Seoul Object Story

Morning sunlight slipped through the blinds, streaking the detective agency with warm, golden rays. My suit, hanging casually on a nearby rack, caught the light, scattering a soft yellow glow around the room.

Amidst the shiny, cozy ambiance, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

Sure, it was a familiar sight—I'd seen it a thousand times before—but it still had that energizing kick that got me going every morning.

The loud chatter of the TV clashed with the quiet, lazy start to the day, reminding me it was just another typical morning at the agency.

As the rocking chair creaked in its familiar, comforting rhythm beneath me, the newspaper in my hand rustled with every turn of the page.

The headlines were dominated by the incident at the 3rd Division of the Trinity Research Institute—a mess that had everyone talking.

< why="" did="" the="" hungry="" ghost="" head="" to="" gwanak-gu?="">

< Object licensing standards toughened, but still fall short of global expectations. >

As I skimmed the paper, my eyes landed on a double-page spread about the Gray Reaper.

Great. Another one of these articles.

Lately, it seemed like every other piece of news was singing the Gray Reaper's praises. It didn’t matter if it was an online blog or an offline rag; they were all fawning over him.

The real kicker was that some of these sketchy, unlicensed internet rags were basically Gray Reaper fan clubs in disguise.

But did I feel threatened by all this hype? Nah, not really.

It was odd, though. You'd think seeing such careless and dangerous-looking articles would set off some alarm bells.

Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the more folks backed the Gray Reaper, the safer Korea might actually get.

Hey, if it’s good, it’s good, right?

“Sunbae! We’re here!”

Junior Number 1 burst through the door, her voice loud enough to wake the dead.

She flashed me a bright smile as she hefted a giant hammer out of a long bag.

Trailing behind her, Junior Number 2—sporting her trademark golden horns—and Junior Number 3, who looked more like a grade-schooler than an actual detective, bowed to me before settling into their usual spots.

Junior Number 3 still looked like a kid, which meant her little brother’s condition hadn’t improved at all. Sigh… Poor kid.

As for Junior Number 2, something strange was definitely going on with her. Her golden horns, which should’ve stopped growing ages ago, were getting longer.

I had a pretty good idea why, but it wasn’t my place to bring it up—not until she decided to spill the beans herself.

Junior Number 3, who handled all the desk work, glanced up from her computer and called out to me.

“Detective sunbae, we’ve got a new case. What do you want to do? I’ve sent the details to your phone.”

Ding-!

My phone buzzed with a notification, and I quickly pulled up the message.

< request="" for="" investigation="" into="" large-scale="" disappearance="" cases="" targeting="" people="" with="" black="" rust="" syndrome.="">

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Ah, Black Rust Syndrome—a nasty condition where objects sprouted from people's bodies, kinda like those Golden Horns.

But where Golden Horns made people oddly likable, Black Rust had the opposite effect. People with it were treated like lepers.

Disappearances of those with Golden Horns were usually kidnappings, but this case was about people with Black Rust. If you ask me, it was more likely a murder case.

There were very few cases where someone who had Black Rust became the subject of kidnapping, so it would be more reasonable to approach it as a murder case.

I wasn’t exactly thrilled about taking it on, though. I had another job lined up, so I’d have to pass.

“I’m in the middle of a case for Agent Black, trying to save his young miss. Gonna have to decline this one.”

“Oh…”

Junior Number 3’s shoulders slumped as she sat back down.

Just then, Junior Number 2 shot her hand up, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.

“I’ll take the case!”

She glanced at her phone, her eyes lighting up.

“The reward for this one’s huge! And it’s about a person with Object disease getting kidnapped! Feels a bit close to home, you know?”

Her cheeks were slightly flushed, an unusual look for her.

Sure, folks with Golden Horns were often kidnapped, but it was a different ball game compared to those with Black Rust…

“There’s a good chance the client has Black Rust Syndrome. You sure you’re up for it?”

“Absolutely!” she chirped, her expression unwavering.

I had to admit, from the look on her face, she didn’t seem to know much about Black Rust Syndrome. But she wasn’t Junior Number 1, so I had to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Black Rust was an Object everyone hated. Golden Horns, on the other hand, were revered. While both led to disappearances, they weren’t the same thing.

In particular, people with Black Rust often harbored resentment toward those with Golden Horns—can’t blame them, given how the government played favorites with their support.

A murder case tied to Black Rust was definitely risky. But something in me—a mix of gut feeling and logic—told me she’d handle it just fine.

Thinking of the secret Junior Number 2 kept close to her chest, I finally spoke up.

“Alright, go for it. But be careful dealing with the clients!”

“Got it!”

Junior Number 2 grabbed the case file from Junior Number 3’s desk, gathered her tools, and left the agency.

As the door closed behind her, I grabbed my coat and got to my feet.

“Let’s head out too.”

Junior Number 1 and I left the office, Junior Number 3’s wave seeing us off as we stepped into the bustling city.

*******As I swayed from side to side. I wrapped my arms around Reaper from behind, snuggling into its warmth as the little antenna on its head wiggled, teasing me.

Nyam-!

I chomped down on the antenna, but just as I expected, Reaper squirmed and slipped right out of my mouth.

