WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Natty

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◈ How to Rewrite Ghost Stories ◈

Episode 25: Twilight Market (6)

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My breathing came hard.

It was not simply that I was out of breath. Each breath caught as though my lungs and windpipe had been seized and crushed.

The night market lights flickering overhead settled coldly into darkness.

The world warped. Straight building walls flowed down to the ground like wet paper, while streetlights bent at grotesque angles, the eyeballs embedded in them constantly darting around.

I could not let them find me.

Right now, this place rejected the living. No, it was desperate to find them and chew them up.

Eeeeeee.

Ringing tore into my eardrums. The old jazz that had been protecting me was gone. My sense of balance collapsed, and the ground beneath me swayed like a swamp.

I could not stay on my feet. My hands hit the ground. I flailed and crawled forward.

- Partner, farther in. You need to go farther in.

Blood ran from my nose. It seemed to be running from my ears too. No, the jazz was still playing. My ears simply could not hear it.

Through the muffled notes, as though underwater, I barely followed the direction Hertz guided me in. I crawled along walls and floors, hiding beneath the shadows of an alley.

I squeezed into a gap between an old chest, unidentified burlap sacks, and a sewer full of rotting trash and mold.

I spread one of the sacks on the ground, sat on it, and covered myself with a raincoat. Then I closed my eyes and spent a long time catching my breath.

- Are you all right?

It took time before I could find the energy to answer Hertz's worried voice. I wiped the blood from my nose and ears with the spare clothes I had brought.

"...Other than feeling like I'm about to die, I'm fine."

My head was cooling down with strange clarity.

Stupid Seon Jaehyeon. You thought the whole world was on your side.

I had gotten far too full of myself after succeeding a few times. I had started believing I could put ghost-story phenomena in the palm of my hand and do whatever I wanted with them.

Ghost stories were ghost stories because they were phenomena that human common sense could not explain.

"Urgh. Bleegh."

Everything I had been through so far came flooding back. The drunk who had torn himself apart. The countless streets displaying things that should not have been there.

How horrible it had been was not the real issue.

Someone had died in front of me. Not an NPC or a setting parameter, but a person who had been ripped apart and died horribly.

It was not like someone turning into a mannequin, or body parts suddenly vanishing as though they had been swapped out.

That was real death.

I always came back alive from ghost stories. The dead simply vanished as though they had never existed, so without realizing it, I had treated it as fake.

And that could happen to me at any time. It could happen to someone I meet.

My empty body shivered. Unless I pulled myself together, a splatter-death show would start spinning before my eyes again.

I need to get a grip. If I get caught up in something I can't handle, I'll die too.

I struck my clenched knuckles with my fist. I had not loved ghost stories just to die like this. If it was a ghost story, there had to be a way out.

Like how there had been several correct answers for the goblin earlier...

Passing out, grieving, feeling sick. All of that could wait until after survival.

This is not an irreversible dead end yet. There is still a way.

I just had to stay calm. I was not dead yet, nor was I in immediate danger of dying.

"...Hertz, how safe is this place?"

- About half a day in real time. By this place's measure... I do not know.

"That's enough. ...And thanks. You've been playing music the whole time, right?"

- I only did what I could. If you were not hurt, that is enough to make me happy.

"Is it dangerous for you to stay inside a ghost story for too long? Could it affect you somehow?"

- ...I am fine.

There had been a slight delay before Hertz answered.

I knew my strange bonsai radio still had plenty of unknowns...

This is too exhausting to think about right now.

I would think about it later. For now, Hertz was my helper. Even a demon from a classic novel would faithfully be on my side as long as it kept the terms specified in the contract.

And our contract was still valid.

Let's focus on finding a way out.

I connected a power bank to my phone and opened my blog again. After flickering a few times, it automatically opened a new page in the search bar.

-Dusk Martet - Beyond the Sight-

"...It can see more now?"

I had collected every ghost story I found on my blog, but that did not mean I had copied entire fan fiction pages and wikis.

I sometimes saved archive sites too, but there was no way to archive something that disappeared before I found it.

Yet the ghost-story pages my blog was bringing up now went beyond what I remembered.

It was as though every record related to this ghost story had gained a will of its own and gathered here. They were arranged organically, and every piece of information I needed was clearly marked and neatly tagged.

One search brought up everything, from pointless comment pages my blog would never have saved to fabricated firsthand accounts.

Is this similar to whatever updated earlier...?

"Hertz, did you update it?"

- For now, all I can affect is our connection and that app... but who knows what kind of things might create beneficial synergy?

In short, the Depth Gauge that collected the originals and the blog that served as an archive had both been embedded in my phone. When they reacted to the ghost story, a new function seemed to have appeared.

Whatever. This is a hundred times better than having nothing.

I quickly worked my smartphone, gathering the pages I needed.

More precisely, countless records imagining what would happen to people like me, those who had not escaped in time.

Archive Entry: #092 Precautions for Remaining

1. Overview

Living beings that fail to leave the market before Ghost's Time ends tend to be classified as "market components."

2. Time Desynchronization

Waiting until the next opening is the most common survival method. However, the most fatal dangers are delayed and reversed time, along with unequal time perception. There is no longer any guarantee that one hour inside the market will equal one hour in reality.

