Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work Novel - Chapter 148

Daydream Inc. Reimagined

The entity known as Daydream Inc. stood as a perplexing anomaly in the pharmaceutical world, celebrated, if that’s the word, for its utterly implausible feat: the mass production of elixirs capable of manifesting desires. Their most outlandish claim? The very essence of these potent concoctions was derived from—of all things—ghost stories.

The initial entry in the enigmatic Dark Exploration Records offered little more than this cryptic declaration. The sheer scarcity of detail ignited a torrent of speculation, fueling imaginations with whispers of bizarre science, profound mysticism, and unsettling cruelty, leaving unnerving gaps in the narrative. The chilling void of explanation was, in itself, a testament to its unsettling nature.

Yet, as the digital repository of knowledge expanded, so too did the breadcrumbs. Threads of lore began to intertwine. Naturally, Daydream Inc. couldn’t have simply materialized out of thin air, fully formed with its unfathomable pharmaceutical innovations. Even if their surface appearance suggested such an impossible genesis, deeper investigation promised to unravel their true origins and history—a pursuit that provided its own thrill. In due course, substantive findings were intermittently woven into the Dark Exploration Records, inspiring readers to craft and circulate an array of clandestine theories concerning Daydream Inc.’s true purpose.

—What is Daydream Inc.?

And the desolate chamber I had just infiltrated… It was concrete proof supporting Conspiracy Theory No. 2.

Conspiracy Theory No. 2: Daydream Inc. did not begin as a pharmaceutical enterprise.

The primordial wellspring of Daydream Inc.’s pharmaceutical prowess.

“…Hmph.”

A lump formed in my throat as I surveyed the Dream Incubation Room. The laboratory, thick with the grime of ages, felt like a forgotten school science classroom, or perhaps a post-apocalyptic research facility, abandoned mid-experiment. A profound stillness, the very essence of decay, permeated the air.

Dust-laden worktables sagged beneath inert experimental apparatus. Beakers and cabinets stood sentinel, housing unidentified, stagnant liquids. And at the heart of it all… a colossal contraption.

“…”

The illumination was absent, shrouding the room in oppressive gloom. Beneath a vacant glass tube, a control panel and keyboard presented themselves—an archaic experimental machine, a relic from the early 2000s.

Dream Incubator.

Beside it lay a logbook, its cover worn smooth by time and neglect. It was the very volume referenced in the exploration records. I gently opened its fragile pages, preparing to delve into its secrets. Every single sheet.

The once immaculate script that must have once filled the log had been systematically and violently defaced. Every surface was now a canvas of grime, blood, and ink, punctuated by frantic, maddened scribbles and silent screams.

“Ugh.”

I recoiled, dropping the logbook as if it were a burning coal, gasping for air.

I thought I could handle this.

I couldn’t. One might expect me to attempt to decipher the obscured text, to painstakingly restore the buried information. But I surrendered immediately. And not because this was some contrived plot device, as in the Dark Exploration Records, where information is deliberately withheld to heighten tension. No, I simply lacked the physical capacity to endure it.

It was, quite simply, unbearable.

“…”

Then, a memory resurfaced. These were the documented responses from an employee who, through sheer cosmic chance, had successfully conducted clandestine exchanges in the ‘Faceless Market’—a subterranean bazaar nestled within a manhole—without revealing his corporate affiliation, during Daydream Inc.’s subsequent internal inquest.

Assistant Manager ■■■: Yes! It was I who found it. The machine looked old, but it still seemed to function perfectly. There also appeared to be classified documents concerning Dream Essence potions and a few specific ‘Darknesses.’ I was worried it might fall into the wrong hands, so I quickly… excuse me?

Assistant Manager ■■■: …Are you saying that facility isn’t ours? …Wait, so it wasn’t contaminated by a Darkness, but because the company… W-Wait, why are you pointing that at m—

…The record concluded with the company’s successful ‘rectification’ of the anonymous employee.

“…”

A cold tendril of dread traced its way up my spine. A palpable sense of menace hung in the lab’s oppressive silence. My instinct screamed at me to turn and flee.

No!

Time to advance. Clenching my jaw, I peered behind the machine. A standard office desk, topped with a data-entry PC, stood against the wall. And beneath the chair… something substantial lay on the floor.

A corpse.

Despite knowing what I would find, a sharp gasp escaped my lips. The body, as if it had only just toppled from the desk, was unnervingly desiccated and lifeless, like an ancient mummy. This preserved decay only amplified its disturbing presence.

Yet, I grasped the narrative it conveyed. Analysis showed its motor functions had ceased five years prior. Given the grim tableau, it was presumed only its vital signs had been somehow unnaturally sustained. This was the final researcher of this incubator, forcibly kept alive until the mysterious note from the Faceless Market finally reached its intended recipient.

The owner of the hand with which I had recently traded.

“…”

From the corpse’s left hand, conspicuously missing its little finger, I retrieved the custom equipment coin I had used for payment. Then, with careful precision, I unhooked the card key dangling from its neck.

