Our next objective for investigation is clear.
Rule Number Three.
They exchanged a knowing nod.
At that very moment, an announcement resonated from the ceiling.
[The train bound for Pangyo Station is currently arriving.]
[Passengers, please board promptly.]
It sounded utterly unremarkable.
At least, for now—
“We need to go, quickly!”
The announcement itself confirmed a train’s imminent arrival.
The subway was likely just thirty seconds from pulling into the station.
I gave an affirming nod to her urgent plea.
Lingering here any longer, I knew, could invite unforeseen peril.
In the previous loop, I had been seated on a bench.
My vision had abruptly crimsoned, then flickered into darkness.
That lapse in time had precisely spanned the train’s arrival and its subsequent departure.
The automated voice repeated its warning.
[Passengers. The automated train will arrive shortly.]
[All sections will be plunged into darkness shortly.]
Her steps, which had been leading the way, faltered.
Sera froze, her head inexplicably turned toward a specific point.
“…Do you see it now? An exit… I can see it.”
At the very end of her gaze.
Where a solid wall had stood moments before, a brightly illuminated exit had now inexplicably opened.
The world outside was visible.
Sunlight. People. Freedom.
It appeared so utterly natural that even I almost succumbed, nearly taking a step forward.
“Absolutely not.”
Gyeonggi Gwangju Station, from its very design, possessed only two exits.
An exit in such an impossible location simply could not exist.
I seized Sera’s shoulder with a firm grip.
At that exact moment, the broadcast’s tone shifted, becoming distorted.
[Passengers, please board promptly.]
[Passengers, please board promptly.]
[Passengers, please board promptly.]
Every single person within the station simultaneously turned their heads, their gazes fixed on that illusory exit.
In unison, they began to move.
“…f*ck.”
My grip tightened instinctively.
This time, I would not fall victim.
I yanked her hand firmly, pushing through the surging crowd as we headed for the ticket gate.
This was no mere illusion.
The station itself was actively attempting to ‘expel’ people, by any means necessary.
And that path’s end was not an exit.
‘Assimilation.’
We finally reached the ticket gate.
I swiftly scanned my card and pushed through.
“…I… I… I need to take my medicine… where is it…”
The investigator remained disoriented, unable to regain their composure.
This implied that the Level 1 Antigen I had mentioned earlier offered absolutely no resistance.
“There’s no time to waste like this!”
All pretense, all concepts, were cast aside.
“Quickly, go down—”
…Upon reflection.
Why had I been trying to descend to the first basement level?
Gyeonggi Gwangju Station was, by its very design, a multi-story subway station with no basement.
Not going down.
“…I have to go up.”
A chilling realization washed over me.
My foot was already planted on the first step of the staircase.
I could see a subway train approaching in the distance.
Countless people were lining up.
If this station had no basement, where could the subway operating here possibly be headed?
And all those people—
My body strained to ascend, yet I found myself unable to move upwards.
The stair sign, in chilling defiance, read ‘B2F’.
I was attempting to go up, but I was undeniably descending.
On the mirror-like, shimmering walls lining either side of the stairs, the reflections of people descending in an orderly line were visible.
Every face was devoid of expression.
They were all moving with the exact same, unnerving cadence as my own.
Behind me, Sera, too, was being swept downwards by the relentless current of the crowd, just like everyone else.
Her voice, when it came, was laced with a tremor.
“Wait… my body, my body! This station, why… why are these stairs so incredibly deep? We’ve already descended three floors!”
At that instant, the announcement blared once more.
[Passengers. The subway bound for Pangyo has arrived.]
[Please board quickly.]
“…Perhaps, it had been wrong from the very beginning.”
Unaware of this fundamental truth, I had remained on the subway, awaiting a transfer.
What if, at that crucial moment, I had disembarked?
A railway system moving deep underground.
The outcome of such a journey was horrifyingly clear.
Burial alive.
More than anything, however.
What truly instilled fear in me now was not that prospect.
It was the station’s very design.
It was malevolent.
To simply call it ‘malicious’ felt utterly inadequate.
The structure seemed designed to toy with human psychology itself.
It cunningly deceived people into believing a subway was imminent, thus stimulating their subconscious desires.
It blunted and obscured the judgment of reason, humanity’s most potent weapon.
Forcing them into an inescapable rush.
Preventing any thought other than immediate boarding.
Eradicating any capacity for doubt.
A post I had once read on the gallery flashed into my mind.
Come back.
The user who had penned those words.
That user had claimed to have escaped safely.
This implied that the place they disembarked was not above ground, but rather, deep underground.
“How… how could they have possibly written that post?”
Right in front of me, a person’s frantic steps abruptly ceased.
Agh.
A final, desperate cry escaped their lips.
They had failed to board.
The train’s interior was already packed to capacity.
The lights within the station extinguished, plunging my vision into absolute darkness.