In a case discovered in a market from the 2020s, the missing person claimed to have been born in 1920 and to have wandered the market for three days.

In another case, someone who entered in April emerged in August of the previous year. Could it function as a time machine that travels from the future into the past?

Message Board: "Final Advice for Those Who Can't Get Out"

Posted: 444 days ago | Author: AnoSolle

I do not know how long the internet connection will last, but I am scheduling all these posts. If they ever go through, I hope you will check at least once to see whether I am alive.

I do not think I will be.

Day 3

I have gone three days without food. I could not stand the hunger. I learned that there is no problem with eating the food here.

After stuffing myself, I cannot remember my home address. But I am full.

Day 7

Time moves strangely. It feels as though I have spent more than ten days here, but only ten minutes have passed on my watch.

I realized the area near the shops is dangerous. Sleeping is dangerous too.

Two fingers are gone. Did I eat them? Or did I sell them?

Day 11

I no longer smell the stench from the dump.

That is convenient, but I no longer feel like I am alive either.

Every time I breathe, it feels like I am chewing tasteless paper.

Day 15

I found someone who got out!

I waited all day at a phone booth. It was not a good idea. The person who used the phone booth melted before taking three steps.

Why, why, why?

There may be another way. Surely...

? Day

(Date unknown)

Even when I cut my arm with a knife, I feel nothing.

Half of my vision has turned black.

I am not afraid. I think I sold even my fear.

Whenever it seems Ghost's Time has come, I walk backward.

Please, please take me back to the world I knew.

■‽192¿9! Day

I found a safe place! I found a safe place! Only They can guide us!

I am no longer afraid of this place! They will lead me to a safe place, and there we will taste joy!!

That place is ■■■■■■■

(The post ends here.)

Archive: "Safe" Alley Extensions Reported by Survivors

1. Accessories

2. General Goods Store

3. Flea Market

4. Flowers

5. Plaza District (Night Market)

6. Food

︙

Warning! If religious items appear, turn around immediately and find another alley as quickly as possible.

The original author prohibited writing information about the religious alley.

"..."

I had to close my eyes for a moment and organize my thoughts.

Eating, sleeping, drinking. All of it is dangerous.

Even the option of simply enduring a day and leaving was uncertain. Even if I rewrote the ghost story, I did not know how far the Twilight Market's territory extended, so I could not just force an escape into it.

Then where should I go?

The one thing that still bothered me was the "safe place" from the last record.

I searched for Twilight Market_safe place, shelter, and everything else I could think of, but there were no results beyond that record.

If so, it was likely connected to the religious ghost story the original author had forbidden anyone to write about.

But why did the original author ban ghost stories about the religious district?

Religious ghost-story hooks were the hottest part of the genre.

I began searching again, focusing on the earliest Twilight Market ghost stories, the series written by the original author.

The original author's series had at least twenty entries. In effect, the atmosphere and traits of every early ghost story had come from the original author.

Then there had to be a reason in here why a particular motif had been forbidden and people had followed that rule...

"...This is it."

After reading wiki pages until my eyes nearly fell out, I reached a conclusion.

"This safe place. I need to go here."

Of course, it could not possibly be safe in the ordinary sense. But it was the center of this Twilight Market, the deepest part of the ghost story.

Find the "safe place." Check the ghost story connected to it. Work a way to escape into it and rewrite the ghost story.

A mind map rapidly formed in my head, linking maps, layouts, and all kinds of ghost stories.

I just need to check my belongings before I go.

I had water, some chocolate, and calorie bars left. I crammed down enough to fill my stomach, then checked what I still had.

A Blue-and-Red Lantern and oil to keep me out of their sight if the worst happened. One of the Eyeballs That Never Sleep. A pouch of cash change. Raw meat. A card. Jewelry.

"How am I supposed to wear this... huh?"

When I took out the jewelry, the dangling keychain-like object suddenly wrapped itself around my hand and changed shape.

It was a strange set of rings linked to a bracelet by a single chain. A heat sharp enough to sting burned my wrist for a moment, then quickly faded.

...It will not come off!

Even though the instructions said it could not be removed, I futilely tried to take it off. All I accomplished was turning the skin around my wrist red.

I touched it over and over, wondering whether it was some overpowered artifact. But no genie or anomaly appeared, it did not shoot webs, and a cool lightsaber-like blade did not form in my hand.

"...Is this why they were willing to sell it to me for money?"

Still, it was an anomalous item. It would surely prove useful somewhere.

I had to believe that.

After resting a little, I definitely felt my strength returning. I retied my shoelaces and headed not toward the entrance through the pile of boxes where I had come in, but deeper inside.

- That way should be a dead end.

"No. There is a way."

Keeping my body as low as I could, I crawled farther in.

When I shone my flashlight into a space too cramped to lift my head, I found a sewer-like path bending downward. The sour smell stabbed at my nose, but this was not the time to be picky.

Splash.

A broad sewer passage appeared. Different-colored lights occasionally shone down from above, letting me tell when the alleys changed.

- Are you not going to tell even your partner where you are going?

"..."

Sorry, Hertz. I could not answer right now.

I just kept walking. On and on.

Slosh, slosh. Slosh.

Through dry ground and wastewater deep enough to reach my ankles...

"Found it."

A white, gleaming ladder stood before me, something I never would have expected to find beneath this filthy sewer.

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