Seoul Object Story
Chapter 60: Theme Park: Epilogue (2)

It was still a little early in the morning, so the sun was playing its usual game, peeking through the cracks in the blinds and casting streaks of gold all across the detective agency like it owned the place.

Squeak-! Squeak-!

I was in my usual spot, sitting on my old rocking chair that squeaked out a tune with every leisurely rock. The rhythmic sound was music to my ears always putting my mind at ease.

It was my usual morning routine, me lazing on a rocking chair and my bright yellow suit shining even more thanks to the golden sunlight.

Meanwhile, the TV in the corner was blaring some story about the ‘Gyeyangsan Temporary Camp’.

It would have been a pretty big deal in the past, but the South Korean government abandoning a whole town in Incheon isn’t exactly headline-worthy these days.

The dissonance between the TV’s incessant chatter and the tranquility of the room created quite a strange atmosphere.

It was a peculiar blend, chilly yet confusing. But that was precisely the atmosphere of the Yellow Detective Agency.

Thud-! Thud-!

Suddenly, a sound akin to a judge’s gravel calling the court to order echoed out.

“Sunbae, we’re here!”

The voice of my juniors, I saw Hoobae No. 1 and Hoobae No. 2, cut through the calm atmosphere. They burst in through the door, full of energy and eagerness.

Although it took quite some time, Hyejin had finally decided to join us as my second junior.

The office was lively enough with just one junior, but with two? It was a circus.

Putting down their luggage, Hoobae No. 1 and 2 zeroed in on a document on the wooden table that was held down by a paperweight.

“Senior? Did we get a new case?”

Before I could even answer, Hoobae No. 1’s eyes were already scanning the pages. Ah that, it was the survey about the ‘Golden Dream’ fad that was popular these days.

Sniff. I had to go through a lot of hardships to get my hands on that document. Alright, maybe I’d snagged it after a bit of begging to a certain Mr. Agent Black. Not my proudest moment, but what could I have done?

My interest was already piqued as soon as I heard the story about this ‘Golden Dream’. You see, curiosity is a powerful motivator for a detective.

“A survey of people who experienced the ‘Golden Dream’? First time I’m hearing of it.”

“I figured it might be linked to a case, so I pulled some strings for the info.”

The ‘Golden Dream’ hadn’t hit the news yet, but it won’t take much longer. I was constantly hearing people claim that they had dreams of a golden world full of joy and fun.

Initially, I thought that was some kind of mass hallucination caused by an Object. But the data? It didn’t add up.

The two juniors of mine pored over the documents and exchanged theories. Ah, what a pleasant sight.

“A pleasant dream painted in the color of gold. Sweet treats, dancing, and singing—it’s like a collective euphoric hallucination. Hmmm, maybe because it’s a dream, but no one remembers anything clearly, it’s all hazy, so there are no solid leads.”

“It’s got to be the work of an Object. Odd, that it isn’t harmful, though. If you look at their statements, it seems that they actually heavily regretted that they had forgotten about the dreams.”

The voices of juniors blended into the background as I sank back into the rocking chair and closed my eyes.

It was just another tranquil, unremarkable morning at the Yellow Detective Agency.

***

Thump-! Thump-!

The relentless thumping of the heartbeat reverberated through the clandestine corridors of this laboratory located deep underground.

Thump-! Thump-!

The director stood there, his eyes wide shut as he listened to the symphony of the rhythmic beat that echoed through the dimly lit chambers.

The oppressive atmosphere, the walls stained with crimson, the thick metallic tang of blood, and the stench of decay that filled the basement. They seemed to warp reality itself, turning the basement into the maw of a beast, it was as if a spell had been cast on all those here.

Since his encounter with his son at the cemetery, his thoughts had become increasingly fragmented, the constant headaches making it even harder to focus.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he was greeted by a familiar vision. The visions haunted him, becoming more and more specific, as they uncovered memories he had long since buried.

A stark white isolation room, the scent of disinfectant thick in the air, an IV drip hanging on a stand, and a haggard woman lying motionless on a pristine white bed, the hum of a ventilation fan serving as a background melody.

It was a scene of a containment room that he had seen a long time ago.

‘The woman’ once said, Objects are the embodiment of the wishes of mankind, so do not lose hope in them.

The director had answered…

Answered…

Huh, wait? How did I answer her again?

I… don’t remember…

“Well, I suppose it matters not then.”

“It must have been something as trivial as my name. Haha.”

“Let us just focus on the research – the research that will save humanity!”

The director spun around with an almost frenetic fervor, consumed by an obsession that seemed to grip him tighter with each spin. Clutched in his hand, a small sphere emitted an eerie flickering glow.

Through it all, the director was plagued by a relentless, constant headache.

Thud-!

A sharp thud echoed through the room as his cane struck the ground, the director finally halting his obsessive dance.

“Let the experiment commence!”

“Are Objects really the embodiment of the wishes of mankind? Do the desires of mankind truly possess the power to shape reality?”

“Let us perform an experiment to see whether Objects would really be created to the wishes of the people who were tortured.”

In response, countless researchers emerged from the shadows, materializing from the very floor itself. Carrying torture tools in their hands they surfaced from beneath the director’s feet and spread out into the numerous containment rooms.

