The Calamity-Class Artifacts in Ghost Stories Are Obsessed with Me - Chapter 1

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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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Disaster-class Artifacts Obsessed with Urban Legends — Episode 1
In my childhood.
There was a time when manga about mythology were all the rage.
Among them, Greek and Roman mythology was undoubtedly the most popular.
It was so popular that finding someone who hadn’t read it was harder than finding someone who had.
The reason for its popularity was clear.
First, the artist behind the manga was genuinely talented. Plenty of people bought it just because the art was beautiful.
But the mythology itself held considerable charm as well.
All manner of outrageous tales. Grand battles. Love stories. And thrilling adventures on top of it all. It was a complete package.
Of everything, what I loved most were the adventure stories.
Especially the adventures of Heracles.
There was something strangely thrilling about watching him crush everything in his path with overwhelming strength and push forward.
I used to drape a lion cloth over my shoulders, pretending it was a lion’s hide, and carry a stick as Heracles’ club.
Pleasant memories of childhood.
But as I grew older, I found myself drifting further from myths and legends.
I understood that myths were nothing but myths — invented stories, or ordinary tales exaggerated beyond recognition.
With such ordinary thoughts, I never anticipated it.
That one day, mythology would come looking for me.
* * *
Ujoo stared blankly ahead. There, before him, lay a Steel Pipe.
That’s right. A Steel Pipe.
The Steel Pipe lying in the middle of his small studio apartment emanated a distinctly alien presence.
Which made sense. It was the sort of thing that belonged on a construction site.
‘What on earth is this?’
In truth, the Steel Pipe hadn’t suddenly materialized in the middle of the room with a theatrical *pop*.
He’d first seen it last night.
While stumbling home drunk, he’d spotted it lying on the street and picked it up.
Even through the haze of alcohol, he remembered exactly what he’d muttered.
‘Oh! A sword!’
Like when he was a child and would pick up any long stick to play with as a sword, he’d grabbed the Steel Pipe.
It would’ve ended there, but for some reason he’d hugged it to himself and brought it all the way back to his studio apartment.
‘I was even holding it when I woke up.’
Of course, when he woke, he was startled and hurled it away. Then what did he do?
‘I threw it out.’
Yes. He’d taken it down to the building’s Recycling Center.
Exactly five minutes ago.
Ujoo had walked down the stairs, carefully placed it in the Recycling Center, climbed back up, and opened his door.
And the Steel Pipe was in the middle of his room.
The very Steel Pipe he’d just discarded.
‘What on earth is going on?’
What little drunkenness remained evaporated instantly.
If he hadn’t been dreaming, the Steel Pipe had somehow returned of its own accord.
Ujoo stared at it with a bewildered expression, then muttered seriously.
“Is this a hidden camera prank?”
Maybe some friend was hiding somewhere, ready to jump out yelling, “You actually fell for it!”
But after waiting a moment, nothing of the sort happened.
“Hmm. I guess not.”
Then what could it be?
Did the Steel Pipe have legs? Or some state-of-the-art owner-recognition system?
Does it appear when you think “summon”?
As he stood there half-jokingly imagining such things.
His hand suddenly felt heavy.
Ujoo’s eyes flew open. The Steel Pipe was clutched in his hand.
“What the— what the hell is this?!”
He immediately hurled the Steel Pipe onto his bed.
This time there was no room for doubt. The Steel Pipe that had been lying on the floor moments before was now in his grip.
‘Could it be…?’
Ujoo stared wide-eyed at the Steel Pipe on his bed.
‘A haunted object?’
No, of course that was impossible. He knew that much.
Ghosts? There’s no such thing. And even if there were, what would they have to do with a steel pipe?
Yet the thought keeps pulling at him.
“Hmm.”
But the moment he fixates on it, his concentration splinters.
For some reason, he can’t maintain the kind of deep, continuous thinking he usually manages. Everything dissolves into a lazy “ah, it’s probably nothing”—and he just… lets it go.
Ding-ding-ding.
Then his phone alarm went off.
Ujoo snapped out of his reverie and turned to look at the screen.
Words flashed across it.
