Seoul Object Story

The dark underground isolation chamber. The director of the research institute stood alone, gazing up at the enormous dome that filled the ceiling.

Under the fluorescent lights, his shadow stretched long across the floor, and the air was thick with a heavy silence.

“Eventually, even the senior researcher who stuck with me to the end… died.”

His voice carried an unexpected loneliness.

The director felt a sudden discomfort with his own emotions.

The sacrifices made in the dome research process were to be expected, and perhaps it should have been seen as a glorious act.

But why?

Before the dome appeared, the image of her always smiling brightly lingered in his mind, and the realization that he could no longer see that smile now weighed heavily on his chest.

He rubbed his temples, exhausted.

He tried to recall her bright smile before the dome’s creation, but the memory was vague and unclear, like an old, faded film.

And the more he tried to grasp that faint memory, the sharper the throbbing pain in his head became.

Eventually, overwhelmed by the unbearable pain, he had to abandon his thoughts.

Once, the underground isolation chamber had been lively, filled with the sounds of footsteps and discussions among the researchers.

Now, the only companions left were the bodies sprawled out on the cold floor.

The fluorescent lights cast a cold glow over the bodies, and an unknown tension lingered in the air.

“I’ll have to finish the remaining research myself…”

The director’s voice echoed hollowly in the empty isolation chamber.

Leaving his vow to the bodies of the deceased researchers, he hurriedly turned his gaze back to the dome.

It was unavoidable.

If he kept staring at the bodies, his head would hurt too much.

As he turned his gaze toward the dome, the light emanating from the massive structure filled the entire isolation chamber.

The light, once seen as beautiful, now felt oddly ominous.

The director tilted his head slightly and stared at the light once more.

“Strange, it shouldn’t feel like this.”

The vivid colors of the light, once promising a brilliant future for humanity, now felt like the malicious laughter of someone else.

At that moment, a sharp pain surged deep in his skull.

He rubbed his temples again and shook his head.

Was it because of too many thoughts?

Or was it because of exhaustion?

“I need to rest.”

He forced the thought away, pushing it to the back of his mind as he climbed the stairs to his office.

At the top of the stairs, the bodies of security personnel lay scattered.

Thick protective suits torn apart, and the gruesome, shattered remains of their bodies.

It had happened because the security team had suddenly gone mad, attempting to restrain the researchers.

Perhaps that’s why the steps up to the surface felt unusually heavy.

As he stepped over the security team’s corpses, a question flashed through the director’s mind.

But we were only researchers, how were we able to subdue the security team?

But no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t recall the moment.

‘…’

The soft chair in his office welcomed him.

He took a sip of warm coffee, and the intense headache somewhat eased.

The sky outside the window had turned a deep red.

“I’ll need to rest after this research is over…”

The director murmured as he slowly drank his coffee.

Perhaps because of overwork, his body was not in a normal state.

He looked down at his hands.

His fingers were twisted grotesquely.

When had this begun? His body had been slowly changing.

His limbs twisted uncontrollably, making even walking a challenge, and his head was constantly filled with excruciating pain.

What troubled him most, though, was his memory.

Several times a day, he would forget what he was doing, and his memory was full of holes.

“It’s because of the overwork. I’ll be fine if I just rest.”

He sighed deeply, looking at the cooling coffee.

His reflection in the window was no longer that of the man he used to be.

The director dressed in his lab coat again to go back to the underground.

Rustle.

He felt something in the pocket of his lab coat.

Upon checking, it was a palm-sized photograph.

The Golden Reaper hugging the White Reaper, sitting in front of the research institute’s sign.

Had I taken this photo?

As he thought about the photo, his headache grew stronger.

He wanted to throw the photo away immediately, but strangely, he couldn’t.

And then, at some point, with the sensation of something suddenly breaking open, his memory returned.

‘Ah…’

At that moment, the director realized that he had been mentally contaminated.

He also remembered how he had regained his sanity several times.

Perhaps because of the aftereffects of overcoming the mental contamination, the director coughed up a mouthful of blood.

So much blood spilled onto the desk that it almost soaked it completely.

When he regained his senses, his body was clearly at its limit.

He stumbled out of his office.

“Right, today’s the last day.”

He walked slowly down the twisted, decaying corridor of the research institute, looking at the setting sun.

The corridor seemed like a path to hell.