Before long, the sterile silence was shattered by the symphony of anguish as agonized cries and the metallic clang of torture tools rang out from the containment rooms.

***

Om nom nom-!

There I was in my special containment room, slowly munching on a yummy piece of jelly.

I was all snuggled up in a bed that felt like a giant marshmallow, a cushion that seemed to give me a squishy hug, and a blanket that was soft and comfy like a warm, fluffy cloud.

The small table next to me was a treasure trove of dark chocolate and jellies that sparkled like a rainbow.

The TV was constantly babbling on about some camp in Incheon, but I was too comfy to care.

And there, purring away on my lap, was the Ghost Cat, my partner in crime when it came to lazing around.

It was just another regular day at the Sehee Research Institute. My life here was a breeze, far from the nightmare of continuously fighting with other Objects.

Meow-!

As I would stroke the cat’s back, it would sometimes meow and talk to me.

It would mainly tell stories about its daring adventures. Stuff like defeating a powerful enemy or safely escaping from a powerful Object.

But it seemed that the cat was running out of new material. I was having to hear the same stories over and over again…

Like right now, it’s again gearing up to tell me, for the umpteenth time, about how it had a grand battle against six Dobermans at a crossroads.

AHHH! Hold up! Stop right there! You have told me that story five times already!

The cat’s eyes went wide, and its mouth hung open in a hilarious ‘O’. It just stared at me blankly, like an idiot. Hihihihi.

I didn’t know cats could even make such an expression!!

Pft. Hahahaha!

Meow-! —Hmph! It’s almost time!

The cat seemed to have recovered from the shock.

Time for what?

Meow-! —Time to go on a brand new adventure!

Meow-! —And the adventure will be in the most dangerous place!

The cat said all seriously as it strutted over to the wall, then just, poof! It just zipped through the wall and disappeared.

The TV was blabbering on about some ‘Gyeyangsan Temporary Camp’ that the government had given up on managing.

That cat won’t go there … right? Surely, nah, no way…

***

The Gyeyangsan Temporary Camp in Incheon.

If one were to just go by the rumors alone, the camp would seem like a place where only demons stayed.

They often described it as a place where thieves would hide, where criminals who had nowhere better to do sought refuge, and where illegal weapons and drugs would pile up like mountains.

The influence of the media and TV didn’t really help, as they only showed exaggerated depictions of the camp making it even more infamous.

They would emphasize the lawless nature of the place, showing dust-covered children, and focusing on the exhausted residents. They even vastly exaggerated numerous cases to make people buy into the idea that this is some super bad place and vile crimes are committed on a daily basis.

Even though people called it a ‘camp’ or a ‘den of criminals,’ Gyeyangsan Camp was a bustling city in its own right, one with a vast area and a dense population.

It might have begun with just a few tents and temporary shelters, but it had grown into something vibrant, something special.

The narrow winding lanes of the city were full of life, children ran around chasing each other, merchants sold their goods, and old people chatted and reminisced about the past while sitting around under the sun.

Even now, when I closed my eyes, I could still see the laundry lines stretching out between the tents, as if a was kaleidoscope blocking the sky, the clothes dancing in the breeze.

But now, it was like I had stepped into a different world.

The ‘Gyeyangsan Temporary Camp,’ had, for some reason, become very weird.

My whole body was shivering from fear even though it was currently the middle of the day with the sun shining the brightest.

Even now, I was able to hear the laughter of children who were playing with their peers. I could hear the sounds of the ahjummas taking out their laundry, and hear the loud voices of the merchants bringing fruit to sell.

But I couldn’t blend in with those people.

I instead had to hide in the shadows between the gaps of the buildings and keep holding my breath.

The landlady who rented a small, single room had strangely changed even though she promised to hold onto her home until her death!

The friendly butcher, who used to always welcome me with open arms, now just looks past me as if we never knew each other.

And as for the kids, they were laughing alright, but it was more like they were laughing at something I couldn’t see!

Everything was right where I left it, but it all felt out of place.

It’s my first time returning here after leaving this place a month ago, and …it’s eerie.

It was so eerie that I was getting goosebumps. Even though it was in the middle of the day, the air seemed to be only getting colder and colder.

Was this some kind of an elaborate prank? Is everyone in on it but me? Are you all just pretending not to know me? So where’s the hidden camera?

But for some strange reason, my guts were screaming, telling me not to speak up and not to show the fact that I had noticed how they were being so weird.

I rubbed my arms, trying to shake off the chill.

“What are you doing, noona?”

My heart almost jumped out of my mouth at the sudden sound.

As I calmed my racing heart and looked back, I saw a small kid with missing teeth standing there just smiling brightly.

But there was something off, very off.

I opened my mouth as I steadied my nerves. I tried to sound casual, like I was just another visitor, like a tourist.

“I was a little tired from walking all day so I was just taking a little break. By the way, this camp is far bigger than I thought…”

“You’re here to look around, right?”

“Ye-Yeah.”

“Hmm, okay…”

The kid just gave a bright smile as it turned around and walked away.

Haaa… Haaa…

It’s hard to breathe.

I want to throw up.

I feel dizzy.

I feel like I’m dying.

B-But!

Even so!

What on earth happened here in just one month?