The doors to the auditorium clicked shut, one by one. My own panic was a silent, solitary thing. Around me, the other new hires, still under the impression that Hwanmong San-eop was just a regular pharmaceutical company, had yet to grasp the situation. And so, as a hundred fresh-faced recruits listened attentively, the host on stage shouted cheerfully, “Now, let’s get started!” At that, the auditorium lights plunged into darkness. A murmur of mild curiosity rippled through the crowd. Most of them probably assumed it was for a video presentation. Who could blame them? You don't expect your first day at a new job to begin with something so utterly bizarre. The world flickered, and the auditorium vanished. We were now inside a desolate subway car. “Passengers, thank you for using Simyeon Unsu today… Our train will not halt.” A disembodied voice crackled from a speaker. “Please pay attention to the announcements for a pleasant journey to your destination.” The station names that followed were completely Oegyein. We were still in our seats, but the plush auditorium chairs were now hard plastic subway benches. Still dressed in their new suits, everyone Sagyeok to their feet in a single, startled motion. “Is this some kind of VR?” someone asked. “Did we actually move?” The fact that we were all still together offered a sliver of comfort, breeding a dangerous sense of calm. People began to wander through the car, searching for a company logo, an event coordinator, or a door that might actually open. Soon, a clearer picture of our confinement began to form. “There are people in the next car!” a woman called out. “But… the doors won’t open. Is this some kind of new tech?” A cold sweat trickled down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, but the grim reality didn't change. I knew exactly which ghost story this was. [Welcome to Simyeon Unsu]. A featured story in the `<Angmong Yadam>` collection. A D-Class entity with an infamous, near-impossible escape rate. The Hyeonjang Tamsadae logs for it are filled with suffering. Tamsa Records indicate a total of ■■ entries. It’s a ghost story that preys on the familiar horrors of the Korean subway system. It always starts the same way: you fall asleep on your commute home and wake up to find the train rattling through stations with strange, unsettling names. Its primary targets are everyday commuters, which is what makes it so chilling for anyone who has ever had to ride the train to work. And this particular ghost story, I remembered with a jolt, is under the jurisdiction of Hwanmong San-eop They were planning to filter their new hires through a live-action horror show. Damn it. “Is this some kind of escape room?” one man wondered aloud. “Why would a pharmaceutical company that makes hair-loss treatments set up an escape room for its new sales team?” someone else Sagyeok back. That’s when it happened. “This stop is Seulpeum. Seulpeum Station,” the voice from the speaker announced. I held my breath, my head snapping toward the windows. “The doors are on your right… The doors are opening.” It sounded so routine, so normal, until— “The doors will close in thirty seconds. Once closed, they will not open again. Passengers whose destination is Seulpeum Station should disembark now.” The calm, familiar cadence of the announcement was warped by those strange, impossible words. But people will always rationalize the bizarre to find some scrap of reassurance. “Look outside! It’s just a normal subway station!” someone shouted, and he was right. Through the windows, the platform was clearly visible. It looked a little dark, a little damp, but otherwise perfectly ordinary. A wave of relief washed over the car, and two or three people started moving toward the open door. “I don’t think you should get off,” I said, my voice coming out faster than I intended. This was bad. “You heard the announcement. ‘Seulpeum Station.’ There’s no such place in Korea. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?” “He’s right,” a voice chimed in. It was the new hire who’d been sitting next to me in the auditorium. “Maybe we should just wait and see.” My unexpected ally made the people at the door hesitate. “Hey, the doors are closing!” The warning chime sounded, and the sudden noise was enough to break their resolve. A few of them panicked and leapt out onto the platform. The doors slid shut with a pneumatic hiss. Those of us who remained inside watched as the handful on the platform waved back, looking relieved. A few Sagyeok me dirty looks, muttering curses under their breath. I understood their anger. In a situation this strange and unsettling, the instinct to flee is overwhelming. Then, a grotesque sight unfolded. The moment the group on the platform turned to walk away… Silver droplets began to rain down from the ceiling and pillars, cascading over them like giant, shimmering teardrops. But they struck like molten metal, and a horrifying sizzling filled the air. There were screams, then convulsions, then silence. A mixture of blood and silver liquid splattered against our windows. “The train is now departing from Seulpeum Station,” the speaker announced calmly. The last thing we saw through the blood-smeared glass was what was left of them: twitching, mangled heaps lying in front of the station doors. The price for choosing the wrong exit. “Please pay attention to the announcements for a pleasant journey to your destination.” At last, the dam of denial broke. Raw fear erupted inside the train car, a chorus of screams and panicked shouts. I squeezed my eyes shut, the scene burned into my retinas. I’m inside a ghost story. I had no idea how it happened, but here I was, a new employee at a company straight out of a horror anthology—and in a department with an insane mortality rate, no less. To be fair, I was probably in a better position than any of the other new hires. I had read every story in `<Angmong Yadam>` on the Simyeon Baekkwa. I’d even memorized the Tamsa Records, at least up to entry ■■. This is the part where the classic, overpowered protagonist would step up. You’re probably thinking I’m about to use my superior knowledge to look cool and escape this whole situation with ease. Maybe even monopolize all the hidden items and rewards along the way. But there’s one problem. A very, very critical problem. I am fucking terrified of horror. Text on a screen is fine. I can read about it all day. The moment it becomes real, though? The moment I can see it? I fall apart. I’m not just a little jumpy. I’m the kind of legendary coward my friends made fun of relentlessly. > Kim Lee Han-sol’s crush asked him to watch a horror movie but he turned her down bc he’s too scared? is this for real? > dude your name is literally the sfx for goosebumps but you can’t even watch a horror movie lolololol > shiieet no wonder your crush ran away lmao I’m the kind of guy who, when reading these very stories in broad daylight at the office, would turn off the background images and music just to get through the text. I was so scared, I didn't even dare add a single image to the ghost story I uploaded myself. I’m a charter member of the Scaredy-Cat Club, a lifelong resident. I covered my face with both hands. I’m so screwed.

Chapter 3: A Different Kind of Onboarding