Seoul Object Story

A sleepy-looking cat was lazing on a moss-covered wall, blinking its drowsy eyes and yawning over and over. It had been wandering around all day, yet its eyes darted around, always on the lookout for a new adventure.

But much to the cat’s disappointment, the relief camp was oddly peaceful. Well, on the outside at least.

It was a place where the wild grass sparkled with dew while butterflies fluttered about.

“Woah, look! It’s a cat!”

In that grassy field, the ‘fake’ kid ran around, laughing and playing. The cat, now surrounded by the curious kids, looked pretty annoyed, wearing an all-too-familiar expression.

Well, the Ghost Cat was a pretty white kitty, so naturally, it got a lot of attention.

Hmm, why was the kitty annoyed though? Was it because the kids might be hiding something like a fork in their hands? But even if they poked the kitty with those forks, they wouldn’t even be able to leave a scratch on it, right? Whatever!

Anyway, it was now time for me to step in, so I slipped out of my phantom form and scooped up the little kitty on top of the wall.

Meow?!

The cat, surprised out of its wits, looked at me with wide eyes. It meowed asking me why I was here.

Why did I come? Hmm… Well~ It looked fun~!

Meow…

The tired kitty seemed fed up, not interested at all. It didn’t take even a moment for the kitty to get over its surprise before meowing and making itself comfortable in my arms.

The ‘fake’ kids, though, had a totally different reaction.

They quickly jumped away from me, eyes wide with fear, and slowly started to retreat, their eyes still glued to me…

Once they realized I wasn’t really interested in them anymore, they scattered in all directions, some hiding in alleys, others disappearing altogether.

Meow…?

I know, right? Why did they suddenly run away?

With the cat in my arms, I strolled around the camp.

Merchants standing by with stacks of goods on their stalls, trying to sell their wares.

A butcher sitting at his counter, watching TV.

A group of children playing jump rope.

Grandfathers giving advice while looking at the Baduk board.

It was a truly peaceful scene, a glimpse of the mundane daily life.

Yet it was not.

The cat might not have noticed yet, but all the ‘fake’ humans here were quite afraid of me they were just pretending that they were not.

Hmm, that’s odd, why are they trying so hard?

Meow-!

What? You are bored? It’s not as dangerous as the TV said it was? So it’s no fun? Well, yeah, this place really doesn’t seem as violent as they make it out to be on the TV.

Meow-! Meow-!

The stupid TV people exaggerated too much? Well, isn’t that what TV is always like? At this point, you should just expect it.

Meow…

The cat fed up with the peaceful camp, closed its eyes and muttered that it wanted to take a nap.

***

In a basement encased by blood-soaked concrete walls, a strikingly red chair stood in stark contrast to the dark, oppressive surroundings.

Tied to that chair was a headless corpse.

The body, marred by countless wounds, bore deep bruises where the ropes had bitten into its flesh during its meaningless struggles.

Beneath the chair, a pool of blood reflected the dim, flickering light of the basement, casting an eerie supernatural glow over the ghastly scene.

Tools of torture—rusty saws, pliers, and hammers—were strewn haphazardly within that crimson pool, their edges gleaming wickedly.

The director stood over the headless corpse, staring at the crushed pile of flesh and hair, a malevolent smile playing on his lips. His voice, chilling and elegant, cut through the silence.

“Sigh… What a waste… So the ‘Nameless’ still appeared, eh?.”

The man from the association, giving in to the relentless torture, had ended up shouting out the director’s name, hoping for a swift, merciful end.

“Hmm, come to think of it, even if I were to hear the name like this, how can I be certain of its truth? The ‘Nameless’ will manifest whenever I am called by any name other than the Object’s, so can I trust that it is truly mine?”

He let out a rueful chuckle.

“Ah~ Well, I can be at least sure about one thing—I am not some kind of a filthy parasitic Object.”

The director walked out of the basement, leaving behind the empty containment room. What remained was but the horrific remnants of a man, who had met an unimaginably brutal end, surrounded by crimson walls adorned with blood.

***

CCTV footage of the lounge played on a large monitor in the deputy director’s office.

On the screen was the Golden Reaper.

The tiny little gold-colored reaper was holding a cookie, slowly nibbling on it.

“Hmph, why is it so cute?”

Seoah opened her notebook, her cheeks flushed, and began writing extensively.