Chapter 153

The ruins of a city still radiated residual heat, with wisps of smoke occasionally billowing into the air.

Streets that were once bustling with people were now charred black, collapsed, and only faint traces of their former glory remained.

The towering buildings that seemed to touch the sky now stood bowed, their broken walls and shattered windows exposing skeletal structures.

Once lively streets filled with vehicles and homes for countless people now lay eerily empty and silent.

Designated as a hazardous zone due to the potential appearance of Ghost Objects, all residents had been relocated elsewhere.

Among these desolate ruins, James and several researchers from various institutes, fully clad in protective gear, cautiously ventured inside.

Of course, they weren’t entering this dangerous area without reason.

First, their institute had received a request for investigative cooperation.

“Maybe it’s related to the Gray Reaper. They probably think the James Research Institute knows the Gray Reaper best.”

Second, the government also requested assistance.

A search for missing members of the Drug Enforcement Agency was underway.

[Drones 1 through 80 cleared. No Ghost Objects detected so far within the ruins.]

From the military personnel operating drones came the transmission.

[Alright, everyone spread out and begin operations!]

With James issuing orders into the radio, the researchers dispersed with detection devices in hand.

These devices were essential for detecting Object Drugs.

While the researchers scattered, soldiers began setting up temporary tents to serve as a base.

“The Mental Pollution Index readings are unusually high. There’s definitely something here.”

James frowned at the readings on his measurement equipment.

This likely meant Object Drugs were buried somewhere in these ruins.

Based on James’ speculation, the recent Spirit Barrier collapse incident might be connected to the Object Drug case.

To uncover the truth, locating the DEA personnel would be necessary.

Ideally, finding the DEA team leader would be key.

Following reports indicating one agent had concealed gunshot wounds while being mentally polluted, they now sought the vanished team leader.

As James reviewed data at a makeshift tent, researchers approached him.

Researchers he’d assigned special tasks to.

“James, we’ve taken pictures. The Whirlpool really has disappeared.”

Their data showed images of an open lot.

Circular gouges marked the ground heavily, alongside giant pig tracks and destruction—a place where spatial distortion had prevented satellite observation.

“I suspected as much since the distortion ended, but it really is gone. What exactly happened here?”

In a low voice, James muttered to himself before addressing the researchers who’d photographed the Whirlpool site.

“Preserve and seal off the scene; there might be clues.”

After acknowledging his order, the researchers returned to their posts.

***

Stepping into James’ private jet, we were greeted by its signature ambiance.

Luxurious and cozy.

The Reaper walked in nonchalantly, clomping around and settling into the aircraft.

Soft lighting cast a gentle glow along the corridor, which unlike regular planes, offered spacious comfort.

The polished wooden-finished hallway felt impossibly smooth underfoot.

Upon reaching our designated area, plush oversized seats awaited us, arranged conveniently for conversation.

Clumsily stomping over, the Reaper flopped onto a large sofa, pulling out pudding to munch on.

So cute with that Hungry Ghost outfit!

While the Reaper enjoyed pudding, I opened a nearby wardrobe and smiled happily.

Inside were piles of children’s clothing I’d asked for—various outfits to dress the Reaper in!

Though compliant now, who knew when they’d change their mind, so swift action was needed.

As we neared Seoul, unease grew stronger about the Reaper not removing their Hungry Ghost attire.

Surely there was a reason why this unpredictable entity was behaving so obediently.

“Reaper!”

Calling cheerfully, the Reaper glanced up with a slightly disgruntled expression.

Snap!

Pulling out a child-sized dress, their head shook violently in refusal.

Nope, no way.

Clearly determined not to comply.

Hmm, the knockout drug effects must be wearing off.

They should’ve stayed unconscious longer. Why did they wake up so soon?

If only they hadn’t waved happily in my dream, urging me to return quickly…

Could the Reaper have entered my dreams to wake me?

Prolonged persuasion followed.

Pleas mixed with psychological guilt-tripping.

Normally ineffective, but given the circumstances after being knocked out by the Reaper’s antics, it seemed plausible.

“Reaper, pick one from three options, okay?”

Narrowing their eyes thoughtfully, they reluctantly approached.

Success!

Avoiding similar choices, I carefully selected diverse yet adorable outfits.

First, a pink frilly dress adorned with ruffles.

The Reaper passed it without a glance.

Hmm.

Second, a gothic-style black-and-white voluminous dress.

After deep contemplation, they passed again.

Third, school uniforms matching the Reaper’s height.

They inspected everything anew, none appealing but eventually made a choice.

Surprisingly.

Dressing the motionless Reaper in their chosen attire, even adding accessories, resulted in perfection.

Too cute!

Photos galore with my phone ensued.

Never expected them to choose the third option.

Likely picked for less fabric.

Do they dislike fabrics so much?

Perhaps related to abilities or characteristics—an intriguing researcher’s thought momentarily surfaced but quickly faded amidst cuteness overload.

Two sets of photos: Hungry Ghost outfit and school uniform.

Such happiness.

A successful outcome from our U.S. trip.

Onboard the flight home, I enjoyed a blissful moment.

***

A researcher from the James Research Institute wandered with equipment to map the Mental Pollution Index distribution.

Nearly complete, the map revealed pollution diminishing outward from a church ruin.

An unusual spike drew them closer.

“This is D-block 7. Unexpected readings.”

‘What could it be?’

Is an Object hiding in these desolate ruins?

Growing unease slowed their steps.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Following irregular device sounds led to a large rock oddly placed amid rubble.

Could this rock be the cause?

What kind of rock is this?

“Suspicious rock found. Beginning investigation.”

Reporting per protocol, they cautiously pushed the rock.

Suddenly, something sprang up.

A mischievous-smiling Golden Reaper appeared.

Ah, it’s the ‘Golden Reaper.’

Relieved it wasn’t a dangerous Object, yet puzzled.

Was the Golden Reaper’s mental pollution index always this high?

Delicious smells penetrated the protective suit.

The fragrance of a sun-like Golden Reaper.

Well, the Golden Reaper is kind, so no big deal.

Then, strong electric currents surged through the suit, causing instant unconsciousness.

In fading vision, the concerned-looking Golden Reaper approached.

‘Don’t worry. You just fainted from mental pollution. It’s fine.’

Trying to reassure the Golden Reaper with a smile, no sound escaped the electrocuted lips, and darkness consumed them.

***

The Black Reaper and Golden Reaper joyfully held hands atop pitch-black earth.

Each hop brought pure delight.

Running, sliding, tumbling—they played endlessly.

Lying down laughing, the Golden Reaper suddenly thought:

Going outside to play with everyone would be even more fun!

Time to introduce the new youngest sibling.

Hand-in-hand, the Golden Reaper stepped toward the boundary of the Black Sphere.

But the Black Reaper halted.

No-no.

Sad shaking of the head.

Confused, the Golden Reaper tilted theirs.

If you don’t want to go, can’t help that.

Resolving thus, they waved goodbye.

See you next time!

Leaping beyond the boundary.

Alone in the dark space, the Black Reaper wiped away lingering smiles and trudged onward.

That was fun.

They thought.

Fun indeed.

Leaning against the massive Mother figure, they transmitted feelings.

“It was fun.”

But the message bounced back, scattering into nothingness.

“So, Mother, please wake up too.”

Believing firmly that since they had awakened, surely Mother would too.

Continuously whispering while transferring firewood meant for themselves to Mother.

Tears streaming down ceaselessly.

Until unable to maintain form from excessive use of firewood, they persisted.