In a quiet café in San Francisco, the warm afternoon sunlight slanted through the window.

A reporter with striking red hair sat in a corner of the café.

In front of the reporter was an empty coffee cup, and his face clearly showed signs of exhaustion.

The reporter, who had recently begun investigating the Alexander Group, was wasting time while waiting for a whistleblower.

With a sigh, the reporter muttered to himself.

"The meeting time has passed. But maybe I should wait just a little longer…?"

Unconsciously, his fingers began tapping on the table.

Tap. Tap.

The rhythmic sound slightly disturbed the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the café.

The reporter's dull gaze shifted to the street outside.

At that moment, his eyes met those of Prism Sentinel.

It seemed like Prism Sentinel was talking to the police, wiping the bloodstains from his hands with a towel he had found somewhere.

When their eyes met, Sentinel appeared slightly surprised but quickly broke into a friendly smile.

The reporter awkwardly nodded in response to the smile.

Lately, it seemed like he had been seeing Prism Sentinel a lot.

He had heard that it was rare to run into him, so maybe he was just lucky?

In truth, the reporter wasn’t particularly interested in superheroes.

He quietly grumbled to himself.

‘Rather than running into Sentinel, I’d rather have the whistleblower show up right now...’

He checked the time again and decided it was pointless to wait any longer.

With a sigh, he spoke to his small companion on the table.

"It’s time to head out."

The companion was the Golden Reaper, who was lying on the table as if suffering from a cold, with its hand on its forehead.

The reporter packed up his bag and pressed the Reaper’s chubby belly as he bid it farewell.

"Goodbye, I’m going now."

It seemed like the Golden Reaper understood, as it raised a small hand in a wave.

The reporter smiled faintly at the gesture and left the café.

As he pushed open the café door, he saw that Prism Sentinel was walking toward him.

Sentinel was whispering something into an earpiece.

"Hello. Good to see you again."

Sentinel greeted him with a friendly voice as he approached.

"Hello, Sentinel. Looks like you’re busy again today?"

The reporter, startled by Sentinel’s sudden approach, quickly masked his surprise and replied.

The two exchanged some small talk—about the weather, the current state of the city, and Sentinel’s recent activities.

Then, the conversation naturally shifted to the topic of an interview.

An interview with Sentinel?

It wasn’t exactly the article the reporter had been hoping for, but it was certainly a major scoop.

Just as the reporter was about to eagerly suggest starting the interview, Sentinel’s expression suddenly stiffened.

Sentinel’s gaze turned toward the café.

"Sentinel? Is something wrong?"

The reporter asked, but no answer came.

After a few seconds, Sentinel adjusted his earpiece and whispered something again.

He then looked at the reporter with an apologetic expression.

"Sorry, something urgent has come up. Let’s do the interview next time."

The reporter nodded, hiding his disappointment.

As Sentinel quickly left, a feeling of doubt filled the reporter’s mind.

‘Why is he acting like this? His expression changed when he looked at the café...’

Slowly turning his head, the reporter looked back toward the café and saw a Black Reaper, lying in a pitiful state, staring at him from a table outside.

It was a dizzy-looking Black Reaper, shaking its head like a dog splashing water.

When it met the reporter’s gaze, the Black Reaper smiled mischievously, then fell backward with a thud.

The reporter, who had been smiling at the sight, sighed deeply and began walking back toward the newspaper office.

‘Another waste of time today...’

It was the same old routine for the reporter.

Prism Sentinel flew quickly through the sky, landing in a secluded alley.

He checked his surroundings, confirming that no one was around, and let out a deep sigh.

His usual friendly smile had vanished, replaced by a tense expression.

He pressed his earpiece to his ear and spoke.

"Failed again. A Mini Reaper was nearby."

A moment of silence followed.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Sentinel continued speaking.

"Why is it that every time we meet, there’s always another Mini Reaper nearby? My luck is ridiculously bad."

His voice was full of irritation and frustration.

The calm and collected persona he usually displayed in public was nowhere to be found.

A cold voice came through the earpiece.

[We’ll have to call you back to headquarters.]

Sentinel’s eyes widened.

"What? You said we couldn’t just call me back."

[That only applies to calling you for interviews,] the voice explained.

[If you want the scoop so badly, you’ll have to use that excuse to bring you in.]

Sentinel’s expression subtly changed.

An odd gleam flashed in his eyes.

"Does that mean I can’t take matters into my own hands?"

[Correct.]

The reply came, and Sentinel’s expression twisted with dissatisfaction.

"That’s disappointing."

The expression was nothing like the kind, righteous hero the public knew. It was a mixture of desire, disappointment, and violence.

Sentinel clenched and unclenched his fists.

After a moment, he leaned against the alley wall and heard the sounds of the city from afar.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When he slowly opened his eyes again, his familiar friendly smile had returned.

As though nothing had happened, he confidently walked back into the street.

In the narrow, dark space where James was.

I had successfully removed all the Black Cotton Reapers that were clinging to me.

‘Not hurting, Mom!’

‘Not hurting now?’

‘Mom!’

The Black Cotton Reapers I had struggled to remove were still bouncing up and down, looking up at me.

I had encountered melting dormant Black Reapers before, but oddly, these ones kept asking if I was feeling pain, unlike usual.

