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Translator/Editor: Natty

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◈ How to Rewrite Ghost Stories ◈

Episode 20: Twilight Market (1)

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No one around.

I swept my gaze around, but this was a gloomy alley with no sign of people, not even a streetlight left on.

The timing is right.

It was 12:25 a.m. About three minutes remained until my target time.

The moon has set properly, too.

The timing was good. The weekend happened to overlap with a new moon. If I had been unlucky, I would have had to wait a month, or check the weather forecast a dozen times and go all in on a praying build: no rain, but plenty of clouds.

No Ghost Story Records Corporation... right?

One last check for suspicious gong noises or goblin sounds. It really did seem fine.

I took a deep breath and raised my phone. The gauge on the Depth Gauge began to ripple again. The hints that had only been blinking swayed, then settled into new words.

003. Twilight Market

Twilight Market, upside-down market, ghost market... There were countless market ghost stories, but the most famous version was the Western ghost story known as Twilight Market.

At one point, this story alone had spawned enough derivative settings, discussion pages, and item catalogues to build a wiki-like site.

Thanks to that, I had learned another condition for entering a ghost story that could fill the Depth Gauge. A theme had to be distinct and broad enough to distill the story's original form.

The Pebbles Mart ghost story probably was not registered because its essence got tangled up with too many other things.

If I tested a genuine supermarket Napolitan ghost story, it would probably work then.

This was the one place where I could fill the Depth Gauge and buy oil for the goblin blue-and-red lantern. And with a little more thinking on my part, there was a chance I could get more items too, like when I had spoken with Hertz.

“Can I use things I buy in ghost stories, either in reality or inside other ghost stories?”

“Most of them, yes. They say every item has a purpose and seeks out its owner.”

...That is tempting.

This time, I planned to make a real attempt at getting not just lantern oil, but other items from ghost stories as well. I had prepared more than enough to pay the price.

This is practically my first real ghost story challenge.

I had already experienced more than three, but those did not count. I had not entered them through my own will and initiative.

Ghost stories coming to me was too passive. Now I would actively go to a ghost story.

I checked the entry method one more time.

Step one. First, find an enclosed alley. The gap between buildings must be narrow, and no streetlights can be on. Any light shining from between the buildings will result in failure.

The most important condition is that the moon must not be visible, whether it is a new moon, a lunar eclipse, or a cloudy day.

Step two. Enter at the exact beginning of the ghost hour. You cannot be early or late. You cannot join late, and you cannot leave early.

In Korea, the ghost hour is the Ox Hour.

Of course, the modern version of the Ox Hour is heavily adjusted for modern human convenience. To find the real Ox Hour, you have to account for longitude, latitude, and even the equation-of-time correction.

For Seoul, where I was, that meant the real time was from 12:28 a.m. to 2:28 a.m. in Korean Standard Time.

The reason this ghost story had long been dismissed as fiction was that people had simply tried it at neat times like midnight or 2:00 a.m.

Who would have guessed that entering a ghost story required calculating things like meridians, the Four Pillars, and boundary hours to find the proper local Ox Hour for that specific place?

Step three. Just before the ghost hour begins, stand facing the deepest darkness in the alley. Take a deep breath, then begin walking backward the instant the ghost hour starts. Do not look around. Keep all your attention fixed on the place your gaze first landed.

The right place. The right time. The right method.

I had all three, so I took a deep breath. Then, at 12:28, I took a step.

One step. The distant noise gradually began to fade.

Three steps. The air slowly turned colder. Different smells mingled together, smells that could not have existed in that alley. Iron, mold, flesh, blood, memories, pain, tears...

Eight steps. The asphalt beneath my feet turned to soft sand. The cold air reversed in an instant. My whole body felt as though it had swollen up and then settled down after a long flight.

Ten steps. A door appeared before me. I opened it and went inside.

“...!”

The next moment, I stood before an old alley straight out of the 1980s, as though I had gone back in time. A rough harmonium melody played as dim gas lamps flickered here and there. The name I had been looking for was attached to the front of an artificial shopping district.

Wlecome to the Twliight Mraekt.

Welcome to the Twilight Market.

Twilight Market.

「The market's appearance always changes, but it takes the form most familiar to you.」

...That is not exactly an alley I am familiar with.

It did not seem to belong to my era, either. I glanced around, but there did not seem to be any major problem.

When I passed beneath the market arcade sign, a bizarre sight unfolded before me. Corridors and plazas stretched on without end.

The ceiling was high, and where the sky should have been, thousands of enormous eyes hung there, each fitted with a shade like a light fixture.

Each time the eyes blinked, the scenery seemed to crackle with static, creating a sense of wrongness.

Some places had wallpaper, while others were marble. Gaps where tiles had fallen out were filled with children's ball-pit balls. Somewhere was shaped like a human mouth, and elsewhere, something spun as though trapped inside a washing machine.

The first corridor opened onto a kind of plaza where a fountain poured liquid from the sky to the ground, while whatever gathered below was swept away through drains in the ceiling. It felt as though the laws of physics had completely broken down.

“Selling tomorrow's nightm¿¡res!”

“Exchanging one tablet of sorrow that never returns for ■■■!”

“Seeking yesterday's dreams‽¡”

“Nostalgia ■■■ at ■■■!”

The harsh sounds trembled into words I could understand, becoming the voices of vendors shouting as though they were holding a clearance sale.

On the street stalls, things I could not fully recognize, like “a mermaid's ■■” and “tomorrow's ■■■,” rolled around inside various boxes.

