‘Mr. Cat’ looked at the researcher in the white lab coat in his hand.
Still smiling even with his collar clenched and his breath catching, Gwak Jegang said:
“What do you mean, my doing—what on earth are you...!”
Keeping his grip on the collar, Mr. Cat started walking.
Dragged along, Gwak Jegang watched as one of the platform hydrants swung open in front of him.
Inside was a single head.
“...!!”
He had torn the head off a turned-neck that had burned and ceased to move, and placed it in that hydrant.
The face, blackened and charred by fire, belonged to Research Team 2’s leader, Team Leader Choi Myeongjin.
“Urk,”
Deputy Lee Yeonhwa clapped a hand over her mouth.
“It was you.”
“Mr. Cat, that’s a conject—”
“All the researchers died.”
His tone was flat, like stating a fact.
“Only the three of you could have done this. One of you died with his neck turned while clutching a hydrant in the residential blocks. That leaves two...”
From behind the cat mask, his eyes dropped to Gwak Jegang’s hands.
“Your hands are clean.”
“......!”
Deputy Lee looked at her own hands on reflex.
Dust, ash, soot—filthy. Traces from fleeing when the residential blocks first began to burn.
Of course.
If someone’s hands were clean, that person...
Had wiped them on purpose.
“You wiped them on your coat.”
Mr. Cat’s gaze angled down. With his other hand he flipped open the fluttering front of Gwak Jegang’s lab coat.
Inside, filthy handprints of blood and black scab were smeared thick.
“......”
“......”
“Correct.”
A smile spread over Gwak Jegang’s face.
“To infer it on the spot—brilliant! You understand human behavior completely! In that case...”
“Researcher.”
A low voice.
“You broke your promise.”
The cat mask came closer.
Cold sweat slid from Gwak Jegang’s temple...
“Hold on!”
His voice came out steady.
“The promise’s conditions are different.”
“Conditions?”
“That’s right! If you recall the sentence I pinky-swore...”
At the same time, the sentence rose in the minds of both, everyone save Deputy Lee:
I will not go against your will from now on.
“And I have not gone against Mr. Cat’s will. I did exactly as told and hid inside a hydrant!”
“......”
“If I truly had broken it, a ‘symptom’ would’ve appeared by now... You wouldn’t have to be grabbing my collar, ha ha!”
He waved the end-missing pinky before Mr. Cat’s eyes.
And even sweating cold, he smiled.
“I did not break the pinky-sworn promise... urk.”
Gwak Jegang dropped to the floor from Mr. Cat’s grip.
Mr. Cat bent his knees, sat, and met the eyes of Gwak Jegang, who lay face-down.
Then the eyes curved with a gentle smile.
“True.”
“.......”
“You’re right.”
For the first time, tension edged Gwak Jegang’s face.
And at the same time, something like expectation.
Deputy Lee realized it.
That lunatic was now looking forward to how the entity called “Mr. Cat” would respond.
Those glittering eyes in front of an opportunity to observe a phenomenon—and those hands, clenched and trembling.
“So from here on I’ll make it clear. My will is...”
......
“You’re quitting.”
“...Pardon?”
“Resign from the Daydream research team.”
A mild voice said:
“I’d like you not to approach darkness, not to research it, and not to try to satisfy your curiosity.”
“...!!”
Color drained from Gwak Jegang’s face. Behind the mask, Mr. Cat’s eyes narrowed in a crescent.
“How good is that? I’m telling you to live safely. Don’t die—live safely for a long, long time.”
“......”
A torrent seemed to surge in his eyes, and soon a smile resurfaced.
“Ha ha—no, then I’d be useless! You’ll need my research and inform—”
“What if I don’t?”
“......”
The smile warped with effort.
“How about cutting off a hand? Or excising an organ, or having nightmares every time I sleep, or getting dragged by darkness whenever there’s a full moon...”
“You’re thinking of quid-pro-quo punishments commonly used by darknesses. Right?”
“......”
“Problem is, I don’t need those. Your pain, your body parts—none of that means anything to me.”
Heat began to drain from his eyes.
On the face where the smile vanished, something filled in—despair or numbness; a look as if doing fierce calculations...
...That.
Looks dangerous.
Deputy Lee heard a crisis-signal in her head, enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck prickle up.
And just as she opened her mouth—
“Do you want to remain a researcher?”
“......!”
Gwak Jegang snapped his head up.
“I asked you.”
“Yes!”
The answer came without hesitation.
But Mr. Cat only looked down at him in silence.
Gwak Jegang worked fast, speaking again—more urgent than before, yet careful:
“This will never happen again. If you make it Mr. Cat’s will that this never—”
“Good.”
“...!”
“Let’s say I watch how you act here in Se-gwang Special City and we talk again then.”
“Ha ha, ha... thank you!”
Light flashed back into his eyes, and the smile returned. In that moment of relief—
“Let’s do that going forward.”
