Raise your hand if you don't want to join.
"Um, so, does that mean we'd have to encounter 'ghost stories' again, like last time?"
A woman at the far end asked, her eyes flickering with uneasy dread.
"Of course. As I mentioned before, we handle every ghost story that occurs before aircraft takeoff, before boarding passengers, and before passing through the gate."
Kang Naju answered pleasantly.
At that, the woman's face drained of color.
"Ha-handle ghost stories...!"
"That's precisely why the salary and benefits are what they are. However, even if you've passed, there's no obligation. If you'd prefer not to continue, please follow Flight Attendant Gam Doyeong here to the rejects' room."
'So the high salary really was hazard pay.'
Once Kang Naju's courteous explanation concluded, the woman who'd asked the question stood up—along with another woman sitting next to her.
"Tch. Follow me."
Gam Doyeong gave a curt nod and led the women out.
"Then I'll take it that the eight of you remaining are agreeing to join."
Compared to the typical new-hire class at other airlines, this was a tiny number. Which meant either applicants were scarce, or the rest had all failed...
"The people who just left and those who didn't pass—do they just 'go home'?"
I raised my hand slightly and asked with caution.
Something else had to be going on.
If they simply sent people home, every year the internet would be flooded with #CheonsuAirlines, #GhostStory, #Missing, #Ghosts trending in real time.
Kang Naju picked up a black marker.
Then she drew a long horizontal line across the whiteboard on the wall.
"Let's say the starting point here is 'birth,' and the endpoint is 'life up to today's date.'"
She drew a small circle just before the endpoint and continued.
"Let's mark this circle as the point when the ghost story processing test took place. From now on, those individuals will have a 'blank' in their memory covering this circle."
A blank, meaning...
"Their memories disappear?"
"They erase their memories...?"
"Is that actually real...?!"
Not some foreign alien movie—they actually erase people's memories?
Then again, ghost stories were just as dreamlike, so that claim was probably real too.
The shocking revelation left everyone wide-eyed, myself included.
"Ghost stories exist only as interesting tales among people—they must not become widely known, as it's a matter of critical importance. That way, passengers can use aircraft with peace of mind, and those who were eliminated can forget the trauma of the ghost stories and return to normal daily life. Think of it as only the facts related to ghost stories being deleted. And all of you must remember this fact as well."
Kang Naju held up three fingers and lowered her voice.
"The so-called 'Three-Strike System.' Even after passing, you can never let your guard down. This applies to me as well. Just as pilots undergo simulated flight training via FTD every six months, we cabin crew undergo ghost story training. If you fail to meet the passing criteria, you receive one strike along with the failure. Accumulate three strikes, and everything you've experienced regarding ghost stories at this airline gets erased, and you're dismissed."
On top of that, strikes were issued for causing harm to fellow crew or being judged unfit for the work.
An extremely demanding system that kept you perpetually on edge.
No matter how many years you served, if you hit three strikes, every moment spent with your crew—every ghost story you'd cleared—would become 'time that never existed.'
'Just having a gap in your memory is already an enormous disadvantage.'
"But we are flight attendants. Our work fundamentally revolves around cabin crew duties. We strive for passenger safety and the best possible flight experience."
Kang Naju, who had been speaking gravely, smiled again.
"I believe that's exactly what you applied for."
That was true, but hearing such a warning naturally made anyone nervous.
With that, the preliminary briefing concluded.
Since health exams could be done right at headquarters, we moved together. As I stepped out of the room, the dropouts stood there with expressions that said 'why am I here?'
The two women who'd headed to the rejects' room also looked bewildered as they made their way home on their own.
Everyone, myself included, was both amazed and unnerved that all of this was real.
But there were no more withdrawals.
Between the health exam, basic English test, and swimming test, it took a full three days to receive official confirmation of our 'acceptance.'
If anyone asked why I'd accepted, knowing about the ghost stories and the Three-Strike System, even though I'd always dreamed of working at an airline—
Some people would cite the higher-than-average salary and benefits.
Simple curiosity and the thrill.
Or because it seemed manageable.
And I—
'Because this is really my last chance.'
That was the only answer I could give.
A dream I'd yearned for, plus conditions that could fix my dire financial situation in one stroke.
And if I had some time and stability, maybe I could finally look into my missing uncle's whereabouts.
Even if people called me crazy, even if they had something to say about it...
'At the very least, I should set foot on a plane before I decide.'
I chose my first and last adventure.
***
Starting the day after receiving my acceptance, the standard two months of safety and service training began.
From the most basic customer service,
to escape route guidance, passenger safety briefings covering oxygen mask procedures, first aid, and emergency evacuation drills.
About a month had passed since I began training alongside my fellow recruits—So Hyena, Jeong Siun, and the rest.
Kang Naju arrived with a new announcement.
"Training's going well, I hope? Tomorrow, instead of the regular cabin crew training, a 'ghost story processing drill' will take place."
