To begin with, a fairly rational guess immediately came to mind regarding why Baek Saheon was in this bizarre countryside village.

‘…Baek Saheon was on that Tamra-bound train!’

It had been the same high-speed train to Mokpo that I’d boarded today.

‘Was this his destination back then too?’

It had looked like he was heading to his family home—so was this village… Baek Saheon’s hometown?

It was a strange feeling.

The scene of a quaint, heartwarming countryside festival and Baek Saheon felt weirdly mismatched.

Even more so if this village festival was a cult-like ghost tale centered around a strange little society.

“Take that over there!”

“Ah, yes.”

Even now, Baek Saheon, wearing his usual sullen face, quietly nodded at another villager’s command and carried dishes—helping out with chores.

And yet...

While observing the villagers carefully, find the most sour-looking person and ask to stay overnight!

According to Agent Choi’s comment, was that guy actually one of the eligible candidates?

It was an off-putting, eerie situation, but at least I could piece together the context up to that point.

The real question was...

Why was she here?

‘…Assistant Manager Eunhaje.’

I subtly turned my head again, doing my best not to draw Agent Cheongdong’s attention, and confirmed her figure.

Assistant Manager Eunhaje was helping herself to more boiled pork, drinking soju alongside it.

As casually as she would in a company cafeteria.

“……”

Seeing that casual, nonchalant expression and movement gave me an odd feeling.

Unconsciously, my gaze lingered in her direction—

Our eyes met.

…!

At that moment, Assistant Manager Eunhaje casually picked up her pork plate and soju bottle—

And began walking over.

……?!

Why—why is she coming this way?

Then she dropped naturally into the seat across from us and began speaking to Agent Cheongdong, as if it were nothing.

“Bit too much pork on my plate—would you like a piece?”

“……Who are you?”

“I’m a reporter. Heard there was a local festival, so I came to see if there was any story material… mind if I ask you a few questions while I watch?”

Deputy Manager…!

Assistant Manager Eunhaje smoothly pretended not to recognize me, chatting up Agent Cheongdong like an overworked reporter.

The look in Agent Cheongdong’s eyes froze. It was the expression of someone suspecting a bothersome infiltrator.

“I don’t really have anything to say.”

“Then at least let me ramble a bit. From what I saw yesterday, the festival’s method of luring in outsiders seems to be…”

DANG DANG DANG DANG DANG!!

“…!!”

Our heads turned at the deafening crash of jingles and drums.

The music stopped, and from among the people performing folk plays, a kindly looking middle-aged man climbed up and shouted into a megaphone.

[Everyone! It’s raffle time now! Enjoy the prizes and be blessed by Jisan!]

“Right. That’s the thing—they do a raffle every festival day.”

During the four-day festival period, it seemed they held a prize drawing every day.

The prizes were mostly local farm goods, though occasionally handcrafted items or jewelry would appear.

In the case of jewelry, the branch suspected they were personal items from missing persons.

The villagers spread out with raffle boxes in hand. All around, people were excitedly reacting—whether they won or lost. We even saw someone cheer after drawing “gold” and receive a pair of gold earrings.

“Oh, that’s lucky. Though those earrings look kinda secondhand.”

“……”

“……”

“Probably just something someone donated for the festival.”

None of us replied.

And then, someone began walking toward us with a raffle box.

A sullen-faced man wearing a medical eye patch.

‘Ba—Baek Saheon.’

Was this some kind of Baekilmong staff reunion? We were on the verge of a three-way face-off.

The bigger issue—

Agent Cheongdong recognized Baek Saheon’s face.

“Wait…!”

Agent Cheongdong’s expression froze as he realized the man from the serial killer villa—the “coworker” of mine.

Then he glanced back and forth between me and Baek Saheon. I shook my head.

“It’s fine.”

“…Understood.”

Agent Cheongdong calmed down quickly.

He was confident that my identity hadn’t been exposed.

Because—

They wouldn’t recognize us anyway.

During the festival period, villagers do not recognize acquaintances visiting from outside.
They treat everyone purely as welcomed guests—there are testimonies of people who noticed this sense of dissonance and managed to escape.

—I even interrogated them thinking they were faking it, but they genuinely didn’t recognize me. Seems like a weird prohibition’s in place. HQ has no data, so if I’m not around, just let it pass.

Baek Saheon approached.

His face still looked as unpleasant as ever, and even though our eyes met, he showed no reaction.

He simply—

“Please, draw one.”

—extended the raffle box toward our table.

“……”

“I heard the prizes are pretty good this year… oh, thanks.”

Assistant Manager Eunhaje casually reached in and drew a stick. On the end, it said: “Rice.”

“Your turn now.”

I met eyes with Agent Cheongdong.

Do not ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) refuse to draw. Refusing means no villager will offer you lodging. If you want to avoid calling in a panic rescue from HQ, don’t forget!

“Excuse me. Aren’t you drawing?”

“Ah. I will.”

I reached into the rooster-shaped raffle box made of wood. It felt strangely damp and humid.