“......”
“But for what you did today, you should receive a quid-pro-quo punishment. Right?”
“...R-right?”
“All right.”
Mr. Cat declared:
“Break your remaining pinky yourself.”
A moment later, a smothered scream echoed in the platform.
***
[Whew! My friend, that was high drama! Characters who don’t know their place need the appropriate lesson.]
A lesson.
This wasn’t a lesson; it was just violence.
I chose it only because there was no other way.
Whew.
Violent pecking-order games with a mad scientist... things I was never fated to do.
But if I didn’t do it this way, he wouldn’t get scared—he’d just keep testing me.
Thinking of the researcher who ran out when the hydrant opened and died with his neck turned left me heavy—and chilled me.
Because it felt like Gwak Jegang had been testing me.
Did he choose that man on purpose?
Maybe he noticed I’d looked askance at that project researcher for shoving someone and running at the tattoo-shop door.
It felt like he did it to check where the “line” was—what I’d tolerate, what I’d notice, what I’d let slide.
Granted, he may also simply have wanted to verify how sturdy a hydrant was and record it.
Which is an even creepier reason.
So I pushed harder on purpose.
...Also because I was angry, to be honest.
Whew.
I looked at the tattoo sticker I’d pressed on the inside of my arm.
A delicate black tattoo: flames climbing over a shattered gas lamp.
—This design, please.
I’d bought the sticker at the Moonlight Tattoo Shop for smooth arson.
I’d chosen it carefully for the form and symbolism—and sure enough, if I stuck it on and broke glass, flames climbed over it.
But as a side effect, it seemed to stir an intense urge to set fires and made it hard to restrain violent anger...
That influence surely had a hand in how heavy my strike had been.
Ha.
I forced my mind to move on.
For the record, the blue mascot paid.
GOOD CHILD
I
BOUGHT IT FOR YOU
...Honestly, I was really grateful.
It wasn’t a basic tattoo but a Royal Premium or whatever line. Not something you’d get for a review.
I had no more pearls or mother-of-pearl; in the worst case I was going to try to bargain with a resort lodging ticket.
Paying with something like a small scale, the blue mascot left me these words:
MY GIFT
DO NOT FORGET
The round, mysterious dark-blue scale I’d received from it.
A wondrous thing with iridescent sheen.
...I’m carrying it.
It seemed to mean: call it when it’s dangerous or necessary, when I want to see it.
Will it work even in Se-gwang Special City?
I had no intention of testing it now.
There was something more urgent.
Shuffle, shuffle.
I climbed the platform stairs.
Every time I sensed Gwak Jegang limping along behind, the sticker-stoked anger flared and then cooled.
If I kept insisting on “resign and no more research” as a condition, he would’ve tried to take me down with him.
He would’ve said that since he was going to die anyway, he’d rather die after seeing interesting research results.
When you drive someone hard and then cut off every exit, instead of complying, they do something insane. I had to remember that and act accordingly.
Whew.
Even Baek Saheon, at least, wasn’t the kind of troll who did it because it was “interesting and fun and rewarding.”
Anyway—I pulled myself together and looked from the top of the stairs at what I’d done.
“......”
The residential district, blazing, had become black ash.
In that place, burned to cinders, no neck-turned corpses walked anymore.
There was no need to sleep, ever again.
There were no houses here now.
“......”
But there was a price to pay for setting fires out of the blue.
—No! No! My home!
—Please, don’t! Why would you do that...
—My home is gone now. There’s nowhere to go back to. Mom, Dad...
Resentments and screams echoed by my ears.
No one else could hear them. Only I could, like auditory hallucinations.
—Arsonist!
—Die die die die die
—Your house will burn and disappear too
...the minds of Se-gwang citizens who had wanted to go home whispered to me with grudge.
But I was fine.
Because I’d injected a Happy Maker.
Do you know that acetaminophen can have some effect even on depression? A strong painkiller kills mental pain too.
Once I leave here, it’ll be gone.
I don’t plan to stay long anyway.
Aaaaaaa...
The view of the burned residences began to bleach white.
Having failed to be houses any longer, they no longer had any right to occupy the station that symbolizes this residential zone.
I watched them in silence.
Somewhere, it felt like I heard a sorrowful wail...
“......”
The next moment.
“...Hh.”
At the top of the stairs spread a concourse with the lights out.
I heard Deputy Lee draw in a breath.
“Section Chief Gwak and I will go into that concourse. But if you wish, you can wait here.”
“...! May I ask exactly where you’re headed...”
I pointed to the opposite platform.
The side where, as the test had shown, the screen door’s emergency hatch wouldn’t open; you couldn’t get there except by going through the concourse.
“There’s another darkness over there.”
At that, Deputy Lee swallowed and rose to her feet.
“I’ll go.”
...In that case.
With the two researchers in tow, I stepped into the dark concourse.
Like Night Station with Hanbit Library closed, the concourse lay in a state like an abandoned ruin, dust thick.
