How a Veteran of the Urban Legend Gallery Survives – Chapter 4

– DING!

The smartphone notification sound rang out.

My finger reached out toward the phone but hesitated. A strange sense of unease crept up my spine.

In this situation, everything was suspicious. Even a normal text notification could be the start of another horror story. Among the countless horror stories I’ve read, there were plenty that involved smartphones or messages as mediums.

‘Wait, calm down.’

I took a deep breath and organized my thoughts. The ‘Ruminant Thought Enhancement Serum’ I had just injected was starting to take effect. Memories began to surface, neatly cataloged like a library.

Horror stories related to phones… midnight calls, video calls from unknown numbers, strange apps installing themselves, curses delivered through texts… in an instant, all the related horror stories flashed through my mind.

But there were no horror stories specifically tied to a simple notification sound. At least, not that I could remember.

Then it suddenly hit me.

‘Ah, right. It’s all thanks to that armband.’

The armband from the old Horror Story Gallery, ‘Bermuda,’ had an extreme hatred for meta-horror stories based on the gallery itself.

He despised them for being childish and encouraging cliques within the gallery. His stance was that they lowered the gallery’s standards and dignity.

Back then, many users, including myself, criticized him for being too authoritarian.

“Ha, I’m grateful for that armband now.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. The same armband I once called a dictator now felt like a savior.

Thanks to his stubborn nature, I was confident that at least meta-horror stories related to the Horror Story Gallery didn’t exist.

With a lighter heart, I picked up my phone. Still, just in case, I kept my thumb hovering over the power button.

When I turned on the screen, there were five comment notifications. Reactions to a post I had made.

The comments on the screen caught my eye.

[AnalogueLoverⓖ]

: Looks like you survived too, huh? ㅋㅋ I got lucky with the doorbell graffiti horror story, so I just stayed home and survived.

AnalogueLover. A veteran user who loved horror stories on VHS tapes or old film reels. He mainly posted about analog horror, focusing on the fear hidden behind technological advancements. In a digital age, he often shared stories about the unique unease and terror found in analog media.

The doorbell graffiti horror story he mentioned… it was about strange graffiti appearing on front doors, and anyone who saw it became a target for crime. Just thinking about it gave me chills.

[Cryptidⓖ]

: Still, at least nothing like “Don’t look at the moon” popped up, right? If that happened, humanity would really be doomed.

Cryptid. One of the power users in the Horror Story Gallery. As his nickname suggested, he specialized in horror stories about unidentified creatures.

He was right. If an S-class doomsday scenario from the Catastrophe Foundation documents had become reality, humanity would be on the brink of extinction by now.

[Jjolmyeon500wonⓖ]

: ㅅㅂㅅㅂㅅㅂ I can’t even watch horror movies, but I got hit with the red mask horror story and thought I was gonna die.

Jjolmyeon500won. He was a kind veteran user who often wrote guides for new users. His masterpiece was the “Beginner’s Guide to the Horror Story Gallery.”

Encountering the red mask horror story… that must’ve been tough. That one was especially famous for its strong visual horror.

I couldn’t imagine how shocking it must’ve been for someone who couldn’t even watch horror movies to face that.

[ㅇㅇ(119.243)]

: Guys, please help meㅠㅠ A crazy monster is chasing meㅠㅠ

This comment made my heart drop the moment I read it. It felt like I was witnessing someone becoming a victim of a horror story in real time.

The IP address showed they were in Seoul.

But there was nothing I could do. All I could do was stare at the screen, overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness.

[Hikikoⓖ]

: I asked around, and other people don’t even know the Horror Story Gallery exists. When I showed them screenshots, they just saw a blank screen… Could it be that only Horror Story Gallery users have tripped into a world where horror stories are real?

Hikiko’s comment particularly stood out. His speculation was quite plausible. A community that others couldn’t see or even know existed.

Considering the status of the Horror Story Gallery I knew, the idea that all its users had been transported to a world where horror stories were real seemed believable.

‘That could be it…’

A sudden doubt made me search “Subway Line 2” on a portal site.

[Subway Line 2 Suspends Operations for a Day Due to Railway Union Strike]

Only one article from today.

I let out a hollow laugh as I looked at the screen.

‘What the hell, how does this make sense?’

The massive tragedy that happened on the subway this morning. Dozens, maybe hundreds of passengers were brutally killed, yet there wasn’t even a single news article about it.

And to top it off, the subway I was just on was now suspended due to a strike. My head throbbed. The line between reality and unreality was becoming blurry.

