Dim lights illuminated the advanced laboratory, where a large tank filled with viscous black slime ominously stood in the center.

The black substance emitted a heavy, foul odor, saturating the air with a sense of impending doom.

Within this eerie concoction, the director of the research lab was submerged.

His body was riddled with gaping wounds and tears, exposing rotten, blackened organs within.

As the sinister liquid within the tank was absorbed by his wounds, they gradually closed, knitting themselves together.

When the director finally emerged from the tank, fully healed, his expression was one of grim determination.

"This level of preparation should be more than enough to deal with the Gray Reaper."

It was as if he was reaffirming his own resolve.

As he stepped out, the black slime dripped from his body, leaving a trail in his wake.

Squelch, squelch.

The sound of his wet footsteps echoed ominously, but the prints left behind were far from normal.

Rather than resembling ordinary footprints, they were twisted and grotesque, like the writhing tendrils of some eldritch horror.

Each step imprinted the ground with eerie patterns that blurred the lines between reality and the surreal, creating an unnerving sensation of something forbidden.

The director left the room, the air thick with the scent of oil.

Behind him, the walls and floor were littered with grotesque marks, as if they were alive and writhing.

These were the traces of a human who had crossed a boundary between reality and the forbidden realms of Objects and the unknown.

"Wow, there’s more people here than I expected."

Once strictly off-limits, the area around the Songpa-gu Sinkhole was now teeming with people.

It used to be a boring place full of soldiers on patrol, but it had since transformed into a more intriguing location.

I’d heard from the isolation room TV that there were many people who held favorable opinions of me gathering at the Songpa-gu Sinkhole, so I decided to sneak out before heading to the Trinity Lab, under the guise of collecting some "firewood."

Se-hee’s research lab was probably in a panic, searching for me right now.

Hehe.

Though the soldiers were guarding the area, the sinkhole was still a danger zone where Objects occasionally crawled out. Even so, the number of tourists was surprisingly large.

The crowd’s emotions filled the air—admiration, reverence, and a general sense of positivity.

The tourists were heading toward the only civilian-accessible facility near the sinkhole: The Gray Reaper Songpa Memorial.

According to the TV, the memorial had faced significant opposition during its planning stages but was eventually built because too many people were sneaking into the area to see where the Gray Reaper had fought.

I wondered if that was really true as I strolled toward the memorial.

Thump, thump.

Using my ghostly form, I slipped past the long line of tourists and entered the memorial.

As soon as I stepped into the lobby, I found myself unexpectedly impressed by a fountain that greeted me.

The stone sculpture of myself, with water gently flowing down its contours, was likely a rare sight for both people and Objects alike.

The soothing sound of the water, combined with the soft melody playing in the background, filled the space with a peaceful atmosphere.

I stood there, mesmerized by the surreal feeling of seeing myself as a statue, as if I had become a piece of art. That’s when I heard the distinct clink of a coin hitting the water.

Clink.

I turned to see a man standing by the fountain, his eyes closed, wearing an expression of reverent concentration, as if he were praying.

Did they really think of this as some sort of wishing fountain?

That’s how it usually worked with fountains, right?

The moment the man began to pray, his emotions washed over me—reverence, mixed with desperation and a yearning for salvation from the hardships of life.

From a corner of the memorial, I overheard a conversation that clashed with the otherwise serene mood of the place.

Two soldiers standing guard, rifles slung over their shoulders, were quietly talking in low voices, almost too faint for human ears to catch.

"The world’s really gone mad."

"Yeah, Objects crawl out of that sinkhole about once a week, causing emergencies, and yet here we are with a memorial praising an Object."

"Still, it’s better to have the memorial, right? Back before it was built, people were sneaking past the barricades and dying at least once a month. Now that’s stopped."

The grumbling soldier was met with a practical response from his comrade.

"True. But even so, something feels off. It doesn’t make sense that so many people are willing to pay 100,000 won for an entrance fee. Do you think the Gray Reaper has some kind of mind control ability, like the Yangcheon-gu Lake incident?"

"We’ll find out soon enough. Trinity’s analyzing the Gray Reaper. If anyone can figure it out, it’s them."

"Yeah, let’s hope."

With that, their conversation ended.

The mention of Trinity caught my attention.

So word of my upcoming visit to the lab had spread more than I thought.

It made sense—Trinity is famous, and I’m a high-profile Object, so the two of us together were bound to attract attention.

For some reason, this made me look forward to my visit to Trinity Lab even more.

As I passed the peaceful sound of the fountain and ventured deeper into the memorial, I came across a display crowded with onlookers.

The exhibit appeared to have preserved parts of the ground, as though they had been cut out and hardened for display.

At first glance, it looked like a fossilized dinosaur footprint, but the sign was much more surprising.

"The Gray Reaper’s Footprints."

It was a hardened imprint left by my feet as I had stepped in the mud.

As I stared at the small footprints, baffled by the display, I overheard some of the spectators' conversation.

"Is that the one? The one where they did the clapping and stomping?"

"According to the sign, it is."

Dozens of visitors were striking poses and taking pictures with my fossilized footprints as a backdrop.

Amid the loud chatter and the sound of camera shutters, people seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves at my expense.

I’d collected plenty of firewood from this experience, but still, something about it all felt off.

With that strange feeling, I left the Gray Reaper Memorial behind.

Deep in the Mini Reaper Garden.

On a small island of cookies floating in a sea of hot chocolate, the Golden Reapers and Blue Reapers were engaged in a secret exchange of information.

Though they couldn’t speak, their gestures and body language were reminiscent of kindergartners putting on a clumsy but endearing school play.

The Golden Reapers weren’t the best at communicating through body language, but their ability to share emotions compensated for their lack of verbal expression.

The Golden Reapers, shining like morning sunlight, had taken on the role of storytellers.

Their gestures and vivid emotions painted a picture of invisible, magical adventures.

The Blue Reapers, eyes wide with curiosity, peered out from beneath their oversized hats, listening intently.

The Golden Reapers mimed fighting a giant Object, spreading their arms wide.

They also demonstrated how they danced joyfully, leaping around as they recounted their many experiences to the youngest of the Blue Reapers.

Their movements were almost like a dance, a captivating performance that conveyed the Golden Reapers’ stories in an enchanting way.

As the Golden Reapers glanced around cautiously, they revealed a crucial secret with hushed gestures.

It was a story about their creator, the Gray Reaper.

A tale of dark, malevolent black slime and the Gray Reaper’s mischievous tricks.

They warned the Blue Reapers to be cautious of the Gray Reaper.

At first, the youngest Blue Reaper seemed skeptical, their expression stubborn, as if to say, "Mom would never do that!"

But as the Golden Reapers’ sincere emotions began to sway them, the Blue Reaper’s attitude slowly shifted, and eventually, they believed the story.

It wasn’t long before a spark of inspiration flickered among the Mini Reapers.

They began planning an elaborate prank, their playful plotting evident in the mischievous glances they exchanged.

In the early dawn, before the night had fully faded, the tension in front of Se-hee’s research lab was palpable.

On one side stood the staff of Se-hee’s lab, their faces showing a mix of unease.

On the other side were the heavily armed agents from Trinity Lab, clad in protective suits, their expressions tense.

The contrast between the two groups’ attire and demeanor brought back memories of the transfer to the Central Lab.

The thick stench of black slime clung to the protective suits worn by the Trinity agents.

As expected, it seemed Trinity was indeed the source of the black slime.

Black slime, huh?

I had a feeling that the Golden Reapers would soon have an opportunity to make a "mistake."

Hehe.

With a sly grin, I quietly made my way toward the Trinity Lab vehicle.