The Angler Reaper slowly looked around with a nostalgic gaze.

The once bustling alchemist's workshop, filled with Mini Reapers, had emptied out as the lead dolls fled to the garden.

Only a few Golden Reapers remained, gleefully playing on the alchemical tools as if they were toys.

Watching these cute, kind, and curious Golden Reapers made the Angler Reaper wonder if this is what it would have been like if the master had children.

The many tools in the workshop meant little to the Angler Reaper.

No matter how valuable they were, they held no memories.

The only things of significance were the master, the bed where the master always lay, and the mirror.

The lead doll had already taken the bed, leaving only the mirror.

Tap, tap.

Walking slowly, the Angler Reaper stood before the mirror, and familiar scenes began to unfold.

Every time it gazed into the mirror, the past, so brilliant yet unreachable, always brought sorrow and sadness. But this time, those feelings didn’t arise.

The Angler Reaper quietly watched the images, reflecting on the memories.

When the mirror finished replaying the scenes and returned to being an ordinary mirror, the Angler Reaper saw a strange expression on its own face.

It was smiling, as if enjoying something.

The smile wasn’t just because it had survived to see the master's plans through to the end.

It was because the lead doll carried an atmosphere that felt familiar.

‘The master’s spirit might reside within the lead doll.’

Even that faint hope made the Angler Reaper truly happy.

It slowly rubbed its mouth, its smile growing even brighter.

Then, tearing the mirror from the wall, the Angler Reaper began to walk away.

Toward where its new master awaited.

The tattooed woman grabbed the pants her younger sister had covered her with and slowly stood up.

After getting dressed, she noticed that the bottom half of her top had been torn, turning it into a crop top.

Feeling a bit awkward with her stomach exposed, she rubbed her belly but realized there was no way to get new clothes here, so she would have to make do until they returned.

Though still a bit dizzy, lying here any longer wasn’t an option.

The soldiers from the South Korean government wouldn’t stay caught by the fanged guardians forever.

"Alright, let’s check the last room."

As the woman began to walk slowly toward the workshop connected to the lounge, her sister couldn't hide her worried expression.

"Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should rest a little longer…."

"This much is fine."

The tattooed woman flashed a confident smile, but her sister’s expression didn’t brighten.

She was probably worried about more dangerous traps ahead.

But in this situation, moving forward was the only answer.

Two of the fanged guardians were still guarding the entrance, making it nearly impossible to go back the way they had come.

There were no more elixirs, and her condition wasn’t ideal for swinging a sword.

And driving the rail capsule in her current dizzy state would be suicidal.

"There's no choice but to press on."

After explaining these points, her sister finally seemed to understand.

Together, they arrived at the alchemist’s workshop, which turned out to be quite the professional setup.

Many of the facilities made her wonder, How did they even build something like this on Earth?

"Wow, this looks just like an alchemist’s workshop from a comic."

Her sister marveled as she looked around the workshop, turning to giggle.

"Your workshop looks like an old grandma’s apothecary where herbs are dried."

"Well, I don’t have a blacksmith’s knowledge, so I can’t make my own tools. Nothing I can do about that."

Inside the workshop were intricately forged metal tools and elegantly crafted glass instruments.

It seemed the owner of this workshop had known how to make their own tools.

The craftsmanship wasn’t from Earth but closely resembled that of the kingdom.

After a quick scan, it was clear the workshop’s owner was long gone.

The tattooed woman slowly looked around the workshop, picking out useful tools and placing them in her bag.

"Hey, look! This looks delicious!"

Her sister suddenly rushed over, full of excitement, holding a glowing liquid of various colors.

Inside the liquid, shimmering heat waves, a spread of stars, and constantly appearing and disappearing shapes danced around.

"You think that looks delicious?"

The tattooed woman raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"Yeah, what’s the problem?"

Her sister nodded, looking puzzled by her reaction.

"Open wide. Ah!"

"Ah?"

As soon as her sister opened her mouth, the tattooed woman stealthily tossed a bitter pill into it.

“Cough, cough! Why’d you do that?”

Her sister, grimacing from the incredibly bitter taste, lightly slapped the woman’s shoulder.

"Still think it looks tasty?"

"Huh? It suddenly looks terrible."

Her sister looked the liquid up and down, marveling at it, "Wow, this is amazing! Now it looks like something you shouldn’t even eat. It reminds me of those glowing plants we saw when we were little!"

Hearing that it no longer looked appetizing, the tattooed woman casually dropped a bombshell.

"That’s poison. A deadly toxin for Objects. The real issue is that it also works on mentally contaminated humans."

The tattooed woman, speaking seriously, gently flicked her sister’s forehead.