We passed through and went down to the opposite platform, found the machine room, and opened it up.
Creak.
A heavy reek of char wafted out, and a corridor of a completely burned office came into view.
“This is...”
“This place is called the YuKwae Research Laboratory.”
I explained slowly.
“Have you ever seen Daydream’s potion production machine?”
“W-what? Yes. It’s not my area, but I’ve seen it while collaborating.”
“In truth, that technology was developed here, in this lab.”
“Excuse me??”
“From the circumstances, Daydream stole the YuKwae lab’s tech and devices and is producing potions with them.”
“That...”
Deputy Lee’s face went pale even as her cheeks flushed red.
She realized she was hearing something she shouldn’t, and at the same time, as a researcher, the thrill of hearing censored truth surged.
Doubt and curiosity.
“Wait, if it’s the YuKwae Research Laboratory... then it’s a darkness that produces darkness—”
“Correct. Follow me.”
I entered the burned office corridor.
The two researchers started after me.
I could hear Gwak Jegang’s breathing grow rough as he wisely kept his mouth shut.
And then—
“Look.”
“...!!”
After opening several doors, I found a machine.
A dream cultivator.
“It’s still running.”
It looked broken, as if most of its functions were gone; it was a version without a button to produce potions.
But it was unmistakably there.
As I thought.
It matched what I’d confirmed at the previous station where Delusion Home Shopping had been.
A scribbled exchange between employees—notes that had gotten stuck between drawers and remained.
—Looks like there’s a fire on the floor below—everyone took extinguishers. That’s the floor with the most dream cultivators—what on earth...
And if the research labs at Se-gwang’s subway stations were stacked by floors, then this “Noon Station,” the very next station, would be the floor below.
So maybe—
If there were many cultivators, there was a chance at least one would still be alive, I’d guessed.
And the bet paid off.
I looked at the researchers.
They scanned the dream cultivator with trembling eyes.
“Then here’s where I collect payment for letting you live.”
“......”
“Analyze this machine.”
“...!”
“How it differs from Daydream’s.”
Right.
Even if darkness development is their main job, researchers are the ones loading and handling dream-solution devices.
They’d be far more familiar with this machine than I am.
“Um...”
“What differences? There’s a difference your naked eyes can see right now!”
Gwak Jegang leapt forward.
He hurriedly felt over the dream cultivator, scouring it end to end, then rattled off:
“Employee—no, Mr. Cat. Do you see that round thing inside the solution tank?”
I saw it.
A round object like an egg.
I’d seen the same thing in the prototype of another dream-cultivation room’s device—the one Agent Choi had caught me at...
“Daydream’s potion-maker doesn’t have anything like that.”
...!
“Isn’t that right, Deputy Lee?”
“...It is.”
Deputy Lee’s normally calm voice shook.
The tone of someone who, even while worrying whether she should say it, ends up stating fact.
“In Daydream Inc.’s solution tank... there’s nothing.”
“......”
“You called this a dream cultivator? Then originally the machine would have been made to cultivate that egg, but Daydream may have stripped that function and used it.”
Right.
The YuKwae lab’s dream cultivator was a machine to cultivate something. And its result...
Is me.
I was produced, cultivated from one of those eggs in a dream cultivator.
It isn’t strange if Daydream removed that function and used only the potion-production functionality.
“Yes. That’s correct.”
It was something I already knew.
I answered, a little numb.
“By inference, a dream cultivator is a device for cultivating some lifeform—”
“Lifeform? That’s not something you can reduce with a word that simple!”
What?
“Mr. Cat. You know what kind of resource dream-solution is. It’s a tremendous energy source that manipulates and works on reality itself—why would you spend that capacity just to make one single lifeform?”
This...
What is he getting at?
“No researcher would design something that inefficient. It has to be something else... well, from here on it’s my conjecture.”
......
Meeting my eyes, Gwak Jegang, pale-faced, still grinned.
“Have you ever heard the phrase: ‘An egg is a world’?”
Ah.
“It’s from a certain classic novel. The meaning’s a bit different from how it’s used there, but... I think we can say the same thing in this case!”
Wait.
“The egg in that cultivator is one world.”
......!!
“The dream cultivator’s objective is... to generate a new world.”
“......”
“...That’s the hypothesis I came up with. Ha ha! A hypothesis—just a hypothesis.”
Preposterous.
But, through the buzzing numbness in my head, an idea popped up.
The YuKwae Research Laboratory is a company that manufactures toy-like ghost stories.
Children’s toys.
Which means, in the end...
An attempt to receive ghost stories in the least harmful way possible.
And considering the Se-gwang catastrophe that came with keywords like paradise and heaven, those words...
Have a chance of being right.
If so.
The world the YuKwae lab was trying to create—wouldn’t it be something like this?
A safe world.
A harmless world.
......
A world without ghost stories.
The very world I came from.