When people are in a bad mood, they tend to walk while looking at the ground.

It’s less common now because of smartphones, but it’s something everyone has experienced at least once before.

So, everyone has probably, at some point, unconsciously but attentively looked at this on sidewalks or roads.

A manhole.

A gray circle that you see on the roadside when you’re bored.

A passage for workers that provides access to underground water pipes.

Everyone knows this.

So, when looking at that round, gray manhole cover, everyone must have imagined at least once…

Someone suddenly emerging from it.

Or… imagining yourself opening the cover and going inside.

Of course, it’s not easy to encounter in real life. The cover isn’t something just anyone can lift easily—it usually weighs over 100 kg.

So, usually, it remains just an imagination…

‘But what if something you casually imagined actually happened in reality?’

At that moment, people become more curious and pay closer attention.

The ghost story I was looking for began from there.

“…….”

I lifted my head.

It was a dark alley.

Laughter, shouting, and the sound of music could be heard nearby.

The flashing lights and noise seemed just around the corner.

A sleepless, bustling district.

But here, it was a damp alley where shadows and silence lingered.

Location: The concrete ground near nightlife districts such as bars, clubs, and university areas, crowded with people excited by the midnight atmosphere.

And a single streetlight illuminated the grimy concrete floor of the alley.

The manhole cover was there.

The manhole, sitting casually in the middle of the eerie light like any ordinary urban street, had something unusual about it.

It was slightly open, something protruding from it.

A human hand.

“…….”

An inexplicable arm sticking out from the slightly displaced manhole cover.

Five pale fingers wavering under the streetlight.

As if asking for help.

Previously observed appearances of the hand:

An elementary school child with nail art, a sanitation worker's uniform, a knit sweater, an old student uniform, a business suit, a military uniform from the ■■s, an old man's hand covered in warts, and a tattoo-covered, nail-less hand from ■■■.

Normally, such a sighting would make someone scream, hesitate, or report it to the authorities.

‘But if someone is drunk or caught up in the atmosphere, they might approach without thinking.’

Because this is a ghost story designed to lure people in.

“…….”

I slowly approached the hand sticking out of the manhole.

The hand quivered slightly.

One step, then another. And when I was about a body’s length away…

“Hoo.”

I turned around.

Then, I rummaged through my backpack, reached into the salt packet I had brought, and grabbed a handful of salt.

I sprinkled it over my left shoulder.

Towards the manhole.

Screeeeech!!

A bursting noise erupted from behind me. A deafening sound that seemed impossible to come from just salt grains.

And a stench, like something filthy burning.

‘Ugh…’

Smoke rose up, drifting towards me.

But I never turn back.

If I just hold my ground….

Before I knew it, the noise and smell were gone.

“…….”

That’s when I turn my head.

The arm was gone.

All that remained was the pitch-black manhole under the streetlight’s glow.

The lid was slightly open.

‘…It’s done.’

By exorcising the ‘arm’ with salt, the manhole can be used temporarily.

I stuffed salt into both of my pockets and approached the manhole.

The engraved patterns and letters on the manhole cover, illuminated by the streetlight, became clearer.

Usually, the outer ring of a manhole cover displays its purpose and destination, while the center bears the logo of the managing authority.

This manhole cover was the same—if I looked closely, I could see its ‘destination’ and ‘managing entity’….

Hell.

Ghost Ghost Ghost Ghost Ghost

This doesn’t lead to the sewers.

It’s an entrance to somewhere else.

“…Ha.”

I grabbed the lid with trembling hands and pushed it open.

It’s heavy.

But slowly, the black manhole lid was pushed aside, revealing a pitch-black hole beneath it….

Thud.

Nothing can be seen below.

An unsettling emptiness.

“…….”

I checked that I had my gloves, mask, and hat properly in place.

Then, after sprinkling salt all over my body, I stepped onto the ladder and moved down.

Clank, clatter.

I gradually moved further away from the noise above.

The light and presence of people vanished.

Down. Even further down.

Alone.

‘…Maybe it’s scarier because I’m alone.’

My spine tingled, but I grit my teeth and continued down.

I’m someone who survived four days in that insane supermarket just a few days ago…!

‘I’ll do it.’

I clenched my teeth and took another step.

After several tens of seconds, by the time one of my hands was drenched in sweat inside the glove….

Squish.

My feet touched the ground.

I ignored the strange squishy sensation as much as possible and moved mechanically.

A dark sewer where I couldn’t stand upright stretched out before me.

Strangely, there was no light, yet I could see the eerie passageway.

‘This is driving me crazy.’

I endured the spine-chilling stillness, darkness, and icy stench as I moved further in.

To a disconnected place where neither phones nor cameras work….

Then, at some point.

‘……It’s there.’

I finally found it.

“Hoo.”

