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James Tower, located on the outskirts of Songpa District.

Once a refuge for countless people at the forefront of the war against the Association Dolls, this place was gradually regaining peace.

Around the tower, restoration work was in full swing.

The employees of the James Research Institute busily moved near the outer walls, clearing the scattered doll wreckage.

They were setting up screens and conducting restoration work around the asphalt and concrete that appeared to have been shattered as if by an earthquake.

“This time, it seems there was only one defector related to the Association Dolls… How fortunate.”

James was organizing the report related to the Association Dolls incident.

There were many dangerous moments when the dolls stormed in, seemingly impervious even to Object bullets, yet we managed to escape without significant damage.

Suddenly, the figure of former Security Team Leader Alex flitted through James’s mind.

The lone defector had returned to America not long ago.

“I remember him boarding the plane home, looking truly sad with the dolls wrapped up. But curiously, there was no sign of mental pollution.”

James fell into a moment of thought.

He attached the documents concerning Alex to the end of the report he was sending to the American Object Association.

He hoped Alex could return to his original self and resume his position as the Security Team Leader.

[Name: Alex]
[Gender: Male]
[Symptoms: Alex shows pathological obsession towards specific dolls. Whether it is due to mental pollution or not, his reality testing ability is noticeably diminished, placing greater value on relationships with dolls than with actual human interactions.]
[Countermeasures: Alex's obsessive tendencies may be vulnerable to mental pollution; therefore, intensive psychological treatment seems necessary. After changing his position to one with minimal contact with mental pollution objects, long-term cognitive behavioral therapy is required.]
[Remarks: No signs of mental pollution are observed, so advanced Object treatment is not anticipated to be necessary.]

As he closed the report and looked out the window, he could see people gathering in the open lot, playing with the Golden Reapers.

People were poking their cheeks and asking the Golden Reapers to “squeeze” them, while the Golden Reapers looked visibly troubled.

“Is that phenomenon due to mental pollution, or just a normal reaction to seeing something cute?”

As James recalled his thoughts whenever he saw the Golden Reapers, something began to tug at his earlobe.

It was a Golden Reaper, seeming to say, “Hurry up and make a present for Mom!”

“Okay, okay. Just a moment, I’ll start the production soon.”

James patted the head of the Golden Reaper and placed a sour purple candy in its mouth.

He briefly gazed at the Golden Reaper happily munching on the candy, then unfolded the last remaining report.

[Tracking Report on the Escaped Object from the Secret Research Institute]

The findings from that report indicated that almost all of the escaped objects had been killed by the Golden Reapers.

[The “Maker” appears to have had external assistance for their escape, unlike other objects.]

Except for one, the whereabouts of the “Maker” remained unknown.

*

In the Mini Reaper Garden, a streak of golden light sliced through the sky, leaving a trace behind.

Dubaang, dubaang.

I slowly walked outside, gazing up at that golden trail.

As I chased after the fading trail that spread like ink into the water, I arrived at a spot where the Golden Reapers were clustered together.

“Mommy!”

“Mom!”

Noticing my arrival, the Golden Reapers, rolling around in a clump like moss balls, peered out.

What on earth creates such a lump?

As I rolled around on the floor, the clumped Golden Reapers tangled up like this whenever they collided, yet I’d never seen them gather together to this extent.

When I lifted a ball-sized Golden Reaper, the others laughed happily as if it was amusing.

Thinking it seemed difficult for them to dismantle themselves, I took hold of the limbs poking out from the Golden Reaper lump and pulled them out one by one.

One, two, as I placed the extracted Golden Reapers onto the floor, they began to roll again on the fluffy marshmallow floor.

“Roll, roll!”

It seems another strange trend is spreading.

Are they just rolling around this time?

I grabbed the last remaining Golden Reaper and asked who started this first.

The Golden Reaper tilted its head as if it didn’t understand why I was asking, then brightly smiled and answered.

“Mom!”

Ah…

Now that I think about it, I do roll around the Marshmallow Plains often, but did they learn it from watching me?

Recently, I’ve been rolling back and forth between the marshmallows in the courtyard and the garden, so that could be it.

It was a vague phenomenon, making me unsure if it was good for the kids’ education or not.

Rolling around isn’t exactly a bad thing, right?

Suddenly, that thought crossed my mind, and I lay down on the floor to roll around with the Golden Reapers.

Roll, roll!

Hmm.

I feel like I’ve forgotten something, but it can’t be anything important.

I hugged a bunch of Golden Reapers in my arms and rolled around the soft marshmallow garden.

*

Mini Reaper Garden, habitat of the White Hungry Ghosts.

The plains, once filled with White Hungry Ghosts, were now occupied by the invading Red Reapers, a blonde girl, and a Black Agent.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any White Hungry Ghosts lately.”

The blonde girl enjoyed tea time with the Black Agent while glancing down at the Red Reapers playing in the Marshmallow Plains.

The smallest Red Reaper smiled brightly and raised its hands high.

A burning hammer and sickle.

And the will spreading around.

“Revolution!”

Upon that, the surrounding Red Reapers, gathered in throngs, followed suit.

“Revolution!”

They looked just like the little brother playing along with his older sisters.

The blonde girl was contemplating the singular question lodged in her mind.

How does “Mom” know about the sickle, the hammer, and the revolution?

In truth, the Gray Reapers often watched TV for long hours, so it wouldn’t be too strange for them to know.

In other words, could one say that the Gray Reaper possibly understands “language”?

Considering how often they watch TV, they certainly didn’t seem to be hiding anything.

