Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work Novel (End Part 1) - Chapter 199

The Jisan Village Festival continued all night.

Outsiders could sleep in the various open private homes and enjoy free alcohol and meat all night.

Consequently, quite a few chose to stay in the village instead of leaving.

“What’s happening?”

“Oh, they say there’s a big event on the last day. Like… a sort of ritual, I guess?”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to film it and make a short.”

The outsiders muttered nonchalantly, staying up all night or collapsing drunkenly into any available room.

Then came the final day, as the sun rose.

“Oh.”

“Looks like it’s starting now.”

[Jisan’s Fortune is Here~]

Finally, the ritual began.

Thump, thump, thump.

To the beat of the janggu played by the pungmulnori troupe, the villagers lined up on either side, as if creating a path, forming a long space.

From the tiled-roof house.

All the way to the village shrine (Seonangdang).

And from the tiled-roof house at the very beginning of the path, in the center of the village, something finally emerged.

[May Jisan’s fortune be bestowed, Agent of Sansanbaekjisan]

It was a colossal human palanquin.

Four people, with rooster feathers stuck in their chests and their heads covered with plain white cloth, carried someone.

“Oh.”

“Wow, this is getting serious.”

The outsiders exchanged casual, unenthusiastic remarks out of mere curiosity, but among them were also hidden figures whose eyes gleamed.

‘Chaos.’

Assistant Manager Eun Haje.

The one called that by Kim Soleum observed the movements of the one riding on the human palanquin and the villagers.

It seemed that the project tasks could proceed smoothly as planned.

Her sharp gaze shifted outwards.

Towards one side of the village, filled with abandoned houses, in the direction of the well.

‘Inside the well.’

That was the destination of the task.

The agents of the Disaster Management Bureau hadn’t yet figured out the exact reason why villagers were less likely to follow them near the well, or why it was relatively safe there.

They had even come to check when it wasn’t festival season, but it was just a blocked well.

However, this ‘reporter’ knew the exact reason, and also knew what he needed to investigate.

That the well had once been a passage connected to somewhere else.

And that during this peculiar festival period, the village itself became a high-grade darkness, and the role of the passage sometimes revived.

So, she had to investigate now.

But…

“……”

The reporter glanced at Kim Soleum, who was riding on the human palanquin, then quietly began to move.

Not towards the well amidst the abandoned houses, but in another direction.

[May Jisan’s fortune be bestowed, Agent of Sansanbaekjisan.]

Meanwhile, the palanquin procession continued.

As the pungmulnori troupe cleared the way and the palanquin passed, the villagers bowed. And many stumbled enthusiastically, following the palanquin.

However, they maintained a certain distance, as if getting too close was not permitted.

The problem was that there were also those present for whom such permission didn’t matter.

“Wow! Look at this! They say this is the first event like this in decades!”

Several outsiders pushed their smartphones forward, following closely.

Those who were drunk and whose judgment was impaired did not maintain their distance, and even poked the cloth-covered villagers who were acting as the human palanquin.

These few had, from the beginning, only visited the rural village festival for the free alcohol and food.

But the villagers did not stop them.

They merely watched with smiling faces.

“Oh, for a rural area, it’s pretty good?”

“It’s professionalism. Professionalism.”

The villagers didn’t get angry.

They only watched with fervent eyes, praying for the palanquin to pass safely.

“……”

Soon, the human palanquin, having safely arrived in front of the Seonangdang, stopped.

Those performing the role of the palanquin carefully and respectfully lowered the ‘winner’ they had been carrying on their shoulders, then two people approached the Seonangdang.

And they cut the sacred straw rope (geumjul) of the Seonangdang.

Thud.

The geumjul fell to the ground. The remaining two untied the geumjul from the feet of the person they had been carrying on the palanquin and rehung it on the Seonangdang.

Then the door of the Seonangdang opened.

Inside was…

“The door is opening! Wow! Look at that! Gold!”

A golden rooster.

