The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting golden stripes across the entire detective office.

My suit coat, hanging on the rack, caught the sunlight and scattered yellow light throughout the room.

The air was filled with the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee, a fragrance that, while familiar, added a little extra energy to the morning.

The loud sound of the TV contrasted with the calm morning, making it feel like just another typical day at the detective office.

From my rocking chair, the gentle creaking rhythmically matched the rustling of the newspaper in my hands as I turned the pages.

The newspaper was primarily covering the recent "Trinity Third Research Facility" incident.

Why did Agu head to Gwanak-gu?

Strengthened Object licensing standards still fall short of global benchmarks.

Turning the page, I found a two-page spread analyzing the Gray Reaper.

Another one of these articles, huh?

Recently, there had been a surge in articles painting a friendly image of the Gray Reaper.

They were everywhere—both online and offline.

Illegal internet publications without proper Object licenses were especially bad.

Some of them were so devoted to the Gray Reaper that it was hard to tell if they were a news outlet or a fan club.

Still, I didn’t feel any real sense of danger.

It was strange—those reckless, seemingly dangerous articles didn’t feel threatening at all.

But according to my gut, the more affection people had for the Gray Reaper, the safer Korea seemed.

Well, I guess it's not a bad thing.

“Senpai! We’re here!”

My first junior burst through the office door, cheerfully pulling out a giant hammer from a long bag.

Behind them, my second and third juniors walked in, bowing politely.

Junior Two had long golden horns protruding from their head, and Junior Three still looked like a grade-schooler, taking a seat at their usual spot.

It seemed like Junior Three’s younger brother’s condition hadn’t improved, as they still appeared like a child.

What was odd was Junior Two, though.

Their golden horns, which only grow during childhood, kept getting longer, and there wasn’t a clear reason why.

I had a hunch, but it was best not to bring it up unless Junior Two mentioned it first.

Junior Three, who handled desk work, checked something on the computer before speaking up.

“Detective Senpai, a request came in. What should we do? I’ve sent the details to your phone.”

Ding.

The notification came through, and I saw the summary of the request Junior Three had sent me.

Request to investigate a large-scale disappearance involving victims of Black Rust Syndrome.

Hmm, Black Rust Syndrome—that’s a disease similar to the Golden Horn Syndrome, where Objects manifest on the body.

While Golden Horns tend to attract people's affection, Black Rust causes disgust and hatred.

If the victims were people with Golden Horn Syndrome, this would clearly be a kidnapping, but since it's related to Black Rust Syndrome, it's more likely a murder case.

I could take it on, but I had other priorities right now, so I had to pass.

“We’re in the middle of a case to rescue the young lady of the Black One, so we’ll have to let this one go.”

“Oh, I figured as much.”

Junior Three sat back down, looking a bit disappointed.

Then Junior Two raised their hand energetically.

“I’ll take it!”

Junior Two, while looking at their phone, spoke up.

“This request has a decent reward, and it involves disappearances and kidnappings targeting people with Object diseases! It feels like something I can relate to.”

Junior Two had an unusually excited expression on their face.

Sure, disappearances involving Golden Horn Syndrome were frequent, but Black Rust Syndrome? That was a whole different situation…

“This request most likely comes from someone with Black Rust Syndrome. Are you sure you're okay with that?”

“Yes!” Junior Two responded brightly.

Even though their innocent expression made me doubt their understanding, they weren’t like Junior One, so I decided to trust them.

Black Rust, an Object tied to disgust.

Golden Horn, an Object tied to affection.

Both Object syndromes led to numerous disappearances, but the lives of those affected couldn’t be more different.

Especially since people with Black Rust Syndrome often had a deep-seated hatred for those with Golden Horn Syndrome.

The government treated the two syndromes differently, which made people with Black Rust feel even more discriminated against.

It’s a murder case involving Black Rust Syndrome, so it’ll definitely be dangerous.

But logically and intuitively, it didn’t feel like it would be risky for Junior Two.

Thinking about the hidden presence in Junior Two’s chest, I said,

“Alright, go ahead. Just remember to be cautious when dealing with the client!”

“Got it!”

Junior Two took the request from Junior Three, gathered their tools, and left the office.

After watching Junior Two leave, I grabbed my coat and stood up.

“Well, it’s about time we head out too.”

Junior One and I left the office, with Junior Three seeing us off.

The Gray Reaper’s antenna swayed gently from side to side.

When I hugged the Reaper from behind, its antenna wiggled, as if trying to entice me.

I bit down gently on the antenna, which squirmed in my mouth before slipping out.

Ah, it ran away even though it was the one teasing me first.

The Reaper’s isolation room was slightly noisier than usual.

