One of the most eerie and unsettling stories from .
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It appears similar to the Korean internet urban legend about the Jangsanbeom, but this tale carries an even stronger shamanistic and eerie undertone.
A ghost, presumably having perished from the tiger known as Sangun-nim, resides in a haunted painting that constantly changes its appearance, pursuing victims and attempting to lure them away.
As one of the stories of the that went viral in the first half of 20XX, there were countless reports of readers feeling sick or unnerved just from reading it.
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It was exactly as described.
Even as someone who’s generally fine reading about horror tales, this story left an oddly disturbing, lingering feeling in me as well, making me pause multiple times while reading.
I’m sure everyone has heard of it at least once.
‘A person devoured by a tiger becomes a ghost and returns to visit their loved ones…’
Also known as the changgwi.
This ghost must find another victim to pass on its role before its soul can move on to the afterlife—a chilling tale, indeed.
‘It’s disturbing to even think about it.’
However, if one thinks logically, there is a way to survive.
‘At C-Class, it’s still a grade with standard escape records.’
While it’s certainly challenging, it’s not impossible to escape this Darkness.
The issue is… the method is bizarre and forces the victim to make unfair choices, causing mental suffering and overwhelming pressure, as though their breath were being squeezed out.
It’s the kind of tale that horror lovers immerse themselves in, enjoying the shivers it evokes.
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Exploration Record #03
A man in his fifties downloaded a landscape painting from the internet, said to bring good fortune in one’s career.
He described it as an ink wash painting from the late Joseon Dynasty, depicting mountains and fog with an eerie vividness, even in low resolution.
After downloading it, he began having occasional dreams of wandering near the mountain in the painting, and each time, he felt oddly at peace, his focus sharpening.
However, after a sudden promotion at work, the dreams changed.
He began to hear a voice calling to him from within the fog enveloping the mountain.
The voice whispered, “It is only right to repay the help you’ve received, as any true scholar should.” Along with this, he heard sorrowful cries, the trudging of footsteps along the mountain path, and the distant calls of animals.
Feeling strangely unnerved, he turned and tried to run.
Then came the chilling words, “You’ve been found, you’ve been found,” repeated over and over, followed by a mocking laugh as it chased him.
Each night, he was plagued with dreams of desperately trying to run away.
And each night, the voice calling his name drew closer as he tried to distance himself from the mountain in the painting.
One night, he realized, in horror, that he hadn’t been running through the mountains anymore. He was now at the front door of his own house.
Terrified, he woke up and immediately left home, moving to a hotel. He said it was to avoid the voice pursuing him and to keep his family from being drawn into it.
That night, however, the voice did not follow him in his dream.
Instead, he saw someone—a figure with a pale, ashen face, slipping in like a snake through his open front door, snickering as it entered.
That’s when he understood.
The voices hadn’t been following him at all. They had been finding their way into his home.
Result : The man’s entire family, except him, went missing. (Six months later, the bodies of three unidentified bodies were found in a nearby dam.)
Afterward, he was hospitalized for PTSD and eventually took his own life.
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The worst part of this story is how it forces you to imagine the mental anguish of those caught in it.
There’s also something more unsettling.
‘…It’s already too late.’
Already lured in and dragged here by the changgwi.
Several times that its calls were responded to.
Talismans, nearly depleted.
This was the kind of description you’d find in the final, desperate moments at the end of a lengthy Exploration Record where everyone was already on the verge of death.
Meaning, we’re cornered at the very edge.
‘This is driving me insane.’
I raked my hand through my hair.
– Are you in a tough spot, Friend?
It’s more than just tough. I feel like I’m drowning in cold sweat.
– Oh dear. Could it be because of that unwelcome guest who visited earlier? Uninvited guests are always unpleasant, especially in places where they’re not wanted.
– That’s why I’d like to offer you some advice. Would that be alright?
I looked down at my pocket.
– Allow me to dim the light for you, Mr. Roe Deer!
– That way, you can quietly leave this place without drawing anyone’s attention.
I remembered the incredible ability that this plushie showed at the theme park—the strange power that erased my presence, allowing me to move without getting caught by the blue mascot.
– If you quietly exit through that door and head home, you’ll avoid this tiring situation… it doesn’t get any better than that, does it?
I had a high probability of deducing the correct escape route based on the . So, if I could avoid being detected by the changgwi, I might actually get out of this creepypasta easily!
Isn’t that a one-person-only solution?