That golden rooster statue, which was the ‘special prize,’ had been enshrined inside the Seonangdang.

And its size was enormous.

“Is it not plated?”

“Insane.”

In the center of the Seonangdang, where the altar should have originally been, it stood unexpectedly on a round wooden frame, literally human-sized.

Greed, beyond mere admiration, flashed in the eyes of the outsiders.

In their eyes, they barely noticed that behind the gold lump, the original Seonangdang pole was inverted.

Like sticks that had been put into a lottery box upside down.

[May Jisan’s fortune be bestowed, Agent of Sansanbaekjisan.]

The one riding on the palanquin finally moved.

As the one clad in white stood before the Seonangdang, the villagers came forward one by one and covered the white cloth with paper.

The paper was densely covered with characters written in ink.

Hangul and Hanja.

They were the names of the villagers.

And after bowing three more times, they tilted a bottle of alcohol over it.

Gurgle.

As the ink was washed away by the pouring divine mountain liquor (Sinsanju), the characters disappeared.

It seemed as if it was seeping into the one clad in white.

“May we be liberated from worldly truths, O fortune of Jisan, O agent.”

“May we be liberated from worldly truths, O fortune of Jisan, O agent.”

“May we be liberated from worldly truths, O fortune of Jisan, O agent.”

The villagers bowed, prayed, cried, and wailed, spewing out deep-seated fear as they raised their hands or pleaded to the empty air.

Their desperation and tension were not masked by the sound of the pungmulnori troupe.

“Uh…”

“Hey. The atmosphere feels a bit strange.”

Most of the outsiders awkwardly retreated.

They were slowly beginning to feel something bizarre…

And then.

“Shall we take a closer look at this golden statue? Oh, but there’s a fragrant… smell of alcohol…”

Thud.

It was the moment the person holding the smartphone accidentally stepped into the Seonangdang.

“Huh?”

[May Jisan’s fortune be bestowed, Agent of Sansanbaekjisan.]

The golden rooster began to melt.

Boiling, boiling.

As if making such a sound, the rooster melted, spreading along the grooves in the Seonangdang floor…

And soon, it touched the foot of the one who had dared to enter.

The golden liquid.

“……”

The outsider, staring blankly at his foot, opened his mouth.

“I get it!”

Thump.

The smartphone fell to the ground.

“The world is a ■■! We are merely a ■■ written within it!”

“Please don’t look, don’t look at me, don’t ■■ me!”

“I am valuable, I am interesting, no? I don’t exist? What is this? What is this? Lord Name?”

Madness spreads like a contagion.

“Wh-what is it?”

“Why are those people like that?”

Those on the outskirts gasped at the situation, stumbling backward or craning their necks to watch.

But it was already too late.

“Aargh!”

Eventually, the majority of people fell into delusion.

Screaming and muttering incoherent soliloquies, or sitting with empty, vacant eyes.

A scene where madness and calmness coexisted.

But the villagers did not look back at them.

They had already seen too many fates of those who touched the Sinsanju, learned the worldly truth, and were seized by that terrifying realization.

Outsiders were just outsiders.

And they, the families of Jisan Village, could avoid such a fate.

Right at the end of this long Jisan festival they had prepared!

[They are coming!]

Only the chosen ones, who were different from these defiled individuals, who had diligently served the ritual for decades and awaited Jisan’s fortune, would achieve liberation!

“A new pole is being erected in the Seonangdang!”

The clamorous sound of the small gong covered the frenzy.

The winner, oblivious, calmly walked into the Seonangdang amidst the chaotic clamor.

Holding the special prize, the golden staff, in his hand.

If their agent merely inserted that small staff into the melted golden liquid in the Seonangdang, it would melt into the Seonangdang and become Jisan’s fortune.

A sacrifice, no, a god, who would bring forth liberation from that terrifying worldly truth!

They themselves would escape this strange and cruel world, avert disaster, and be liberated!

But…

…

“Everyone.”

The monotonous voice of a civil servant.