Hey! It ran away after teasing me like that?

Right now, Reaper’s containment room was buzzing with noise.

As I watched the Golden Reapers tinkering away on the piano and Reaper patting its soft, squishy belly, I felt like I had the whole world in my hands.

Ah, bliss.

Sure, there was that little hiccup not too long ago that almost ruined this perfect moment, but it all got sorted out in the end.

Turns out, everyone made such a fuss that Reaper escaped its containment room—again.

It's not exactly rare for Reaper to sneak out of its room, but you’d think the Object Association had never seen anything like it.

In the end, they banned us from opening the private containment room in the research institute for a while.

Today, on a whim, Reaper brought the blue lizard into its room, tossed it on the piano, and sat back to enjoy the music.

As usual, the lizard’s performance was flawless.

Maybe the Golden Reapers were feeling inspired because they hopped onto the piano, linked arms with the blue lizard, and started patting the keys too.

The music got a little jumbled, but honestly, it just made it sound even cuter and more fun.

The Golden Reapers are just too adorable!

But, like every dream, this one had to end eventually.

The terrifying Kim Jungrwi sunbae knocked on the containment room’s door.

And in his hand was…

< gray="" reaper="" periodic="" report.="">

Oh right…

I was supposed to submit that to the association last month. Whoops, totally forgot.

I dragged myself out of the containment room, putting on my most pitiful face, but it wasn’t enough to calm Sunbae’s fury.

Hinngg.

*******In the middle of the abandoned city, where desolation and eerie silence reigned, the ruins of buildings—now mere skeletons—stood like silent sentinels along the empty streets.

The sky above was a dull, cloudy gray, casting a heavy, oppressive gloom over the desolate ruins.

Amidst this desolation, a man wandered aimlessly.

He was a shabby-looking figure, his clothes tattered and worn. His face, etched with years of pain, was gaunt, with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes.

In his blood-stained hands, he clutched a wild dog, its body limp and miserable.

The man moved through the ruins, muttering incoherently to himself, his voice low and harsh. His words were a tangled mix of long-faded memories and fragmented thoughts.

It was clear that the man had lost his mind, as he suddenly burst into loud, manic laughter, claiming someone was watching him.

He arrived at a particular ruin, where the ceiling and walls remained relatively intact—a sign of lingering life—and picked up the dog's body with trembling fingers, rubbing it against the cold concrete walls.

He continued until his fingertips were raw and bleeding, yet he did not stop.

As time passed, the light of reason slowly returned to his eyes, which had been lost to chaos and madness.

Staring down at his throbbing hand, he muttered to himself.

“To think I did something like this again…”

A circular pattern, soaked in blood, was etched onto the wall.

It was evident that he had drawn the pattern himself, but he couldn’t remember why.

This man, who lost his mind several times a day, continued to live simply because he could not die.

Step-! Step-!

At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed through the ruin, where no one else should have been.

The man’s nerves rattled at the appearance of an uninvited guest, and as he turned, he saw a figure illuminated by a multitude of lamps.

The man, clutching a long, rusty rebar in his hands, stood guard as the newcomer spoke.

[ You look troubled. ]

The figure before him was suspicious, its face blurring whenever the man tried to focus on it.

Realizing that the intruder was an Object, the haggard man swung the rebar menacingly and shouted.

“What are you? Get away from me!”

He had no intention of spending his precious few lucid hours with such a suspicious character.

The faceless figure seemed to smile slightly before speaking again.

[ I am the Object of Contracts. To put it more plainly, you can call me the Devil of Contracts. ]

[ Don’t you want to cure your mental illness? How about forging a contract with me? ]

The devil’s offer sounded dangerously tempting to the haggard man.

At the same time, it carried a foreboding sense of danger, a warning that he should never accept such an offer.

*******When Yerin, who had been clinging to me like a bothersome little shadow, was finally dragged away by Kim Jungrwi, the containment room was blessedly quiet, save for the melodic tinkling of the Golden Reapers and the Blue Lizard’s piano.

As the Blue Lizard tapped the piano with its flashy footwork, the Golden Reapers followed suit and moved their feet. However, since they couldn't follow along properly, the Golden Reapers looked a little glum.

Lately, I’d been picking up on this peculiar sensation through my Black Penguin teleportation ability. Whenever I had a free moment, I’d be tracing this curious feeling.

Turns out, it was caused by a Golden Reaper, but there was something oddly different about it.

Maybe it was because this particular Golden Reaper was like a rebellious teenager who’d run away from home?

This little rascal hadn’t returned to the Garden of the Mini Reapers like all the other Golden Reapers for quite some time.

I couldn’t help but wonder what made the human it was attached to so irresistible.

Should I pay them a visit once I get bored? Sounds like fun!

*******As Junior Number 2 headed out of the detective agency, something adorable and unexpected popped out of her chest.

“Y-you can’t come out now!”

A Golden Reaper peeked its head out from her chest.

When Junior Number 2 gently pressed its head with her fingers, the Golden Reaper beamed with delight, mistaking the touch for a loving stroke.

But this wasn’t just any Golden Reaper. No, this one was extra special, with a pair of Golden Horns adorning its head!