Seoul Object Story

The Sehee Research Institute felt eerily quiet without the Gray Reaper around.

At the construction site of the institute, people were hard at work despite the unusual timing, drenched in sweat.

Truthfully, I wanted to join the research team on their expedition to find the Gray Reaper, but Senior Jungloe shot it down.

Anyone seeing him hammering away while wearing a safety helmet would never guess he’s a researcher.

How can they treat researchers this way at such a small institute? It’s outrageous!

They’re supposedly preparing for some new object, but I doubt our humble institute is ready for something requiring this scale of renovation.

I always thought we just lived off the “Gray Reaper Isolation Support Fund,” but Unnie Sehee seems to be considering expanding the facility.

“Whoa, Senior! Is all that gold?”

“Yeah, pure gold.”

A massive golden mass was being brought into the institute.

That much gold must be worth hundreds of millions of won, right?

“Senior, what’s it for?”

“It’s… a doghouse.”

“A what?”

“A giant, expensive doghouse.”

What?

***

The tragedy at the Songpa District relief camp in Seoul concluded faster than expected.

With a pipe in his mouth, I watched from afar as the memorial service unfolded.

The government-assigned mission had been completed neatly.

Having fulfilled my temporary duty, I no longer had any official connection to the site.

My final task was retrieving the Old Man’s body and delivering it to the bereaved family.

Still, something nagged at me, so I remained watching from a distance.

Though the investigation officially ended long ago, the camp remains sealed off.

***

At the former refugee camp where the horrifying murders occurred, figures in white hazmat suits moved about.

They belonged to the Trinity Research Institute, a union of three major institutes.

Carefully, they collected butterfly corpses soaked in blood, placing each into airtight containers.

There were countless dead butterflies.

Human skin and personal belongings mixed in the blood were separated – the items cataloged as lost property, the skin incinerated on-site.

Nearby, a joint condolence altar had been set up.

To the victims’ families, the bodies reduced to skin were already treated as garbage.

Burning human skin beside the altar seemed to epitomize modern society’s fragility.

Ignoring the damaged containers, they continued extracting data from the scene with abandon.

Then something unusual was found.

“This is C-2. We’ve discovered something peculiar.”

“It appears to be a piece of glass with no thickness. Given its physical properties only manifest within shadows, it’s likely an object.”

“This is A-1. Good job, C-2. This appears to be the target object we were looking for. Preserve the site until the management team arrives.”

They’d found a fragment of glass with no thickness – invisible under light, easily overlooked.

It was only noticeable because it was already shattered.

A group in dark blue hazmat suits approached the discovery site.

This happened during the night when everyone else’s attention had wandered.

***

Now known as the Trinity Research Institute after merging following Central Research Institute’s dissolution, Korea’s largest research institute stood tall.

In a smoking area inside, two men shared a cigarette.

“What’s got you so amused?”

“A discarded report on the Gray Reaper’s communication abilities. It’s hilarious.”

“Why’s that?”

“Normally these reports come from the institute, but this one was written by a detective. You should read it.”

[Gray Reaper Communication Ability Report]

[Discarded – Format Insufficient. Evidence Insufficient.]

[Do not trust the contents of this report.]

[This report has been discarded for aforementioned reasons.]

[The Gray Reaper fully understands and speaks human language, specifically Korean.]

[However, it simply does not wish to communicate.]

[If the Gray Reaper doesn’t want to communicate, what can we do?]

[Whether we plead or threaten, it remains unaffected.]

[Communication will only occur when the Gray Reaper desires it.]

“Definitely amusing. Sounds like the detective didn’t know objects can read minds to communicate. What does he know? That it speaks Korean? Might as well say it graduated elementary school.”

Their laughter echoed through the smoking area.

***

At a small office on a backroad outside Seoul,

“Senior! Why are you still carrying that thing around? I thought you’d thrown it away by now!”

The junior was polishing a hammer with a handkerchief while randomly asking questions.

“Huh?”

When I turned to check, Watson was waving at me from the nearby isolation room.

Figures. Thought sending it off to the research institute would work, but here it is again.

Guess regular isolation isn’t enough.

“I’ve gotten rid of it plenty of times. It just keeps coming back.”

“Wow, quite the nuisance. Thinking about the camp incident still gives me chills, but we can’t get rid of it…”

Sighing, I explained our new policy.

“Since it keeps returning, I’ve decided to carry Watson around. You’ll need to get used to it.”

“Wait, what? That thing could snap your neck if things go south!”

“If we can’t dispose of it, we might as well use it. Three times, remember?”

“Ew, please don’t use it while I’m around.”

Freaked out, the junior turned on the TV.

Our solved case was playing on TV.

With the butterfly incident being so shocking, it’s all anyone talks about lately.

Surprisingly, even though it’s the kind of story the government usually suppresses, they had to make it public due to the hype.

Thanks to similar incidents happening around Seoul, this story became even bigger.

When mirrors broke and butterflies died, I thought it was just another case solved.

But while I celebrated solving the case, people in Seoul were witnessing their loved ones suddenly vomiting blood and dying.

Turns out those infected elsewhere met the same fate.

And those who saw the bodies found something even more horrific.

Underneath was just skin.

Inside was only blood.

And within that blood-filled cavity lay large dead butterflies the size of human heads.

Because of these events, TV stations keep repeating the story nonstop.

“Lack of good shows lately, huh?”

Flipping channels, the junior expressed a similar sentiment.

“Oh yeah! Senior! What happened at the relief camp before I arrived?”

Pointing at the TV, the junior asked.

“What exactly are you asking?”

“That! The Daily Object’s intern journalist went missing. The editor-in-chief is shouting it’s the Gray Reaper’s doing. Surely you know something, right?”

Adopting a boxing stance while making sound effects.

“The intern looked shady from pictures alone. Surely you didn’t let them follow you, did you?”

“I knew I was being followed, but never saw the journalist’s face.”

Exasperated, I placed a document on the junior’s head.

“Bored? Why don’t you investigate this? The pay’s decent.”

The paper read:

[Investigation of the pseudo-maker known for creating objects]

[Rumors claim they collect numerous golden horns]

[Be cautious as criminal connections are suspected]

***

Back when butterflies hadn’t yet overrun everything, merely three days after the Hungry Ghost disappeared beyond the sinkhole,

An incongruous sound echoed through the ruins still smoldering with smoke.

Tap. Tap.

The cane striking the ground twice.

Suddenly, a figure materialized out of thin air.

“Finally, finally. We’re back. To Seoul, Korea, this Earth.”

The man holding an elegant wooden cane was none other than the Director of Central Research Institute.

“Seems the Hungry Ghost retreated underground. Despite seeing the future many times, I still can’t fathom why it fled. Well, that’s just another mystery we need to uncover.”

Walking briskly with enthusiastic steps, ghostly translucent researchers trailed behind him.

“Finally! We’re finally back. Come on, to our new institute!”

Raising both arms wide, the Director’s face twisted into an unsettling expression of joy as he laughed exaggeratedly. Behind him, researchers with gloomy graduate student-like expressions were sucked into the shadows.

With a lively gait, the Director strode northward, ever northward.

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