“This procedure is incorrect.”

“……?!”

The winner looked at the golden staff he was holding and sighed.

“If we proceed like this, it will be ruined. In your terms, it might be called ‘defilement’.”

A deathly silence fell.

Then, a wailing voice was heard.

“Jisan’s fortune is lying, trying to escape from us!”

“Well…”

The two hands clad in white slowly spread open.

Towards the sky.

“I know.”

He spoke in their language.

“Washed by the Sinsanju and enlightened by worldly truth, I already know. Jisan’s fortune, which will pull out the golden staff and re-erect it in the Seonangdang, already knows.”

The truth.

“You have distorted the teachings. You might have only read a few pages of an unknown scripture somewhere, or you stole the teachings and misunderstood only a part of them.”

Confusion.

Groans and murmurs from those who didn’t understand.

“What did you think liberation from worldly truth meant? Escaping from the cruel, painful, and irrational situation of this world, and living freely as chosen exceptions under the protection of Jisan’s fortune, averting disaster?”

The villagers lifted their heads.

An affirmative action.

“As expected. Then, let’s start from here.”

Kim Soleum spoke.

The certain knowledge he possessed.

The most important doctrine of the Nameless Brilliant Cult.

Its first teaching.

“There is no freedom in this world.”

“This world belongs to Lord Name. It only has meaning if one receives Lord Name’s choice, and to acknowledge this truth and receive His choice, one must cultivate oneself and sow and cultivate the seeds of origin in the world.”

“Your free will holds no meaning; only Lord Name’s will and choice hold meaning.”

“Weak ones who cannot accept this truth have fled the world through death, but that is not an escape route.”

He declared.

“There is no escape from Lord Name.”

…

“This teaching is liberation.”

Deathly silence.

The winner, the strange being clad in white, looked around at the villagers and asked.

“Do you not wish to accept it?”

No.

No.

That can’t be!

“Then choose another auspicious day and prepare a different kind of festival and ritual. Jisan’s fortune, which you summoned by the method you used,”

He pointed to himself.

“was me.”

The disappearance and death of outsiders. The consequence of a human sacrifice ritual where offerings were chosen by lottery.

From here and there, cries of ‘No,’ ‘That can’t be,’ ‘We’re defiled, we’re unclean,’ along with murmurs and wails, continued.

But they couldn’t kill the winner before their eyes.

If he died in this village, he would become a new god.

Because that was the procedure.

Ultimately, they had to just let him go.

“Aaaargh!”

The pungmulnori troupe swayed limply, and people collapsed everywhere.

The village festival lost its way and ended in chaos.

And the winner who brought about this conclusion, Kim Soleum, who, as usual, succeeded by using his specialty—information warfare and psychological warfare—…

‘As expected.’

He merely watched it with sunken eyes.

Without joy.

I knew this would happen.

I looked around at the mad scene.

This was indeed a ghost story under the Nameless Brilliant Cult. But it wasn’t a place that taught their proper doctrines.

Probably intentionally.

‘They probably ‘experimented’ with this village, letting it haphazardly perform rituals to develop its unique ghost story characteristics.’

To understand this process in detail, I needed Baek Saheon’s help.

Because I had to find out exactly how the rituals were performed and what doctrines they served.

And.

It was also possible because Baek Saheon manipulated the villager who drew the other golden stick, allowing me enough time in the early morning to listen to and analyze all these things.

‘…Did he pick up another brainwashing item in the meantime?’

I had no more desire to retrieve it.

It was pointless, and nothing would come of it anyway.

At any rate, that’s why I was able to pinpoint their errors for sure…

And because all my knowledge of the Nameless Brilliant Cult was real, the villagers were more easily swayed.

As for me, if it was the Nameless Brilliant Cult, I could already guess what that ‘worldly truth’ was, so it had no effect on me…

It was all the content I’d seen on the wiki.

Anyway.

‘Jisan Village will now individually ponder what’s right, believe what they want to believe, and fight among themselves.’