It was a rusty door that suited the sewer.

The circular door, like a moat gate, was filthy and heavy, the kind you’d see at an old industrial site.

And the word engraved in relief.

Hungry Ghost

‘Hungry Ghost’

A ghost that fell into hell due to greed, suffering from eternal hunger. Or the hell where such ghosts exist.

And strangely, there was a hole on the left side of the door.

…Beyond it, the sound of flowing water could be heard….

“…….”

I steadied my breath, sprinkled salt over my body once again, and grasped the rusty door handle.

And holding my breath, I opened it.

Creeeeak.

A vast space, like a plaza, spread out before me.

The space, covered with a dome-like hemispherical ceiling, resembled a typical wastewater treatment plant… but…

Aaaaaah!

The walls were filled with countless hands.

Hands with exposed bones, hands as blue as corpses, hands with strange tattoos, hands wearing ceremonial gloves, hands painted with manicures….

And every single hand was holding something.

‘I’ve arrived.’

The Meeting Plaza of the Chronicles of Darkness Exploration.

‘The Faceless Market’.

---------------------=

Chronicles of Darkness Exploration/ Special Zone

[The Faceless Market]

A small special zone derived from the ghost stories in the <Chronicles of Darkness Exploration>.

A bizarre space accessible through the ‘Manhole Hand,’ which lures people between the worlds of the living and the dead to consume them.

---------------------=

That’s right.

The hands stuck in the walls react when someone approaches and offers an item, snatching it up instantly.

In the process, they drop the items they were holding, completing the barter exchange.

The type of ‘suitable item’ is determined by the seller’s desire.

This was a bizarre marketplace that exploited ghost stories about luring humans, harvesting their organs, and causing disappearances.

For Daydream Corporation, their nature has earned them many enemies, and if their affiliation is discovered, they may be refused trade or even attacked.

Considering their personality, it’s no surprise. Reading these special records is quite entertaining.

That’s why I had never come here before.

‘I’m already diving into ghost stories constantly—why would I add more risk?’

But now… I have no money.

And if anything goes wrong, I can pretend I’m not from Daydream Corporation.

‘Hoo.’

I stepped inside.

Recalling the restrictions typical of ghost stories.

However, if you stay in this space for more than two hours, the ‘Manhole Hand’ you drove away will be waiting at the entrance.

“…….”

A few people were already walking sparsely through the cavern.

Most of them were completely covered from head to toe as they examined the hands on the walls.

Occasionally, some people walked around in normal clothing, fully revealing their faces with a smile, but I avoided them as much as possible.

‘That’s real madness.’

Let’s not get involved.

I had specific candidates in mind for trading.

Even if their individual identities were unknown, there were hints about which faction they belonged to.

By the appearance of their hands.

As expected from a ghost story setting, the hands had bizarre characteristics.

With enough knowledge, one could determine their affiliation based on sleeves, tattoos, accessories, etc.

Not many people have that knowledge, so they’re practically anonymous.’

But I do.

And my top priority had a distinct physical feature. That was…

“…….”

I stopped in my tracks.

Among the hands shaking objects temptingly, I saw an extremely thin hand.

A hand missing a pinky finger.

What lay on the palm was not an item, but a blood-stained piece of paper.

It was clenched so tightly that the writing inside was barely visible.

I reached out toward that hand….

“Oh, that’s been here for at least five years.”

My body froze.

Someone grabbed my shoulder and started babbling.

“It’s not like someone has been holding that hand for five years. They probably left—or died—five years ago.”

The problem is,

“What do you think?”

It was a familiar voice.

“…….”

Instead of shaking them off and running at full speed, I stiffly turned my head.

“Doesn’t seem like a very appealing item, does it?”

Only the curved shape of their eyes was visible from behind the mask.

But I could recognize them just from their eyes and voice.

Because it was a face I had seen just a few days ago.

‘……Agent Choi!’

The veteran named agent who had visited my hospital room was here.

‘W-Wait a minute.’

But he talked to me?

Right now, I had deliberately stuffed the area where my right arm was missing with a mannequin prosthetic and cotton, covering it with my coat.

In this darkness, it wouldn’t be easy to notice that I was missing an arm.

“Ah~ Want me to give you a tip? Most people don’t know this…”

Agent Choi glanced at the hand I had reached out to, then whispered to me in a familiar manner.

“Did you know that wrist veins have unique patterns for each person?”

A chill ran down my spine.

“It’s almost like a fingerprint. If you remember them, you can identify people easily. People can hide their faces, alter their body shape, or even burn their fingerprints, but they can’t burn their veins.”

“…….”

“And don’t let your guard down. Just because you think you’ve hidden everything.”

I’m screwed.

“Junior, what are you doing here? No….”

Agent Choi grinned.

“Who told you about this place?”