Researcher Yoo Kwe ■■■

Scrawled above the smudged, illegible name in faded ballpoint ink was a stark message: ‘Can’t let them find out.’ Still, I could just make out the initial syllables of the name.

“…Yoo Kwe?”

A flash of recognition, a flicker of something familiar, sparked in my mind, but I suppressed it for the moment.

“…Hmph.”

I knew that probing this space further might unravel more of Daydream Inc.’s veiled past or genesis.

But who knows what horrors might leap out…

Even the lab journal from moments ago had left me profoundly unsettled.

For now, I’ll only interact with what’s already confirmed.

I returned to the central apparatus, the ‘Dream Incubator.’ While the Dark Exploration Records lacked detailed operational logs, it explicitly stated: ‘Though it appears to be an antiquated prototype, it seems to be in proper working condition.’ All that remained was to assemble the necessary components.

“Hmph.”

First, I took the card key from the deceased researcher. Then, my fingers tracing the ‘Dream Incubator’s’ surface, I located a narrow slot on its front panel.

Here, perhaps.

I slid the card key into the aperture.

Ziiiiing—

“…!”

The machine hummed to life, bathed in an eerie glow of pulsating red and blue. A monstrous experimental device, seemingly the sole living entity in this desolate, ancient lab. And then, the glass tube affixed to its summit.

Is something inside?

A vaguely spherical object seemed to be nestled at the heart of the glass chamber.

That might be the core component.

Regardless, the Dream Incubator had successfully reactivated. Simultaneously, a numerical display flickered to life on a small panel adjacent to the glass tube.

DE 0000000

Time for the next phase.

I twisted open a valve at the end of a slender pipe connected to the side of the glass tube. Inside, an oddly shaped indentation presented itself.

…This is it.

Reaching into my coat, I withdrew the item I had meticulously prepared—something I’d guarded since its extraction from a merchandise box, never finding an opportune moment for its deployment. It was rumored to lose its potency upon exposure to air due to oxidation, so I hadn’t even dared to touch it.

—Dream Essence, A-grade or higher.

A shimmering, golden potion, iridescent like a hologram, meticulously contained within a Dream Essence Collector designed for Daydream Inc.’s elite operatives.

…At last, I could utilize the essence I had diligently accumulated during my desperate escape from Braun’s Late-Night Talk Show.

I precisely aligned the sharp tip of the collector with the recess at the pipe’s end.

Thunk.

It clicked into place with uncanny perfection, almost too easily. And then… the essence began to flow.

“…!”

The dazzling, prismatic fluid surged through the pipe, cascading into the transparent glass chamber. Its sheer radiance was almost overwhelming.

Was there really that much?

As I recalled, it had been stored in a cylinder no larger than my palm. Yet, somehow, it filled a quarter of the chamber with a soft, viscous swirl. As the golden luminescence suffused the glass, the object within briefly revealed its contours.

…An egg?

Something crimson, roughly the size of five chicken eggs. It seemed to pulse faintly, and within its depths, a bizarre form flickered for a fleeting instant. But then it was completely submerged in the radiant liquid, vanishing from sight.

And then…

DE 0000001

The number on the panel incrementally increased. Accompanied by the rhythmic hum of internal machinery, the count rapidly ascended…

DE 00158313

And then halted.

“Hmph.”

Success.

I’ve successfully infused the Dream Essence into the machine…!

The number, oddly reminiscent of a welfare point system, sparked a fleeting thought: Could Daydream Inc.’s entire points infrastructure have originated from this very device? Not that it mattered now. What truly mattered was that every step had unfolded precisely as anticipated. All that remained was to harness its power.

“…”

My gaze shifted to the array of buttons beneath the panel.

…They were emojis.

🥰🥸🤯🧐🤪🥱

Of the dozens available, only these few were illuminated.

Perhaps I lack sufficient materials?

Or perhaps it was an inherent limitation of the machine itself; I couldn’t be certain. In any case, I deliberated carefully and pressed the one that seemed both safest and most advantageous.

🥰🥸🤯🧐🤪🥱

The ‘observant’ emoji with a quirky expression.

The button illuminated…

DE 00158313

DE 00148313

The number diminished, and the machine whirred into action.

Oooooong!

With a motor-like groan, the liquid within the glass chamber began to recede, sucked downwards. The vibrations of the machine reverberated through my entire body, a slight tremor, and then…

Clunk.

The lower section of the machine slid open, presenting a cylindrical, transparent glass bottle.

“…!!”

I retrieved it with a trembling hand. A vibrant purple liquid, imbued with an eerie luminescence, swirled mesmerizingly within the bottle. Even the label, surprisingly, was printed on graph paper.

Detective Syrup for Kids

(Cherry Flavor)

A familiar hue. And from the emoji and the name alone, I could deduce its purpose: Daydream Inc.’s very own detection elixir…!