****
[Moving to the last save point.]
[The most recent save point is AUTO SAVE0.]
[The Gyeonggi Gwangju Station Horror]
[Type of Death]: Crushing.
[Tip]: No ‘exit’ truly exists. The moment you descend the stairs, it transforms into a point of no return.
****
My vision flared brightly, as light abruptly flooded back in.
The surroundings were once again brilliantly lit.
The cacophony, the oppressive pressure, the relentless push of the crowd—all had vanished.
A perfectly ordinary announcement drifted into my ears.
People ambled by, idly tapped on their phones, or simply dozed.
Amidst this mundane scene.
A woman in a crisp black suit tilted her head, her gaze scanning as if searching for someone.
Just as before, she appeared utterly oblivious, as if nothing had ever transpired.
Her words to me in the very first loop echoed in my mind.
–You already know. There’s no exit here…
“f*ck. So that’s why they said there was no exit.”
At that moment, a voice that had become eerily familiar rang out beside me.
“Excuse me, might you be the person I’m scheduled to meet here?”
She offered a bright smile, extending her hand.
Kim Sera.
A jolt of stiffness seized my neck.
Only moments prior, she had been meticulously penning a rulebook, her trembling fingertips inscribing ‘Level 2 – 2.5 Danger Class’.
Until her very death, she had clung to her mission—the arduous task of compiling the rulebook—never once abandoning it.
The distant sound of the automated train departing.
She had remained by my side, drenched in sweat, until the very end.
Now, her face was utterly blank, devoid of any memory.
I subtly slid my trembling fingertips into my pocket.
Then, before my memories could once again be wiped clean, I desperately recalled the rules I had etched into my mind.
To the fullest extent possible.
Rule 3. Do not heed announcements or exits.
3-1. Do not be swayed by broadcasts and lose your judgment. Broadcasts cultivate a sense of urgency and false hope within people.
3-2. There are only two legitimate exits. A third exit does not, and cannot, exist.
3-3. Commit the building’s structure to memory. This is a multi-story subway station, entirely above ground. There is no basement.
3-4. Should you be lured by illusion and descend with the crowd, you must, under no circumstances, board the subway. Boarding the subway leads directly to ‘assimilation’. It is better to meet death as a human.
I exhaled slowly, deeply.
Sera retained no memory of the loop.
Only I was burdened with the continuation of these memories.
“…Pleased to meet you. I am Agent Alpha.”
****
I extended my hand to Sera.
She smiled brightly, taking my hand as if nothing untoward had ever occurred.
It was as if the memory of our recent, crushing death together had never existed in the first place.
Our window to consolidate the rulebook was not extensive.
This loop progressed significantly faster than the last.
The illusion that ensnared people seated on benches.
The repetitive announcements that beguiled the ears.
The spurious exit that tormented human hope.
Having surmounted all of these, we passed through the ticket gate and stepped inside.
“Let’s go down quickly now!”
Kim Sera, now appearing far more confident than in the previous loop, strode ahead.
It seemed my persona of a competent yet taciturn agent had resonated quite effectively.
After all, I had preemptively neutralized every danger and demonstrated exceptional acumen in investigating the rules.
I caught Sera’s wrist just as she was about to rush towards the stairs.
“Agent Alpha?”
“Before we entered this station, did you investigate the building’s structure?”
Kim Sera nodded, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Yes, it’s a basic part of the investigation. Of course, I did. It’s a two-story structure, isn’t it?”
I responded in a low, even tone.
“Then you must also be aware that Gyeonggi Gwangju Station has no basement, and is a two-story building constructed to utilize only the ground level.”
“…Of course— Ah!”
The realization dawned on her as well.
Her face paled, and she instinctively recoiled from the staircase.
There was still a precious window of time.
We had, after all, entered at least twenty seconds faster this time.
As she made to move towards the opposite set of stairs, I gently took her hand.
“If it’s not underground… then wouldn’t it be this way?”
I paused, contemplating.
I decided to consider the situation from the perspective of the anomaly itself.
This entity had woven such a malevolent design.
If I were this horror, would I truly clear a path for the throngs of people rushing down the stairs?
The answer was glaringly obvious. No.
The dwindling time.
The train’s imminent arrival.
The insistent broadcast, burrowing into one’s ears.
In such dire circumstances, people invariably choose the ‘simple option’ over ‘safety’.
The path that appeared convenient and directly before their eyes.
That was the staircase.
The horror was meticulously exploiting that very instinct.
So, was there truly no way out?
No.
Rules, by their very nature, exist within a rulebook because a loophole, a breakthrough, always exists.
This implied not that there was no exit, but that we simply hadn’t discovered it yet.
“…The path we must take is not the stairs.”
I pointed my finger towards another direction.
Something that had been present all along.
Yet, a place nobody ever utilized.
It was the elevator.
