In the blurry vision, a completely unfamiliar scene was unfolding.
I instinctively realized I was in a dream, but it was a strange dream that didn’t quite feel like one.
The world inside the dream was a chaotic mess of time with no beginning or end, flowing at an absurdly fast pace—like 1,000x speed.
I couldn’t tell where I was, whether I was lying down or standing up.
It felt like drifting around aimlessly as a wisp of wind with only faint consciousness.
The world I saw in this dream felt like an endless sea brimming with wishes, hopes, and desires.
Amidst all the chaos, the sky remained constant.
And there I was, gazing up at the sky in my dream.
“I want to fly through the sky.”
Though I could do anything, flying was something I just couldn’t manage.
Too many things held me tethered to the ground—resentment, longing, hope, despair.
Then, a mysterious wish whispered to me:
[A god who grants every wish is just as catastrophic.]
[It would’ve been better if there were no gods at all.]
Even though my awareness in the dream was hazy, that particular wish lingered in my memory for some reason.
Suddenly waking from the strange dream, the familiar sight of the isolation room greeted me.
Dark yet cozy, peaceful and comforting—the perfect isolation room.
I peeled off the mini reapers clinging to my face and placed them gently on the bed before sitting up.
Near the ceiling, orange reapers floated lazily about.
Surely, these kids were the reason for my bizarre dream.
Out of spite, I grabbed one of the orange reapers and began tickling it.
As soft as cotton balls, they were far more ticklish than the golden reaper, squirming uncontrollably.
Unlike when I teased the blue reaper with a broomstick, there was something oddly enviable about how effortlessly the orange reaper could fly.
Is it because they can soar freely without wings?
As I kept tickling the orange reaper, something seemed off.
It felt… softer than the golden reaper? Could it be?
When I aggressively unraveled the fluffy covering of the giggling orange reaper, it tried desperately to hide itself with its hair while still laughing.
Despite various distractions caused by objects within the room being knocked over—likely due to the orange reaper’s abilities—I finally managed to uncover its body hidden beneath the hair.
This orange reaper’s form looked slightly different from the other mini reapers.
Taller stature compared to the golden reaper.
A curvier figure too—almost elf-like, except smaller. If not for its size, it might even rival my own curves.
Why does it have everything I lack?!
Out of sheer annoyance, I continued tickling the orange reaper until dawn broke.
A village nestled in the Odaesan mountains.
Trinity vehicles were flooding into the area.
The Director of Research Institute No. 2 stood atop the highest point of the village, overlooking the landscape below.
After discovering suspicious activity by the Director of the 1st Research Institute, the second director had come to verify matters personally.
Concerned about potential dangers left behind by the first director, the village appeared mostly intact aside from scattered signs of damage.
“Hmph, lucky break. Would’ve been a headache if some disaster tied to the first director’s work had erupted here. Nothing out of place so far.”
If anything, it felt like a minor gain.
Piles of expensive alloy containment walls meant for object isolation littered the outskirts of the village—equipment confirmed missing from the records of the 1st Research Institute.
“Still, how did this village survive? No external trade, no farming…”
The secretary, a man flipping through reports, responded:
“Just implausible testimonies thus far; we’re still investigating exact causes.”
“Implausible testimonies? Do elaborate.”
Clearing his throat, the secretary replied:
“They say the forest provided abundant food. Wild animals would suddenly collapse and die along paths too.”
“Sounds far-fetched—but strangely credible. Likely linked to an object, isn’t it?”
Flipping further through the report, the secretary added:
“The residents call it ‘the blessing of the Orange Moon.’ They claim nothing bad ever happened, and hunger was unknown.”
Taking the report, the director quickly scanned through it.
“Resembles it.”
The director noted similarities between “the blessing of the Orange Moon” and the Gray Reaper’s abilities.
Under the blessing, fruits fell unexpectedly during walks, animals tripped over stones and died—eerily similar to the sinkholes and animal deaths attributed to the Gray Reaper.
