Seoul Object Story

In one corner of a park where the blue grass was evenly spread, a puppy was running around, making small sounds.

The puppy barked softly and brought laughter to the people, and passersby also smiled warmly at the sight.

It was a picturesque scene of the park.

Above their heads, warm sunlight shone through the leaves at just the right intensity, and under the shade of the trees, they relaxed while listening to the refreshing cicada calls.

As I gazed at the park and felt thirsty, I would coolly sip the ice water from my thermos. But despite appearing relaxed, my back was drenched in cold sweat.

On the surface, it looked like a happy slice of everyday life, but my face was strained with forced smiles that made my muscles ache.

In fact, this rest area was all fake—an artificial creation within the building. The pedestrians walking around the fake park were also fake, played by acting employees.

Everyone was giving their all in their performances, which was only natural.

Because one mistake could mean death.

The seemingly delightful situation where the playful puppy ran around the field, its owner chasing after it, and the surrounding pedestrians exclaiming how cute it was, soon came to an end.

The excited puppy leapt into its owner’s arms, now apparently satisfied with its playtime.

It then closed its eyes with a content smile.

“Aw, are you already tired? Shall we go inside and rest?”

The middle-aged woman, looking genuinely disappointed, picked up the puppy and left through an exit set aside in the park corner.

Once she was gone and the door closed, everything in the park froze as if time had stopped.

The happy facade of daily life vanished instantly, and the faces of the pedestrians transformed into those of weary laborers.

Beeeep.

As the buzzer signaling the end of the scenario rang out, everyone collapsed onto their spots and sighed heavily.

The lights mimicking the sun dimmed, leaving only the necessary minimum illumination, and the familiar darkness enveloped the interior of the park.

“Man, I’m about to die.”

While rubbing my stiffened facial muscles from forcing too many smiles, someone plopped down beside me and grumbled.

Just another nameless employee among the countless others. I intentionally avoided remembering my coworkers’ names, but judging by the unfamiliar face, this must be a new hire.

Judging by their loose talk in a section of the research institute where silence is required, they’re definitely fresh out of training.

“This job pays well, so I jumped on it without thinking, but isn’t the pay way too low for the work? Why are there so many rules just to take care of that grotesque idiot?”

At the sound of those words, chills ran down my spine.

That was way too close, considering a dog’s hearing range. Seriously! Don’t they properly train new hires?

Before long, intense light akin to the midday sun filled the park again. The cicada sounds resumed. The cheerful noon-time park returned.

I quickly stood up, put some distance between myself and the clueless newbie, and plastered the erased business smile back onto my face.

Not just me—every single employee grinned and distanced themselves accordingly, causing the poor newbie to finally realize the situation and pale.

“No… no way, right?”

But contrary to the newbie’s hopes, the puppy appeared in front of them.

Instead of being the size that could fit in one hand, it grew to the size of a house, smashing through walls as it arrived.

“Woah~”

All employees chimed in with bright smiles, pretending to admire the “adorable” puppy.

And while smiling, they had no choice but to watch—and even cheer—as the giant puppy slowly disassembled and devoured the newbie.

This additional shift caused by the newbie’s mistake went unpaid.

After tearing apart the newbie for quite some time, the object seemed satisfied and shrunk back to puppy size, leaving behind cheers from the staff before heading back to its luxurious doghouse.

Where the newbie once stood, only a pool of human blood remained, along with an object report soaked in it.

Though the human was shredded, the sturdy report made of object materials remained intact.

#This report is property of the Seoul Research Institute. Do not remove it from the premises.

#The contents of this report may become distorted if read outside the institute.

Object Name – Cute Puppy.

Object Hazard Level: 3

Management Feasibility – Management Difficulty (Low)

Management Method – Simply treating it like a pet dog, praising it, and calling it cute continuously will suffice.

Other than that, providing food suitable for a pet dog, walks, and an environment created with the help of employees is necessary.

Physical affection such as petting is important.

Precautions – It tries to kill anyone who denies its cuteness.

