It was immediately clear that this was a dark fantasy world steeped in urban legends.
Still, it wasn’t as if I could accomplish anything extraordinary.
My available actions were quite limited.
I acted precisely as I had moments ago.
Yet, a subtle shift occurred.
Before our gazes could meet and she approached, I stepped forward and spoke first.
Establishing the right atmosphere was paramount.
The agents I’d encountered in countless novels, comics, and films were invariably grave, never flippant.
Nor were they humorous.
Simply, they embodied a weighty and serious demeanor.
In my current state of utter ignorance, this concept suited me perfectly.
“I am Agent Alpha.”
“Ah! You’ve arrived. I’m Kim Sera, dispatched as an investigator for this mission.”
To avoid even the slightest suspicion, I needed to appear competent.
Just then, she pulled a pamphlet from her coat.
“Gyeonggi Gwangju Station Urban Legend. Rule One: The moment one enters the station, everyone experiences cognitive distortion. All events occurring within the station appear natural, as if part of everyday life. Upon realizing this, one must never betray any sign of seeing or knowing something different. I have already memorized all of this.”
“Wow—”
“Let’s begin the investigation immediately. Th—”
As I trailed off, my gaze prompting her, she immediately responded.
“Oh! You can just call me Sera.”
Her eyes held an unspoken request for my name.
However, I wasn’t truly Agent Alpha.
Fearing I wouldn’t be able to manage the consequences if I revealed my real name, I averted my gaze.
“You can simply call me Alpha.”
****
The Rulebook.
In my previous life, these were known as ‘Napolitan Creepypastas’ (TL Note: A type of urban legend where a set of rules must be followed to avoid a bizarre or dangerous outcome, often with a surreal or unsettling tone).
They featured a set of rules, and breaking them resulted in an absurd, unimaginable consequence.
One might argue that if you simply followed the rules, no harm would come to you.
Indeed, rule-based urban legends typically presented no problems as long as one adhered strictly to their dictates.
The problem was that the current rulebook contained only a single line.
I recalled the events that transpired on the subway just before the save point.
The repeating subway.
The words, “Come back.”
The lights went out.
My mind utterly failed to grasp what fatal mistake I had made.
“First, the people on the bench next to the ticket gate. Let’s begin our investigation there.”
Investigator Kim Sera tapped the pamphlet as she spoke.
Beside the ticket gate.
Outwardly, it appeared ordinary.
The bench was occupied by a diverse group: office workers, students, the elderly, homemakers…
Nothing seemed amiss.
As for the lack of space on the bench.
That spot was always packed with people; I had never once managed to sit there myself.
Just then, a single seat appeared empty.
As if possessed, I walked over and filled the vacant spot.
“Agent Alpha?”
It was comfortable.
Immensely so.
To the point of death.
Here.
Forever.
Until this world ended.
I wanted to stay… forever.
What was I doing just now?
My thoughts blurred, leaving only one sensation.
Comfortable. Comfortable. Comfortable. Comfortable. Comfor—
“Surely not, Agent Alpha! Antigene! Did you not administer the Antigene?!”
Sera’s urgent voice.
[The train bound for Pangyo is scheduled to arrive in 1 minute.]
[Passengers wishing to board are advised to hurry.]
As the announcement echoed, all the people who had been milling about towards the ticket gate vanished.
Less than 30 seconds remained.
“…I, I’m sorry.”
Someone whispered in my ear.
My head felt numb.
As if all thoughts, save one, had been excised.
15 seconds.
14 seconds.
…
5 seconds.
[The… th-the-the-the-the next station… th-the-the-the-the… please b-b-b-b-board.]
My vision was tinged crimson.
An endlessly echoing word.
“…Come back.”
“…Come back.”
“…Come back.”
And then I realized.
This chair had never been empty to begin with.
****
[Moving to the last save point.]
[The most recent save point is AUTO SAVE0.]
[Gyeonggi Gwangju Station Urban Legend]
[Type of Death]: Assimilation.
[Tip]: The chair next to the ticket gate is not an empty seat.
****
I opened my eyes.
My surroundings brightened once more.
The cacophony that had pierced my ears vanished, replaced by the mundane sounds of everyday life.
People were coming and going.
Some looked at their phones, others dozed, and still others adjusted their bags.
Amidst them, a woman in a black suit tilted her head, searching for something.
My gaze, as if enchanted, returned to it.
That same spot from before.
The bench beside the ticket gate remained densely packed.
…And this time, not a single space was vacant.
The moment I stared for about ten seconds, it seemed as though a sitting space materialized within the tightly packed area.
I immediately averted my gaze.
“……”
Cold sweat trickled down my neck.
Now it was certain.
That bench was absolutely not a ‘place to sit’.
The instant I sat, I would become a part of the urban legend.
“Are you, by any chance, Agent Alpha, whom I was scheduled to meet here?”
