Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work-Chapter 101

Among the infinite reflections of myself in the double-sided elevator mirrors, shrinking smaller and smaller, there was one anomaly.

The reflection that beat me at rock-paper-scissors.

From within the mirror, "it" craned its neck, turned around to look at me, and grinned.

Clunk.

The noise of the elevator snapped me out of my stupor.

I had chosen rock.

The figure in the mirror had chosen... a cloth bundle.

"...Lost."

Since I lost, I had to try again. Until I win.

[5F]

The elevator was ascending.

Note: According to most testimonies from those who performed this ritual, "the reflection in the mirror" has an abnormally high win rate in rock-paper-scissors.

With trembling hands, I raised my fist again toward the mirror.

"Rock, paper, scissors."

My reflection, its head twisted at an unnatural angle, grinned as it changed its hand arbitrarily.

I was scissors.

The reflection was rock.

...Lost again.

Clunk.

The ascending elevator briefly stopped before continuing upward as if nothing had happened.

In reality, that was all.

But in the elevator reflected in the mirror...

The doors had somehow opened slightly.

From the gap, a white hand was visible.

"......"

[7F]

The elevator kept climbing.

"Rock, paper, scissors."

A tie.

[7F]

"Just once."

I just needed to win once before the elevator reached the top floor, the 12th floor...!

"Rock, paper, scissors."

I chose scissors, and the ghost chose rock.

"Lost...."

Clunk.

The elevator jolted slightly.

That was it. In reality, there was no further change.

But in the mirrored elevator...

The door had opened wider.

Now, a limb—an arm and a leg—could be seen sticking through the gap.

"......"

Half of the figure’s torso had entered the mirrored elevator, close enough to almost touch me...

But in reality, there was still nothing. Only the reflection showed this strange scene, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the mirror.

"Just once, please!"

Just one win would end all of this.

[10F]

"Rock, paper, scissors."

......

I lifted my head.

My hand was clenched into a fist.

And in the mirror, my reflection—grinning widely—held its hand open, displaying paper.

[12F]

Lost.

13: You failed to win even once.

You cannot exit on the top floor. Too bad for you.

Clunk.

The elevator came to a halt.

All the glowing buttons extinguished, and the interior was plunged into darkness. I barely suppressed a scream.

"Shit, shit...."

I forced myself to look up.

In the dimly lit elevator, reflected in the enormous mirror...

"......"

The elevator doors were wide open.

The display read 1930819F, an impossible floor number. Beyond the doors in the mirror, there was nothing but a vast void.

And...

The ghost was standing beside me.

"......"

I gasped for breath.

The ghost, the one I had been playing rock-paper-scissors with from within the distant mirror, had stepped out of the elevator doors and was now inches away in the mirror’s reflection.

I glanced to my side.

There was nothing but the old, dark interior of the elevator, its doors firmly shut.

But in the mirror...

The ghost, bearing my face and an impossibly wide grin, stood beside me, gazing at me intensely from just beyond the open elevator doors.

......

You have failed the ritual.

From now on, be careful every time you ride an elevator. The reflection will try to find you.

Fortunately, you still have a chance to ask a question.

But...

: Proceed to 6.

The grinning figure in the mirror lowered its hand.

6: From now on, the being in the mirror will lead the ritual.

Its soundless lips moved.

"Rock, paper, scissors."

It threw a fist.

"......!"

I glanced down at my hand, which had instinctively formed a fist, and felt cold sweat running down my back.

If you refuse to respond to "mirror-me" in rock-paper-scissors, it will gladly take that as a victory by default.

In this case: No further instructions are provided. Rest in peace.

I had to play.

"Rock, paper, scissors."

I hurriedly threw out my hand.

The ghost had chosen rock. I had chosen...

Scissors.

"......"

Lost again.

Now it was time to pay the price for my defeat.

Cold sweat dripped down my face as I slowly lifted my head.

Not me.

The ghost in the mirror began to ask the question.

With a finger, the ghost scratched at the mirror, leaving behind letters.

What’s your name?

"Shit."

With trembling hands, I wrote on the mirror.