As I watched the Golden Reapers play the piano, I squeezed the Gray Reaper’s soft belly and felt like I owned the world.

Ah, happiness.

There had been a moment where this blissful time was almost taken away, but things had been resolved nicely.

Thanks to the chaos caused by the public tours, the Reaper had escaped from the isolation room in a minor incident.

The Object Association must not have liked it because public tours were suspended for the time being.

For some reason today, the Reaper had captured a blue lizard and thrown it onto the piano in the isolation room, listening to its performance.

It was always a wonderful recital.

Perhaps inspired by the music, the Golden Reapers hopped onto the piano, linked arms with the blue lizard, and began playing along.

The music became a bit chaotic, but the sound was cuter and livelier.

The Golden Reapers are adorable!

But all good things must come to an end.

The terrifying Kim Jung-rae knocked on the isolation room door.

In his hand was…

The Gray Reaper’s Monthly Report.

Oh, right.

I’d forgotten to submit it to the Association last month.

Even with the most pitiful expression I could muster, it wasn’t enough to calm Kim Jung-rae’s anger.

Sigh.

In the middle of an abandoned city, a heavy, eerie silence filled the air.

The remains of buildings stood as silent sentinels over the empty streets, preserving the memories of a once-bustling metropolis.

The sky was a dull gray, casting an oppressive mood over the ruins.

In this desolate wasteland, a man wandered aimlessly.

His clothes were tattered, and his disheveled appearance spoke of hardship.

His face, hollowed by long-standing pain, featured sunken cheeks and dark, hollow eyes.

In his hands, he held the mangled body of a stray dog, its blood staining his fingers.

As he trudged through the ruins, he muttered to himself in a low, raspy voice.

His words were incoherent, a jumble of fragmented memories and thoughts.

One moment, he claimed someone was watching him, and the next, he burst into manic laughter. It was clear the man had lost his sanity.

He soon arrived at a relatively intact building, the walls and ceiling still standing, showing signs of former habitation.

The man pressed the dog's corpse against the wall, smearing its blood over the surface.

He rubbed it so hard that his fingers split open, adding more blood to the mess, but he didn’t stop.

As time passed, the wild, chaotic look in his eyes began to fade, replaced by a dim glimmer of reason.

He glanced down at his throbbing hands and muttered,

“Why did I do this again?”

The blood-smeared wall bore a circular symbol, one he had drawn countless times, though he couldn’t remember why.

Living in a half-mad state, the man survived day by day, unable to die.

Clack, clack, clack.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the desolate ruins.

Startled by the unexpected sound, the man turned, his body tense with fear.

There stood a man carrying several lamps.

Seeing the strange figure, the ragged man swung a rusty steel bar threateningly and shouted,

“Who are you? Get lost!”

He had no intention of wasting the few hours of sanity he had each day on some suspicious intruder.

The lamp-bearing man smiled faintly, though his face remained out of focus.

[Ah, what a shame. You seem to be having a rough time.]

Despite his attempts, the ragged man couldn’t get a clear look at the figure’s face.

The man was undoubtedly an Object.

With a threatening wave of the steel bar, the ragged man yelled again.

“I said get lost!”

He had no interest in wasting his precious sanity on this suspicious figure.

The man holding the lamps seemed to smirk slightly before speaking again.

[I am an Object of contracts. If you want something more intuitive, you could call me a demon of contracts.]

[Don’t you want to be free of your madness? How about we strike a deal?]

The demon’s offer was tempting, more tempting than the ragged man wanted to admit.

It smelled dangerous, too, like something he knew he shouldn’t touch.

After Yerin, who had been clinging to me, was dragged away by Kim Jung-rae, the isolation room filled with the piano music of the Golden Reapers and the blue lizard.

The blue lizard's agile feet danced across the piano keys, and the Golden Reapers clumsily tried to follow along, their little feet tapping out a jumbled tune.

The Golden Reaper’s face looked a little sad as they struggled to keep up with the rhythm.

Recently, I’d been feeling a strange sense of distortion from the black penguin teleporter, and I’d been trying to explore that feeling whenever I had spare time.

The source of this strange sensation was a certain Golden Reaper. Something about them was… different.

Could it be because they were a rebellious Golden Reaper who’d run away from home?

Unlike the others, this one hadn’t returned to the Mini Reaper Garden in a long time.

I was curious about how strong their attachment to humans was to make them stick around for so long.

Maybe I’ll visit when I’m bored.

As Junior Two left the detective office, something suddenly popped out from her chest.

“Ah! You can’t come out now!”

From her chest, a Golden Reaper poked its head out.

Junior Two pressed a finger down on its head, and the Reaper grinned, thinking it was being petted.

This Golden Reaper had a peculiar golden horn growing from its head.