If division occurred like that, their unity would weaken, and a weakness would appear, so the Disaster Management Bureau would be able to take action before the next festival.

So, before this commotion settles, I should also quietly leave.

The festival was over.

The village rejected me as the winner.

So, probably… it would be safe to leave the village.

“……”

I was about to walk out of the Seonangdang.

Splash.

My footsteps caused ripples in the golden liquid.

That was the golden rooster, wasn’t it?

Judging by the color, the circular wooden plate that looked like a base underneath it didn’t seem to have melted with it.

It’s probably still there on the ground.

‘Only the gold melted, then…’

Thump.

“……”

I stopped walking.

Thump.

The ground was shaking. No,

Thump.

The floor.

It cracked, and the golden liquid poured down below.

“……!”

I lunged out of the Seonangdang. I narrowly avoided the collapsing floor.

And from between the cracked wooden circular plates…

A transparent liquid surged up.

Sinsanju.

……!

I realized.

‘The rooster gold statue was a paperweight.’

And the wooden circular plate wasn’t its base, but…

‘It was a lid.’

That golden statue had been pressing down on something buried beneath the Seonangdang to prevent it from rising.

A giant jar of alcohol.

And the real entity, bound and dormant within it.

It had heard my ‘real’ doctrine and awakened.

Shhhkkkkkk.

With the sound of countless legs dragging across the floor.

Aaaaaaaaaa!

A long body shot out from between the transparent liquid.

Something with countless squirming legs.

A giant centipede that had been in the liquor jar.

Aaaaaaaaaa!

But its countless legs were made of human arms.

Praying hands.

Clasped together.

Featureless facial holes, mimicking human features, moved.

Its appearance was like that of a wicked fallen monk from an old folk tale.

…A characteristic I could recognize.

Centipede Monk

A ghost story that conveys the tradition of the Nameless Brilliant Cult. It cultivates mutated believers in various places in the world, receiving recognition from a religious practitioner who was impressed by the power of stories residing in lowly creatures.

However, its body was already half-crushed.

The arms protruding from the Seonangdang were corroded by the alcohol and liquid.

Its eyeballs were melted too.

There was a folk tale that in some rural village, they misinterpreted this being’s teachings, captured it, confined it in a liquor jar, and offered that liquor in rituals.

So that was it.

What conveyed the doctrine here.

To appease that being, they used the rooster, known as the centipede’s favorite prey, as a symbol and placed them in various places.

It seemed to have been useless, though.

Aaaaaaaaaa…

Lord Name.

This entity was deeply obsessed with the Nameless Brilliant Cult’s doctrine and incapable of conversation or communication.

It only imparted doctrinal teachings and enlightenment.

Unspeakable truth, violently.

There is no enlightenment, there is no nirvana.

This is a worldly truth. Eternal liberation is approaching. When the end of the Dharma-ending age comes, offer suffering, madness, and insanity, vomit sarira, and live eternally. That is the true nature of the Way, the Dharma of priceless value.

I need to respond.

I know.

But…

‘Do I really have to?’

I let my arm drop.

…I’m sick of it.

I don’t know how many times this has happened.

How much longer do I have to do this?

My mind tells me I only need to endure for a month, just get the wish ticket…

But the thought of “what if I just listen to that centipede’s horrible sermon for a bit?” weighs down my body. The thought of “what if my body is crushed?” comes to mind.

Perhaps I…

“Agent Roe Deer.”

A large hand grabbed my shoulder.

I turned my head.

Eyes shining with a firm expression.

Agent Cheongdong was there.

“I arrived on time as promised. …And I told you.”

When I return…

“I would find a way to rescue you.”

The hand on my shoulder tightened.

“According to the rules.”

That…

“‘In this specific supernatural disaster, two agents are mobilized for the rescue of the distress caller.'”

Agent Choi’s shaman’s ritual blade plunged down below the Seonangdang roof, and ghost flames fiercely sparked.