“Beginning the experiment on Interim Code 0001 – KR at the Polar Laboratory as of this moment. Observers are Dr. Han Seori, Hwang Bo-yul, Kim Cheon-soo, and Officer Yang Ha-na. The subject is… 7496 – KR.”
A blindingly white room that induces a sense of unease.
While muttering into the camera, Han Seori hesitated mid-recitation of Lime’s identification code and glanced at Lime, almost involuntarily.
She worried whether Lime might feel any discontent for being given a name only to be called by a number again.
Though, in reality, she usually wasn’t the type to be overly considerate of such things.
But given Lime’s recent condition, such apprehensions couldn’t be helped.
Fortunately, Lime, for reasons unknown, either didn’t care or was delighted that the unidentified Singularity could now be experimented upon, showing no reaction.
Clutching Daesik tightly, Lime looked at the object with shining, expectant eyes.
Was that the look of someone eager to start?
Han Seori, sneaking another glance at Lime, couldn’t help but sigh internally.
The thought crossed her mind: parenting a child entering puberty might feel like this.
Perhaps it was akin to dealing with the “terrible twos” or even the more challenging “terrible sevens.”
Of course, this feeling was due to Lime’s outward appearance… though it could just as easily be attributed to the unpredictable nature of the Singularity.
Still, despite all this, it seemed Lime’s fundamental nature hadn’t changed, leaning more towards acts of coquetry or occasional self-inflicted quirks, rather than outright hostility.
Lime’s continued goodwill toward humans, combined with this occasional behavior, was evident.
Maybe it was a positive sign that Lime was getting closer to them?
Regardless.
Han Seori, who’d never raised a child, felt strangely baffled as she turned away and cleared her throat.
“Well, let’s move on, then. Everyone, please go ahead.”
At her soft command, Yang Ha-na, who had been equally excited, raised her hand eagerly.
“Why?”
Han Seori momentarily felt like a teacher managing a classroom.
But she knew Yang Ha-na needed more experience, something Han herself wasn’t the best at providing. Despite not being particularly harsh, Han Seori understood the lab wasn’t an ideal place for such learning, yet no one blamed Yang Ha-na, given the unspoken understanding of the situation.
With silent consent from her companions, Yang Ha-na, her face brimming with curiosity, inquired:
“Will we not be with you? How do we observe from outside?”
Han Seori kindly explained: “That’s a good point. Yes, as I mentioned earlier, we’ll observe from a different location due to unforeseeable outcomes. Lime will stay to ensure we can respond if something happens.”
Yang Ha-na nodded, satisfied with the explanation, and cast a glance at Lime.
“Is it really alright to leave such a small one in charge?”
Remembering that Lime wasn’t actually a child, Yang quickly realized her mistake.
Though her concern wasn’t entirely unfounded based only on appearances.
If Lime had heard her thoughts, it might have caused a tantrum with jelly bubbling furiously, but fortunately, Lime couldn’t read minds.
With Yang Ha-na’s doubts quelled, the group moved out of the lab to their designated observation areas.
There, Electric Scent stood with an unyielding expression.
Even though it had been only a brief separation, Yang Ha-na approached Electric Scent with a warm smile.
“Did you wait long?”
“I did not wait.”
“Ah, I see.”
Still rigid, but a little softer.
Yang Ha-na couldn’t help but feel hopeful that she was improving.
Behind her, Kim Cheon-soo and Hwang Bo-yul observed the interaction with complex expressions, knowing Electric Scent’s true intentions to not be recorded.
Ignoring the strange atmosphere in the room, Han Seori continued explaining safety measures to Lime.
“Feel it’s getting dangerous? Just swallow it.”
Words laden with concern masquerading as instructions.
Han Seori paused, noticing Lime’s earnest gaze. She chuckled, petting Lime’s head.
“Well, I’ll head out now. When you hear my voice, that’s the signal to start.”
Lime nodded vigorously.
Apparently, communication was not an issue.
With a soft smile, Han Seori exited the room along with the camera.
Once the door closed, Lime hugged Daesik tightly and stepped towards the unknown Singularity.
Waiting for Han’s cue, Lime observed but did not yet reach for it. Though it looked like a pizza box, its contents remained a mystery.
Could this be like opening a Christmas gift?
Such an experience being foreign to Lime, the anticipation only grew.
Even though Han had left moments ago, time seemed to slow to a crawl.
As if, like when doing a plank exercise, even seconds stretched endlessly.
Finally, the awaited voice echoed.
[Alright, let’s begin.]
Finally!
Excitedly, Lime extended its tentacles, grabbing the strange object lightly.
The lid wobbled under even the gentlest touch.
This was definitely going to open.
What treasures were hidden inside?
An infinite pizza dispenser?
Perhaps, more likely, a board game?
Both scenarios were equally exciting to Lime, who eagerly lifted what appeared to be the lid of the box, holding Daesik tightly in the other hand.
With a slight lift and a twist, the lid began to slowly come apart.
Finally.
As the lid separated with a slight “pong” sound, it fell to the table, vanishing almost immediately.
[What?]
Lime, who had opened the lid, disappeared without a trace.
As if it had never been there at all.
The only evidence of Lime’s presence was the now-opened box.
Suddenly.
From within the crooked lid, faint light flashed as text appeared.
– The game has resumed.
Seemingly, Lime’s assumption had been somewhat correct.
*
…Uh… What exactly just happened?
I tried to recall the recent events.
I vividly remembered the excitement when opening the box.
Immediately after, a sensation like being vacuumed into a cleaner, accompanied by a burst of brightness.
It felt somewhat akin to what people from the sewers must have experienced when they got sucked through machines near their homes.
Nevertheless.
The white brightness was fleeting, just long enough for a blink.
When my vision returned to normal, I—along with Daesik, still clutched in my arms—found myself standing in what appeared to be a desolate wasteland.
Stunned, I looked around, feeling a bit confused.
There was no pizza. There was no board game I had hoped for.
Or perhaps, if we really must nitpick, the board game could be what I had imagined.
An interactive board game akin to one I’d watched in a movie long ago.
While not surprising, given my thoughts, something seemed to be missing.
If this was indeed a board game, shouldn’t we roll dice or perform some task?
But, no dice, no ants, nothing.
Could I have truly entered a board game?
Maybe I’d merely teleported to some random barren wasteland.
Like the time when I traveled from the sewer to a nearby drain.
Thoughts of adventure faded quickly as I grew disheartened.
I hadn’t asked for a barren wasteland.
…Damn, this is really frustrating.
Instinctively tightening my grip on the jelly, Daesik, sensing my mood, patted me gently with tiny hands.
Ah… At least you’re here.
At least my nature is adaptable.
I decided to investigate the surroundings, heading toward something that might be of interest.
If I were in a real board game, there would be progress.
And if somehow lost in some unusual place, something would surely appear if I kept moving.
There’s a song about walking far enough to circle the globe.
Sure, most people might end up drowning in water, but maybe I could make it work.
I began to walk across the barren wasteland, calming my anxious mind while holding Daesik close.