Slowly walking toward hell, he reflected on everything that had happened.

When he first regained his senses, the attempt to contact the outside.

The attempts to persuade the senior researchers.

And then, giving up everything, and starting to prepare for ‘something.’

The director passed through the long corridor and opened the door to the now-unused isolation chamber.

Inside, explosives were piled up like a mountain.

The man had prepared this to completely blow up the institute, each time he regained his sanity.

The director knew well that this was not enough to destroy the dome.

“At least I hope someone sees this flame and can prepare for the dome…”

The director muttered, pulling out the photograph once again.

Ah, the Golden Reaper, who was once close to me.

And someone who understood that there was a need to research after the Golden Reaper’s mental contamination—a kind-hearted child.

Seeing the frown in the photo made him strangely smile.

Now, I too must do what I must.

The director pressed the switch for the bomb.

A spreading flame began to appear slowly.

It was a sight that almost looked like the fireworks the Golden Reaper and he had once seen together.

I’m sorry. Once everything is over, I wanted to have pudding with you…

The director, lost in thought, was swallowed by the massive flames.

A clearing where supplies for the research institute were being delivered.

Since there was still time before the delivery, only the Golden Reaper stood alone, gazing up at the institute.

‘When will the good human finish the research?’

The Golden Reaper, holding the White Reaper in his arms, waited with a sullen expression, endlessly awaiting the Attachment Human.

The Golden Reaper knew it would take a long time for the research to be finished…

But he waited here, hoping to be the first to greet the human when it was over.

As the Golden Reaper gazed at the horizon, the sunset slowly sank beyond the horizon.

At that moment, tears began to fall from the Golden Reaper’s eyes.

Why?

It was an odd feeling, one that he couldn’t bear, as if the good human had said goodbye, never to meet again.

But the ‘research institute reflected in the Golden Reaper’s eyes’ was fine.

‘It will be okay.’

‘The institute hasn’t been destroyed.’

The Golden Reaper, trying to reassure himself, watched as the red light glimmered in his eyes.

A strong warmth enveloped the little body of the Bleached Reaper.

Someone’s warm arms held the Bleached Reaper tightly.

‘Hug…!’

The Bleached Reaper, who had been knocked out by the immense pressure of the foreign entity, was now conscious again, the tight hug forcing it to regain its senses.

‘Hug!’

With a desperate will, as if their life depended on it, the Hug Reaper’s arms held the Bleached Reaper tighter.

In the intense embrace, the Bleached Reaper’s blurry consciousness slowly began to sharpen.

When the Bleached Reaper finally opened its eyes, the first thing it saw was the Hug Reaper’s face, no longer calm but urgently frantic.

And beyond that, an overwhelming sight unfolded, capturing the Bleached Reaper’s attention.

The sky was no longer the sky.

An endless expanse of color universe had become the ceiling, gazing down at the world.

It was an overwhelming size, covering half of the Earth with the colorful universe.

But even more shocking was the scene on the ground.

Everywhere in sight had turned into a Mini Reaper Garden.

The peaceful garden, familiar and tranquil to the Mini Reapers, was now spread out like spilled paint.

And that wasn’t all.

With a faint aura, it appeared that this massive garden was spreading across all of Japan.

It was the largest Mini Reaper Garden expansion ever seen.

As the Bleached Reaper turned its gaze to find the source of the garden, it saw its mother standing on the peak of a marshmallow mountain far in the distance.

From there, the mother was continuously unfolding the garden.

The massive dome surrounded by the garden was constantly emitting red mist, trying to block it.

The ever-expanding red mist and the Mini Reaper Garden were in a constant tug-of-war, eating each other up.

At first, there was a sense of relief in the Bleached Reaper’s heart, knowing that its mother had come.

But that joy was short-lived, for the worried shadows on the faces of the Mini Reapers and snacks in the corners of the garden were unmistakable.

Something was wrong, and the Bleached Reaper’s joy faded as it once again carefully observed its mother.

And at that moment, it faced the shocking truth.

‘Mother is being pushed back…’

It was an unbelievable sight.

With every pulsation of the red mist, the Mini Reaper Garden was being ruthlessly destroyed.

Though it regenerated almost instantly, it was still not enough.

The mother, who should have been invincible, the mother who had always overcome everything, was now being pushed back by the red mist.