Have you ever been so engrossed in something that it consumed your time, energy, and even your wallet?
I'm not talking about casual enjoyment—I mean the kind of obsession that makes you splurge on director's cuts for movies, artbooks for games, early access for webtoons, or concert tickets for your favorite artist. You know the drill: merch. Figures, posters, pins, plushies…
Let me confess: I'd never spent a dime on that stuff.
Until now.
There I stood at the department store, surrounded by a buzzing crowd. A pop-up shop for Dark Exploration Records—the viral horror universe—had just opened to massive demand. By 10 AM, all timed entry tickets were gone.
And yes, I'd snagged one.
"The 2:30 PM slot is now open!" announced a staff member.
"Finally!"
"Let's go!"
Teenagers beside me bolted toward the entrance. 2:30 PM… Right. I tugged my cap lower and joined the line.
Then came the whispers:
"Uh…"
"Reseller?"
"Dealer, maybe?"
…Seriously?
I couldn't blame them. I was the only adult man here dressed like an office worker. Sigh.
The pop-up's entrance loomed ahead:
[Welcome, Explorer of the Darkness.]
This is absurd.
The store's design screamed teen edginess—blood-red accents, monster caricatures, occult symbols, and dystopian corporate logos. Even the title was over-the-top:
[Prophecy of the Apocalypse: Dark Exploration Records]
Ugh. I fought the urge to facepalm. Why did work have to expose me to this…?
Dark Exploration Records started as a niche creepypasta wiki. Students built an open-source horror universe around "paranormal investigations" into entities called Darkness. Then YouTube's algorithm catapulted it into a Gen Z sensation. Now it's a full-blown IP with merch, fan theories, and corporate collabs.
…And I fell for it.
What began as a distraction during dull office hours turned into an addiction. I even wrote my own creepypasta entries. Pathetic? Maybe. But when your job drains your soul, even fictional horror feels like escapism.
Yet here's the irony: The wiki slapped a 15+ age rating on this universe. So why was I surrounded by middle schoolers?
More whispers:
"Definitely a dealer…"
"Maybe he's buying stuff for his nephew?"
No. This is all for me.
I'd come the previous week too, but the merch I wanted sold out. Today, I'd taken a day off for this. Last time, there'd at least been a few adults—parents dragged along by kids. Today? Just me and a sea of adolescents.
Why am I subjecting myself to this?
Inside, the store felt like a horror-themed Disneyland. Exhibits showcased the universe's factions:
[Daydream Inc.]
[Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau]
[Church of the Luminous Unknown]
Three factions—corporate, governmental, religious—vying to control the Darkness. Initially, it was just government lore, but fan contributions ballooned it into this behemoth.
The pop-up capitalized on popular characters and artifacts, but the execution was impressive. When else would I visit a place like this? Ignoring sidelong glances, I grabbed my items.
"Need an L-sized eco-bag for 5,000 won?" asked a cashier.
"Yes."
Transaction complete. I should've left, but my eyes lingered on the crowd by the cashier.
[Roulette Event]
Create Your Own
I'd skipped it last week. But with the pop-up closing tomorrow…
Is my dignity worth this?
"The roulette ends today! Want to try?" The new cashier smiled.
"…Yes."
Thank you for enabling me, kind stranger.
She guided me to a massive black roulette. The line moved fast. Soon, I held a walkie-talkie-shaped button.
"Press to stop the spin whenever!"
Beep.
With a mechanical whir, the roulette began to spin.
Each segment flashed prizes and rankings: exclusive merch not available for purchase, Bluetooth earbuds, and—occupying the largest slice—7th place, which offered nothing but a tiny memo pad. That's what I'll end up with, I thought. Not that I cared. I'd nearly skipped this altogether.
"Keep expectations low," I muttered, pressing the button with deliberate hesitation.
Rrrrr—click.
The wheel slowed… then halted abruptly.
On the golden sliver of the rarest section.
[1st Place: Dark Exploration Records Real Merch Box]
"...!"
"Oh my gosh! Congratulations!"
Is this… for real?
"Wow, no way!"
"So lucky—I'm so jealous!"
A chorus of gasps and whispers erupted behind me.
"First win all week!" a staff member exclaimed, louder than necessary. "And on the second-to-last day!"
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The staffer, buzzing with more excitement than I could muster, darted behind the roulette wheel and returned with a hefty plastic-wrapped box. Its matte-black surface gleamed under the store lights, stamped with a silver emblem that screamed luxury.
My hands trembled as I took it, but I clenched my fists to hide the shake. "…Thank you."
Need to get out. Now. Before I wake up.
As I turned to leave, the staffer blocked my escape. "Wait! We need your name for the custom merch!"
My name? It's already plastered across every data-leak site. Just let me vanish.
"Kim Soleum."
"Got it! One sec, Mr. Soleum!"
She hurried to a sleek black machine beside the roulette—a hybrid of 3D printer and arcane relic. A sign above it read:
[Dark Exploration Records Character Maker]
Right. The "create-your-own-character" gimmick.
"Type your name here," she instructed.
I jabbed at the keypad one-handed, the merch box wedged under my arm.
The machine whirred to life, spewing discordant music-box notes as gears clanked. Then—
Clink.
A plastic card slid out.
[Daydream Inc.]
Employee Kim Soleum
Field Exploration Team
"Wow! Daydream Inc.—one of the most iconic factions!" the staffer gushed.
…The corporate villains who monetize apocalypses. Of course.
"And the Field Exploration Team!" she added. "That's like… the redshirts of the universe! You know, the ones who always—"
"—die horribly. Yeah, I've read the lore."
Her smile didn't waver. "Think of the stories you could star in!"
Stories where I get devoured by shadow monsters in Chapter 2. I bit my tongue.
"Thrilling," I said flatly.
