Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work-Chapter 87

At the upper floors of Daydream Inc.’s headquarters.

Knock, knock, knock.

I carefully rapped on the luxurious door with the back of my hand.

The door slid open smoothly, as if by some unseen mechanism.

“You’ve arrived.”

Inside sat the director, an executive with dark blue hair that defied any clear estimation of age.

Director Cheong Dallae.

“You didn’t waste time dragging it out, nor were you swayed by trickery. A wise choice. Those who can make such decisions always live longer.”

Her praise had an edge as sharp as a knife.

“You flatter me,” I replied.

In the end, I had made my choice.

I decided to accept Director Cheong’s offer: to elevate Team D into an elite unit.

Of course, I had my reasons for this decision, though I decided to leave pondering them for later. For now, I had to focus on handling the intimidating executive in front of me.

Director Cheong examined me with a satisfied smile, her gaze as sharp as her words.

“The reassignment of your team will proceed in due time. I trust you’ll wait quietly and without unnecessary disruptions.”

“Yes. I’ll work even harder to ensure I’m worthy of this promotion.”

I extended my hand politely to shake the one she offered.

Standing beside me, of course, was—

“And you, I trust, will do the same, Manager Lee Jaheon.”

“Yes.”

The lizard team leader was accompanying me.

For the record, his reaction to my decision was as follows:

—“I see.”

And that was it.

‘Can I really call that reassuring?’

It was hard to believe this was the same lizard who had once advised me to decline. His swift acceptance was almost unnerving.

‘He’s in the same boat now, so he should at least show some curiosity...!’

As a result, I ended up cornering him, making him listen to my reasoning and plans for mitigating the "risks" associated with Director Cheong at least ten times. Each response I got was either a flat "I see" or a curt "Yes."

“And have you decided on the remaining member of your team?”

The topic naturally came up.

Currently, Team D only had two active members, including me. As part of Director Cheong’s offer, she had granted me the freedom to choose the third member.

“I’ve come up with an idea regarding that,” I replied.

“What sort of idea?” she asked, her gaze sharpening.

I spoke plainly and confidently, keeping my tone steady.

“To make it so anyone can join us.”

***

[Leaving the Third Seat in Team D Vacant]

This was an idea I proposed because Team D wasn’t simply being absorbed into the elite team structure—it was closer to a trial run for something new.

The biggest advantage of this approach was clear:

“It prevents Director Cheong from arbitrarily planting one of her people.”

Didn’t she say I could bring in someone of my choosing?

Trusting that at face value would mean forgetting where I worked.

“If she didn’t like my choice, she’d just ask, ‘Is there no one else?’”

From there, the pool of candidates would slowly shift toward people she favored.

And once I’d bowed my head and joined her line, she’d have no reason to hold back.

“She’d either place one of her loyalists or at least manipulate the new recruit to become one.”

That’s where the “danger” that Team Leader Lee Jaheon had mentioned started to come into play.

“I can’t have someone who’s Director Cheong’s pawn attached to me.”

It would be better to rotate members for each mission.

There was even a plausible excuse for it:

“Since this is a new initiative, how about leaving a spot in Team D open for elite team internships?”

Of course, elite team spots were limited, and only a handful of people from the general teams ever got promoted.

Without strong performance or a solid connection to a higher-up, most employees gave up early and prioritized efficiency over ambition.

From management’s perspective, this lack of enthusiasm for advancement probably looked like inefficiency.

Something like: “They’re so focused on points that they lack loyalty to the company.”

“If there were no points to earn, why would anyone work here in the first place?”

It was a ridiculous expectation, but knowing how this company operated, I figured my proposal might just work.

I presented it to Director Cheong in an earnest, polished pitch:

“In a team where wish-granting privileges are the only motivator, this could provide junior employees with a fresh incentive to improve their performance....”

Frankly, I doubted the staff would be overly enthusiastic.

At best, a few capable supervisors or assistant managers might try out the elite team experience and reconsider their career plans.

But it sounded plausible enough, and there was at least some merit to it, so I was confident.

“It should at least set the tone.”

And, at the very least, it worked on Director Cheong.

“Not bad.”

Her tone suggested she was indulging me rather than impressed, but what mattered was that she approved it.

Sure enough, rumors began circulating among the Field Exploration Team within days, and the junior employee group chat became lively for the first time in a while.

[“Does anyone know more about the new elite team initiative? lol”]

[“I heard they’re selecting from employees with 1-3 years of experience. Is that true?”]

[“I’ve heard about elite team internships. Anyone else?”]

[“What are the benefits of being on the elite team...?”]

The funny thing?

No one was messaging me directly anymore.

Even though news of me clearing another A-rank mission had gotten out, there were no congratulations or questions.

“Am I being ostracized...?”

After carefully crafting thoughtful responses to questions in the group chat, the questions themselves had all but vanished.

“Now that I think about it, I was one of the last people added to the group chat in the first place.”

It stung a little.

[“I heard the news! Congratulations, Mr. Soleum! Your idea actually worked!”]

[“Thank you, Ms. Yeongeun.”]

At least there was one colleague who consistently sent me congratulatory messages.

In return, I decided to settle my debt to Go Yeongeun for her help during the last ghost story mission.

“Ms. Yeongeun is the kind of person who always repays what she’s given, so building trust with her is a good move.”

I shared the details of my mission strategy and even offered to give her part of the "boss loot" I’d earned.

“She’s the reason I survived and cleared the mission, after all.”

...That is to say, the reason I knew exactly which organs to protect to avoid instant death.

Remembering that moment made me shudder all over again.

“I’ll have to be careful using those tattoo stickers.”