[5 PM: Short-term part-time job]
“Right.”
He’d set the alarm himself.
That’s right—he had a short-term gig starting at five today, just for one shift.
“Right.”
Ujoo jumped to his feet.
He was curious about the steel pipe’s origins, but survival came first.
Skip this shift and he might not eat tomorrow.
“Stay put.”
He said it to the steel pipe, almost out of habit, then headed for the shower.
A few hours later.
Freshly scrubbed and dressed in clean clothes, Ujoo stood in front of a shabby building.
The sign read “Daesung Study Room.”
This was where he’d be working today.
‘This place is falling apart.’
He scanned the study room with a puzzled expression.
He’d picked this job precisely because the pay was exceptional.
He’d assumed it was some big, established study café in a rush for staff—not a building on the verge of collapse.
‘Maybe the owner has money.’
He glanced around, thinking.
There were schools nearby, sure. Though these days everyone went to trendy cafés instead.
But he decided not to worry about it.
He was here to work and get paid—that was all that mattered.
‘The steel pipe’s probably just sitting at home.’
He pictured it lying in his apartment.
He’d thrown it out once and it came back; he half-expected it to materialize somewhere nearby. But thankfully, it hadn’t.
“Good.”
Satisfied that everything was in order, he walked into the study room building.
“Oh.”
The interior on the second floor was neater than he’d expected from the outside. As he looked around, he spotted a front desk with a window.
He approached it and rapped on the glass.
“Welcome…….”
A man with a weary expression slid the window open.
Ujoo bowed slightly and spoke.
“I’m here to work the shift today.”
“Ah. A replacement……. One moment.”
The man’s face brightened. He gestured, and a side door clicked open.
“Come inside…….”
“Right.”
Ujoo nodded and stepped through. Once inside, the man spoke quickly.
“You’ve done this kind of work before, right?”
“Yes. About a year’s worth.”
“Good. Nothing too demanding here. Just read through this rulebook and familiarize yourself with it. I’ve handled the cleaning already—you just need to empty the trash bins when you make the rounds.”
“That’s all?”
“Yep. Everyone checks in and finds their seat on their own anyway.”
It sounded like cushy work.
Just sit there and watch the desk.
‘And the pay’s pretty good for that.’
After a moment, Ujoo came to his conclusion: the owner must’ve been desperate for staff.
“Then I’ll head out now if that’s all right? I’m pretty tired. I’ll ask the manager to add thirty minutes’ extra pay to my check.”
“Ah, sure. Yeah.”
Ujoo nodded.
He’d arrived early anyway, and there was no harm in earning a bit more.
The man wasted no time—the moment Ujoo gave his consent, he gathered his things and slipped out without so much as a goodbye.
“Must be something urgent.”
Ujoo murmured this to himself, then settled into the chair and turned his attention to the monitor on the desk.
Several CCTV feeds displayed on the screen. Nothing seemed amiss.
“And these must be the rules.”
Next, he picked up the paper the man had mentioned—a sheet bearing what appeared to be a list of conduct rules.
Ujoo held it up and began reading.
[Daesung Study Room Nighttime Employee Conduct Rules]
1. This study room has no Seat 64. Should any customer claim someone is sitting in Seat 64, ignore them.
2. Occasionally, a customer may arrive at 4:44 a.m. When this happens, you must treat them with utmost courtesy. Under no circumstances should you do anything to displease them.
3. This study room has no app. If any customer asks about an app, politely turn them away.
4. If a customer asks for directions, answer as helpfully as possible.
5. If a customer comes to the counter and requests water, absolutely do not look at their face.
6. Between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m., you must not accept any customers. Remember this well.
7. Do not fall asleep.
8. Do not answer any questions except registration requests.
9. When leaving at the end of your shift…….
Ujoo finished reading and frowned.
‘What the hell is this?’
There were quite a lot of rules. And several of them struck him as distinctly strange.
Some seemed to contradict each other. Others made no sense whatsoever.
‘So that’s why the part-timer ran off?’
That seemed plausible.
A boss particular enough to enforce such rules must be a real stickler.