Looking out the window, everyday life unfolded as usual. Office workers hurried along on their commutes, and students walked in groups, laughing and chatting.

People walked peacefully down the streets, and cars drove orderly on the roads. It was as if the horrific events on the subway earlier had never happened.

I decided to skip school. Being outside in this situation was practically suicide. Everything looking normal only made me more anxious.

On the way back to my studio, my mind was filled with complicated thoughts.

With every step, I was on high alert, wary of my surroundings. Even the shadows in the alleyways and the movements of passersby, which I would’ve normally ignored, now felt like threats.

* * *

A week later.

My room was filled with a stale smell. I had left the window open, but it was hard to completely get rid of the odor from the week’s worth of accumulated cup noodle containers and takeout packaging.

Empty cans and plastic bottles were embarrassingly scattered across the floor.

During my self-imposed isolation, I scoured every corner of the community. I alternated between my smartphone and laptop, checking every post on every community. And I discovered one ominous fact.

‘Some large organization is covering this up.’

Any mention of horror stories on communities other than the Horror Story Gallery resulted in deleted posts or banned accounts. It was as if someone was monitoring everything 24/7.

I scratched my head and sighed. On the desk were scattered sleeping pills and empty bottles of Woo Hwang Cheong Sim Hwan.

I stared at the last remaining sleeping pill and shook my head. I knew relying on medication wasn’t good, but without them, I couldn’t have slept at all over the past week.

Every time I fell asleep, I had nightmares about what I saw on the subway. I’d wake up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding as if it would burst.

“What do I do now…”

If I hadn’t known, it would’ve been one thing, but now that I knew horror stories were real and people were dying left and right, I couldn’t just go back to living normally.

I’d taken a week off due to trauma, but I was starting to worry about my grades and job prospects…

Ding-dong-

The sudden doorbell sound made my heart drop. My body froze as if doused in ice water.

I cautiously approached the front door, trying to make as little noise as possible. Some horror stories reacted to sound, after all.

“Are you Baek Jeongwoo?”

It was a woman’s voice. Soft, polite, and completely normal.

Through the peephole, I saw a woman in her early twenties. She was neatly dressed in a suit, with straight black hair. She looked like a job seeker heading to an interview. Everything about her seemed normal.

‘She doesn’t seem like a horror story…’

I racked my serum-enhanced memory. Countless horror stories flashed by, but none matched her appearance. Of course, there was always the possibility of a new horror story I didn’t know about…

“Who are you?”

I asked, unable to hide the wariness in my voice.

“I heard you went through something terrible on the subway a week ago. I’m here regarding that.”

In an instant, memories of the subway flashed through my mind like a flashback. The dwarves’ blades, people being brutally slaughtered, the metallic smell of blood… Just the memory made me nauseous. I could almost taste the iron in my mouth again.

Cold sweat dripped down my back. My palms were damp.

“Just a moment.”

With trembling hands, I opened the door. At least she didn’t seem like a horror story.

But I didn’t let my guard down. I left the door wide open, just in case.

The woman naturally stepped inside. She didn’t even flinch at the mess of cup noodle containers, takeout packaging, sleeping pills, and Woo Hwang Cheong Sim Hwan scattered around the room. Instead, she looked as if she’d seen this countless times before.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I offered out of politeness. Though all I had left in the fridge was a single can of cola.

“No, thank you.”

The woman sat down at the table, and I sat across from her. Cold sweat ran down my spine. Who was she, and how had she found me? More importantly, how did she know about what I’d been through?

“A week ago, you had a dream on the subway, didn’t you? A dream about dwarves brutally killing people.”

My heart pounded. Her tone suggested she knew everything.

I couldn’t answer easily. What if she was part of a hostile group like the ‘Abnormal Cleaners’?

They might kill me on the spot for having come into contact with a horror story.

As if reading my worries, the woman smiled and continued.

“We usually refer to these phenomena as ‘horror stories.'”

The fact that she called them horror stories meant she wasn’t part of the ‘Abnormal Cleaners.’ That was a relief.

“We…?”

My voice trembled.

“Ah, I should’ve introduced myself earlier. We are an organization that secures, contains, and researches horror stories—the Catastrophe Foundation. Externally, we’re known as the Siegfried Group. Have you heard of us?”

A shiver ran down my spine. The Catastrophe Foundation. It was a name I’d seen countless times on the Horror Story Gallery.

I let out a hollow laugh.

I answered without thinking.

“Of course.”

I knew it all too well.