Chapter 8

Ah, this is a dream.

I realized it instinctively.

After coming back from Seoul Forest and falling asleep in the cozy bed at Sehee Research Institute, I found myself trudging through the rain.

It was a familiar scene.

It was me from a year ago, walking endlessly through the rain-soaked forest, trapped in terror.

Back then, even though my body no longer felt physical harm, I wandered aimlessly, overwhelmed by the endless fear of death approaching.

Death was coming.

Though I wasn’t out of breath, I could feel the panic rising.

Even with the ghosting phenomenon that freed me from physical constraints, I couldn’t escape death.

Unlike other Objects, I had no visible conditions for my demise.

Instinct told me death was near, but I had no clue what it was or how to stop it.

The flame, the size of a fist where my heart should be, had dwindled to smaller than a speck of dust.

Was this Object intuition?

I’d known since my rebirth that when this flame vanished, so would I.

But the flame only flickered weaker, never reigniting, no matter what I tried.

Eating fire, throwing myself into wildfires—nothing worked.

Frustrated, I opened my mouth and swallowed rainwater.

Then, a calm voice echoed.

“Oh, traveler Object, could you help me get out of here?”

Looking toward the voice, I saw a woman staring at me through iron bars.

Crossing her arms, she casually beckoned me over.

At that moment, I’d given up on everything.

If I’m going to die anyway, might as well try saving someone else first.

*

What seemed like an ordinary prison was actually a massive Object itself.

The rescue mission took days, and during those chaotic times spent with her, I momentarily forgot about the looming threat of death.

But eventually, the dungeon-like cave came to an end, and so did my life.

Sehee was celebrating our escape while I quietly prepared for death.

‘At least I saved one life before dying.’

The ember inside me had reached its limit.

I waited patiently for death under the shadowy darkness of the cave, watching Sehee joyfully raise her hands under the sunlight outside.

As I thought, ‘This is really the end,’ Sehee returned, hugged me, and said:

“Thank you so much!”

Tears glistened in her eyes as she smiled brightly.

At that moment, the flame within me roared back to life, burning fiercely.

I couldn’t think straight. It felt like a bomb exploding inside me.

And finally, I understood the nature of the flame within me.

A flame fueled by comedy and tragedy.

A flame of curiosity.

From that day forward, I began searching for people who could serve as kindling for my flame, just like Sehee.

It’s a meaningful memory, albeit exhausting. If I must categorize it, I’ll call it a ‘nightmare.’

My vision blurred as if waking from a dream.

I felt someone poking my cheek, and realized I was back in the comfortable bed at the research institute.

*

I had a nostalgic dream.

Maybe because I escaped a similar situation recently, it triggered such dreams—being rescued from death’s edge by The Reaper.

A pitch-black midnight rainstorm, visibility nearly zero.

The Reaper, glowing faintly like a firefly.

This Reaper looked nothing like the current one; their aura was completely different.

They lacked curiosity and seemed disinterested in their surroundings.

Their once vibrant gaze often appeared dimmed.

Still, they were terrifying initially.

That weak yet burning gaze unnerved me deeply, even though it paled compared to now.

To hide my trembling voice, I forced myself to sound calm as I approached them.

It was almost like gambling.

A humanoid Object appearing suddenly behind bars—no guarantee they understood language, let alone wouldn’t deceive me.

Still, I took the risk.

It was all-or-nothing. The cave had no exit, filled with dangerous clay figures.

Luckily, the Reaper seemed to vaguely sense human emotions and wasn’t hostile, allowing me to survive.

Despite needing to leave, the Reaper insisted on heading deeper into the cave. Even when I pulled them toward the surface, they refused to budge.

What was once a place of mortal peril became almost like an escape room adventure with the Reaper around. They acted as if they knew exactly what to do, solving puzzles effortlessly.

I realized the cave wasn’t random—it was a puzzle-like Object designed to be completed before escaping.

When we neutralized the infinitely regenerating golem using a hidden switch, revealing the long tunnel leading out, the relief was indescribable.

Climbing the seemingly endless stairs, I felt an immense mental high.

Reaching the forest clearing, I cheered, only to notice the Reaper crouched in a corner, darker than before.

Each day, the Reaper grew dimmer, eventually resembling a dusty clay doll.

A faint smirk graced their usually stoic face—a mix of self-deprecation and satisfaction. Despite not understanding speech, something compelled me to express my gratitude wholeheartedly.

In response, the Reaper emitted a brilliant light, transforming into their current form: languid but perpetually curious.

Their shocked expression remains unforgettable—an uncharacteristic reaction from someone usually expressionless!

*

A corkboard held an old newspaper clipping.

[Dozens killed as mysterious Objects rampage through Seoul Plaza before being gunned down. Are private research facilities adequately regulated?]

“Is it true that the ‘Hungry Ghost’ roaming freely in Seoul Plaza is still alive? Those guys are crazy!”

“…”

In the dark room, a man muttered while looking at the corkboard. Beside him, a small feminine shadow clung to him, scribbling furiously in a notebook.

Strangely, despite the shadow, the woman herself was nowhere to be seen.

Underneath the article were handwritten documents detailing employee turnover rates and budget trends of some research facility.

Skimming through them, the man whistled.

“Too many employees leaving! How can they claim to be the ‘safest national research institute with zero casualties?’ Sounds fishy.”

Parts deemed suspicious were heavily marked in red, so much so that the papers looked entirely crimson.

“Dangerous case, but if Junior cries too soon, Senior’s job is to watch silently.”

Chuckling, the man turned away.

The dim gas lamp barely lit the room, making his silhouette blurry.

“Busy, busy. Field trip to analog-friendly Seoul Forest this time. Old-school detectives have charm.”

Neatly dressed in a suit, the man lit his pipe as he tidied the corkboard.

“Well, Watson, I’m off. Take care.”

The shadow nodded briefly before vanishing.

Putting on a yellow coat, the man extinguished the gas lamp and left the room.

*

Once the man left and the lamp went out, it reignited on its own.

A blood-red female shadow reappeared.

Using a viscous, bloody liquid, the shadow painted messages across walls and bookshelves.

[Is this Holmes perfect? Perfect? Perfect?]

[Still perfect.]

[No unresolved cases.]

[Not cherry-picking cases, right? Right? Right?]

[Fortunately, no.]

With a pop, the lamp went out again, erasing the bloody messages along with it.