Detection Potion: When consumed, it illuminates what you need most at the present moment.

Judging by its color, it appeared to be at least C-grade. The name was altered, but I felt confident the effect would be analogous. But what truly amplified its intrigue was this revelation…

This potion was discontinued.

Indeed. It was an elixir no longer in production by Daydream Inc. Consequently, it was unavailable for purchase through the employee welfare portal. At this juncture, it might very well be an item obtainable only through this prototype device…!

I definitely charged over 150,000 points into it.

Since this particular potion had consumed 10,000 points, I could conceivably press all the remaining illuminated emoji buttons.

Alright, then next I’ll—

At that precise moment. The panel’s display shifted.

06 / 23:59:54

And the entire ‘Dream Incubator’s’ lighting dimmed, as if entering a power-saving mode.

…A cooldown countdown?

Usable once per week. A limitation entirely befitting a prototype.

“Hmph.”

Honestly, it was a relief. If I had yielded to impulsive excitement and randomly pressed buttons, I might have squandered that precious Dream Essence I had just charged.

Let’s approach this with more thought.

I resolved to examine the powered-down machine more thoroughly. Externally, it was nothing more than a dull, unremarkable slab of metal, so I directed my attention to the user interface instead. Specifically, the buttons.

Each of these must correspond to a potion.

I scrutinized the emojis: a mask, a demon, a thermometer, currency symbols, and various other icons. I could surmise their respective matches to specific Daydream Inc. potions.

With one glaring exception.

…I don’t see one that resembles a Wish Ticket.

Of course. The emoji symbolizing the quintessential elixir—the very core of Daydream Inc.’s existence—was conspicuously absent.

…Perhaps this?

My gaze fell upon a peculiar mark at the very bottom.

◎

It appeared to be the forcible gouge where a button once resided.

“…Can’t say for sure.”

The spectral narrative setting wasn’t forgiving enough for me to risk blindly probing based on mere hopeful conjecture.

…Maybe another employee could discern something?

If I involved someone with more seniority in the company, I might be able to safely unearth further clues here. Of course, sharing unnecessary corporate secrets could potentially jeopardize both of us…

Still, there might be someone who wouldn’t care about that.

I considered a few potential candidates, then checked myself. Having embraced the role of a corporate spy, such a move was unthinkable. And in any case, by the time this entire espionage operation concluded, I would already possess the Wish Ticket.

Put it on hold.

For now, I could find satisfaction in having secured a personal supply of Dream Essence. I carefully stowed the ‘Detective Syrup for Kids’ and stepped back into the open.

“Hmph.”

The substantial yield assuaged my initial discomfort. But as I glanced back at the manhole cover, a faint unease began to stir within me.

Agent Choi had taken the note.

Could he deduce the location as I did and make an appearance?

Or perhaps he was already monitoring my movements? But there was no way to trace the specific manhole from which I had emerged, and even if he possessed the note, it would prove exceedingly difficult to crack the cipher while entrenched in the mindset of ‘this is obviously ghost-story related.’ Even within the Dark Exploration Records, it had taken a former Daydream Inc. employee three months to decipher the code after acquiring it. And that was purely by serendipity.

If your thought process is stuck on this being ghost-related, then… yes, it’s inevitable.

Still, as a precaution, I decided to implement a temporary measure.

“I think this will suffice.”

After consuming a 3,000-point potion I had acquired from the welfare mall, I sealed the manhole cover.

Gatekeeper Potion: The first door you close after taking this potion can only be opened by someone to whom you personally disclose the door’s location.

I believed it was also known as the Secret Potion. It vaguely brought to mind something Director Ho had once done, which irritated me slightly. But the sense of relief far outweighed the minor annoyance.

“Alright.”

There weren’t any preposterous world-building caveats, like ‘Daydream Inc. tracks all potion usage locations,’ so this felt adequately secure. Now, all that remained… was to return to the bureau and immerse myself in yet another ghost story, I supposed?

I shuffled back towards my hospital room, muttering to myself.

My life, honestly…

Still, from this point forward, there would be a supplementary income stream derived from venturing into ghost stories. Since I could now harvest Dream Essence. Not to hand over to the company, but for my own utilization!

“Let’s persevere.”

I gave the elite-team Dream Essence collector, soon to be put to use again, a reassuring pat, and successfully made my way back to my hospital room.

A few days later.

“…You’ve performed admirably.”

“N-No, not at all.”

I was finally discharged, returning to my provisional agent duties.

“As previously mentioned, you’ve been assigned to a general operations role, not the Dispatch & Rescue Unit.”

Thank you…! Tears welled as I listened to Agent Bronze’s briefing.

“…This time, the work won’t be as hazardous. Civilian rescues are already complete; you’ll simply be finalizing things on site.”

Everything felt perfect. Yes, people needed low-stress assignments occasionally…

“For this particular assignment, all you need to do is drive at 2 a.m. with a ghost in the passenger seat.”

“…”

Excuse me, what?