Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work

The mountain lodge was a mess—a pentagram drawn in blood and dismembered body parts strewn across the living room.

In this macabre scene stood the civil servant, holding a butcher's knife before a fainted woman.

From the second-floor railing, I watched it all.

If I didn't know it was fake, I myself might have fainted at such a grotesque sight.

But the lodge caretaker who entered through the back door was polite as ever.

"Did you have a comfortable stay?"

As if that were possible.

Still, there was no point in wasting energy responding, so I simply stayed silent.

The caretaker didn't waste time on clichés like, 'I stayed out of your way so you could rest undisturbed.'

Instead, he simply said this one thing.

"Three days have passed. The time has come."

"..."