At the new announcement, everyone stopped what they were doing and paid attention.
"Each of you will be assigned a specific date and time. Please break through the ghost story alongside your senior partners. I'll distribute briefing reports in advance, so study them thoroughly."
A month after the child-rescue ghost story, I was about to face a new one.
'I'm nervous... no idea what's coming.'
Kang Naju held out a briefing report and said:
"This is the ghost story you'll be assigned to, Cheongho. Among everyone here, it'll probably be the highest difficulty—but I'm confident you'll handle it well."
'Handle it well, she says—but why does mine have to be the hardest...?'
With tension coiled tight in my fingers, I accepted the new report Kang Naju offered.
Ghost Story Briefing Report
[Cheonsu Airlines / no. 449]
1. GN: Duty-Free Luxury Hall Ghost Story
2. T / H: Type 1 / 5 persons
-Staff disappearances at Doseong International Airport duty-free store after closing time.
-No other known details.
3. TL: 3 hours
4. Item:
Report Prepared by: [ Gam Doyeong ]
'So the ghost story this time is...'
"......Luxury hall?"
'The report supervisor is Gam Doyeong....'
Not Senior Kang Naju.
On top of that, the time limit had increased to 3 hours, and there were no known details. The item field was blank too.
And I still had no idea what this 'T / H' meant....
Just as the barren report had me at a loss, I spotted So Hyena and Jeong Siun, both holding their own reports.
"What ghost stories did you two get assigned?"
"Oh, I got—"
They showed me their reports directly.
Hyena was assigned to the 'Tourist Disappearance Ghost Story' with someone named Bae Huiyeon, scheduled for tomorrow.
Siun was assigned to the 'Prohibited Items Ghost Story' with Senior Kang Naju, two days from now.
And the noticeable thing was...
Both their reports had 'T: Type 2' in common.
"Ugh, Cheongho, your supervisor is...."
"Ew. That senior?"
So Hyena and Jeong Siun glanced at my report and gave me pitying looks.
"Do you two know who he is?"
"Don't you remember? When we first came to the training room, the guy with Siun...."
"The senior with the nasty eyes."
The nasty eyes...
It came back to me. The senior flight attendant who'd been in a staring contest with Jeong Siun the moment I walked in.
I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume first impressions weren't everything—but his personality really did seem off.
The two wished me luck with sympathetic eyes.
'What does this Type 1 even mean? I need to know something to prepare.'
"Phew—"
Alone in the company's smoking booth, I exhaled cigarette smoke and racked my brain.
"The drill is tomorrow... and I can't figure it out. We haven't even had proper ghost story training yet."
"Marlboro Vista? Mast, or just one."
"Wh-what, huh?"
A familiar hard hat popped into view over my shoulder.
For the record, the surprise made me drop my last cigarette.
"...Naviq?"
"Just call me Naviq, no formalities. Sorry—made you waste a good one."
Behind the white smiling mask, his face still unreadable, Naviq laughed apologetically.
'Ah—instead of overthinking it, I should just ask someone who works here.'
"Then, Naviq, can you tell me what this means?"
"Hmm? What, what? Ask me anything."
Naviq stared eagerly at my report, then formed a 'ㅜㅜ' gesture with his fingers.
"Oh no, you got stuck with a tough ghost story. And the supervisor's a real piece of work too."
He's seasoning my despair with ash, how kind.
"Is it really that bad...? I sort of know the supervisor, but I can't figure out this Type 1."
"That's the Type. There are two: Type 1 means a 'ghost story occurring in reality,' and Type 2 means a 'ghost story occurring in a secondary space.'"
Naviq held up two fingers.
"Secondary space?"
"The child-rescue ghost story you did for your test was Type 2. Remember how people appeared and disappeared in the airport?"
"Yes."
"That's because it was a virtual space. You can smash and destroy anything in there, and it won't happen in the real world. Even if you get hurt, you're fine once you return to reality."
Don't tell me the reason it's harder is...
"But the Type 1 you're going into—you'll be processing a ghost story directly in this reality."
Naviq pointed at the ground with his finger.
My body involuntarily tensed with growing anxiety.
"...So that means since it's a real airport, you can't damage anything, and injuries don't heal either?"
"Yep, bingo."
Naviq flashed an 'okay' sign.
It's not just harder—it's incomparably harder!
I felt like I'd aged ten years in an instant.
3 AM, only the five people listed on the report would go in, and we had to process the ghost story before the duty-free store opened to customers.
And neither the method of processing nor the items were listed.
In my dismay, I forced myself to look up at the sky.
But the sky was indifferent. On top of everything, our first schedule assignments would be determined based on how we handled this ghost story.
I might end up mostly doing regular cabin crew flights, or I might get stuck handling ghost stories for every single assignment.
Not random draws but merit-based. I wasn't sure if that counted as fair.
'I have to make a meaningful contribution—or I'll never get past the gate.'
