Seoul Object Story - Chapter 60: Theme Park - Aftermath (2)

Yellow Detective POV:

—

It was still a bit early in the morning, and sunlight peeked through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the detective office.

Creak. Creak.

A pleasant creaking sound resonated from the rocking chair I was sitting on.

That rhythmic sound I heard whenever I rested somehow put my mind at ease.

The rocking chair, my yellow suit shining in the golden sunlight – it was just another morning.

In the corner of the room, the TV blared a story about the ‘Gyeyang Mountain Temporary Camp’.

It was an unusual but increasingly common occurrence these days for the Korean authorities to abandon a village in Incheon.

The dissonance between the incessant noise from the television and the calm indoor atmosphere created a peculiar ambiance.

This precarious, chaotic feeling.

It was the vibe of the Yellow Detective Office.

Bam bam.

The sound of knocking on the door like a hammer.

“Senior, we’re here!”

No sooner had the voice sounded than Junior 1 and Junior 2 barged in through the open door.

It took quite a while, but Hyejin had also become Junior 2 and started working at the office.

While Junior 1 was already lively enough on her own, adding Junior 2 made the liveliness triple.

After setting down their belongings, Junior 1 and 2 noticed some documents on the wooden table.

“Senior? Did we get a new case?”

Junior 1 began examining the documents along with the written statement on the wooden table.

The documents were a survey about the so-called golden dreams that have become popular lately.

As soon as I heard the story about the golden dreams, something felt off, so I had a hard time obtaining this data.

To be precise, I had to pester that shady guy to get this data from him.

“A spontaneous survey about golden dreams? I’ve never heard of it.”

“I had a hunch it might be related to a case, so I asked for the data.”

It’s a story not yet reported in the news.

That there have been numerous people experiencing dreams filled entirely with gold.

Since it could be related to an Object causing a collective hallucination, I looked at the data, but it didn’t seem to involve any incidents.

The juniors shared the documents between themselves as they discussed.

“Dreams filled with gold. Sweet food, dancing, and singing. It seems like a pleasant collective hallucination. But since it’s a dream, people can’t recall the details clearly, so there aren’t many clues.”

“It definitely seems Object-related, but it’s strange that it doesn’t appear harmful. Looking at the interviews, people seem to really regret forgetting the dreams.”

With the juniors’ chatter as background noise, I closed my eyes while sitting on the rocking chair.

It was a peaceful morning at the detective office with no cases.

***

??? POV:

—

Thump. Thump.

The sound of a heartbeat echoed endlessly.

Thump. Thump.

In the underground laboratory, the director had his eyes closed, listening to the beating sound.

The endless heartbeat, the bloody walls soaked in viscous red, the coppery stench filling the basement room.

All of it made this basement feel like being inside the belly of a beast through some sort of magic.

Ever since meeting his son at the communal graveyard, the director had been suffering from intermittent headaches.

What’s more, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw a familiar hallucination.

The hallucination revived memories the director had forgotten, becoming more vivid each time.

A pristine isolation room, the smell of disinfectant. An IV drip hanging on a stand.

A pure white bed. An emaciated woman lying on it.

The whirring of a metallic ventilator.

It was a fragment of an isolation room he had seen long ago.

‘That woman’ had said,

That Objects grant wishes, a beacon of hope, to never lose hope in Objects.

And the director had answered.

Answered what?

He couldn’t remember.

“It must not have been that important.”

“Just like my name, a trivial matter.”

“Let’s research. Research to save humanity.”

Like someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder, the director paced around in circles.

The small bead in the director’s hand intermittently emitted an eerie glow.

The director’s intermittent headaches showed no signs of stopping.

Tap.

With the sound of a staff striking the ground, the director’s obsessive behavior came to a halt.

“Then let’s begin the experiment.”

“Do Objects truly manifest from the desires of humanity? Let’s start an experiment to verify if they arise from the wishes of those who have been tortured.”

The countless researchers scattered from under the director’s feet, holding torture tools as they spread out into the isolation rooms.

From the once quiet isolation rooms, terrible sounds and agonizing screams began to echo.

***

Reaper (MC) POV:

—

The familiar isolation room as always.