Kim Soleum.

The ghost standing beside me in the mirror grinned broadly.

I had to endure this.

If you lie in your response: No further instructions are provided. Rest in peace.

I was losing my mind.

"Why can’t I win even once?"

Even scouring the exploration logs in my mental wiki provided no answer.

The focus wasn’t on how to win at rock-paper-scissors. It was on the questions that followed. There were no known cheat methods.

After all, rock-paper-scissors is a game of luck, isn’t it?

There’s no surefire way to win. But...

I forced myself to stare at the ghost beside me in the mirror, who was glaring at me intently.

"...Then, how is it that it hasn’t lost even once?"

Pure luck?

The cliché of the reflection knowing what I would throw because it’s me?

"But then how did others win?"

And in my case as well.

"If it knows everything, shouldn’t it avoid ties too?"

If winning is possible, then why...

"Rock, paper, scissors."

Damn it.

I hastily threw out my hand.

I chose scissors, and the ghost... chose rock.

"......"

When’s your birthday?

My fingers trembled as I wrote.

September 13th.

The ghost in the mirror began to jump up and down maniacally.

...There was just one question left.

"......"

As I continued to play rock-paper-scissors, letting the ghost lead, the elevator began moving again.

If you win once: Proceed to 3.

If you answer three questions: Proceed to 99.

I had already answered twice.

My name.

My birthday.

...Only one chance remained.

"This is the end."

...And 99’s entry says this:

99.

If you’ve scrolled far enough to reach this entry after answering three questions, you’re probably no longer the same person who first began reading this ritual guide.

I hope you live happily outside the mirror. Please don’t come looking for me.

The ghost in the mirror switches places.

With you.

"No."

Sweat poured down my face.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

But there was no time to ponder. The control was no longer mine.

"Rock, paper, scissors."

I hastily threw out my hand.

Scissors against scissors. A tie.

"Hah..."

I exhaled shakily, trying to catch my breath...

"Rock, paper, scissors."

"...!"

I missed it.

I failed to respond...

"Shit."

I braced myself, gritting my teeth to face what would come next.

......

Huh?

Nothing happened.

"...Oh!"

I realized—since I hadn’t lowered my hand from the previous round, it must have automatically counted as my response.

"Right. I was holding scissors..."

"......"

"Wait."

I recalled every result from my rock-paper-scissors games with the ghost so far.

Could it be...?

"Rock, paper, scissors."

This time, I didn’t change my hand.

A tie.

"Rock, paper, scissors."

Again.

And the next time...

I continued to throw paper, staying completely still.

The curious thing was, the ghost did the same.

Three ties in a row.

"...As I thought."

I swallowed hard.

It seemed I had figured out something crucial.

- The ghost in the mirror doesn’t throw scissors.

That’s why throwing paper would always result in a tie.

If I threw paper, the ghost would need to throw scissors to win. But since it couldn’t, the only option to avoid losing was to also throw paper.

"But why?"

Why couldn’t it throw scissors?

There had to be some kind of hidden logic, but... no, I couldn’t afford to dwell on speculation. I needed to focus on the situation at hand.

At least I had a defense strategy...

"Rock, paper, scissors."

I quickly opened my hand again.

From now on, if I just kept throwing paper, I could guarantee a tie every time.

"But I can’t keep tying forever."

That wasn’t an option; the manual didn’t account for such a situation, which made it even more despairing.

The condition remained unchanged.

"I absolutely have to win at least once."

How could I secure a win...?

"If that ghost is ‘the mirror version of me,’ and it knows exactly what I’m going to throw,"

then the solution might actually be surprisingly simple.

"I just need to act randomly."

That’s probably how others managed to pass this ritual.

Either panicked civilians, throwing their hands out without any thought while consumed by fear.

Or fearless professionals from the Field Exploration Team, indifferent to the stakes and casually throwing whatever came to mind.

Even if the ghost predicted some of their moves, they would have likely won a round within five or six attempts. There’d be no need to record what they threw or analyze the results.

But I had fallen into neither category.

The reason...?

"...That damn silver ring!"

