Chapter 74

A space that felt both familiar and strange.

I was standing right in the middle of such a bizarre dream.

It felt like an old memory unfolding, evoking a nostalgic sensation, yet it was a completely unfamiliar dream I had no recollection of.

A few steps ahead of me, there was the distinct silhouette of a man’s back.

A man wearing the same yellow suit as me.

Though his face was hidden, I felt an odd sense of familiarity, as if it tugged at some worn-out memories deep within.

The curve of his shoulders, the rhythm of his walk—everything seemed to silently and persistently beckon for me to recognize him.

For some inexplicable reason, I felt a pang of longing and began running after him.

With every step, a strange weight held me back.

Old fragments of memories I didn’t know gripped my feet, making them heavy.

With each step, an entirely unknown scene unfolded.

“Junior, relying only on your instincts will get you into trouble.”

An unfamiliar man’s voice echoed.

No memory of this.

Another step revealed yet another scene.

“Now… it’s your turn.”

A bloodied man handed me something.

This too, I have no memory of.

No matter how much I ran, the distance between me and the man walking leisurely never closed.

At the last moment, when the man briefly turned to look at me…

His head started to be covered in crimson smoke, just like Watson.

That’s when I clearly sensed it…

The moment he tried to say something…

I woke up.

***

The night city was shrouded in obsidian-like darkness.

As urban noise subsided in the late hours, red light leaked from the window of a shabby building.

The crimson glow of the gas lamp ‘Watson’ gently swayed and danced, painting the detective agency interior ruby-red.

In that quiet night, the flame inside Watson flared up loudly.

[Is Holmes asleep?]

[Yeah, he’s asleep.]

[Holmes seems off somehow.]

[There’s probably nothing wrong.]

Smoke seeping out from Watson filled the office, with shadows flickering wildly across it.

[When is the next case?]

[Holmes seems strange right now.]

[I’m scared!]

[‘Eyes,’ were they definitely real?]

[Even so, do we need to run away?]

[We’re not sure yet.]

[Is Holmes acting weird?]

[Does Junior No. 3 seem about to appear?]

The chaotic group monologue of Watson suddenly stopped all at once.

All shadows started staring intently at one spot.

[Holmes is strange!]

[Holmes is strange!]

[Holmes is strange!]

The smoke emerging from the gas lamp crept down the table and slipped through the door crack.

The smoke continued climbing upward along the stairs and walls.

As it reached its intended location, it began seeping into somewhere.

A room where faint starlight filtered through half-drawn blinds.

Smoke slowly spread through the tightly shut door crack.

The old coat rack and the yellow trenchcoat hanging on it, bathed in the dim light of the blinds, were soon obscured by the smoke.

Old documents and case files on the desk disappeared into the smoke, as did the stethoscope and half-empty whiskey bottle on one corner of the desk.

In the sea of smoke where nothing could be seen, the only thing visible was a weathered leather sofa whose cushion had slightly sunk.

On that sofa lay the Yellow Detective, still in his suit, sound asleep.

He must’ve fallen asleep immediately upon returning due to exhaustion.

Smoke encircled the detective as if watching over him.

[Did Holmes remember?]

[Holmes should keep forgetting, shouldn’t he?]

[Why can he remember?]

The smoke from the gas lamp circled around the detective until it found a certain object emitting intermittent light.

[We shouldn’t let anyone pick up objects like these!]

[We should destroy it.]

[When did Holmes get this object?]

[While we were sleeping!]

The object resting on the side table was shooting beams of light toward the sleeping detective’s head, causing him to twist uncomfortably every time the light hit.

The crimson smoke enveloped the object and crushed it instantly.

[Holmes, we’re together forever!]

***

[Golden Reaper Preliminary Experiment]

[The Golden Reaper floats above a magnet.]

[Considering it shares characteristics with the original, it’s expected that the Gray Reaper also floats above a magnet.]

[Cute] was written on the last line but then crossed out with pen strokes.

You shouldn’t write personal impressions in reports, not ever.

