Yang Ha-na’s story wasn’t very long.
To begin with, except for the fact that what happened to her was quite unusual from her perspective, it was simply a case of her eating pudding when a suspicious person appeared.
And it turned out that the suspicious person really was dangerous, and she lost her life.
Of course, listening to the story, it felt like many intermediate steps had been skipped.
Particularly, when it came to the part about the man dying, Yang Ha-na seemed to trail off awkwardly, clearly trying to gloss over the details of how the man perished.
At first glance, it seemed like she might have developed trauma and didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but to the group, especially Hwang Bo-yul, it felt more like Yang Ha-na was hiding something.
Indeed, for someone who had been a civilian until recently, witnessing someone die right in front of her was undoubtedly a shocking experience.
Yang Ha-na’s pale face and dark circles were likely due to this shock.
Perhaps, deep down, she hoped the group wouldn’t notice how she was evading certain details.
However, considering her usual behavior, it didn’t seem like she was deliberately trying to hide anything, but rather, she genuinely seemed to have something she didn’t want to reveal.
Then the question arose—what exactly was she trying to hide?
It was highly likely that it had something to do with Sphere, who was currently having a glaring contest with the Jelly Girl beside her.
Thus, despite Yang Ha-na’s poor state, the group couldn’t help but feel concerned for her evasiveness.
But that didn’t mean they would let it slide.
It was important to establish clarity, especially since it might be connected to matters related to the Singularity.
And naturally, it was Han Seori, the only “Researcher” present and de facto head of this lab, who stepped up to the task.
Han Seori began to gently urge Yang Ha-na with a voice tinged with apology.
“Hmm, Ha-na. I know this must be difficult for you… but could you elaborate further? Saying that he just suddenly died sounds somewhat… inadequate, doesn’t it?”
“A, well…”
Yang Ha-na couldn’t hide her trembling pupils.
In her nature, deceiving others was something she was far from adept at.
Knowing this, the group still pressed her because they understood her lack of experience with such situations.
Though it wasn’t complete consideration since they did prod her further—still, Han Seori and the others couldn’t help it. How could they deal with such matters otherwise?
Yang Ha-na, knowing all conditions beforehand, had agreed to work here.
Under the firm yet concerned gazes of the group, Yang Ha-na hesitated, stealing glances at Sphere.
The reason she was dodging questions so much… was indeed related to Sphere.
Not only did she not want to recall the scene where the man died, but a more fundamental cause lingered—Sphere had killed a human without hesitation.
Yang Ha-na was deeply troubled by this fact.
She feared what might happen to Sphere if this truth were revealed to Han Seori and the others—would Sphere be “disposed of”?
Such a thought wasn’t unusual for Yang Ha-na.
Not knowing how other labs operated, she only knew of Singularities as either Jelly Girls or Spheres.
She had never heard of a Jelly Girl killing someone, and if she had, it was likely just a rumor. Surely, they were innocent.
But the fact that Sphere, another Singularity of the same classification, had killed someone so ruthlessly made her worry that it might be seen as a grave offense.
Yang Ha-na didn’t know who the deceased was. The man had died so quickly—before she could even fully recover from her prior state of poor health, leaving her no time to think.
Still…
…a person had died.
In society, if someone kills another, they receive serious punishment. No matter how much intent is considered, there’s always a penalty.
And if it wasn’t human-to-human… but human-to-Singularity?
Surely, as those responsible for managing Singularities, wouldn’t they naturally try to eliminate such threats?
Yang Ha-na was uneasy about this possibility.
The thought of Sphere, whom she had just started to get close to, being destroyed was… something she didn’t want.
Even if someone asked why it mattered more that Sphere stayed alive than the man who had died, it wasn’t equal—it couldn’t be.
Therefore, even if they criticized her for being selfish, Yang Ha-na wanted to protect Sphere.
After all, it was partly due to her own foolish actions and thoughts that Sphere ended up killing someone.
She wanted to take responsibility for that.
Yet, just thinking about the death of the man made her body tremble violently.
There was no way she could hide this.
Still… somehow, she had to try to cover it up… she had to…
The group calmly waited for her explanation. They had the time since they had just returned from an important mission.
Suddenly, a voice cut in.
“That entity… No, since she seems to find it hard to speak, I—I will explain instead.”
“Uh, er…”
“Hmm, that would be helpful. I was feeling a little uneasy about this too.”
“Huh, but…!”
Thus, the center of the conversation shifted to Han Seori and Sphere.
Yang Ha-na looked distressed at Sphere’s firm stance. Growing increasingly uneasy, she hugged Jelly Girl tightly, who had been standing alone, almost forgotten.