And what I pulled was—

“A miss.”

Whew.

Agent Cheongdong also reached in cautiously, and drew a stick that likewise read “miss.”

“Too bad. Would’ve been nice if you at least took something home.”

Assistant Manager Eunhaje pointed toward the village square and the middle-aged man still holding the megaphone.

“If that was the grand prize… jackpot.”

[If you win the special prize, treasure will come to you!]

At the corner of the banner the man pointed to, a statue of a golden rooster was vividly printed.

It wasn’t clear how large the real thing was, but based on the detail, it was probably sizable.

“Jackpot.”

“Looks like it’s worth at least 100 don.”

“Does anyone actually win that?”

Well…

To this day, there are no confirmed eyewitnesses of someone winning the special prize.

Exactly.

Considering that guests draw more than half the sticks daily, the odds are statistically absurd.
The writer suspects this is a kind of selective ritual embedded in the disaster itself.
(Branch investigation revealed that 52 years ago, a person said to have drawn the prize ended the village’s drought and was enshrined as a guardian spirit at the local shrine—but no proof exists.)

And just as Agent Choi said—

No one won the special prize this time either.

Disappointment clouded the face of the man holding the megaphone.

[Thank you all once again today! May you be blessed by Jisan!]

And so, the day’s festival drew to a close.

“Aww.”

“Rigged, isn’t it?”

“Come on, at least the drinks and meat were free.”

Outsiders began to get up from their seats. But with so many having drunk free booze, it was tough for many groups to drive home.

“Jeez, this got messy…”

“It’s fine. This person said we can stay the night!”

A good number of outsiders ended up accepting the villagers’ offers and staying overnight, like a makeshift homestay.

It was a fairly warm scene.

But if you looked closely, the villagers were quietly gathering the leftover raffle boxes and whispering among themselves.

They too took turns drawing sticks from the boxes.

 

After the outsider raffle ends, the villagers gather and begin drawing the remaining wooden sticks from the raffle boxes, one by one.

Until someone finds the “Special Prize” stick.

At this point, they begin chanting an odd phrase:

“O Deputy, may you bestow blessings as white and scattered as mountain snow.”
“O Deputy, may you bestow blessings as white and scattered as mountain snow.”

—Probably some kind of ritual incantation or prayer… it doesn’t strictly follow shamanic syntax, but don’t listen too closely. Spells tied to supernatural phenomena almost never have positive effects.

Eventually, one of them finds it.

A stick with gold pressed onto the tip.

“Ah…!”

Tears run down the face of the one who drew it.

The villagers gather around him in celebration, shouting as if in ritual:

“Sansanbaekjisanbokjushiopgedaerijaya!”
“Sansanbaekjisanbokjushiopgedaerijaya!”

Rumor at the branch says whoever draws the special prize among the villagers is assigned a particular role in the next year’s festival.

“……”

I turned my head.

Baek Saheon was watching all of it with sunken eyes.

“Excuse me.”

Baek Saheon glanced toward me.

I asked politely.

“Would there be any place in this village where we might stay the night?”

“…You’re not seriously saying you want to freeload off someone’s food and lodging for free, are you?”

Assistant Manager Eunhaje suddenly cut in, hoisting the rice sack she had won.

“I’ll pay for it. Feels like fate that we met.”

“…Sorry?”

“Here. Will this do?”

She pulled out a hefty stack of cash and held it out to Baek Saheon.

He looked a little taken aback—but his eyes quickly darkened as he snatched the money.

“…Follow me.”

“Okay.”

“Wait! You said you were a reporter? Please leave now. We were the ones who asked—”

“You’re gonna kick out the one who paid? Capitalism’s disgusting, but let’s at least keep it consistent, Grandpa.”

“……”

I heard Agent Cheongdong mutter softly, “Grandpa…?”

God.

I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut. Instead, I silently followed Assistant Manager Eunhaje, who was already walking after Baek Saheon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“…Would you like me to carry the rice sack?”

“Oh. A young gent repaying the lodging fee, huh? At least someone knows how to show proper courtesy.”

I took the sack from Assistant Manager Eunhaje—her hand must still be injured—and then Agent Cheongdong, looking disgruntled, helped too.

“You’re too late.”

“……”

Agent Cheongdong stared at her with an expression of disbelief.

Then—

“Hey! You goddamn bumpkins! Cucumbers?! You think I came all the way out to this backwater dump for some fucking cucumbers?!”

Thwack!

A box was hurled and smashed nearby. Cucumbers exploded, rolling across the dirt.

A drunk outsider threw a tantrum, kicking and screaming on the ground.

“Gimme gold! I want gold!”

“Oh dear, sir.”

“There are still two more chances, remember!”

The villagers smiled calmly as they comforted him.

…Their faces were unbelievably serene for people who’d just been screamed at.

They promised him dinner, invited him to draw again tomorrow, praised the quality of the local hot spring—and under those kind offers, the rowdy drunk followed them off to someone’s house.

To one of the few tile-roofed houses in the village.

One that sat at the village center, oddly large and imposing.

