Chapter 77

At late night, when all the surrounding buildings had their lights off, one warehouse building stood out, brightly lit and bustling with activity.

In front of the warehouse, forklifts lined up waiting to load cargo, while at the entrance, people continuously carried in and out cardboard boxes.

The warehouse clearly hadn’t been well-maintained at a glance.

Abandoned and decayed, its walls were stained.

Its paint was faded beyond recognition.

And judging by the lack of cleaning, rusted metal scraps and pieces of wood rolled around on the floor.

But oddly enough, despite the decrepit state of the warehouse, the items being handled by the busy workers inside looked pristine and intact.

In stark contrast to the shabby exterior, men packed neatly arranged Polaroid photos into clean cardboard boxes.

“Hurry up! Move it!”

“We still have mountains of pictures to package!”

Once finished, the boxes were quickly loaded onto trucks marked with a company name.

[Daily Object.]

This warehouse belonged to Daily Object.

The pictures being packaged were Polaroids of a “dancing penguin.”

Currently, an immensely popular product in Seoul.

Initially, many people hesitated because they were objects.

However, after selling for quite some time without issues, they eventually gained widespread acceptance.

Daily Object’s claim as an “object-specialized media company” also helped.

Public perception that “the people who photograph dangerous objects must know what’s safe” boosted sales.

With the pictures flying off shelves, Polaroids were snapped, packaged, and shipped non-stop all day.

“Hurry up! This is a one-time deal! Sell while it’s hot!”

An abandoned-looking dilapidated warehouse, frantic workers, and luxurious packaging—an odd mismatch indeed.

But the strangest thing was something else entirely.

A black penguin.

For 24 hours straight, a black penguin sat quietly in front of the Polaroid camera.

Cawk.

Cawck.

Always calm and quiet, the black penguin suddenly began to cry out.

“Someone shut that thing up! It’s too noisy!”

“Boss… uh… how do we make it stop?”

The dumbfounded man standing near the penguin shouted to the loud-voiced boss.

“Just smack it!”

“I don’t know… something feels off. It’s like the penguin is mocking us. Isn’t this dangerous?”

While the other man hesitated, the box-packing man strode over and smacked the hesitant worker on the head.

“Idiot! Don’t you see the photo delay? I said hit the damn penguin!”

As he spoke, he struck the penguin hard.

Thud. Thud.

The sound of strong blows echoed through the room.

Since the penguin didn’t react no matter what, the man swung freely.

But this time was different.

Crack.

A bone-crushing sound followed by the man’s scream filled the air.

“Aaaaaaah! My hand! My hand!”

His hand had cleanly been sliced off in the shape of a penguin beak—skin, muscle, and bone cut as if by a sharp blade.

“Hey! Why are you just standing there?! Call an ambulance! Now!”

Cawk. Cawk.

As employees scrambled to call for help, the blood-soaked penguin lifted its head and started laughing happily.

Cawk. Cawk. Cawk.

The cries grew louder and multiplied.

From scattered Polaroid photos on the floor, countless penguin heads emerged and began screaming.

“Crazy… someone suggested doing business with objects?”

One of the men packing photos threw everything aside and ran out of the warehouse.

Then from outside came a terrifying scream.

“Aaaaaaaaah!”

The fleeing man’s shriek mixed with the sound of something being torn apart.

Leaving the yelling boss behind, the others froze in place.

Through the warehouse entrance, penguins covered in blood filed in.

Before long, the area was surrounded by penguins, leaving the men paralyzed with fear.

Then the penguins charged, tearing the men limb from limb.

***

Lying in a cozy isolation room, eating ice cream.

Haum.

On TV, stories about the black penguin attack dominated the news.

Thanks to Daily Object’s massive distribution of those photos, the number of victims was staggering.

Should this be called divine punishment? Or did responsibility just vanish?

Daily Object, which wholesaled and retailed the penguin photos, including its CEO and all employees, had perished.

Their deaths were quickly discovered by an ambulance crew responding to the scene of some rundown warehouse.

Fortunately, the penguins were dealt with swiftly.

Though as hard as steel, they weren’t immune to physical damage—if you shot them with armor-piercing bullets, they’d die.

Some stragglers reportedly fled toward the Gangseo district—will it be okay?

Politicians seemed ready to tackle object-related legislation.

They planned to raise certification standards for handling objects…

At least high enough to prevent another Daily Object incident.

Or… if they raise the bar too high, will Sehee Research Institute fail to qualify?

Hmm, ideally the standards should rise just enough for Sehee Research to barely pass.

Hehe.

Lying in bed, eating ice cream, I pondered these thoughts idly.

***

The Kachi Mountain Conference turned out larger than expected.

Kachi Mountain Lab appeared cramped from the outside, but somehow expanded far beyond its appearance.

High ceilings adorned with grand chandeliers illuminated the hall softly with white lighting.

Neat rows of chairs stretched endlessly, showcasing the venue’s capacity.

As a small-scale attendee from Sehee Research Institute, I might’ve felt intimidated—but thanks to the Golden Reaper in my pocket, I remained unfazed.

Indeed, the Golden Reaper kept squirming, so I held it in my hand under the cover of a book.

The Golden Reaper seemed delighted by the situation, wriggling and smiling widely within my palm.

Among numerous research institutions and government agencies present, one group stood out prominently.

Researchers from Trinity Research Institute.

Currently Korea’s undisputed top research facility, formed by the merger of three large labs, wielding immense influence through scale and funding.

They proudly wore lab coats emblazoned with the Trinity Labs logo, strutting arrogantly.

Despite gathering top talent and paying top salaries, flaunting superiority like this was hard to understand.

What was most peculiar, however, was the Golden Reaper’s reaction.

Normally playful in my palm, the Golden Reaper would freeze upon nearing Trinity researchers.

It even glared menacingly at them, baring its teeth.

Seems like the Golden Reaper dislikes arrogance and showboating.

Guess I’d better watch myself to avoid disapproval from the Reaper.

***

I cleared furniture from the isolation room and positioned the Golden Reaper far away to test my new ability.

Alright, let’s go!

Focusing on the Golden Reaper, I sensed a connection to it.

Dive into that connection!

In the blink of an eye, I appeared near the Golden Reaper.

The Golden Reaper greeted me with surprised applause.

By defeating the harmful black penguin, I gained the ability to teleport near the Golden Reaper.

Though it consumes a fair amount of energy, this power acquired from eliminating such a trivial creature was surprisingly potent.

Whereas the black penguin could travel via photos, I can now teleport to the Golden Reaper.

Maybe I can send the Golden Reaper ahead to distant places I find inconvenient to visit?

However, repeatedly testing this ability while keeping the Reaper nearby proved exhausting, and sending it far ahead seemed impractical for now.

Perhaps only after gaining full control over the Reaper will such feats become possible.

***

Under the red moonlight of an evening, after the conference ended, a Black Agent gazed upward pensively.

“Looks like the evacuation order won’t come down by the conference date.”

Though understandable, the apathy towards seemingly harmless phenomena posed problems.

With too many objects appearing daily, it was impossible to fear each one individually.

Cloud Fish landing on residential houses or Mirror Balls occupying the National Assembly building while playing cheerful tunes—these incidents ultimately ended harmlessly, fostering complacency.

Even the girl sitting beside the agent, swinging her legs while petting a crimson bat, showed no fear.

A sudden urban bat appearance—clearly an object—but instead of panic, she expressed delight.

“There’s a bat! It’s the same color as the moon!”

The agent silently hoped this bat would turn out harmless like the mirror ball.