Seoul Object Story
Chapter 74: Gyeyangsan Relief Camp: Epilogue (4)

Even though the space felt familiar, it was utterly foreign to me.

I seemed to be standing in the middle of one of those dreams that dragged you through a whirlwind of confusion and deja vu.

Nostalgia washed over me like a flood of old memories, a bittersweet panorama playing out before me. Yet, it was an unfamiliar dream, a place not present in my memories.

A few steps ahead, I saw the distinct back of a man.

He wore the same ridiculous yellow suit as me.

Even with his face covered, a strange familiarity gnawed at me—a resonance pulling at the worn edges of my fractured memories.

The slope of his shoulders, the rhythm of his steps—it was all there, persistently beckoning me to recognize him, to remember.

An inexplicable longing welled up inside of me, and I found myself running after him.

But with each step, my feet grew heavier, as if I was wading through molasses. However, every time I took a step, my feet got heavier and heavier for some reason.

Fragments of forgotten memories clung to me like heavy shadows, pulling me down.

With every step, the world around me morphed into something completely unknown.

“Junior, if you rely solely on your instincts like that, you’re going to get hurt, real bad.”

An unfamiliar voice pierced the haze.

I didn’t recognize it. Didn’t remember it at all.

One more step, and the scene shifted again.

“From now on… you…”

The man, now bloodied, thrust something into my hands.

I couldn’t recall this moment either.

No matter how much I ran, the distance between me and the man with his slow, effortless stride, never closed.

At the very last moment, he glanced back at me,

His head was covered in a bloody smoke similar to Watson’s.

And of course… Just as he was about to say something…

I woke up.

***

The city was shrouded in darkness, a shadow as deep and cold as obsidian.

In the dead of the night, when the noisy city had fallen asleep, a sinister crimson light flickered in the the window of a shabby building.

The scarlet glow was from a gas lamp placed on a worn wooden desk. The flames danced and swayed, casting the detective agency’s interior in a haunting ruby hue.

And on such a quiet night, a vivid red flame blazed within ‘Watson’, the gas lamp.

Smoke spiraled up from Watson, filling the office, casting writhing shadows on the walls.

The chaotic chorus of Watson ceased abruptly.

All the shadows turned, as if pulled by an unseen force, focusing on one spot.

The smoke seeped out of the gas lamp, flowing like a living entity down the table, and through the crack in the door.

It spread through the stairwell and clung to the walls, ascending the old building with a malevolent purpose. It slithered toward a particular room, where faint starlight filtered through half-closed blinds.

The smoke crept under the tightly shut door, invading the room like an insidious fog.

The smoke enveloped an old hanger inside the room, specifically the yellow trench coat hanging on it that was glimmering under the faint light of the stars, to the point no trace of it could be seen anymore.

Documents and case files on the old desk were also swallowed by the smoke. The paperweight and half-remaining bottle of whiskey also disappeared into the thick, swirling mist.

Amid the encroaching sea of smoke, an old leather sofa stood out like a solitary island, its worn cushions evidence of years of use.

On the sofa, the yellow detective was deep asleep, still dressed in his suit. Exhaustion had overtaken him the moment he returned.

The smoke gathered around the detective, as if scrutinizing him.

The smoke circled the sleeping detective, its attention suddenly drawn to a sphere on the side table, that was emitting a pulsing light.

The sphere cast its light towards the sleeping detective’s head, and with each flash, his face twisted in apparent pain.

Before long, the blood-colored smoke coiled around the sphere, tightening its grip until it was crushed.

***

Even though I scribbled < It’s very very cute > at the very bottom of the report, I promptly crossed it out with my ballpoint pen.

Personal impressions have no place in an official report.

I observed the Golden Reaper, who hovered happily over the magnet, in the stillness of the deputy director’s office.

Seeing it act so cute I had a sudden urge to poke it with my fingers, and I did so immediately.

The Golden Reaper, was always happy and full of smiles no matter what anyone else did.

Due to concerns regarding its potential to corrupt minds, it was discreetly relocated to the deputy director’s office for safekeeping.

Fortunately, its ability to vanish at will meant no one questioned its disappearance.

The possibility of an employee finding its sudden absence suspicious would have been bothersome, but luckily, no such concerns arose.

This measure was unavoidable. It was imperative to safeguard the researchers’ mental well-being and to better observe the Golden Reaper better.

I took a look at the clock. It was already 12 o’clock.