“……”

I stiffly turned my gaze.

The villagers left behind began quietly packing the broken cucumbers back into the box.

They brushed dirt off each piece, muttering to themselves.

“Sansanbaekjisanbokjushiopgedaerijaya…”

The same incantation-like prayer as before.

“……”

I finally tore my gaze away and kept walking.

“…This way.”

The problem was—

Baek Saheon was heading to that tile-roofed house.

Wait.

Are we seriously going into that clearly suspicious place?

But Agent Cheongdong was moving forward without hesitation, so I didn’t bolt.

…Agent Choi wouldn’t have written a false tip in the help guide.

We neared the house.

“…Come in.”

The entrance was wide, and what now served as the front foyer—a large wooden floor—was equally wide.

But Baek Saheon, as if reluctant to even step on it, moved carefully to the side and opened a door off to one side.

And behind that door stood someone already waiting.

The middle-aged man from before—the one with the megaphone.

“The guests are ready to sleep.”

“Ah, welcome! Haha! Saheon, take good care of them. No funny business.”

“……”

“May you be blessed by Jisan!”

Baek Saheon gave a slow nod and led us inside.

The house was unnaturally large—its layout repetitive, with more and more sliding paper doors appearing as we walked.

Eventually, we reached a corridor lined with aged wooden doors.

Creak.

Baek Saheon opened one.

Inside was a small, lived-in single room.

One neatly folded bedding set, and one dusty spare comforter hastily dragged out.

“You’ll sleep here.”

“Isn’t this your room? Where will you sleep?”

“……”

Baek Saheon gave a look like the question wasn’t worth answering, spun on his heel, and opened another room for Assistant Manager Eunhaje.

Then disappeared down the hall.

“Not much return for the cash, huh?”

Eunhaje shrugged and said casually to me:

“Well then. Sleep well. Let’s see each other tomorrow if we can.”

“…Yes. Thank you.”

I watched her disappear into the adjacent room.

…She definitely recognized Baek Saheon.

And still didn’t acknowledge him.

Because she knew he wouldn’t recognize her.

She knows this ghost tale well.

That meant she was here with a clear objective.

And Assistant Manager Eunhaje…

Is part of Director Ho’s project team.

…What the hell is going on here?

I had several theories, given what I suspected about the extermination-level supernatural disaster Director Ho wanted.

I would have had theories.

But now…

“……”

I was tired.

Of everything.

Enough of that.

Time to think about the wish ticket instead….

“Agent Podo.”

“……”

“Do you remember the mission?”

“Yes.”

This ‘Jisanso Offering Ritual.’

When a rescue request is received, the branch uses the supernatural auto-responder to inform the victim of the time and place to meet.

So we headed to the spot given by the branch.

“This is it.”

Agent Cheongdong showed me the note.

1 a.m.
The village well

The tile-roofed house fell deathly quiet after midnight.

Agent Cheongdong and I slipped out of our rooms in silence and walked.

—After midnight, you’re relatively safe as long as you stay away from the Seonangdang shrine.

But don’t get cocky—no shouting!

“The well’s to the east.”

We crossed the village in the dark, only a few dim streetlamps lighting the way. We passed some houses that looked abandoned, like no one had lived there in ages.

The well was at the center of that area.

A stone-covered well.

And standing beside it, like a guard on watch—

Was Baek Saheon.

“…!!”

His single eye turned toward us.

He spoke calmly.

“You’re agents, aren’t you?”

And in the very next moment—

Agent Cheongdong lunged forward and pinned him.

—If you’re caught by a villager late at night, hide as quickly and quietly as possible.
If that’s not possible?

Subdue them and hide them in an abandoned house!

Just as we were about to drag Baek Saheon toward a derelict house—

“Hey! Isn’t it against the law for civil servants to treat the informant like this?!”

“…!”

Agent Cheongdong froze mid-movement.

“You’re the one who submitted the request?”

“Yes! I’m the one who called this in!”

Baek Saheon tried to shrug off Cheongdong’s grip in frustration and failed—then, glancing nervously between the two of us, quickly lowered his voice.

“Get me out of this village. …Tonight.”

“It’s a trap.”

Agent Cheongdong immediately turned to me and said aloud:

“Villagers are free to leave once the festival ends. There’s no reason they’d need our help—”

“I can’t leave!”

Baek Saheon panted.

His eyes darted between me and Agent Cheongdong in desperate calculation—then he swallowed hard and spoke.

“…Check my pocket.”

“……”

I reached into the pocket of Baek Saheon’s pants.

Inside was—

A stick, gilded at the tip.

The Special Prize.

“I—I drew it on the first day…”

—Unfortunately, there are no confirmed cases of a villager being rescued from this supernatural phenomenon during the festival period.
If you’re the kind of agent I marked as a promising junior, you’ll want to try saving them anyway, but I’ll say it now:

—Junior. Let the seniors try that. You don’t.
If you try to leave Jisan Village with a villager during the festival…

“Please get me out of here! I’m begging you!”

—The agent disappears too.