I observed the Golden Reaper happily floating above the magnet in the Deputy Director’s Office, filled with silence.

Poke poke with my finger at the Golden Reaper.

Always happy, the Golden Reaper just laughs no matter what antics I pull.

Out of concern for Mental Pollution, I decided to secretly move the Golden Reaper from the lounge to the Deputy Director’s Office for storage.

Fortunately, nobody thought it was suspicious when the Golden Reaper vanished since it disappears quickly anyway.

If any employee had noticed, it would’ve been bothersome, but luckily none did.

It was an unavoidable decision to protect the researchers’ mental health and to better observe the Golden Reaper.

Looking at the clock, it was already noon.

Time to feed the Golden Reaper!

“Reaper! Let’s eat!”

As I pulled pudding from the fridge, the Golden Reaper jumped onto my palm.

Ommpf.

Watching the Reaper nibble like a small animal, a thought struck me.

“If only the Reaper could make sounds, wouldn’t it be cuter?”

I want to hear the Reaper’s cries.

Such thoughts came to mind.

Hem hem, clearing my throat, I flipped open my notebook again and began observations.

I am impartial, so work must be done.

***

Cuddled with Yerin watching TV.

On the coffee table in front of the TV, various kinds of puddings were lined up by type.

“All kinds of pudding available in Seoul! Isn’t it impressive?”

Held from behind, cheek-to-cheek with Yerin, I listened to her explanation about pudding.

Mainly about where they were sold and their unique features.

Ommpf.

I tasted each pudding one by one, carefully savoring the flavors.

Pudding was still delicious as always.

But it wasn’t the taste I had at camp!

With a sad expression, I shook my head.

“Ack! This one didn’t work either? Then maybe I’ll try to find puddings sold only in rural areas?”

Yerin hugged me tight and muttered, “You’ve become too picky lately.”

Though I feel sorry for Yerin who goes through so much effort to get pudding, I really wanted to uncover the true identity of the pudding the ninja brought.

“Picky pig Reaper!”

Yerin pinched my cheeks while complaining.

“Ah, right. Ta-da! I got this. It wasn’t as hard to find as I thought.”

Yerin pulled out a picture from her bosom and showed it to me.

In the photo, an exotic landscape with black mud was captured.

And right in the center of the photo, a pitch-black penguin was dancing joyfully.

Dum-chit dum-chit.

Despite making no sound, the lively dance naturally made you feel the rhythm.

The short legs of the penguin made the dance even funnier.

“By the way, this is from ‘Daily Object.’ They seem to be struggling with business lately because they’re selling pictures like this for money… Is it okay for them to sell objects like this without being a research institute?”

Yerin added that handling such objects carelessly could cause big trouble.

But coming from Yerin, who handles things most carelessly, it lacked conviction.

***

Morning at the detective agency.

As usual, the agency was filled with the subtle scent of coffee and the loud noise from the TV.

A death seemingly caused by unidentified wild animals.

Rumors that new drugs circulating in Seoul involve Objects.

Seoul had plenty of cases this morning too.

The senior detective sat drinking strong coffee with the TV noise playing in the background, sighing deeply.

Senior’s eyes looked sunken; he looked extremely tired.

“Why do you look so exhausted, Senior?”

“I don’t know. Just strangely tired. Maybe it’s because of this… I suspect.”

Senior pointed with his finger at a broken Object lying in two pieces.

“When I woke up, it was shattered. I think it might be an Object with usage or time limits. If it had healing abilities, such restrictions make sense.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about what’s lost. So, Senior! What are we going to do about the next case?”

“Hmm. Lately, I feel like I’ve been working too hard…”

Leaning his chair back and gazing at the ceiling, the senior spoke.

“After earning some money from simple cases, we should rest until we feel fully recovered before taking another Object-related case.”

“Infidelity evidence gathering? Is that something detectives should do?”

“Detectives originally handle such jobs. Don’t expect too much from me because of Watson. I’m not Sherlock.”

Upon hearing this, the gas lamp blinked violently in disagreement.