In the office of the director at Sehee Research Institute, Sehee sat across from the Yellow Detective, with a table between them. Yerin stood behind Sehee, wearing an expression of disinterest.

And me? I was lying on the table in the middle.

I had been wandering around the institute, trying to chase away the butterflies, but Yerin grabbed my hand, saying it was related to me, and dragged me here.

However, the conversation was dragging on for too long, so I lay down on the table in protest, hoping it would end soon.

“You need the Gray Reaper to be released?”

Upon hearing Sehee’s words, the Yellow Detective handed her a shiny, gold-embellished business card with a perfectly straight posture.

Of course, I was curious about what kind of business card it was, so I intercepted it midway and read it. It said it was from the Temporary Object Management Organization.

While I was reading, the detective reluctantly pulled out another business card and handed it to Sehee.

Seeing the detective’s frustrated expression made me a bit amused. Who told them to drag a butterfly along?

“I’m currently working on behalf of a temporary organization called the Temporary Object Management Organization. It was created to replace the Association, which has completely collapsed.”

“And why does your organization need the Gray Reaper? As you can see, controlling him isn’t exactly easy.”

Startled by Sehee’s shocking statement, I quickly looked at her, but Sehee wasn’t even looking at me.

“It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but the area around Songpa-gu is in a very dangerous state. There are butterflies roaming around that wear people like skins.”

The detective handed me several photos first. They were of people who had been torn to pieces.

The photos were from scenes of people who had exploded from the butterflies, similar to what I had seen at the Central Research Institute.

“In the early cases, people attacked by the butterflies died by exploding in this manner.”

The detective pulled out another set of photos.

They showed humans staggering around like zombies, walking awkwardly.

“After some time, the butterflies stopped merely killing their hosts and began wearing their skins to move around. The biggest issue is that those zombie-like individuals haven’t been seen in several days.”

The detective then pulled out a photo of a person locked up in a detention center, with a meaningful expression.

“After completing their ‘learning,’ the butterflies wearing human skins now exhibit no awkwardness at all. They are nearly indistinguishable from real humans. This person even insists on being released, claiming illegal detention.”

Sehee placed the photo back on the table.

“So, you still haven’t explained why you need the Gray Reaper.”

I felt cornered by Sehee’s question.

The need for the Gray Reaper was purely a hunch.

It seemed clear that the butterflies that had appeared now had originated from the Central Research Institute, but the number of victims there was surprisingly small.

I suspected that something at the Central Research Institute had hindered the butterflies, and I believed it was the Gray Reaper.

I opened my mouth to speak but then closed it again.

It’s one thing to act on a hunch as a solo detective, but it’s difficult to make such a request when representing a government agency.

“So there’s no specific reason, is there? Given the current situation with the Gray Collapse, releasing the Gray Reaper wouldn’t look good in the eyes of the public. I’m going to have to reject your request.”

As expected, the director’s response was a refusal.

An official request, when documented, follows the book.

'Hmm.'

I had a feeling the detective had reasons he wasn’t sharing.

But that didn’t mean I could simply agree.

Besides, even if the institute agreed, it wasn’t as if the Gray Reaper could be deployed at will.

Sending the Reaper to a place he didn’t want to go?

Absolutely impossible.

That said, rejecting the request didn’t guarantee the Gray Reaper wouldn’t follow along.

I chuckled as I looked at the now-empty table.

The Gray Reaper is following me.

The reason... I don’t know.

[Feeds on human sorrow.] [Feeds on human despair.] [Feeds on human pain.] [Knows the quickest way to kill.]

Every time I looked back, those phrases would creep into the corners and hide.

It seemed the Reaper was in his ghostly form, given that I couldn’t see him, but why would he hide in that state?

In any case, I was now able to achieve my original goal of bringing the Gray Reaper to the site.

I had already confirmed that the Reaper could interfere with the butterflies.

I had been freed from the butterfly’s control, after all.

The only concern was whether it was wise to bring along such an uncontrollable being.

As soon as I got into the car, the Gray Reaper appeared confidently in the passenger seat, no longer bothering to hide.

He was now fiddling with various things inside the car, seemingly out of boredom.

According to the latest report from Sehee Research Institute, the Gray Reaper was described as an object that, while understanding language like a “cute puppy,” couldn’t communicate or be controlled.

I pulled out a coin that I often used.

Seeing the object, the Gray Reaper stared at me with interest.

The coin was called the “Luck Measuring Coin.” When flipped, a number between 1 and 20 would appear on its surface.

Interestingly, both sides of the coin would show the same number.

A 1 meant it was a really unlucky day, while a 20 meant it was a very lucky day. A simple object with a straightforward ability.

Since no one had flipped it yet, it currently showed “0.”

Flip!

I flipped the coin to check the result, and it was 5.

Not a particularly lucky number.

When I placed the coin in the Gray Reaper’s hand, he happily flipped it himself.

The number he got was 20.

So today is the Gray Reaper’s lucky day?

Well, luck is always a good thing.

Might even help solve this case.

I had a nightmare.

There’s no way this could be real.

Our house was gone.

A giant sinkhole had formed and swallowed it up.

Although many people in Songpa-gu died, our family had gone on a trip at the time, so we avoided the disaster.

We ended up in the “Songpa-gu Sinkhole Evacuee Camp” because we had no home.

At first, the camp was decent enough.

We didn’t have to go to school, after all.

But gradually, more and more things started to bother me.

The container homes, and the people living there.

I endured it, suppressing my dissatisfaction, until something terrible happened.

A gruesome murder.

I didn’t see it directly, but they said the victim’s skin and guts had been completely ripped out.

And from that point on, soldiers began to appear and locked down the entire camp.

The lockdown was deemed legal under the Special Object Law, and they said there was no way out.

Even after that, similar murders happened several more times.

By then, the atmosphere in the camp had grown tense, like a knife’s edge.

People raised their voices over the smallest sounds, and no one walked around at night.

People started to suspect each other of being the killer and resented the government for keeping them trapped.

The adults began protesting the government’s lockdown measures.

They contacted media outlets, which came and filmed the protests.

But the lockdown wasn’t lifted.

My parents also participated in the protests, raising their voices in anger.

But at some point, they stopped going.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

The protestors’ arguments had become nonsensical.

Claims that the government had spread a plague, or that they were preparing a ritual to sacrifice us.

The more absurd the theories, the more they spread.

My parents, frustrated that such conspiracy theories would never gain public support, started gathering like-minded people to form a separate protest group.

That night, something strange happened.

I heard a weird noise and opened my eyes to find my parents coughing up their guts in front of me.

I was so shocked I couldn’t even speak.

Their bodies, now hollow and deflated like empty skins, were all that remained.

It was such a horrifying scene that I passed out.

“Hyunseok, wake up!”

I opened my eyes to the sound of my parents calling me.

I had another nightmare.

There’s no way that could be real.

“Today, you’re coming with us to the protest. The government is definitely killing people with their electromagnetic waves!”

My mom said, smiling brightly while talking nonsense.

“Your throat hurts, right? That’s because the government released poison gas into the camp. You need to soak your mask in water and wear it properly!”

My dad also said, smiling brightly while talking nonsense.

I’m still dreaming.

There’s no way this could be real.

For some reason, I felt like a black butterfly, thick with the scent of blood, was flying around inside the container.