WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Natty

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◈ How to Rewrite Ghost Stories ◈

Episode 31: Haunted Head Gallery (2)

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《Eve's Langwidere: Corridor for the Manifestation of Beauty》

Visitor Guide

The gallery’s corridors expand to include every kind of exhibit until our guests are satisfied. All exhibits may be touched and experienced if necessary, but may not be taken outside the exhibition space.

If you require assistance, please request a curator. If you find an exhibit you like in the gallery or have a suggestion, please use the central staircase rather than requesting a curator, and seek out the director. The director will take the most appropriate measures for you.

Every collection is one of a kind, created as a unique piece. We must inform guests in advance that the first person to express an intent to purchase an exhibit has first claim to it. Should it become necessary to mediate a disagreement, please request a curator.

Exhibit prices are listed in a separate catalogue. The gallery accepts exhibit donations at any time and operates a donation exchange system, through which you may donate an exhibit and exchange it for a new one.

Guests who have not visited the gallery alone need not worry if they naturally become separated from their companions during their visit, or if those companions are suddenly no longer at their side. The gallery provides each guest with a tailored guide to the exhibition space best suited to them.

This gallery has no designated exit or closing time. It offers an endless journey of exploration until guests discover their own most perfect beauty, and all comforts during your stay are available in the lounge.

May this be a visit you never forget.

It was one of the more famous gallery ghost stories.

You received a suspicious invitation and were invited to a place where it was impossible to tell dream from reality. The corridors stretched endlessly, filled with horrific artworks made from people, or grotesque things that no longer retained even a trace of humanity.

There, visitors wandered endlessly, escaping the danger of being hunted by other visitors or caught by a curator and dismantled into artworks themselves.

Everyone was kind, but humans were not the standard for their kindness. You could get what you wanted, but it would appear in the worst possible form, like a monkey’s paw, born from a warped sense of beauty.

It was a cosmic-horror ghost story where you could never know whom the gallery’s kindness encompassed or how far it extended, like an ant passing by suddenly struck and killed by a drop of sauce spilled by a human.

‘...Of all things, this is the theme.’

One of the gallery’s traits was that exhibits tailored to its visitors appeared. This time, it must have been set up as a gallery fairly “friendly to humanoid beings.”

I could assume there would be exhibits encompassing things like body exchanges, knowledge, and art.

‘Good.’

I moved slowly through the corridor, taking care not to make any loud noises.

This place, modeled after a European gallery, had rows of sofas arranged down the middle of the hallway and along its walls.

Then, thump, I sat on the most luxurious-looking sofa.

I opened one of the brochures tucked beside it and buried myself in the soft cushions. The hedgehog mask clicked as it fastened itself to me like a new face.

‘Act natural. Act natural.’

No screaming or making noises.

This place presented itself as an elegant VVIP gallery. If I tried to sneak around as though I had entered without an invitation, security would catch me.

And that ending?

Dismemberment and disposal.

If I saw something like that, screamed, and ran away? That would be an even worse move. There was an unspoken understanding that a guest who had come here knowing what kind of place this was would not be shaken by such a sight.

So screaming meant I wasn’t a guest.

And the ending?

Dismemberment again.

The best option was to act like a guest confidently enjoying the gallery. Like an elegant aristocrat being waited upon, no matter how many people died around me.

‘Come to think of it, the others seemed fine.’

Seon-u In had calmly saved the poster to their pad, and Mok Inha and Ryu Hyeon-u had seen it too. Only I had been dragged here the moment I saw it. Judging by the Corporation staff’s reactions, it was clearly an anomaly.

What had triggered it for me?

‘Hertz?’

Wondering if Hertz might know, I called out inwardly and switched on my phone. The radio broadcast still hadn’t returned.

My pet radio was weak, too. Whenever it helped me once, it was laid up for three days. It would come back eventually. It seemed to gain quite a bit of strength whenever I entered a ghost story.

“Do you require assistance?”

A polite, friendly voice came from beyond the brochure. It belonged to one of the curators moving around the gallery. I slowly composed myself.

“Do you have a catalogue, not just a brochure?”

As smoothly and gently as possible.

“It seems today’s exhibition has pleased you.”

“I’d say I’m interested so far. I want to take a closer look before deciding whether to buy.”

“Of course. I’ll bring one to you. Is there anything else you require?”

I hesitated for a moment. Should I make a bold bet here? Or keep my head down as much as possible?

“Has a private lounge been assigned to me?”

“All comforts during your stay are available in the lounge.”

Users playing at setting crossovers in the ghost story comments had added records beneath that passage.

└ According to the record of 187-Ad, who successfully entered a lounge, there were no threats inside it. They were able to eat and rest there until a curator discovered them.

└ Both hands of a missing person were found displayed in a lounge used by a VVIP guest, adorned with jewelry. A guest who later visited the lounge put on those hands and left.

‘The question is whether I’ll be judged important enough to receive lounge service...’

I felt a gaze from beyond the brochure. The persistent scan that seemed to sweep me from head to toe stopped at my left hand, where my bracelet and ring set were fitted.

“Of course. The Room of the Seasons has been assigned to you. Shall I guide you there at once?”