"You'll treasure this, right?" She leaned in, all performative sincerity.
"Yes."
Her grin turned razor-sharp.
"Liar."
The staffer's smile stretched grotesquely, corners of her mouth nearing her ears—
…What?
A sudden vertigo slammed into me.
Crackle.
The pop-up store's noise died. Colors bled into a static haze—red and blue flickers drowning in black ink.
When my vision cleared, the world had unraveled.
[Welcome to Daydream Inc., everyone!]
I stood frozen in a corporate auditorium, rows of suited recruits applauding as fireworks exploded across a projection screen:
[New Employee Orientation]
My hands gripped a merch box on my lap. My own suit mirrored theirs—identical.
"Did HR give you that?" whispered the recruit beside me.
I couldn't answer.
[Only 0.7% of applicants qualified for Orientation Room A!] boomed the presenter. [You're the elite!]
Murmurs rippled:
"Field Exploration Team? Sounds like grunt work…"
"Pharma companies don't do 'field exploration.' Are we getting shipped to some lab?"
My throat tightened.
Daydream Inc. Field Exploration Team.
A wiki entry flashed in my mind:
Field Exploration Team (Daydream Inc.)
Notorious "death squad" under the Development Dept. Canon fodder for horror writers. Popular trope: New hires forced into lethal trials to earn permanent contracts.
The presenter advanced the slide:
[Your first assignment begins NOW.]
Applause morphed into a dull roar.
The recruit beside me grinned, oblivious.
My merch box hummed faintly.
"No—"
I shot to my feet, chair screeching behind me.
"H-hey, what's wrong?" The recruit beside me grabbed my sleeve.
Too late.
[Probationary assessments begin now!] The presenter's voice sharpened, syrupy warmth gone. [Rest assured—evaluations will be swift. Absolute objectivity guaranteed.]
Lights dimmed. A holographic timer materialized above the podium:
[00:15:00]
[Full participation mandatory.] The screen flickered blood-red. [Non-compliance voids eligibility.]
Panic clawed up my throat. I lunged for the nearest exit—
Click.
Every door in the auditorium locked in unison.
Bang, bang, bang!
The auditorium doors slammed shut one by one.
Damn it!
While I panicked, the oblivious new hires—still convinced Daydream Inc. was a normal pharmaceutical company—remained clueless. As the host addressed the crowd of ~100 recruits, they listened with rapt attention.
[Now, let's get started!]
The lights cut out.
"...?"
"Huh?"
Confused murmurs rippled through the room. Most assumed this was part of a presentation, their curiosity mild.
Why wouldn't they? Who'd expect madness to erupt just from landing a job?
For example:
The environment warped into the interior of a derelict subway train.
[Passengers, thank you for using Abyss Transpo today… Our train will not halt.]
[Please pay attention to the announcements for a pleasant journey to your destination.]
Bizarre station names echoed through the speakers.
"...?!"
"W-What is this!?"
Recruits in suits—now seated on subway benches as if the auditorium had teleported—leaped to their feet.
"Excuse me?"
"Is this VR? Did we actually move?"
The familiar faces around them bred false comfort. They prodded at doors and peered into adjacent cars.
"There are people in the next car! But… the doors won't open? New tech?"
Cold sweat dripped down my spine as I blinked hard.
I knew this story.
[Welcome to Abyss Transpo]
A D-Class Darkness with notoriously high escape difficulty. A Field Exploration Team nightmare. Exploration Records: ■■ entries.
Abyss Transpo—a subway-based horror tale from Dark Exploration Records.
– Fall asleep, wake on a train. Familiar commute… until eldritch station names appear.
Office workers who read this found it chillingly relatable.
'…And Daydream Inc. oversees this story.'
The corporation was using it to filter new hires. Damn it!
"An escape room?"
"Why would a pharma company do this for sales recruits…?"
[This stop is Sorrow, Sorrow Station.]
"...!"
"S-Sorrow?"
[Doors are on your right…]
Click.
The train halted.
[Doors opening.]
[Doors close in 30 seconds. Once closed, they never reopen.]
[Passengers for Sorrow Station: Disembark now.]
The mundane tone juxtaposed with surreal commands.
"Look outside! It's just a station!"
True—the platform appeared ordinary, albeit dim and damp.
Relieved, 2-3 people edged toward the exit.
No.
"Don't get off."
"Huh?"
One sharp-eyed recruit backed me up: "He's right. 'Sorrow Station' doesn't exist here."
The group hesitated.
"But…"
[Doors closing.]
"Ah!"
Panic drove a few to leap out last-second.
Disaster struck.
Silver droplets rained from the platform's ceiling and pillars.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Giant teardrops? No—molten metal.
Sizzle.
Screams. Twitching. Silence.
Blood and silver sludge splattered the windows.
[Departing Sorrow Station.]
Beyond the closing doors: mangled corpses in puddles of gore.
"Ahhhhh!"
Terror finally infected the crowd.
'It's begun.'
I shut my eyes.
Trapped in a ghost story. A new hire in a death squad department.
'Real?*
Sure, I had an edge: I'd read every Dark Exploration Records wiki entry.
3.2 Exploration Records (up to ■■ entries)
I remembered most details.
This seemed like a classic OP protagonist setup—escape the horror, loot treasures, look cool.
But one flaw:
'…I'm terrified of horror!'
Correct.
Text? Fine. Visuals? Paralysis.
My friends mocked me relentlessly:
– kim soleum's crush asked him to watch a horror movie but he turned her down bc he's too scared? is this for real?
– lolololololol
– 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
– lol – wanna die? –
– sorry.
– sry.
I read horror stories at work with images/BGM disabled. My own creepypasta had no visuals.
A certified coward.
"..."
I buried my face in my hands.
I'm doomed.