Omm nom nom~

I pick up a jelly and put it in my mouth, chewing.

A soft, cloud-like bed enveloping my body. Cushions supporting my back. A comfortably soft blanket.

On the small table on the bed were rich chocolate and rainbow-colored jellies.

The noisy TV kept broadcasting stories about a camp in Incheon.

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And on my lap was a ghost/phantom cat.

It was an ordinary day at the Sehee Research Institute.

Completely different from the spectacular clashing with Objects, it was a humble daily life.

Meow.

As I stroked the cat’s back, it would occasionally make small sounds and start a conversation.

Mostly adventure stories it had experienced.

Tales of defeating formidable foes or narrowly escaping powerful Objects.

But the cat seemed to be running out of stories to tell.

Well, it was just repeating the same stories over and over now.

The ‘story of fighting six Dobermans at an intersection’ was starting for the fifth time.

‘Hey, you’ve told that one five times already!’

Reading my mind, the cat looked shocked.

Standing there with its mouth wide open in a daze.

Wow, cats can make that expression too.

Meow.

The stunned cat cried out, ‘It’s time!’

‘Time for what?’

Meow!

The cat loudly proclaimed, ‘Time to embark on a new adventure!’

Meowow!

It said, ‘I’ll go on an adventure to the most dangerous place!’ Then with a bold stride, it walked towards the isolation room wall.

And leapt right over the wall, disappearing from sight.

The TV was showing the ‘Gyeyang Mountain Temporary Camp’ in Incheon that the government had abandoned management of.

Surely it’s not going there, is it?

***

??? POV:

—

Incheon’s Gyeyang Mountain Temporary Camp.

Just hearing rumors about the camp made it sound like a place for demons to live.

Described as a hideout for thieves, a gathering spot for criminals with nowhere to go, piled high with illegal weapons and drugs like mountains.

The influence of media like TV was immense.

They emphasized the lawless nature, showed footage of dust-covered children and weary residents to portray it as a space where evil was commonplace, exaggerating isolated incidents.

Called a ‘camp’ or denounced as a ‘den of criminals’, Gyeyang Mountain Camp was actually a sprawling city with a vast area and dense population.

It may have started with tents and temporary shelters, but not anymore.

Narrow winding alleys connected everything, children ran about, merchants sold goods, elderly sat reminiscing – it was vibrant.

Even now, closing my eyes, I could see the clotheslines stretching out defiantly between tents, scraps of fabric fluttering in the wind.

But those descriptions had become ancient history.

‘Incheon’s Gyeyang Mountain Temporary Camp’ had changed.

In the blazing midday sun, a chilling fear gripped my body.

I could still hear the laughter of playing children.

The chattering voices of aunties hanging laundry.

The booming calls of vendors selling freshly picked fruit in the distance.

Yet I could not mingle among those people.

I could only cower in the shadows between buildings, holding my breath.

The landlady who used to rent me that tiny one-room had changed.

She had sworn she would never sell, even until death!

The butcher who always greeted me warmly couldn’t recognize me.

The laughing and chattering children seemed somehow hollow.

Everyone was in their place, yet it felt like they weren’t in their place.

It had only been a month since I returned home, but it was strange.

Too strange.

It sent chills down my spine.

Even though it was midday, it felt increasingly cold.

Were they all playing a prank? Pretending not to know me? A hidden camera prank?

But my instincts told me absolutely not to speak up, not to let on that I noticed something amiss.

I rubbed my goosebump-covered hands together.

“Sister, what are you doing?”

My heart almost leapt out of my mouth.

Calming my racing heart, I turned around to see a child with missing teeth smiling brightly at me.

But something was different, distinctly different.

Hiding my tension, I spoke as naturally as I could, like a tourist.

“I was just resting for a bit after walking around. This camp is bigger than I expected.”

“Are you here as a tourist, sister?”

“Y…yes.”

“Oh, I see.”

The child smiled brightly, then turned and left.

Haah. Haah.

It’s hard to breathe.

I feel like throwing up.

Dizzy.

And for good reason.

That child was my younger sibling!

What on earth happened here in just one month?