I caught myself. My position had to be worse than theirs anyway….
And those guys who poured water on someone’s face and beat them aren’t exactly stable. Let it go.
In any case, I’d gotten a general sense of the workers’ condition.
‘…The further back the team, the further back the number, the fewer people per room.’
And if I looked closely, I could spot people who seemed slightly ‘off’ in various ways….
Like someone clutching a numberless Rubik’s cube in both hands and twisting it frantically, someone muttering to themselves, someone with half-burned hair, someone with a vacant expression walking barefoot—all of them caught my eye near where I stood.
‘…That’s contamination syndrome, isn’t it.’
Are they being treated for it? Can’t tell.
But the chance to find out wouldn’t take long.
“Yes, yes… all three from our room have arrived.”
…The roll call for the front rooms had finished, and now a security staff member was standing before me.
“…….”
I looked them over to see if there were any identifying features I might recognize, but the security team members at this South Sea branch office were oddly featureless.
They were covered entirely in identical protective suits, so they all looked exactly the same.
‘Supply-type… I guess.’
Instead of the eerie, dangerous atmosphere that radiated from the main office Security Team, there was a strong sense of unease that came from observing a featureless, inhuman collective.
I opened my mouth while looking at the protective suit’s head area.
“…Hello.”
No answer came back.
The security staff member holding the clipboard gazed at my number and impassively marked an O in the Z999 box.
Then, directly above mine, they impassively marked an X in the box labeled ‘Z993’.
Okay, now.
“That person… seems to be dead….”
The checking stopped.
“C-constantly like that… doing this, shouldn’t they have been sent to the medical room or… something like that?”
I spoke in a deliberately faltering, terrified tone, as if babbling nervously.
A brief, dry silence fell.
Then the security staff member raised their hand….
…and pointed to the back of the waiting room.
“…….”
I turned my head, and a worker information sign on the wall came into view.
Additional purchases of items and services needed for daily life are
available autonomously
upon request.
(Cash ONLY, Cards NOT accepted)
What insane bullshit is this.
‘Surely… the medical room is also a service workers have to purchase themselves?’
Please help me, seriously….
What kind of capitalist hellscape is this. The work environment itself was a ghost story all its own.
But asking something like ‘do I have any cash on me’ would look far too suspicious for someone who’d been here more than two weeks, so I stopped there.
I’d naturally find out when the chance came.
“Ah, I understand….”
I murmured, and the security staff member, clipboard in hand, passed by me as the morning worker roll call came to an end.
And then the long-awaited ‘work’ began.
[Teams X, Y, Z in the 990s, moving together.]
About a dozen workers including myself were guided along with our eyes covered by eye patches, then loaded onto some kind of vehicle and transported again.
Whirrrrr—
The creaking noise and engine exhaust made it impossible to determine where or how we were moving.
All I knew for certain was that after about five to ten minutes, we’d arrived somewhere.
[Yes. Arrival confirmed.]
[Workers, remove your eye patches and prepare to disembark.]
Once the blindfolds came off, a corroded space revealed itself.
And only then could I see that I was riding in something like an ore cart perched on old rails.
‘Hmm.’
The interior resembled either a sealed break room, a mine shaft, or a detention facility, but the humidity was oddly high—water was dripping onto the floor.
Drip.
Ominous and dilapidated.
‘If you lock even a safe ghost story in a place like this, wouldn’t it warp….’
The branch office concept really is airtight. Who the hell designed this.
[All workers, disembark!]
Regardless, I followed the ever-present announcement system and got down.
[Security staff, verify protective gear is in place.]
Soon a thick arm cuff—resembling a blood pressure monitor or protective brace—was fitted onto my left forearm.
And it locked in a way I couldn’t undo.
‘…Phew.’
Around me, lower-numbered workers were murmuring unverified evil-warding incantations, while higher-numbered workers were joking around.
Under the security staff’s surveillance, I was positioned in front of some indistinguishable door in the middle of the corridor.
[Deploying Worker Z999.]
The iron door scraped open with a screech.
And I was shoved inside by the security staff, my limp body offering no resistance.
‘Wait.’
Without even a manual?
Screech, thud.
But before I could protest, the door slammed shut behind me.
‘Jesus, please….’
I’m seriously losing it….
Trapped.
Primal fear rose up immediately.
‘Now I’m about to face a ghost story….’
My neck tensed reflexively. Or rather, because it had been so long since I’d been locked in a dark sealed space with something openly creepy, I squeezed my eyes shut.
I didn’t scream, probably because I lacked even the energy for that….
“…Phew.”
Regardless, if I wanted to survive this intact, I had to do what was required of me.
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to look ahead.
“…….”
Dark interior.
The unpaved containment room showed bare earth beside concrete walls.
In the musty, damp odor, a single red light shone dimly downward. Its eerie glow illuminated a worn chair. And sitting on that chair, abandoned there….
…A wooden doll.
—”For now, all I’ve been made to do every day is light a wooden doll on fire with a lighter”
Cold sweat rolled down my face.
‘This fucking mess.’
The ghost story the dead Z993 had been assigned to.
Sorry please help me sorry please help me sorry please help me sorry please help me sorry please help me sorry please help me sorry please help me sorry please help me sorry please help me
As the final page of the diary floated into my mind, my mouth went dry.
Of all the things to draw.
The darkness was proven lethal if mishandled. The oil-stained wooden doll bore clear burn marks across its entire body, and every time I saw them, the diary’s contents surfaced and my blood ran cold.
‘But… what I thought while reading the diary was….’
[Worker Z999.]
“…!”
I suddenly raised my head.
[Yes, you can hear me. Worker Z999. Hit that wooden doll right now.]
“…….”
A speaker seemed to be placed somewhere in the room, broadcasting instructions.
A deadpan researcher’s voice.
But….
‘Hit it?’
“For now, all I’ve been made to do every day is light a wooden doll on fire with a lighter”
Just like the previous person, obviously disturbing behavior.
‘Ugh.’
I wasn’t autonomously clearing the ghost story—I was being ordered by the researcher to perform actions.
Actions that, statistically… very likely trigger it!
[Don’t look around. Just follow my instructions.]
“…Excuse me.”
No answer came back.
I stood motionless where I was.
[Resisting doesn’t help. I’ll just keep you there until you comply. You already know the daily wage gets withheld anyway. Why are you like this?]
“……Researcher. Are you there….”
[Non-compliance with the next instruction will result in penalty points.]
“…….”
I turned my head.
Toward the creepy wooden doll on the chair.
[Hit it.]
I stepped forward, one pace at a time.
[Hurry.]
Then I raised one hand and brought it down on the figure.

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