Have you ever fallen so deep into a hobby that it consumed you?
I don’t just mean finding something fun. I mean being so utterly captivated that you start throwing your time and money at it without a second thought.
There’s always something, isn’t there?
For a movie, it’s hunting down the director’s cut. For a game, it’s buying the artbook. A webtoon, paying for early access; a singer, fighting for concert tickets.
And then there's the next level: the merchandise. The merch.
Figures, banners, badges, dolls…
I could say, with complete confidence, that I had never spent a single won on such things in my entire life.
The pop-up store had been a wild success. By ten in the morning, the exact moment the department store opened its doors, every single timed-entry ticket for the day had been snatched up.
And yes, I had one of them.
“Now admitting guests for the two-thirty time slot!”
At the staff member’s call, a group of cheerful teenagers next to me scrambled toward the entrance.
Two-thirty... right.
I tugged the brim of my hat down low and shuffled into the queue.
Then I heard the whispering from the people behind me.
A part of me wanted to be indignant, but I couldn't really blame them.
I was the only one here who looked like a typical salaryman. The only adult man, period.
I sighed, my eyes drifting to the store’s entrance. A sign hung above it, proclaiming in gothic script:
[Welcome, explorer of the darkness.]
This is ridiculous.
The aesthetic was a carefully crafted tapestry of black and red, decorated with caricatures of grotesque monsters, occult symbols, and the intertwined logos of shadowy corporations, secret religions, and clandestine government agencies.
It was the perfect cocktail to capture a teenager’s imagination.
Even the title was a work of art in its own right.
[Chronicles of the End: Abyss Records]
I had to physically restrain myself from covering my face in shame.
Why did I have to stumble across this at the office, of all places?
It was the setting of a ghost story universe that had exploded in popularity recently. One of those collaborative projects, an open-source world built by a community of creators contributing their own stories.
It all started with a well-known creepypasta, spreading quietly among students at first. Then it caught the attention of the YouTube algorithm and went viral, spreading like wildfire.
The core concept was simple: ‘records of exploring various paranormal phenomena called <Abyssal Manifestation>’.
Eventually, it blossomed into a massive, independent wiki hosting hundreds, then thousands, of original creepypastas. And that was when it caught my eye.
…It was just text, so it was perfect for sneaking reads at my desk.
And as they say, anything is more interesting than your actual job when you're at the office.
I fell down the rabbit hole so completely that I even wrote and posted my own story…
How had it come to this? Was my office life really that starved for a drop of dopamine?
Who knew it would get this big?
Now it was a massive IP, a genuine sensation that dominated the teenage corner of YouTube.
Naturally, the corporations had swooped in to cash in on the phenomenon.
This pop-up store was a part of that.
But the wiki had a 15+ age rating, for crying out loud!
So why was this place crawling with kids?
The whispering started up again behind me, and I felt my neck grow hot.
“Definitely a reseller…”
“Hey, give him a break. Maybe he's buying a gift for his nephew or something.”
Nope. I'm buying this for me.
…The humiliating truth was, I’d already been here last week, but the item I wanted had sold out right before my turn. So here I was again, having used a precious day of vacation to come back…
Last week, there were at least a few women my age.
But today, on a weekday afternoon, the only other adults were parents dragged here by their children. The embarrassment was a physical weight, but I forced myself to endure it.
I'm not even sure why I'm putting myself through this…
Anyway, I followed the staff’s directions and stepped inside.
My only comfort was the professionally blank expression on the staff member’s face. At least they weren't judging me.
“Whoa, it looks exactly like the pictures!” a middle schooler squealed nearby.
I took in the store’s interior, which was so intricately designed it felt less like a shop and more like a theme park attraction.
The exhibits were thoughtfully organized into themed sections:
[Abyssal Crisis Management Bureau]
[Order of the Veiled Light]
The lore was built around three major factions—corporations, governments, and religious orders—all vying to observe and control the world’s paranormal phenomena.
At first, it was all just stories about the government’s disaster management bureau. But as more and more people got involved, it spiraled into this whole complex world.
It was clear the pop-up store had cherry-picked the most popular elements of the universe.
A blatant attempt to pry open fans' wallets by focusing on the most beloved characters and artifacts, but I had to admit, the quality was impressive.
It’s not like I’ll ever be back here.
Ignoring the sideways glances, I moved quickly, grabbing the few items on my list.
Thankfully, most of the high-demand merchandise was already gone, which hopefully made me look less like a scalper.
“Would you like to add a large eco-bag for five thousand won?” the cashier asked.
My purchase complete, I should have headed for the exit. Instead, I hesitated. My gaze shifted to a small crowd gathering near the checkout counters, in a line for a booth marked: <Agent Profile Creation>.
I’d seen it last week, too, but hadn't been able to work up the courage to get in line.
This place closes for good tomorrow.
I was torn, debating whether this was really worth sacrificing the last shreds of my social dignity.
Just then, a different cashier who had just started her shift caught my eye. She gave me a bright, practiced smile. “The prize roulette event ends today! Would you like to give it a try?”
Thank you. Bless you, dear, underpaid staff member…
“Great! Right this way, please. You can just join the line here.”
She expertly guided me toward a giant black roulette wheel, and just like that, I was standing at the back of the queue.
The line moved surprisingly fast. Before I knew it, I was at the front, where another employee handed me a trigger-like button attached to a cord.
“Time for the lucky roulette!” she chirped. “Press the button whenever you’d like to stop it.”
A tinny electronic fanfare played as the wheel began to spin, its colored sections blurring together. Each wedge displayed a different prize and its rank.
I saw merchandise I had just bought, exclusive items that weren’t for sale, and even a random pair of Bluetooth earbuds.
Of course, the largest wedge by far—seventh place—was a cheap little memo pad. That’s what I’d get, I was sure of it. But I wasn't bothered. I’d almost walked out without doing this at all.
Let’s not get our hopes up, I thought, and carefully pressed the button.
The whirring of the black roulette began to slow. The clicking of the pin grew more deliberate, ticking past the wide swaths of seventh place... and then, impossibly, it came to a halt.
It landed on a sliver of a section, a line so thin it was barely visible. A line of pure gold.