The mental defense item I’d equipped had kept me from panicking. But because I was still afraid, I had overanalyzed every move, leading to this situation. Damn it...!

It was the worst-case scenario for a coward immune to status effects.

"Should I take off the ring now?"

No, it was too late. I only had one chance left.

"What do I do...?"

I roughly wiped away the sweat running down my temples.

In the process, the button on my sleeve scratched my cheek, drawing blood. I wiped it off along with the sweat.

And at that moment...

A red line appeared on the ghost’s cheek in the mirror.

"...!"

Then, the same red stain seeped into its sleeve.

The sweat and blood I had wiped off... had transferred over.

Wait.

"Does it share my condition?"

Right. The mirror, after all, reflected me.

Even if the ghost in the mirror moved independently, it was still affected by the "me" outside the mirror...

...!

Yes.

"If that’s the case...!"

A flash of realization struck me.

I gritted my teeth and searched my pockets.

The ghost in the mirror, as if mocking me, mimicked my movements, pulling out identical items.

But what I produced wasn’t some powerful item.

Just a pen and a rubber band.

"Quick."

I slid the pen between my fingers and began wrapping the rubber band tightly.

"Rock, paper, scissors."

"...!"

I responded.

While matching the ghost’s sudden move, I worked on securing the pen vertically between my thumb and index finger on my right hand.

Then I did the same with my left.

"Faster."

"Rock, paper, scissors."

"Rock, paper, scissors."

"Rock, paper, scissors."

The ghost continued throwing out its hand, seemingly trying to disrupt me. I matched its pace, breathing heavily, while focusing on my task.

My hands slipped several times, and the pen’s tip scratched my arm and palm.

But...

"Rock, paper, scissors."

"...Done!"

I quickly threw out my hand.

This time, it wasn’t paper.

Thanks to the pen and rubber band securing my fingers, I couldn’t bend them. My hand formed...

Scissors.

...!

But the ghost in the mirror had once again opened its hand to throw paper.

To be precise...

"That’s the only thing it can throw!"

Because I had immobilized my fingers with the pen and rubber band, I couldn’t form a fist.

Likewise, the ghost, unable to throw scissors or a fist, could only throw paper.

Scissors versus paper.

"...!!"

I won.

"I did it...!"

Bang!

The ghost in the mirror slammed its head against the glass.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I stood frozen in place.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang...!

The mirror cracked.

Fractures spread, rippling across the surface, until shards began to break away.

But...

The ghost inside the mirror... couldn’t get out.

The vibrations stopped.

The ghost, which had been slamming its head against the mirror, raised its gaze.

The grin that had stretched across its face was now gone.

It lowered its hands, bound by the same pen-and-rubber-band contraption, and its expression twisted.

It contorted!

With an inhuman, impossible expression, it glared at me, its grotesque face a mass of distorted rage...

Then...

Hahaha!

Cackling maniacally, the ghost dashed out of the open elevator doors reflected in the mirror.

"......."

[Descending.]

"Hahhhh..."

I collapsed onto the elevator floor.

The elevator began moving again.

The strange messages on the floor display disappeared, replaced by normal numbers.

[12F]

Ding-dong—

[12th floor. Doors opening.]

3. Congratulations. You’ve successfully completed the ritual!

Exit on the top floor and find the nearest window.

If no windows are available: Proceed to 7.

I survived.

Stumbling, I stepped out into the dark hallway.

Though it had been daytime when I entered, the sky outside seemed to have already fallen into darkness. The hallway’s scattered windows were broken, taped over, or covered in graffiti.

If I had entered this abandoned building alone, I would have screamed and run out immediately. But now, even the eerie atmosphere felt like a relief.

I staggered toward the nearest window on the opposite wall.

The glass was cloudy with dust, but I placed my fingers on it without hesitation.

If you write your desired question on the window, the being from the mirror will answer it.

And that answer will always be true.

The most pressing question.

The wish I’d been clinging to.

"Can I return to the place I originally came from using Daydream Inc.’s Wish Potion?"

I lifted my fingers from the window.

At the bottom of the glass, letters began to appear.

"...!"

The answer to my question.