“Hmm, feels like I’ve landed in something odd.”
Ujoo muttered this, then shook his head.
Still, it was only a short-term job, and he wasn’t about to bail—especially not when the pay was decent.
“Right. I’ll just get through one night.”
With that thought, Ujoo leaned back in the chair.
Besides, if the staff member was right, there didn’t seem to be much work involved anyway.
So Ujoo spent his time scrolling through his phone.
The first customer arrived around 7 p.m.
Ding.
The customer checked in on their own and headed to their seat.
There was nothing for Ujoo to do.
After that, customers trickled in periodically.
He’d thought this run-down study room wouldn’t have many visitors, but seats filled surprisingly fast.
‘Still, there are way more older customers than students.’
Usually, students made up the bulk of a study room’s clientele.
Yet here, strangely, about ninety percent of the customers appeared to be at least in their twenties.
‘Maybe there’s a licensing academy or a test prep cram school nearby?’
Ujoo pondered this, then turned his attention back to his phone.
For a while after that, no more customers came. So Ujoo had a chance to relax.
Then, as the hour crept toward dawn.
Jingle.
The door chimed open, and someone walked toward the front counter. They’d check in on their own and head to their seat, he figured.
“……?”
But he heard nothing—no sounds of movement, no check-in.
Someone was definitely standing out there, though.
Ujoo tilted his head in confusion, then opened the service window.
That’s when he saw it.
A pure white dress.
Someone was standing in front of the counter.
But something about their height seemed off.
Given the window’s height, he should have been able to see the customer’s chest—instead, he was looking at roughly their waist.
‘How tall are they?’
As this thought flashed through his mind, he leaned forward to peek out the window.
“Have you ever been to Samang Pass?”
A customer’s question reached him.
Ujoo’s reflexive answer caught in his throat as the rules suddenly came to mind.
Right. The rules clearly stated it: never answer questions outside of new registration requests.
But there was another rule as well.
Answer questions about directions as helpfully as possible.
‘What do I do?’
The two rules were in direct conflict.
“Have you ever been to Samang Pass?”
The customer asked again, their tone equally flat and inflectionless.
Ujoo fell silent, uncertain. Should he answer? Or shouldn’t he?
Then.
Crack!
An arm suddenly shot through the window, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him forward.
With overwhelming force, Ujoo found himself helplessly dragged outside.
“Samang. Pass. Ever. Been?”
In the next instant, he was lifted clean off the ground, still gripped by the collar.
Only then could Ujoo see his attacker clearly.
The figure was a woman, nearly two meters tall, her long hair falling across a completely shrouded face, dressed in nothing but a simple white dress.
‘A problem customer?’
Judging by the rules, this didn’t seem to be the first time someone like this had shown up.
In the dead of winter, dressed like that—she had to be out of her mind.
“Not going to answer?”
The woman showed no sign of releasing him, her voice hollow and menacing as she pressed further.
Simultaneously, the pressure around his throat tightened, and his body grew limp.
Ujoo mustered what strength remained and drove a kick directly at her arm.
She didn’t seem like someone who’d respond to reason.
‘What kind of arm is this…?’
But it was useless.
Even with all his force behind the kick, she didn’t budge—like striking a log.
In that moment, a thought occurred to him.
‘Should’ve brought the Steel Pipe.’
As the old saying goes, a beating is the only language madness understands.
With a Steel Pipe in hand, this conversation would’ve been so much simpler!
While that thought crossed his mind.
Click.
Something suddenly appeared in his grasp.
It was—a Steel Pipe.
The moment Ujoo saw it, he acted without hesitation.
Drawing on every last ounce of strength, he swung the Steel Pipe.
Clang—!
The woman struck by the pipe flew backward as if hit by a car.
To be continued ▶
Obsession of Disaster-Class Artifacts from Urban Legends
Author
Lee Se-gye
Publisher
Kim Seok-hwan, Choi Se-ra
Published by
Graea Publishing
Inquiries
[email protected]
Publication Date
May 26, 2026
UCI
G720:N+A327-20260410110
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※ Pentagram welcomes your precious manuscripts.

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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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