All or nothing....
After thanking Naviq, I reported to Doseong International Airport the very next day, first thing in the cool dawn air.
When I got out of the taxi in the pitch-black night with no luggage, even the driver gave me a strange look.
I waved him off with an awkward smile and entered the airport.
With no flights arriving or departing at this hour, even the airport departure boards were blank. The terminal, with only a few corridor lights on, felt truly desolate.
I took my access pass and went through the crew-only departure lane. A masked employee wearing a '天守' (Cheonsu) lanyard let me through after a quick security check and into the duty-free area.
"The newbie shows up dead last."
"This way, please."
"That makes five total, including him. Headcount confirmed."
The moment I stepped into the duty-free zone, Gam Doyeong stood with his arms crossed, openly scrutinizing my face. Three other female flight attendants waited alongside him.
Gam Doyeong had a solid build and light brown hair styled in a sleek sweep. His fit made the uniform look even sharper—he could put most handsome guys to shame.
"That mug of yours could still bully every punk in the neighborhood."
What a chaaaarming way with words.
"I'm Yoo Cheongho, a new cabin crew trainee. I've been assigned here for the live ghost story drill."
"New, my ass—you're a provisional, provisional. You should've been here at least twenty minutes before your seniors. Kids these days have zero manners."
Gam Doyeong clicked his tongue and glared.
For the record, the current time was 2:30 AM. I'd arrived a full 30 minutes before the designated meetup.
The other senior attendants were shaking their heads behind Gam Doyeong's back, confirming my suspicion.
'Textbook pain in the ass....'
Haha. The younger guy decided to just roll with it.
"It's just procedure, so let me run through the briefing and we'll head in. Supervisor is Gam Doyeong—that's me. GN is Duty-Free Luxury Hall Ghost Story. Type 1, five persons total. Staff disappearances at the duty-free store after closing time, and no other known details. Time limit is three hours. Let's go."
Gam Doyeong rattled it off like a machine gun.
"Excuse me... we don't even know how many staff disappeared or where they were last seen?"
"Nope. What's on the briefing report is all there is. We're busy as hell, so no questions."
We knew nothing, and he expected us to solve it?
With no further intel gained, the five of us—myself included—stepped into the duty-free zone, which was quiet enough to be eerie.
***
Type 1 ghost stories occurred not in some unknown dimension but in ordinary reality. This one involved the disappearance of multiple staff members.
Cheonsu Airlines and Doseong International Airport were partners bound by the ghost stories.
Because arrangements had been made in advance, the CCTV in the duty-free luxury section had been adjusted and the shutters that should have been closed were all raised.
From household-name fashion brands to imported watches, handbags, and cosmetics—the display cases looked completely normal, with nothing out of place.
"Wow, you could pocket a few of these and nobody'd know."
"Go ahead—I'll report you and make Employee of the Month."
"The nerve of you people."
The three attendants—aside from Gam Doyeong—seemed to be peers. They walked along, eyeing the luxury goods on display.
Gam Doyeong simply reviewed the report and pressed ahead.
I'd expected him to scold them for chattering, but oddly, he didn't.
"One more pointless word out of any of you and I'll rip out your vocal cords."
""Yes, sir....""
Terrifying.
Ten minutes, twenty minutes.
By the time we'd surveyed the entire length of the luxury hall, there was nothing that felt out of place or remotely ominous.
No wonder there were no known details.
With a 3-hour time limit, we needed to find something—fast.
"Wow, this one was in a magazine recently."
"What?"
"You know that actress in the drama everyone's watching? She did a collab with the brand for this bag—it's gorgeous."
When we looped back to the starting point, Attendant A—a woman with her hair tied low—spoke up, admiring a handbag.
"It looked so pretty on TV, and the real thing's even better. How much would something like this go for?"
What happened next was instantaneous.
The moment Attendant A's eyes sparkled and she lightly touched the bag's strap—
Ssssssss—
"Huh?"
The tips of Attendant A's right hand turned yellow, then began dissolving into fine, soft powder.
"KYAAAAAAH!"
"Hey—your fingers!"
"What did you do!?"
At the screams of Attendant A and her colleagues, Gam Doyeong came sprinting over.
"I just, barely touched it, that's all...."
Attendant A whimpered.
Gam Doyeong rubbed the falling powder between his fingers.
"This is gold...?"
"G-gold?"
Attendant A's fingers scattered into gold dust, leaving the floor glittering.
"You two—stop gawking and gather up the dust!"
"Y-yes...!"
The rest of us scrambled to sweep up the gold powder—what had been her fingers—off the floor.
We bundled them into a scarf as a makeshift measure and tried to assess the situation when—
Tap—.
A small red card dropped from somewhere.
[Do not touch merchandise without authorization. —A shoplifting report has been filed.—]
Gam Doyeong focused on the card's final line.
"Suspected shoplifting... it's a clue about the ghost story."