Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work

“It was a regular workday.”

[Aha.]

The driver never explicitly stated their preferred topics, only asking questions.

But the meter answered for him.

[10,500]

[10,700]

[10,900]

[11,200]

Out of control.

– Goodness, does this driver not understand the concept of small talk? Friend, if you’d like, I could step in as a skilled broadcaster to spice things up…

‘No need.’

This was expected. I quickly and nonchalantly responded with my next line.

“But I almost died on the job today.”

Thunk.

“Nearly became fresh produce myself while trying to buy some meat at a butcher shop.”

The meter stopped.

[11,300]

“Fortunately, the shop owner turned out to be a vegetarian. I bartered some produce and got out. Even won the haggling match and got some cash.”

[……]

The driver’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel slowed.

The vehicle’s speed decreased.

[And what happened next?]

Phew.

“I headed for the back alley.”

It worked.

What am I doing?

‘Weaving as many correct keywords into my answers as possible.’

The goal was to say something that interested any of the four drivers.

A strategy I called ‘You’re bound to like at least one of these topics’.

And luckily, my current situation naturally allowed me to bring up all kinds of sensational material.

‘The last six months have been full of ridiculous adventures, after all.’

[What kind of work will you have tomorrow?]

The conversation topics seemed endless.

“I plan to take a break and reflect on everything that’s happened. It’s been quite eventful.”

I kept steering the conversation toward stimulating, talk-worthy topics, no matter what the taxi driver asked.

I kept weaving in nightmares, food, blood, violence, survival of the fittest, mascots, cooking, fortune-telling, ghosts…

All seamlessly blended into casual conversation.

Eventually, the car moved forward as slowly as a bicycle.

I kept talking non-stop, enough for Braun to marvel a few times at my ability to fill the air.

By the time my voice was nearly hoarse…

[…We’ve arrived.]

The taxi came to a stop.

[We’ve reached your destination, ‘Seoul Station’.]

Click.

The lock on the back door released, and the tinted window rolled down, revealing a familiar view…

It was the nightscape of Seoul Station.

‘Hah…!’

I was so relieved I could cry.

Though I wanted to leap out immediately, I first needed to settle the fare.

I looked at the meter.

[29,700]

[29,800]

Click.

The driver stopped the meter.

[29,800]

‘I did it…!’

Going under 30,000 was usually only possible for short, 10-minute trips.

This level of fare meant there would be no permanent damage.

[Time to settle the fare.]

The taxi driver extended a hand behind him.

In that hand was a cheque.

-29,900 / Code 1

I carefully took the old-fashioned paper cheque, stamped with a wax seal in the shape of a snake…

The back of the cheque had a description of the curse the passenger would receive.

Fare Code 1 : Illness

– Three days of high fever, headache, hemoptysis, and chills.

Good.

‘This is totally manageable.’

Far better than disastrous bankruptcy or the death of those around me.

“Thank you.”

I clutched the cheque and gave the driver a deep bow before finally escaping the taxi.

‘Ha.’

The winter air felt unbelievably refreshing…

Knock, knock.

“……!”

The driver’s side window rolled halfway down.

[Mr. Passenger.]

I nearly passed out right then and there.

“Yes?”

[That was an enjoyable conversation. I think my colleagues would also be interested in your stories…]

In the darkness, the driver’s gloved hand tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel…

[Let’s meet again after retiring. I’ll buy you a drink then.]

I swallowed hard.

…Had he caught on?

The taxi drivers were inspired by a well-known and terrifying motif.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Conquest, War, Famine, and Death—serving as literal doomsday taxi drivers in this eerie wordplay ghost story.

Given this context, that comment was enough to send chills down my spine.

Still, I nodded calmly.

“Yes.”

But the Horsemen of the Apocalypse wouldn’t retire until the end of the world!

I’d be long gone by then.

“I’d look forward to it. Best of luck on your shift.”

[Hahaha… Indeed. Tiresome work.]

The taxi window rolled up again, and the black vehicle ghosted away from Seoul Station in an instant, leaving only the crimson afterimage of its taxi sign behind.

“……”

I glanced down at the negative cheque in my hand.

At that moment, the cheque burst into flames, and I began coughing up blood.

“Keugh—”

The high fever and pounding headache scorched through my skull, but it was bearable.

And there, watching me, was the lizard.

He, too, was dripping blood from his snout.

‘Uuuuugh.’

Not exactly a pleasant sight, but I couldn’t help swallowing my bloody saliva as I spoke.

“Um, this should clear up in three days. That seems to be… how the rule works.”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Yes.”

“And thank you for not prying or questioning me back in the taxi. It meant a lot— cough—”

The lizard watched me, his expression unchanged, even as he coughed up blood.

“Kim Soleum-ssi.”

“Yes?”

“Take a sick leave.”

“…Yes.”

A little while later.

After waiting for the hemoptysis to subside, we called another taxi to return to the company dorms.

Though the thought of another taxi ride was unsettling, there were no further incidents.

Aside from our raging fevers, both the section chief and I safely made it home.

‘I didn’t expect Squad Leader Lee Jaheon to be living in the same dorm building.’

We parted ways in front of the building.

“Take a sick leave.”

“Yes… Thank you.”

We’d save the detailed discussions for later at the office.

‘Phew.’

And so…

I made it back safely.

‘Even a company dorm could feel like home.’

When I opened the door, the warm indoor air greeted me like a comforting embrace. It was almost euphoric.

Feeling this ill, I just wanted to jump into a hot shower and crash in bed, but…

There was one more thing I had to do.

‘Huh.’

I noticed a pair of shoes in the entryway that weren’t mine.

Baek Saheon’s dress shoes.