It’s time to feed the Golden Reaper!

“Reaper! It’s lunchtime!”

I took a pudding out of my refrigerator, and the Golden Reaper eagerly jumped towards me and climbed onto my palm.

Om nom nom-!

So cute… Hmph!

Watching the Reaper delicately slice the pudding into small pieces and nibble at it like a hamster, I couldn’t help but think…

“How much more cute would it be if The Reaper could make sounds?”

Sniff, I want to hear the Reaper’s cry.

Cough-! Cough-! Clearing my throat, I quickly dismissed the notion, opened my notebook again, and resumed my observation of the Golden Reaper.

My duty was above all else—my personal feelings are irrelevant.

***

As I lounged in Yerin’s arms, the TV flickered with colorful scenes, and a glorious parade of all kinds of puddings lined up on the table in front of us.

“Look! It’s every kind of pudding you can get in Seoul! So amazing, right?”

I dug deeper into her arms, leaning back towards her, even our cheeks were touching together. Meanwhile, I listened to her interesting explanation about puddings.

The explanation was mainly about where it was sold and what specialty it had.

Om nom nom-!

I tasted each pudding one by one, savoring the textures and flavors as they danced on my tongue.

Mmm, as always, the puddings were very tasty!

Sniff! But… Sniff! None of them taste like the one I had back at the relief camp!

I was devastated! Shaking my head in despair!

“Oh no! Is it not good enough again?” Do I now have to hunt down those excluxive puddings that are only sold in the rural areas?”

She squeezed me tighter and grumbled, “Hmph! You’ve become so picky these days.”

I did feel a little bad for Yerin, who went through so much trouble to find these puddings, but I really, really wanted to know more about the pudding those ninjas brought me.

“Hmph-! Naughty! Picky! Gluttonous Reaper!”

Yerin complained while poking my cheek.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot! Ta-da! I got this. It wasn’t as hard to get as I thought, you know?”

Yerin took out a photo from her pocket and showed it to me. The photo showed an exotic landscape with black mud shining in the background. And in the center of the photo was…

A dancing jet-black penguin!

Doom Chit-! Doom Chit-!

Even though there was no sound, you could almost hear the rythm and beat from the penguin’s exciting dance moves.

It danced while wiggling its short stubby limbs making it even more cute and funny. So cute!!

“Ah, I remember now! This photo came from the ‘Daily Object.’ I guess they’re struggling since business hasn’t been great, but selling pictures like these…? Can they even do that when they are not even a research institute?”

“If they handle Objects carelessly like this, they’re going to be in big trouble, though…”

Her words made sense, but coming from Yerin, who often treated Objects like her toys, it was not persuasive at all.

***

Mornings in the detective office were always the same— filled with a faint aroma of coffee and the loud blaring of the TV.

Today’s news was all kinds of wild. Some poor soul got mauled by what they said might be an unidentified wild animal.

And then there was the latest buzz about a new drug in Seoul that people suspected might be linked to an Object.

Seoul seemed to be buzzing in chaos this morning.

My senior, looking half-dead, was sitting there sipping his ridiculously strong coffee, using the morning news as some kind of background music to his misery.

Why did his eyes look blurry? He looked seriously zoned out.

“Sunbae, what’s with the zombie look? You’re not usually this spaced out. What happened?”

“I don’t know. I feel strangely tired. It might have something to do with this…”

He pointed to an Object on the desk, split right down the middle like it had been in a fight and lost badly.

“When I woke up, it was all shattered like this. I figured it must be one of those Objects with a limited number of uses, or something like a timer. Makes sense for such a powerful Object to be like that, especially since it’s ability is to heal. It makes a lot of sense.”

“Well, if it’s busted, then its busted. Not much you can do about that. So, Sunbae! What’s the plan for the next request?”

“Well, I’ve been pushing myself too hard these days….”

He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling like it had all the answers.

“I need to take it easy for a bit. Maybe do some simpler jobs, make some quick cash. Once I feel like I’ve had enough rest, I’ll tackle those Object-related cases again.”

“Simpler jobs? You mean like catching cheaters? Isn’t that kinda beneath you?”

“That’s what detectives normally do, you know,” he replied, sounding almost annoyed. “You’ve got this overblown image of me because of Watson. It’s not like I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

As if on cue, the gas lamp, flickered like crazy, as if it was throwing a fit about that last comment.