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In the early morning of San Francisco, as the city was just beginning to wake up.

The reporter entered the apartment, clothes still stained with the remnants of a landfill, and hair a mess from blood.

“What on earth is going on…?”

Murmuring while looking at his reflection in the mirror, the reporter noted the wound on his forehead and bloodstains on his clothes.

He found himself waking up abruptly from the landfill, with a dissonance between the date on the clock and his memory.

A full week of time had disappeared from his mind.

Everything felt unreal.

Desperately trying to recall something while showering with hot water, nothing came to mind.

Only an unidentified dream he had right before waking up.

After a quick meal and changing clothes, the reporter checked the time.

He was already running late for work.

“Ugh, how am I supposed to go to work without my phone?”

With no other choice, the reporter left the house.

The morning scene of San Francisco welcomed him, just like any other day.

But something felt different to the reporter.

The busy people and the distant crumbling buildings painted an ordinary picture.

Yet, it was as if everything was vivid, cutting through the darkness.

Arriving at the Sehee Research Institute building with his familiar stride, the reporter was still in a state of confusion.

While riding the elevator up, he considered what excuses he should come up with for being absent for a week.

Surely, once he opened the office door, he’d hear his editor’s angry shout.

However, when the reporter opened the office door and stepped in, nothing happened.

“You look like a mess. I guess yesterday’s coverage didn’t go well after all. You can skip the report.”

Instead, the editor spoke with a worried expression as he walked by.

‘…’

Shaking his head in confusion, the reporter made his way to his desk.

His colleagues’ strange looks followed him, but his mind was filled with his own thoughts.

“Fortunately, it seems I wasn’t marked as absent…”

“So what on earth happened during that week?”

“And why was I buried in a landfill?”

At that moment, deep in his eyes, a black wave stirred once again.

Unaware of it, the reporter struggled to return to his ordinary routine.

*

In the isolation room deep inside the Sehee Research Institute.

I lay on a fluffy bed, my fuzzy hair serving as a comforter.

As always, it was a warm and cozy space, but I was lethargically sprawled out without even turning on the TV.

The reason was that the Golden Reaper’s mischievous attempt to create a star candy, which they could never possess, had failed.

Right when success was within reach, with the duration of the candy almost up, the prank ended with the Golden Reapers helplessly watching the vanishing star candy, flailing their hands.

This was due to the sudden appearance of the Blue Idol Reaper, who broke the spell on the star candy.

At that moment, a whisper echoed in my mind.

It was a whisper telling me to turn all the Golden Reapers and Blue Idol Reaper into djedzi.

Was it the thought of the Orange Reaper, or my own thought?

But as I had already lost in the prank, I decided to gracefully accept my defeat.

Leaving behind the Golden Reapers happily eating the star candy, I made my way back to the isolation room.

‘This is comfy…’

I lay on the bed, staring blankly at my fuzzy hair that covered my whole body.

Numerous mini reaper heads popped up on my fluffy hair, making it look like a mini reaper exclusive nest.

The mini reapers settled on my hair all sported hairstyles styled after the Orange Reaper.

“Mom!”

“Just like Mom!”

“Hehe.”

Besides the Golden Reaper and the Black Reaper who could change their hairstyles, many mini reapers styled their fluffy hair.

Thanks to the quick distribution of wigs by the Yellow Reaper.

If the Yellow Reaper hadn’t been around, I would have been asked to change my hairstyle…

That would have been super annoying; I was relieved.

‘Fluffy!’

The mini reapers enjoyed rubbing against each other’s fluffy hair, having a great time.

While I watched the mini reapers play on my body, I suddenly got annoyed and shook them off.

‘No way!’

Leaving the mini reapers rolling on the floor behind, I approached the pudding factory situated in the corner of the isolation room.

Bump, bump.

Around the pudding factory, several Sehee Research Institute employees, including Yerin, were gathered.

Taking pictures, expressing their admiration, and more.

At first, I thought, ‘Must be a trend to upload pictures of the pudding factory,’ but they hung around for so long that I grew a little curious.

Peering down at the pudding factory, I spotted Golden Reapers with rabbit ears moving around, working at an accelerated speed.

The only difference from usual was that they had turned fluffy.

But the cuteness created by their fluffy hair and rabbit ears was incredible.

The research institute employees were eagerly taking pictures of the rabbit-eared fluffy reapers, while other mini reapers who couldn’t work at the pudding factory looked at the Golden Reapers with envy.