Think twice before saying anything about the cute puppy—it might cost you your life.

Removal Feasibility – Unattempted.

Removal is expected to be possible.

However, the benefits of management far outweigh the costs, so removal attempts are prohibited.

Isolation Feasibility – Cannot isolate.

The longer it goes without affection, the larger it grows.

No existing material can contain it.

Even thick steel plates can be pierced; other isolation methods may lead to the object’s death.

Exile Feasibility – Unattempted.

Similar results to isolation experiments are anticipated.

If the enlarged object searches for a loving owner, the potential damage is unpredictable.

***

A TV show about objects humanity couldn’t destroy was airing.

Giant flying jellyfish that survived nuclear attacks. Indestructible steel towers. Ghost-like objects immune to physical harm.

“Watching this makes me think humans aren’t the masters of Earth anymore.”

Muttering while munching on chicken in front of a friend who works at the national research institute, the bar near our alma mater was still crowded.

With the bustling noise as background music, I took a sip of beer.

“That’s true. If we don’t solve the object problem, our generation might survive, but the next one will struggle due to lack of safe land.”

We lived in a world dominated by object apocalypse theories.

There were countless objects harmful to humans, and many of them couldn’t be destroyed or removed by us.

If something can’t be destroyed, exiled, or isolated by human power, it’s treated as a natural disaster.

The number of people dying annually due to objects kept rising.

“Another rookie died during the last management rotation. Rookies keep dying, experienced workers quit from exhaustion, and things here are getting chaotic.”

“At least you’re handling a relatively safe object, right? If the response method is clear, it should be pretty safe work.”

“Well, at least my dog has clear likes and dislikes. You just have to find it cute, laugh, and marvel at it—but knowing you could die anytime adds a lot of stress.”

“Hmm, wasn’t that the ‘Cute Puppy’? I heard there are still quite a few accidents despite the clear response methods.”

A skinless, muscle-less dog with dangling veins and organs labeled as a “Cute Puppy.” Every time I stroked its pulsating surface tissue, curses instinctively rose to my lips.

“When I first saw that dog, all I could do was curse, but lately, I’ve started feeling envious. Comfortable home, great food, better leisure than mine…”

The “Cute Puppy” brought in massive profits for the Seoul Research Institute and received tremendous support.

Numerous employees were hired to take care of the dog, and every wish it had was granted. The hired employees simply had to care for it to stay alive.

“Our ‘Cute Puppy’ treatment has sparked a lot of discussion. People claim they feel relative deprivation, but it seems like whining.”

“All that’s competition institutes playing media games. We should share some profits, but the pig director of Seoul Research Institute keeps hogging everything, so they’re attacking us. Still unclear what they aim to achieve with the media stunts though.”

“Anyway, the atmosphere isn’t good, so be careful.”

Our drinking session ended with these kinds of trivial conversations, though in hindsight, it was actually quite significant.

***

In the middle of a real park, beautifully sunny yet oddly contrasting with the acrid smell of gunpowder.

“We!”

“Are not!”

“The slaves of objects!”

Fanatics gathered with fiery eyes, chanting slogans.

Perhaps today’s exceptionally clear sky triggered it.

Maybe the dog’s sudden desire to see the real sun was the issue.

Or maybe my role in holding the dog today was the problem.

Would things have been different if I’d noticed earlier that the seemingly meaningless media campaign would culminate in this terrorist act?

No matter how much our dog eats gourmet meals worth millions daily and sleeps in a golden kennel, isn’t this going too far?

Ironically, the actual target—the dog—escaped the bomb, while I, lacking the dog’s intuition and agility, lay dying with my body split in half.

“Oh my, did our little cutie get scared?”

Even amidst a terrorist attack and a coworker’s gruesome death, all of us at the institute maintained our professionalism.

I closed my eyes, listening to the employees’ desperate cooing aimed at calming the frightened dog, wishing to be reborn as an object living comfortably in the next life.

***

Perhaps thanks to that wish, I opened my eyes as an object in the forest after dying.

[!– Slider main container –]

---