While the Gray Reaper guided destruction and death, the Orange Moon seemed to twist probabilities toward beneficial outcomes.
The village where cloud fish once lived.
The appearance of cloud fish at Sehee Research Institute.
And now, the Orange Moon bearing resemblance to the Gray Reaper.
The director couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t mere coincidence.
“In any case, we should relocate the elderly villagers to Seoul. Without the Orange Moon, staying here would make them easy prey for objects.”
With that, the director handed the report back to the secretary and headed toward their vehicle.
Seizing the absence of Senior Jungloe, I fled to the Reaper’s isolation room.
Inside the always serene atmosphere of the isolation room, the Reaper lay sprawled across the bed, seemingly devoid of energy.
Cradling the lifeless Reaper in my arms, I spoon-fed it pudding.
Mmm.
Our symbiotic relationship established: the Reaper eats pudding, I nibble on its antennae.
Ever since disappearing with the cloud whale and returning, it’s been acting unusually downcast. Is something wrong?
On TV, stories about a rising cult dominated the airwaves.
Despite sounding utterly absurd, so many people believed in it—it was baffling.
Especially surprising given the current restrictions on international travel, yet somehow it spread globally simultaneously.
“It must be related to an object, right?”
Though pretending disinterest while munching on pudding, subtle movements in the Reaper’s antennae betrayed curiosity.
The cult was famous enough.
Stories claimed it made the lame walk and the blind see again. Ridiculous, sure, but in a world with objects, stranger things have happened.
Could this global phenomenon stem from such miracles?
Certainly better than apocalyptic cults advocating mass suicide, but how long will this one last?
Judging by the Reaper’s interest, it might fade quickly.
Just as I enjoyed a peaceful afternoon watching TV with the Reaper, Unnie Sehee burst into the isolation room, looking like she’d just escaped something.
“Unnie Sehee? What’s going on?”
Right behind her came Unnie Seoah.
“Director Lee Sehee! Just what is this?!”
Unnie Seoah appeared genuinely angry.
Could it involve embezzlement?
Glancing briefly at the papers she waved around, I caught glimpses of land purchase documents. Perhaps preparations for relocating or expanding the research institute?
“Who builds a ‘Gray Reaper Theme Park’ by buying land at several times market value? At our current income, construction would take 20 years!”
“We’ll get a loan! The Gray Reaper’s popular, so we’ll pay it off quickly!”
Massaging her temples, Unnie Seoah sighed deeply at Unnie Sehee’s absurdity.
At this rate, will the institute get shut down?
A sudden unease settled over me.
The association employee handed over a paper featuring the symbol of the currently trending cult.
Beneath it, warnings and evangelism tactics were detailed.
Relief washed over Rachel upon receiving it.
‘They’re not here for the Golden Reaper.’
Looking exhausted, the association employee handed the flyer to Rachel, saying:
“Recently, there’s been an increase in missing persons nearby, so we’re distributing notices and safety tips.”
Flipping through a report, the employee added sternly:
“Some people are actively seeking out the cult to find missing loved ones, but it’s extremely dangerous. Please don’t do that.”
Quietly, the employee mentioned most who went searching never returned.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Rachel.”
With a polite nod, the employee departed.
Click.
As the front door closed, unease crept into Rachel’s mind.
‘Could my parents have fallen for this cult?’
Thinking of her parents living in a nearby city, Rachel picked up her phone.
Though convinced they wouldn’t fall for it, her expression remained twisted with worry.
The Golden Reaper, unnoticed until now, appeared on Rachel’s shoulder, patting her cheek comfortingly.
Small hands spread wide, expressing silently: ‘Don’t worry, I’m here.’
Though unable to speak or make sound, Rachel felt as if the Golden Reaper had just said those words.
Waiting for her parents to answer the phone, Rachel softly murmured, “Thanks,” while petting the Golden Reaper.
But no matter how many times she called, it only connected to voicemail.