It was the beginning again.
Sera greeted me as if nothing had happened.
I tucked my subtly trembling fingertips into my pocket.
This time, I knew.
Rule 2. Do not look at the people next to the ticket gate.
ㄴIf you perceive a seat to be empty, immediately turn your gaze away, and under no circumstances should you sit in a vacant spot.
The same conversation repeated itself.
As before, I recited the rule written in the pamphlet, and Sera reacted with surprise.
She opened her pamphlet and spoke.
“Let’s start by investigating the people in front of the bench.”
I paused in silence before slowly opening my mouth.
“…Actually, I’ve conducted a small personal investigation.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s probably faster to experience it once rather than just hearing about it. Look at the bench next to the ticket gate now. What do you see?”
Sera turned her head.
“Hmm… it looks ordinary.”
“Are there any seats?”
“Everyone is seated. No, there are no seats… Hmm? No seats… or are there…?”
Her voice wavered subtly.
“Look again, carefully.”
I whispered softly.
“Are there no seats?”
Sera narrowed her eyes, then suddenly exclaimed.
“Ah! A seat opened up!”
The investigative tone she had just moments ago vanished, replaced by the voice of someone who had waited a long time and finally found a seat.
Her voice was imbued with excitement, joy, and elation.
I grabbed her arm just as she was about to move.
“What are you doing! Let go! Now!”
Though Sera struggled fiercely, I covered her face with my hand.
“Hold on for just ten seconds.”
She thrashed.
However, precisely ten seconds later, the empty seat was filled by yet another ‘person’.
In that instant, the strength drained from Sera’s body.
“…What was I… just…?”
I removed my hand, taking a breath before I spoke.
“Rule 2. Do not look at the people next to the ticket gate. If you perceive a seat to be empty, immediately turn your gaze away. Under no circumstances, no matter what happens… do not sit in a vacant spot. This is the extent of the urban legend information I have ascertained.”
It was a somewhat drastic method, but it was the only way to prove it.
She was an investigator.
Someone who needed to see for herself, feel for herself, and record it in the rulebook, rather than simply transcribing someone else’s words.
My role was simple.
To endure by her side, ensuring she ‘survived to the end’ and could leave behind a record.
It had to be this way.
Only then could I, too, escape the clutches of this accursed anomaly in the space it dominated.
Sera remained dazed for a while before lowering her head.
“Thank you, Alpha. I will record this in the investigation log.”
Her fingertips trembled.
The scratching sound of her ballpoint pen on the paper seemed unusually loud.
[Rulebook – Gyeonggi Gwangju Station Urban Legend]
2. Do not look at the people next to the ticket gate.
ㄴIf you perceive a seat to be empty, immediately turn your gaze away.
ㄴUnder no circumstances, no matter what happens, do not sit in a vacant spot.
After writing the final line, Sera exhaled a short breath.
“…Truly, just moments ago, there was clearly an empty seat.”
“That is precisely why it’s dangerous.”
I replied curtly.
Sera nodded, but her expression remained complex.
The moment the pamphlet closed, the air inexplicably felt a little lighter.
As if something that had filled the station had momentarily held its breath.
But I knew.
This was merely the addition of one more rule.
The urban legend was far from over.
“I… I’ve been administered Level 1 Antigene.”
Once more, that word surfaced.
The word, Antigene.
I didn’t bother to ask about Antigene’s true nature.
After all, as someone who had introduced myself as an agent, I shouldn’t appear ignorant of it.
Perhaps it was some kind of anti-psychotic medication (TL Note: The Korean ‘항정신 물약’ literally means ‘anti-mind potion’, suggesting a substance that counters mental effects or influences).
Since she was an investigator, it was likely a necessary countermeasure for dealing with such anomalies.
Their unique means of resistance.
“Normally, I should be able to resist the impulses given by the anomaly… but this time, I couldn’t endure it at all. Instead, it felt as though my entire will was moving according to *its* intention. As if all options were fixed on just one: ‘sit in the chair’…”
Sera took off her glasses and slowly cleaned them.
“…The Gyeonggi Gwangju Station Urban Legend was originally classified between Level 0, ‘Advisory,’ and Level 1, ‘Cautionary.’ However, just based on the phenomena I’ve experienced, it seems it needs to be upgraded to at least Level 2, ‘Dangerous.’ The disappearance of the previous investigator was likely for the same reason. I need to reinforce the rules a bit.”
[Rulebook – Gyeonggi Gwangju Station Urban Legend]
2. Do not look at the people next to the ticket gate.
ㄴ2-1. The bench next to the ticket gate, despite having no actual empty seats, induces the illusion and impulse that a ‘seat has appeared’.
ㄴ2-2. The impulse is extremely powerful, confirmed to be irresistible even under the influence of medication (Antigene).
ㄴ2-3. The moment one perceives the illusion of an empty seat, one must immediately avert their gaze.