Yerin mixed in among the employees, excitedly snapping pictures of the Golden Reapers.

Hmm…

Hmm…

The Golden Reapers looked incredibly happy, as if the employees’ attention and feelings were uplifting.

They were enjoying their work to such an extent that they seemed to sing, even without making any sound.

Then, suddenly, perhaps time was up, one of the rabbit-eared Golden Reapers came out of the factory.

As it found me, it bounced over with a bright smile.

“Mom, Mom!”

“Just like Mom!”

Then it perked up its rabbit ears and radiated happy vibes toward me.

Seeing the happy Golden Reaper made me feel inexplicably grumpy, so I turned it into a “Pudding Rabbit Ear Djedzi Golden Reaper.”

“No way!”

Hehe.

*

The reporter let out a deep sigh as he stared at the computer screen.

To fill the gap of the past week, the reporter started digging through his computer files.

Inside the computer were piles of documents related to the Alexander Group, none of which he remembered.

“What is all this…”

Muttering, the reporter started opening the files one by one.

Financial records, employee lists, rumors circulating on the internet.

There was nothing solid enough to be called evidence, but there was plenty of information to weave a conspiracy theory.

Most eye-catching was the last whistleblower he had met.

The only person he successfully interviewed.

The last whistleblower seemed to be the one most connected to him waking up in the landfill.

However, there was no solid information left about the last whistleblower.

‘Is my memory loss somehow related to the whistleblower?’

Questions piled on top of questions.

The reporter pressed his forehead and fell into deep thought.

In his mind, the dream he had in the landfill mixed with the data on the computer, swirling around.

As he reviewed the week’s worth of data, time flew by, and soon it was almost time to get off work.

Lifting his head, he glanced at the office clock.

“Wow, is it already this late…”

The reporter mumbled while packing his bag.

The moment he stood up and walked toward the exit, an odd feeling washed over him.

Suddenly, his coworkers started looking suspicious.

The reporter’s heart raced.

The sound of his heartbeat resonated like a large drum.

He could hear his colleagues’ breathing, the tapping of keyboards, and even the distant sound of traffic crystal clear; everything was vivid.

His coworkers looked tense when they met his gaze.

His heartbeat became irregular, and they subtly evaded his eyes.

‘Something’s strange. Everyone’s hiding something.’

Since waking up in the landfill, his senses had sharpened to an unbelievable degree.

It felt similar to a ‘superhuman’ ability like that of a Sentinel.

The reporter struggled to suppress that sense as he hastened his pace.

‘What on earth is happening to my body?’

‘Is it related to the Alexander Group?’

‘Are my colleagues… are they really hiding something from me?’

Embracing various thoughts, the reporter walked through the dimly lit streets of the late evening.

*

Arriving near his home, the streets had already plunged into inky darkness.

Only the sporadically placed streetlights cast a lonely glow, and the shadows of the crumbling buildings from the Object incident created an eerie ambiance.

Perhaps due to his heightened senses, the sounds around him rang clear in his ears with every step.

At that moment.

Suddenly, a familiar yet strange footstep echoed.

It was definitely not the sound of ordinary shoes.

‘This is… the sound of military boots…’

The reporter was startled and halted.

‘How do I know the sound of military boots?’

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a sudden sound sliced through the night air.

‘Thump.’

A heavy and dull sound.

Before he could comprehend what it was, a strong impact hit his chest.

And he lost his balance, falling backward.

Lying on the ground, he scanned his surroundings with blurred vision.

What caught the reporter’s eye were heavily armed soldiers with night vision goggles.

Smoke was still curling from the barrels of their guns.

Why…

And just as his vision began to dim into darkness.

Ping.

A small metal object clattered onto the asphalt.

‘Human…’

At the same time, the reporter’s gaze began to rise.

Rising beyond the height of simply standing up.

So large, he could look down at all the soldiers.

And that elevated view reflected the transformed grasp of the reporter.

Long and darkened, with sharp claws.

The reporter found that image familiar.

It was undoubtedly the black hand he had seen in his dream.

And in the next moment, the reporter charged at them with unbelievable speed.

His sharp claws pierced through the soldiers’ gear, and his steel-like teeth ripped them apart.

The reporter couldn’t see himself crushing all the soldiers until the end, completely losing consciousness.

 

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