Though Jelly Girl couldn’t help solve her current predicament, the soft, cool sensation provided her slight comfort.
However, her worries…
…were resolved far more easily than she anticipated.
“Uh… after hearing it, it doesn’t seem to be a story that needs to be hidden… Hmm, well, it could be, I guess… Hmm.”
“…”
“…?”
After explaining everything, Sphere fell silent again, leaving Yang Ha-na bewildered as the outcome differed from her expectation.
Confused, Yang Ha-na glanced at Han Seori, who instead wore an expression of understanding, almost as if she had expected this.
After all, Sphere’s behavior was quintessentially Singularity-esque.
In fact, compared to Jelly Girl, who appeared more peculiar under such circumstances, Sphere’s actions seemed rather ordinary.
But it wasn’t all bad.
Firstly, Sphere had initially tried to stop Yang Ha-na from going out alone.
Secondly, it revealed Sphere had retaliated only after being attacked first.
That was frankly astonishing.
Deep in thought, Han Seori glanced at Jelly Girl, who was still nestled in Yang Ha-na’s arms.
As far as she knew, controlling… no, regulating Sphere was Jelly Girl.
While the exact nature of their relationship was unclear, Jelly Girl seemed to have authoritative control, indicating that she might be governed by 7496 – KR.
Perhaps there was something special about 7496 – KR after all.
Han Seori couldn’t help but feel warmth towards Jelly Girl. It was almost as if she was under some form of infatuation.
But this wasn’t only Han Seori’s impression. Even Huang Bo-yul and Kim Cheon-soo seemed to have similar thoughts upon hearing Sphere’s revelation.
The only one still unclear about the situation was Yang Ha-na.
She blinked, unable to adjust to the suddenly softened atmosphere.
Her apparent confusion prompted Kim Cheon-soo to speak softly.
“Probably, there’s no need to worry about what you’re thinking about…?”
“Huh?”
“Umm… where should I start explaining…?”
Seeing Yang Ha-na’s wide, rabbit-like eyes filled with innocence, Kim Cheon-soo felt a mixture of emotions.
It seemed this misunderstanding stemmed from Yang Ha-na not working at other labs before.
However, explaining this to her posed its own difficulties.
Typically, through their research facility experiences, operatives like Yang Ha-na and Kim Cheon-soo come to realize that their lives can be as fragile as flies, easily snuffed out.
Through such experiences, they witness the deaths of comrades—most often at the hands of Singularities.
And occasionally, they are forced to “handle” colleagues turned rogue—usually criminals who had voluntarily entered the facility through deals.
Still, the act of personally harming others remains undiminished.
In any case…
It was possible her lack of such experiences played a role.
…Additionally, her failure to understand that Singularities were sometimes treated with more seriousness than humans here might have contributed.
Saying things like there was no need to make a fuss over a human death or excusing it by saying the Singularity couldn’t help it, were off-limits.
Even if people became accustomed to such realities, they still retained an awareness that it was abnormal.
Thus, he found himself in a difficult position.
He had to explain, but figuring out how to convey it was the problem.
…After all, with Yang Ha-na’s unconventional route of employment, it wasn’t entirely her fault.
Ultimately, Kim Cheon-soo stayed silent and the awkward atmosphere was broken by Han Seori.
“Well, I understand the situation. It’s been resolved nicely. If you had gone out alone, it might have ended worse, and since you acted in self-defense, that’s understandable. Of course… you should definitely improve on not contacting me.”
“Is… is that so?”
“Yes. So… let’s take it easy for now. You look quite exhausted. Since we just returned, I could use a rest too.”
“Yes, yes!”
Though Yang Ha-na still didn’t fully comprehend everything, it seemed she was reassured that Sphere wouldn’t be “disposed of,” and her features brightened slightly.
Watching this, Han Seori thought to herself.
There was some sort of change blowing through this lab—what exactly it was, she wasn’t sure.
Its epicenter was certainly Jelly Girl.
Jelly Girl had sparked subtle changes not just in Han Seori, but also in Huang Bo-yul and Kim Cheon-soo.
Thus, it wasn’t entirely surprising if Sphere was also influenced by Yang Ha-na—or perhaps the other way around.
Or maybe it was all due to Jelly Girl’s influence.
Although the events were tainted with bloodstained warnings,
Han Seori didn’t feel uneasy about it. To be precise, the changes brought by Jelly Girl were not unsettling to her.
The so-called ‘Call of Twilight’ had appeared in her mind.
…This must be unsettling.
The deceased man was likely from that group.
Claiming they wanted to meet me while staging hostage situations here.
Could they have been buying time?
Was it right not to agree to the meeting?
Lost in thought, Han Seori decided to call it a day for now, given the fatigue was unavoidable.
