A weary high school student hurried along the chilly commute, his pace quickened by the cold air and the fact that he hadn’t slept well, thanks to a strange nightmare. As the cold seeped through his uniform, he pulled his collar tighter and picked up speed on the way to school.

In the midst of his hurried steps, he noticed a crowd gathering in the middle of the path ahead. The group was congregating near the entrance of an unnecessarily steep set of stairs, the same set that was infamous for causing frequent accidents when people tried to rush down. He thought perhaps someone had fallen again.

“Another serial murder case,” a voice in the crowd whispered.

“Really?” someone else responded.

As the tired student drew closer to the scene, the murmurings overturned his initial assumption.

Police were everywhere, along with a large crowd of onlookers, and a cordon was being set up to block the area. This wasn’t just another accident—it seemed far more serious.

It had to be one of the serial murders that had been all over the news lately. The killings were said to target anyone walking alone in Mapo District after 6 p.m., with over ten victims so far. The number was staggering, and the entire district had been paralyzed by fear. Schools, academies, and even convenience stores now closed well before 6 p.m., and the terrified atmosphere had even reached students who were otherwise disengaged from the news—like him.

Even at school, everyone seemed gripped by fear, though the student had dismissed it as a passing phase. With the attention the case was getting, he figured it was only a matter of time before the killer was caught. He was more surprised it hadn’t happened yet.

Yawn.

He sighed as he joined the line of students waiting to pass through the area. He didn’t want to wait, but there was no other choice. The only way to school was through the steep staircase near the crime scene. If he avoided the stairs, he’d have to take a long detour.

As he inched closer to the scene, a fragmented memory of his nightmare from earlier began to resurface.

A full yellow moon shone down over the stairs.

A pool of blood, overflowing and spilling down the steps.

In his dream, he had been standing there, smiling up at the moon.

Absentmindedly, he glanced over at the crime scene, and for a moment, he imagined the same pool of blood bubbling up from the asphalt, with a decapitated man’s head floating in it.

The scent of blood, strong and metallic, filled his mind, making it hard to breathe. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

It’s just the lack of sleep, he told himself. You’re just tired.

When he opened his eyes again, the blood was gone, and standing in front of him was someone in a large helmet.

“Are you feeling alright?” the helmeted figure asked.

Looking down, the student noticed a name tag on the person’s chest.

Object Association Researcher.

Not exactly the weirdo he had initially assumed, but a professional. Still, why the helmet?

So the Object Association has finally shown up, the student thought. It made sense. Given how elusive the criminal was, there was a high chance this was an Object-related case.

“No, I’m fine,” the student replied. “I’m just dizzy from lack of sleep.”

“Alright,” the researcher said, though their voice held a note of skepticism. They quickly moved on, disappearing into the crowd.

The student continued up the stairs, and once he reached the top, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. The view opened up, and as the crowd dispersed along the wider path, he felt freed from the tension below.

That’s when an unfamiliar, almost delicious scent hit him.

Turning his head in search of its source, he noticed a small, golden figure peeking out from an alley near the crime scene, staring directly at him.

Following behind Yerin, we finally reached the underground facility, which had transformed into something far more elaborate than when it was under construction.

At the entrance, a state-of-the-art security system had been installed, flanked by ornate reliefs of Golden Reapers. The Reapers were carved with outstretched arms and bright, joyful smiles, welcoming us into the facility.

The Golden Reapers, delighted by the carvings, rushed forward and mimicked the poses and expressions of the reliefs. They turned to face us, grinning as they extended their arms, just like the statues.

As we approached the security door, I noticed a series of handprints embedded in the wall next to it. There were handprints ranging from my size all the way down to the tiny prints of the Mini Reapers.

I turned to Yerin with a puzzled look, and she gestured toward the wall. “Try placing your hand on the handprint,” she said.

Following her instructions, I placed my palm against the handprint that matched my height. A cheerful mechanical sound played, and the door slid open. It operated like a fingerprint scanner, except for hands.

“It’s an entrance made specifically for you and the Reapers! Now you can come in whenever you like.”

I had noticed Yerin taking imprints of my hand frequently over the past few weeks, but I hadn’t expected her to be working on something like this.

To be honest, I could just phase through the walls if I wanted to, but using a handprint to unlock the door did give a different kind of satisfaction.

Beyond the door was a break room, stocked with snacks and drinks. There were even small chairs and miniature snacks designed with the Mini Reapers in mind.

As I looked around, I saw the Mini Reapers still playing with the security door. They were giggling as they took turns placing their tiny hands on the scanner, watching the door open and close.

It looked like they were going to be at it for a while, so I gathered the ones who had already tired of the game and led them further inside.

Past the break room was a beautifully decorated corridor. Soft white light bathed the walls, and along the sides stood statues of me and the Mini Reapers, all made of gold.

The Mini Reapers pressed their faces against the glass cases surrounding the statues, their eyes sparkling with curiosity as they admired the likenesses.

One of the statues, a life-sized replica of me, reminded me of the dolls I had picked up from the workshop of the Blue Girl.

I had meant to give them to Se-hee, Yerin, and Seo-ah but had completely forgotten about them. Compared to those dolls, the golden statues here looked a bit amateurish.

As we walked down the corridor, admiring the statues, we reached a large bathhouse that greeted us warmly.

The bathhouse featured a grand fountain that made a refreshing sound and a pool big enough to swim in. And in the center was the massive golden statue I had seen before.

No matter how many times I saw it, I couldn’t help but be impressed by its sheer size.

While I stared up at the statue, the sound of tiny feet echoed around the bathhouse.

The Golden Reapers, clearly thrilled by the sight of the statue, rushed over and began hopping around it excitedly, calling it “Giant Mom Golden Statue!”

As I surveyed the bathhouse, the Mini Reapers had already found their way into a smaller bath that had been made to suit their size. They were happily splashing around in the water.

The biggest surprise was the Orange Reaper. I had thought it would hate water because of its fluffy, cotton-like hair, but it was the first to dive in and fully enjoy the bath.

Its white hair spread out in the water like a cloud, and the Mini Reapers swam through it, laughing as they played.

And watching them from the edge was the White Angler Reaper, smiling softly.

I realized I hadn’t chewed on the White Angler Reaper in a while, thanks to the new Angler Reaper. The White Reaper looked quite content.

I felt a small stir of mischief bubbling up inside me.

There would be plenty of chances to play around in the bathhouse, after all.

Hehe.

As the morning rush ended, the once-bustling crime scene grew quieter, with only a few police officers and Object Association researchers left behind.

“Man, this is a real ghost case,” one of the officers muttered, looking at the scene with frustration.

There had been multiple incidents, but not a single piece of evidence had been found.

Despite using CCTV footage and other clues to round up several suspects, another murder happened like clockwork the next day.

It was starting to feel like an unsolvable case.

And now, with the latest victim being a police officer, the situation had grown even more dire.

The officer’s partner had insisted they’d been together the whole time, but the CCTV footage didn’t back up that claim.

Meanwhile, an Association researcher was walking around the crime scene, carrying a mental contamination detector.

“Hey, anything from the Association’s side?” the officer asked.

“Yes. We’ll be reporting this case to the Association as an ‘Object-related murder,’” the researcher replied, holding up the detector, which was reading in the ‘danger’ zone.