Chapter 21

In the director’s office of Sehee Research Institute, with a table placed in the middle, Yellow Detective and Lee Sehee faced each other. Yerin stood behind Sehee with an uninterested expression.

I? I was lying on the table.

While wandering around the research institute trying to chase butterflies as part of pest control activities, Yerin suddenly grabbed my hand, claiming it was related to me, and dragged me here.

However, the introduction went on forever, and unable to endure the boredom, I lay down on the table and started protesting for it to end quickly.

“Is it true you require the Gray Reaper?”

Upon hearing Sehee’s words, Yellow Detective sat up straight and handed over a shiny golden business card to Sehee.

Curious about what was written on it, I intercepted the card mid-air and read it—it said ‘Temporary Object Management Agency.’

While I was reading, the detective helplessly pulled out another card and handed it to Sehee.

Seeing the detective’s perplexed face made me inexplicably happy. So who brought the butterfly anyway?

“I am currently operating under a temporary organization called the Temporary Object Management Agency, which was hastily formed after the Association completely collapsed. We’re stepping in to fill that void.”

“So why does your organization need the Gray Reaper? As you can see, controlling him isn’t exactly easy.”

At Sehee’s shocking statement, I turned around in surprise—but she wasn’t even looking at me.

“Although it hasn’t been officially announced yet, the Songpa District area is in a very dangerous situation. There are butterflies walking around disguised as people.”

The detective handed me some case photos first. They were pictures of people torn apart into pieces.

They looked just like the scenes from the Central Research Institute where people exploded due to butterfly attacks.

“In the early incidents, those attacked by butterflies would explode and die like this.”

The man took out more photos again.

This time they showed humans staggering around like zombies.

“As time passed, instead of simply killing their hosts, these butterflies began wearing human shells and moving around. The biggest problem is that these awkwardly-moving zombie-like humans haven’t been seen since a few days ago.”

The detective produced another photo with meaningful expression. It featured someone locked up in a detention center.

“After learning how to behave, the butterflies now disguise themselves perfectly within human forms—there’s no noticeable difference. This person even insists they’re being illegally detained and demands to be released.”

Sehee placed the photo on the table.

“So you still haven’t explained why you need the Gray Reaper.”

***

“So you still haven’t explained why you need the Gray Reaper.”

Feeling stumped by the director’s question,

It was purely based on intuition that the Gray Reaper was needed.

The current butterflies definitely originated from the Central Research Institute, but there were surprisingly fewer victims than expected there.

Something in the Central Research Institute seemed to have interfered with the butterfly activity—and I suspected it might be the Gray Reaper.

My mouth moved slightly before closing again.

It was hard to make requests based solely on assumptions when representing a government agency, unlike working as a lone detective.

“There doesn’t seem to be any particular reason, does there? Considering we also have the issue of the gray collapse, sending the Gray Reaper outside wouldn’t look good to public opinion. I’ll have to reject the transfer request.”

As expected, the answer from the research institute director was rejection.

Official requests recorded in data can only flow according to formal procedures.

***

‘Hmm…’

The detective seemed to have reasons he couldn’t articulate.

Still, I couldn’t just approve it blindly.

Moreover, even if the institute approved, it wasn’t as if we could freely dispatch the Gray Reaper.

Forcefully sending the Reaper somewhere he didn’t want to go?

Absolutely impossible.

On the other hand, rejecting wouldn’t stop the Gray Reaper from following either.

I chuckled while staring at the now-empty table.

***

The Gray Reaper is following me.

Why? I don’t know.

[Turns sorrow into power.]

[Turns grief into power.]

[Turns pain into power.]

[Knows the fastest way to kill a target.]

Every time I glanced back, those phrases quietly slipped into corners and hid.

Though invisible, it appeared to be in a ghosting state—but why hide if already ghosted?

Anyway, the initial goal of “bringing the Gray Reaper to the scene” has been achieved.

We’ve already confirmed the Gray Reaper’s ability to interfere with butterflies.

Just look at how I was freed from the butterfly.

But one concern remains: Is it wise to bring such an uncontrollable entity?

***

Once inside the vehicle, the Gray Reaper seemingly stopped hiding and confidently appeared in the passenger seat.

Bored, perhaps, the Gray Reaper started opening various things inside the car.

According to Sehee Research Institute’s latest report, the Gray Reaper understands speech like a “Cute Puppy” but cannot communicate or be controlled.

I pulled out a frequently used coin.

When this object is flipped, numbers between 1 and 20 appear on its surface.

Interestingly, both sides always show the same number.

A roll of 1 means bad luck, while 20 indicates great fortune—a simple ability.

Currently, since no one had flipped it, it displayed “0”.

Ting!

After I flipped it, the result was 5—not particularly lucky.

When I placed the coin on the Gray Reaper’s hand, they stared at it intently and flipped it too.

Their number? 20.

Is today the Gray Reaper’s perfect day?

Well, good luck is good luck.

Won’t this help solve the case?

***

I had a nightmare.

This kind of thing couldn’t possibly happen in reality.

Our house disappeared.

A massive sinkhole swallowed it whole.

Though countless people died in Songpa District, our family survived because we were on vacation at the time.

Having lost our home, we entered the “Songpa Sinkhole Relief Camp,” which initially seemed decent enough.

After all, we didn’t have to attend school anymore.

But gradually, things started becoming unbearable.

The container houses were uncomfortable, and so were the people living in them.

Then something disturbing happened—a horrifying murder occurred.

Though I didn’t witness it directly, they said the victim’s skin and internal organs were ripped open.

Following this, soldiers arrived and sealed off the entire camp.

This lockdown, justified under the Object Special Law, meant we absolutely couldn’t leave.

More murders followed.

By then, the camp’s atmosphere had become razor-sharp.

People shouted at the smallest sounds, and no one dared venture outside at night.

Everyone began suspecting each other of being the murderer, and resentment toward the government for trapping us grew.

Adults started staging protests against the government’s lockdown measures.

Journalists arrived to capture the protests on camera.

But the lockdown remained unbroken.

Even my parents joined the protests, passionately voicing their opinions.

But one day, they stopped attending.

The reason was obvious.

The protesters’ claims were absurd—things like the government spreading diseases or preparing sacrificial rituals.

As these bizarre theories multiplied, my parents grumbled that they’d never gain support this way and decided to gather people who disagreed with the conspiracy theories to form a separate protest group.

That night, something strange happened.

Awoken by odd noises, I saw my parents vomiting intestines from their mouths.

Too shocked to speak, I watched as they became emaciated, reduced to mere skin and bones.

The sight was so shocking that I fainted.

“Hyunseok, wake up!”

Awoken by my parents calling me, I realized it was just a nightmare.

This kind of thing couldn’t possibly happen in reality.

“We must participate in the protest today! It’s clear the government’s electromagnetic waves are making people explode!”

Mom smiled brightly while spouting nonsense.

“You’ve been complaining about a sore throat, right? That’s because the government released poison gas into the camp. You should soak your mask in water to protect yourself!”

Dad also grinned while saying bizarre things.

I’m still dreaming.

For some reason, it felt like a black butterfly emitting a strong smell of blood was flying around inside the container.

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