A distorted gentleman with a fire hydrant for a head, periodically spraying water, lingered before a stall with a newspaper in hand. Beside him, shopping carts missing a wheel rolled by with the sound of flesh being crushed.

A gentleman split in half and hopping on one foot ran past a display window alongside a child kicking their own head like a ball.

Behind the glass, broken people stood in poses no human could take in place of mannequins, smiling, smiling, and weeping.

Huge mascot costumes the size of adults waddled between them with megaphones, flyers, and balloons. A melody with its rhythm crushed beyond recognition flowed from the speakers. Its lyrics were gentler and warmer than I expected, reminding me of something I had forgotten.

“Partner.”

A sharp sting shot through my earbud. Static electricity.

A chill ran down my spine. Why was I always drawn to things like this? Had I forgotten something? Was there something I had lost?

“Partner. Close your eyes for a moment, and remember why you came here.”

I closed my eyes.

I had come here... I had come here to buy something. This was Twilight Market. This was a ghost story world that did not exist in reality. A place that created things that had never existed and planted false memories.

I took another deep breath. Slowly, I filtered out the information my eyes, ears, and nose had accepted. I pushed it out of my awareness.

At last, I slowly opened my eyes. The bizarre arcade still stood before me, but it seemed as though noise had appeared here and there, obscuring my sight.

“Are you all right?”

“...Yeah. Thanks.”

「Those who enter Twilight Market, even by mistake, usually lose themselves before making their first purchase. Major reported incidents include mistaking oneself for merchandise, or claiming an item is something one has lost, bidding an absurd price for it, and then being unable to pay.」

If I had not discussed this with Hertz beforehand, I might have been swept away just like that. I pressed the single earbud firmly into place again.

「If you hear a voice you can understand within Twilight Market, that is where the item you want is being sold. Even if another sound tries to tempt you with words you can understand, do not approach it.」

...That rule does not seem to apply to me.

I glanced down at my phone. It had to be thanks to Hertz. My pet radio DJ had acquired the ability to translate paranormal phenomena.

But what am I supposed to do if I can understand every word?

I could not take my time checking every stall. I had prepared thoroughly, but my funds were still limited.

「A market is a place where things are bought and sold. Leaving without buying anything is forbidden.」

「Remaining for too long is not recommended. Once you get what you want, leave immediately. If it closes, nobody knows where you will emerge. If you are lucky, somewhere on the other side of the world. If you are unlucky... Good luck.」

I have to buy something and leave before the Ox Hour ends. If it looks like I cannot buy anything else, oil comes first.

The Ox Hour lasted exactly two hours. Considering bargaining and leaving, I had to finish my business within an hour and a half.

I pulled my baseball cap low. Half my field of vision narrowed in an instant.

「No seller or buyer wants to reveal who they are.」

「Show respect. Above all, do not try to see too much. The less you try to see, the sooner you will see what you want.」

A minimal layer of self-defense that hid me and kept me from seeing too much of the bizarre phenomena.

More than anything, it lowers the chance of having something strange forced on me.

The so-called sellers here were literally inhuman. If I met their eyes, there was no telling what curse they might pass on to me.

「The seller must receive a price. The buyer must pay it. Every item must be bought or sold, and an exchange is possible only with mutual consent.」

If I found the right item, bought it, and paid the price, it would work without issue. But if I tried to cheat on the payment or steal something...

Do not try to stack the deck against something that is not human in the first place. Are you stupid?

Hertz had agreed to intervene if I heard anything strange, so it should be fine. Which way should I go? In times like this, I should follow my instincts...

“Mister.”

As I considered the best route, a voice came from below.

“Mister.”

“Hm?”

A little girl who did not even reach my waist was clutching my pants and looking up at me. Her grimy uniform with a rounded collar was an old design from at least fifty years ago. A handkerchief was even pinned to her chest with a safety pin.

“Mister, do you have eyes?”

The child was covered in blood.

Above the chattering mouth, there were only red wounds where clear, watching eyes should have been. Blood welled up from the empty sockets.

Ugh. I got caught by the wrong one.

The benefit of wearing a cap vanished in an instant because of my height. Faced with gore so openly at close range, manners or not, I nearly backed away and fell over. To keep from doing that, I had to clench my fist hard enough for my palm to bleed.

“Do you have eyes?”

「Most things in the market will not speak to you first. However, if something does speak to you first, you must grant what it asks for.」

“Yes, I have eyes. Want these?”

Trying to make my voice as peaceful as possible, I rummaged through my bag. The child took half a step back and held out both hands.

“Here.”

The child lifted their palms to eye level. Two eyeballs gleamed on them, with glossy white surfaces and blue irises.

“Oh, how pretty. Mister gave me eyes!”

Doll eyes.

The price these ghost story monsters demanded in exchange did not actually have to come from a person. Human, animal, even a model, as long as it matched what they asked for, it would do.

After all, even mediums and shamans in ghost stories used substitute offerings, such as doll offerings or rice, when performing rites. It was the same principle.

But nobody caught up in a ghost story would happen to carry models of eyes or organs. So they end up having body parts collected by force.

Having part of your body ripped away as the price of a transaction was a ghost story classic. I had read through blogs three times to build up enough ghost story knowledge to find loopholes like this.

Now it was time to see if it worked.

Footnotes:

The Ox Hour is a traditional Korean time period associated with the ox. In this chapter, its exact timing varies by location rather than simply meaning midnight to 2:00 a.m.

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