"And the fact you thought it looked tasty means you didn’t take the antidote."

"S-sorry, sis."

Her sister hung her head, looking apologetic. The tattooed woman sighed deeply, then patted her on the head.

"It’s alright. Just be careful next time."

"Okay."

With the tension easing, her sister quickly returned to her cheerful self.

After stashing the poison in her bag, the tattooed woman resumed searching the workshop.

Her sister, following her lead, wandered through the workshop, inspecting anything that caught her eye.

She eventually found a tool that was spinning endlessly in a corner, even though it wasn’t connected to any electricity.

"What is this? A centrifuge?"

Curiosity piqued, she examined the rotating tool and found a button underneath. She pressed it.

The tool, which had been spinning rapidly, began to slow down before finally coming to a complete stop.

Attached to the tool were several dizzy-looking Golden Reapers, hanging on for dear life.

"Are… are you okay?"

Untangling the cords that had looped around their necks like a noose, she gently placed the dazed Golden Reapers on the ground.

Who would do something like this?

Tying up these cute little creatures and spinning them at high speeds—it was a devilish act.

But despite looking dizzy, the Golden Reapers were smiling brightly, as if they had enjoyed the ride.

"Alright, time to head back."

At that moment, the tattooed woman’s voice came from deep within the workshop.

With a Golden Reaper tucked in her arms, her sister followed the voice and found her standing in the center of an otherwise empty room.

"Sis?"

The tattooed woman flashed a grin and said, "We can get out this way. It would’ve been hard to use the entrance we came in from, but luckily, there’s an escape route."

Even though she didn’t fully understand what her sister was saying, she obediently stood beside her.

With a flash of blue light, the two vanished from the depths of the stone chamber.

Thud, thud.

The Golden Reapers had swarmed me, smacking my face relentlessly.

The reason was simple.

I had drunk all the tasty-looking liquid by myself.

I had considered sharing it, but before I knew it, I had finished the whole thing.

It had been a while since I drank it, but I could still feel that soft, smooth liquid lingering in my mouth.

It was delicious…

Hearing my unintentional thought, the Golden Reapers’ expressions turned sour, and they began hitting me even harder.

Sorry, sorry!

Their furious assault continued until a new Angler appeared.

Rubbing my sore cheek from the endless barrage, I looked down at the new Angler.

It was walking on two legs, wearing a tie.

Kind of cute, really.

The tie made it look like one of the butler Anglers I had killed after pulling out their teeth.

Handshake!

Seeing it wobbling around on two legs was amusing, so I held out my hand.

It placed its hand in mine, and I promptly tore it off and began eating.

Unfortunately, it tasted just like marshmallow.

"Bweehee…"

The new Angler looked up at me with a betrayed expression, tears welling up.

I laughed. Anglers always made the best sad faces.

Hehe.

As I grinned, ready to move on to the senior white Angler, the new one suddenly blocked my path.

Taking a strange stance, it began to concentrate.

Something began to form within its fluffy marshmallow body, taking on a grotesque shape.

Then it looked up at me proudly.

The moment I saw it, I instinctively yelled out, "Blech!"

The new Angler, looking bewildered, was torn to pieces by spatial compression.

What a shock.

It turned out that this new Angler was a disgusting hybrid of the muscle statue Angler and the butler Angler.

Gross.

The park that the Gray Reaper and the tattooed woman had left behind began to fill with Association vehicles.

Armored vehicles arrived endlessly.

Security guards emerged, clearing the area and securing the perimeter.

These guards wore state-of-the-art equipment, the kind never provided to frontline Association agents.

A helmeted researcher from the Association watched them with a look of disapproval.

He knew who was coming—one of the most useless members of the Association leadership.

An aide to the South Korean Object Association's chairman, known as “Golden Bug.”

Famous for his love of bribes and gold, Golden Bug had no remarkable abilities and cared only about his own interests.

In fact, he was ruining the Association, which was barely holding itself together.

It now looked like he was using the Association’s forces as his own private army.

A middle-aged man, adorned with a gold-decorated cane, stepped out of a luxury sedan. Waving the cane around like a status symbol, he barked an order.

"Clear it out."

With that command, a barrage of explosives and gunfire rained down, turning the white muscle statues to ash.

With every explosion, white flames erupted.

The rounds looked like Object bullets, produced only in the United States.

I remembered how imports of those had been banned under the pretense of promoting domestic Object industries, yet here was Golden Bug’s private army using them.

I had heard rumors of people smuggling these bullets in and using them secretly, but it was the first time I’d seen a high-ranking Association official openly flaunting them.

Protected by his guards, Golden Bug strode forward slowly.

His face was twisted with greed, like a nouveau riche on the hunt for more gold.