Effective, yes, but definitely not something you’d call normal...

[“Oh... um. Thank you. I’ll gratefully accept.”]

Ms. Yeongeun hesitated a bit but eventually agreed. I met her in front of the company housing to hand over a few protective charms.

During our conversation, the topic of the "new elite team" rumors naturally came up.

“Ms. Yeongeun, do you have any interest in aiming for the elite team...?”

“No, I’m really fine.”

“...”

Please breathe, Ms. Yeongeun.

She seemed pretty convinced that I was involved in the initiative already.

“I had considered her as a candidate, but maybe it’s better that I didn’t push for it.”

In any case, this was the best solution I could come up with for now.

Of course, not everyone agreed with me...

***

“So, you’ve really become part of the elite team...”

“...”

“Why did you make such a dangerous choice?”

The voice was filled with concern.

Sitting at my desk in Team D’s office, I held my forehead in my hand.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

“...Director Ho.”

“Yes?”

“If I’ve been rude in any way, I sincerely apologize.”

Why are you here?

Why are you sitting casually in Team D’s office, which we’ll soon be vacating, as if you’re just a coworker from the next department dropping by?

“What? You’ve never been rude, Mr. Soleum. You should have more confidence in yourself.”

“...”

This man is not ordinary.

Director Ho looked faintly disappointed, like a colleague who had been turned down for a casual lunch invitation.

That made him even scarier.

‘I thought he’d either retaliate or completely ignore me.’

Why was he acting so normal?

Honestly, Director Ho had more authority and had made me the more lucrative, dramatic offer. It was the kind of rejection that could easily bruise an ego.

‘A rational person would’ve chosen his side.’

Even I had leaned toward his offer—until I asked him this question:

“Director, if it’s not too much trouble, may I ask how many iterations this project has undergone?”

“Iterations? Oh, are you asking how many times it’s been attempted?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, there haven’t been any. This is a completely new initiative.”

“I see. Thank you.”

At that moment, I made up my mind.

“Time to cut ties.”

When this company starts a project, it’s almost always tied to high-grade, unknown ghost stories.

“It’s guaranteed to be at least A-grade.”

At this level, it’s no longer about the typical risk-reward balance.

We’re talking about horrors that surpass what any individual can handle, events that defy prediction and preparation, grounded in sheer despair.

It’s not just death or disappearance—it’s terror on a completely different level.

And the fact that the reward was wish-granting privileges, something that could drive any employee mad with greed?

“It’s got to be S-grade.”

This sounded like the highest-risk field exploration this company had ever conducted.

And to top it off, there was no prior data because it was the first attempt?

“It’s a suicide mission.”

No matter how good the perks were, the very premise was flawed.

Maybe if I were guaranteed to be the team leader, I could consider it. But honestly, even then, the position would be nothing more than a hollow title.

“How would a team of ‘dream team’ recruits handpicked by the director ever listen to someone like me, who’s barely been here a year?”

And with the director looming in the background, the team leader would just be a middle manager taking all the stress. The only likely outcome was me barely surviving—or dying—alone.

“That’s not how I want to go out.”

I’d already earned close to a third of the points needed for a wish. There was no need to take such a reckless gamble.

Plus, there was another reason I decided to stick with Team D.

“This way, if Chief Park Minseong or Assistant Manager Eun Hajae ever return, they can naturally rejoin Team D.”

Leaving a flexible vacancy for that position made it easier for them to come back.

So, my decision was multifaceted.

But, of course, I couldn’t explain all this out loud. Instead, I simply said:

“I chose this because it seemed better for more people. My apologies.”

“...”

For a moment, Director Ho’s friendly expression faltered.

And then, his voice shifted.

“Good people are always so hard to understand...”

“...”

Wait, did he just...?

Tap.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, please feel free to reach out, Mr. Soleum.”

His voice returned to its usual tone.

Director Ho gave me a polite nod, smiled, and casually exited the office.

“...”

Right before he left... that didn’t feel normal.

- "Deer, I smell the scent of pestilence on that man."

Pestilence?

- "When he invites you to his office or private space, please make sure to prioritize proper sanitation!"

“...”

“A plague, huh.”

I tried to piece together Director Ho’s identity but shrugged it off for the moment.

“One thing at a time. Let’s focus on the immediate priorities.”

For now, I started thinking about what I needed to prepare before fully stepping into my new role on the elite team.

“Mr. Soleum.”

Ahhh!

“L-Lee Jaheon, Team Leader!”

The lizard-man entered through the same door Director Ho had just left and handed me a file without preamble.

“Director Cheong asked me to deliver this to you, saying it might be worth reviewing.”

“...I see. Thank you.”

“Could you please warn me next time?”

I sighed inwardly as I accepted the file and glanced at the title on the first page.

Qterw-C-1603

Unregistered Exploration Testimony #21

Security Clearance Verified [C]

...Wait.

“Am I... allowed to read this?”

“Yes.”

Hmm.

Apparently, this was a pre-registration exploration report requiring C-level clearance, which Director Cheong had personally authorized for me to view.

“That makes it even scarier!”

Still, refusing to read it felt just as intimidating, so after taking a deep breath, I opened the file and began reading.

What kind of exploration could it be...?

...

Qterw-C-1603: Advertisement flyer discovered for a newly launched product.

Product Name: Good Kid Chocolate Bar (Cinnamon Churro Flavor)

Features: Packaging depicts a caricature of a child’s face wearing a mask with branch-like horns, dressed in a suit.

Note: The character on the packaging strongly resembles the uniform worn by employees in the company’s field exploration division.

Employees wearing similar masks should be identified and confirmed.

“...”

Wait a second.

This... is me?