Curiously, it was odd that the prevailing opinion within Korea was that “The Gray Reapers cannot understand language.”

While the blonde girl was spreading her thoughts, a Red Reaper approached and pinched her cheek.

Turning to look, she saw a somewhat sulky Red Reaper.

Could it be that the siblings were getting annoyed with playing along?

But as she turned her head, all the other sisters were comforting the sulky Red Reaper with concerned expressions.

“I can’t see the Hungry Ghost. It’s gone.”

It seemed the Red Reaper had been playing only with its red sisters lately, so now it suddenly wanted to play with the White Hungry Ghost.

Hearing the Red Reaper’s intent, the blonde girl stood up and scanned the Marshmallow Plains, but she couldn’t see a trace of any White Hungry Ghosts.

After their sisters joined, it felt as though the number of Red Reapers had doubled to the point that they’d all be hunted down and go extinct.

However, the White Hungry Ghosts were objects that regenerate infinitely.

There was no way they could go extinct like ordinary animals.

“Okay, let’s look together.”

At the blonde girl’s words, the Red Reaper laughed and perched itself atop her head.

“Let’s go!”

With the lively spirit of the Red Reaper, the blonde girl and the Red sister Reapers began to roam around the Marshmallow Plains.

Yet no matter how much they searched, they couldn’t find a single trace of the White Hungry Ghosts.

They even ventured to places like the Snowfield and desert, but still, nothing.

“Where could they be?”

It didn’t seem likely they had gone outside to give peace to their fellow objects…

The blonde girl turned her head and asked the Black Agent, from whom the sister Reapers were clinging like vines.

“Uncle, you can’t see any White Hungry Ghosts either, can you?”

“I can’t see them either.”

While the Black Agent was responding, the blonde girl hastily brushed off the sister Reapers from him.

Yet, as soon as she turned her gaze, they quietly crept back.

“How about trying to borrow a different perspective altogether?”

“A different perspective?”

The Black Agent pointed to the sky at the question from the blonde girl.

There, a friendly-looking Orange Reaper was floating gently.

“An Orange Reaper…”

Though the blonde girl hesitated, she called out to the Orange Reaper and asked if it had ever seen any White Hungry Ghosts.

With a mischievous smile, the friendly Orange Reaper whispered some critical information.

“They are hiding between Candy Mountain and Marshmallow Plains.”

Following the Orange Reaper’s lead, they ventured out of the Marshmallow Plains, but even when they approached Candy Mountain, there were still no signs of the White Hungry Ghosts.

Could the Orange Reaper have misled them?

Just when those thoughts crossed her mind, the voice of the Black Agent filled with admiration reached her ears.

“Miss, we found them! The White Hungry Ghosts used an optical illusion.”

Pointing to where he indicated, there stood a wall of marshmallow, decorated to look like Candy Mountain.

It was a vast area of the Mini Reaper Garden, utilizing optical illusions as a secret place that was almost impossible to search thoroughly.

As the blonde girl approached the wall and peered over, she could see numerous White Hungry Ghosts.

The interior of the castle wall was surprisingly large, filled with White Hungry Ghosts basking in the sunlight, looking happy.

However, within that warm castle wall, a giant shadow began to loom.

The once serene White Hungry Ghosts, enjoying a fleeting peace, could only release indignant cries once more.

Kkyuhing, kkyuhing.

*

Once upon a time, the building where the Object Association had taken root was now home to an organization with a different name.

[Object Safety Management Council.]

It was an organization that had cut off the research and development department of the Object Association and maximized its regulatory functions.

Deep inside the Safety Management Council, a middle-aged man was leaking a sinister smile.

“Good. Very good.”

That expression suited him well, once referred to by subordinates as “Golden Bug” during his time as a director at the Object Association.

He was examining the numerous secret funds and research materials that Oh Muryong had hidden away.

The amount was far beyond what Golden Cheol had anticipated.

He quickly sorted through the papers, classifying them at a fast pace.

Liquid assets to the right, everything else to the left.

Naturally, many of the research activities conducted during the Association’s time were purely shoved to the left.

Witnessing Golden Cheol, his secretary exclaimed in surprise.

“What’s going on? Is there something up?”

“Chairman, are we just going to dispose of this object as well?”

The document the secretary produced featured two lamps found in Oh Muryong’s ruined mansion.

“Haa.”

Golden Cheol sighed deeply and then questioned the secretary.

“Is that going to be worth anything?”

“Pardon? Still, it’s related to the ‘Evolution Liquid’ that achieves immortality and the revolutionary ‘Association Doll’!”

Golden Cheol lifted his golden cane and lightly tapped it on the secretary’s head.

“Oh Muryong, he was making good money until he hit rock bottom, wasn’t he?”

“The lamps.”

“What was the Third Research Institute Head doing when he fell into ruin?”

“The lam… lamps.”

“Right, the lamps. To be precise, they’re Objects.”

With a pitiful expression, Golden Cheol pointed to the nameplate with his cane and continued speaking.

“What’s the name of the organization I’m leading?”

“The Object Safety Management Council.”

“Exactly. To properly make money with Objects, you shouldn’t touch the Objects directly. You should take from those who make money with them.”

Golden Cheol smiled contentedly, adding quietly, “If you get involved with the Objects directly, you’ll end up like Oh Muryong.”

“So, what do we do with these lamps?”

“Oh, that one. The place that uniquely keeps ‘superior’ Objects? Send them there. They’ll sort it out.”

After saying that, Golden Cheol began sorting through the money-making documents again.