The curator’s voice came from lower down. It seemed they had bent at the waist at a ninety-degree angle. Their attitude was so polite that I was almost bewildered.

What on earth were these accessories stuck to my hand?

“No. I’d like to look around the gallery for now. Just the catalogue, please.”

“Of course. Please feel free to call for me at any time.”

The curator respectfully handed me a thick catalogue, then withdrew again.

‘Whew...’

At least I could breathe easier now. Carrying both a brochure and a catalogue would definitely make me look like a guest. I would find only what I needed in the catalogue, head up to the lounge, and rest comfortably until I could escape.

‘They said something unusual had happened.’

The problem was that Seon-u In had been vague about how much of the Corporation had been deployed.

Did it mean Haetae 3, the only people left because everyone else had been sent to other Distortions, had been called in on their day off? Or had everyone been deployed, and there were still not enough people?

It had to be the former. If it was the latter, I had no idea how many civil servants each section had, and I wasn’t confident that I could find, save, and escape alongside all of them.

‘If they were deployed to the Distortion and got caught by a curator, they must have become newly acquired human exhibits...’

I opened the catalogue. It was a heavy hardcover volume, its cover made of leather that felt warm to the touch. It was smooth and soft, almost like...

‘Cowhide. Cowhide...’

I forced myself to ignore that unnecessarily soft smoothness and turned the page.

The catalogue was in full color. It contained various body parts, but faces occupied the most pages.

Every face wore a different expression, and all of them had their eyes closed. Beside each photograph was a word that looked like the title of the artwork, such as Serenity, Surprise, or Ecstasy, written in elegant script. Under it was the material used, in other words, the name of the face’s owner.

‘New acquisitions. New acquisitions.’

I quickly flipped to the section for the newest exhibits. There were no familiar names or faces.

At least Haetae 3 had either not entered this place, or they were alive.

There was a chance only their hands or torsos remained, but since this place was called Langwidere, faces had to be its most valuable exhibits. There was no way their faces would be absent.

‘Then my priority should be finding survivors and joining up with them. I can go to the lounge and make a request, or...’

Tucking the catalogue under my arm, I began to walk.

Inside the glass display cases stretching out on either side, human torsos and parts like hands and legs wore jewelry, their textures pale and elegant.

Some were malformed structures that did not belong to humans. One was a network like blood vessels shaped into a human hand. Another was a long, coral-like skeleton shaped like a small organ.

One torso had a large eyeball embedded in the center of its porcelain-like chest. It blinked slowly.

At the end of the hallway, a cross corridor leading to several exhibition rooms appeared.

Crash!

Thud thud thud!

Bang!

“Aah! Aaaah!”

“R-run! Run! Help!”

My head reflexively turned toward the screams. People burst out of an exhibition room across from me amid the racket.

With panic-stricken faces, they shouted at something and rushed past me, scattering into the other exhibition rooms.

‘C-civilians?’

“What are you doing?! If you stand there, you’ll die!”

“?!”

A small hand grabbed my arm along with a sharp voice. The grip was no joke. Before I even had a chance to resist, I was dragged around the corner and into a small, spare exhibition room.

“Quick, inside!”

The person practically crumpled me into an empty space behind a statue, then squeezed in as well.

“Shh.”

She was a small woman. She did not seem to be a curator, a Corporation employee, or a stranded person caught up in this ghost story.

She wore a suit made of dark navy fabric, embroidered with an unusual pattern running from the shoulder to the chest, with silver buttons. Judging by how it felt against my hand, it seemed stab-proof and bulletproof.

She had an in-ear earpiece and a radio, and held a small telescopic police baton. Her face was round and looked gentle, but her eyes were sharp as they watched the surroundings.

Shhk. Shhk. Shhk. Shhk.

A strange sound, impossible to tell whether paper was being turned or cut, drew near, then gradually faded away. Until the screams subsided and complete silence fell, we stayed still, afraid that even the sound of breathing might escape.

“...Whew.”

At last, the sound was gone. Only then did she raise her head.

“What were you planning to do, standing there like an idiot? Trying some new kind of suicide...?”

“Excuse me?”

“Huh? Wait?”

We blinked stupidly at each other. She noticed the mask on my face, while I noticed the logo pin marked with an unusual emblem on her suit lapel.

“W-who are you?! Which team are you with?”

“What about you?!”

In that cramped little space, we pressed ourselves against opposite sides and studied each other for a while. It must have looked truly strange to anyone watching.

“...A civilian?”

“...I suppose I am.”

The round-faced person seemed to inspect me from every angle, then relaxed. Good. It seemed I hadn't been recognized as an enemy. And they didn't seem to be either this gallery’s curator or a hostile apparition.

“I'm Sephira Lee Daeun.”

“I’m Seon Jaehyeon...”

Lee Daeun extended a gloved hand. The back of her black glove bore the same logo as her lapel pin.

‘Wait, that.’

That logo, like an hourglass and a semicircle shaped like a rounded sickle simply combined.

I hadn’t recognized it at once because I was seeing it engraved on clothing rather than as a clean image.

Sephira. Sephira.

We create the future to make the past!

What you need has already been decided in the future! Now let our products change the past!

An advertisement flashed through my mind, complete with exaggerated laughter, then disappeared.

Another ghost story had overlapped.

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