‘I’m not in pain.’

Even when I said I wasn’t hurting, the Black Reapers still stubbornly clung to me, placing their small tongues against my body.

It wasn’t exactly licking; it felt more like they were testing what I tasted like.

After a while, they began to speak with startled wills.

‘Really not hurting!’

‘Not hurting Mom!’

And they began hopping around as if they were having a festival.

It felt like the ‘Fluffy Black Reaper Festival’ was happening in that dark, narrow room.

Then, the Golden Reapers poked their heads out from the room's only entrance.

‘New sibling!’

‘There are lots of siblings!’

The Golden Reapers ran to the Black Reapers and hugged them tightly, rolling on the floor.

After a bit, the Black Cotton Reapers started to show their faces, popping out of the fluffy mass.

The faces of the Black Reapers and Golden Reapers.

Their behavior looked a bit like that of the Orange Reapers and Sprout Reapers.

I decided to leave the children to play and walked toward the ominous-smelling orb.

The Black Reapers were startled and melted into a puddle, surrounding the orb.

It was as if they were coating it with rubber, uniformly covering the orb.

‘Seal it!’

‘Hide it!’

The ominous smell that had been lingering disappeared.

Hmm, it seems like the Black Reapers must have run out of firewood while trying to seal the orb...

I carefully took the now safe orb and walked toward where James was.

If it's James, he’ll probably explain what happened, right?

In the hallway surrounding Sehee Research Institute’s courtyard.

The silver-haired girl had received permission to go out briefly and was walking around Sehee Research Institute to meet the Gray Reaper.

The hallway, designed to go around the courtyard, had large magic mirrors and various rest areas facing the courtyard.

There were snacks and drinks available, and spaces to sit and rest while enjoying the view.

"Where’s the Gray Reaper...?"

The silver-haired girl, who had been wandering around, muttered to herself in a slightly tired voice, addressing the Mini Flower Reaper that only she could see.

The Mini Flower Reaper, smiling softly, said that Mom would be here soon and patted the silver-haired girl’s head.

Having wandered around Sehee Research Institute for too long, the silver-haired girl, slightly tired, entered a resting area.

As soon as she entered, a delicious smell greeted her.

The resting area was bustling with visitors sitting in chairs and watching the courtyard.

At one table, there was a strange sign.

<Warning: Golden Reaper Sightings!>

The silver-haired girl, puzzled by the sign, briefly wondered if she had misunderstood something due to her limited Korean skills.

Approaching to check, she found simple instructions written on it.

<If eating at this table, make sure to buy enough snacks.>

‘?’

She still didn’t understand the meaning, but something about it felt intriguing.

So, she bought a bunch of snacks and sat at the Golden Reaper Sightings table, starting to eat with the Mini Flower Reaper.

After some time, while eating cookies, the Mini Flower Reaper poked her hand.

"What’s up?"

Without saying anything, the Mini Flower Reaper pointed at the courtyard glass window with its finger.

Outside, numerous Golden Reapers were stuck together.

The lump of Golden Reapers was so squished that their faces were distorted.

It looked a bit cute but also pitiful, so the silver-haired girl called out to them.

"Want to come eat with us?"

The Golden Reapers passed through the glass like ghosts and began shouting in unison, sharing snacks.

They nibbled on cookies and even tore a bit off to share with the silver-haired girl.

She ended up eating snacks with the Golden Reapers until her stomach was full.

"Ah, so that’s why the warning sign was up..."

The silver-haired girl murmured, rubbing her now plump stomach.

‘By the way, where is the Gray Reaper?’

‘I wanted to tell him about the prophetic dream I had...’

She had come to share the story of the prophetic dream with the Gray Reaper.

The meaningful dream where the Gray Reaper appeared.

The recurring ‘prophetic dream’ she had been having every day.

In a café in San Francisco.

The reporter finally met the ‘whistleblower’ related to the Alexander Group.

The whistleblower was staring expressionlessly at the ceiling.

"Here too. A Mini Reaper."

"What?"

When the reporter asked, the whistleblower pointed at the ceiling fan, which was spinning slowly.

Upon closer inspection, there was a golden antenna sticking out from the ceiling fan.

"This area is supposed to have almost no Mini Reapers... It’s strange."

Then, the whistleblower added quietly, ‘It’s like the Mini Reapers are following you.’

But the voice was so soft that the reporter didn’t hear it.

"The Alexander Group’s headquarters is conducting human experiments."

Suddenly, the whistleblower started speaking with an emotionless face.

"But I won’t provide any evidence, testify, or do any interviews."

"What?"

The reporter frowned, taken aback by the ridiculous statement.

‘Is this going to be another bust?’

Before the reporter could finish his thought, the whistleblower continued.

"I don’t want to leave any connections behind. But I’ll help you."

The whistleblower took a small sip of iced coffee and continued.

"I’ll leave the back door of Alexander's headquarters open at 3 AM tomorrow. The security will be disabled for an hour."

"So, come in through the basement and take the evidence."

The whistleblower said this with a still emotionless face.

‘...’

After the whistleblower left, the reporter sat in the café, thinking uneasily before standing up.

‘Alright, I can’t let this opportunity slip by.’

So, the reporter decided to go directly to the building.