…Why is this happening?
Lee Yoo-jin felt a strange sensation as she touched her wrist.
It was soft and cool, like a human finger, but the fact that the thing gripping her wrist wasn’t human was glaringly obvious.
In fact, the act of the entity grabbing her hand and pulling her towards it had become—slightly familiar since the day after she found the first piece.
For some unknown reason, that small yet terrifying existence had started to show an obsessive-like behavior towards her.
Normally, she wasn’t interested in novels where characters became fixated on someone, but in this case, it was the peculiar singularity that made it hard for her to understand why it had such an obsession with her.
Though the group, including herself, treated the singularity like a young girl, she clearly knew that it wasn’t a girl—it was a singularity. And yet, its behavior was oddly childlike.
On one side, it clung tightly to her wrist, like a child holding onto a beloved stuffed toy, refusing to let go.
Because of this, she couldn’t avoid looking at Lime. The more she observed its features and body, the more it resembled a young girl. If its body wasn’t translucent and its skin intact, she would have easily mistaken it for a real young girl.
However, Lee Yoo-jin knew that the entity gripping her wrist wasn’t something as innocent as it appeared.
She couldn’t help but know—the reason she had to discard her original name, take on a new one, and everything else made it impossible to ignore.
Let alone the disruptive noise—it was the kind that no one could overlook.
In fact, upon thinking further, she wasn’t entirely sure whether this singularity gripping her wrist was the same one she had known before.
Not since the cursed day, when something had happened, which pushed them to their present state.
Perhaps it’s an entirely different one with a distinct identification number.
Still, it was hard to believe.
More importantly, she couldn’t fathom why this singularity was acting so… strangely clingy, like a child in need of protection.
Had it been harmed?
That didn’t seem to be the case. Given how it refused to leave her side, she would have noticed any unusual event.
Frankly, she wondered if even the singularity’s soft and flexible body would survive any major harm before it even had the chance to react.
If that was the case, then something must have happened on the first night.
Since it couldn’t speak, there was no point in asking.
Understanding gestures was also limited, and with other people nearby watching quietly, she had no intentions of inquiring further.
How did it come to this?
Lee Yoo-jin watched as the platform ascended, reminiscing about the recent events and sighing inwardly. There was absolutely no apparent reason.
At first, it seemed to enjoy rummaging around in the cave with her, but now it seemed disinterested, only showing up when she rummaged through the white debris.
Was it upset because she didn’t respond?
Probably not. Although they treated it like a girl, it was fundamentally a singularity—a thought it was impossible to read.
Still, despite this, there was something undeniably cute about the singularity’s actions as it fidgeted with her wrist.
It was hard to believe that this same singularity, which would wildly thrash about after getting shot, could turn into such soft jelly.
For all its gentleness now, she feared the moment its soft grip might transform into sharp tentacles.
Based on its past behavior, it likely wouldn’t happen suddenly, but still…
Looking at it now, she began to understand why they were so focused on this small singularity, whether it had been in its original domain or its newfound one.
Though the decision might have come from two individuals who had become indifferent, it felt like a necessary choice without many alternatives.
She even wondered if the most irrational thing was her own participation—volunteering just to fill the numbers.
She did have a purpose, of course.
Back then, she was captivated by the desire to observe the singularity, one of the reasons she had ended up in this situation. That’s why she agreed to join such a seemingly insane endeavor.
Reflecting on it now, while the singularity hadn’t done anything wrong, it seemed like these events had unfolded due to some unrelated occurrence.
But now, seeing it in action—so soft, so small—it was almost laughable how her past gloomy thoughts had evolved into a desire to protect it.
Although she had absolutely no idea why this being, which didn’t need protection, was acting in such a way.
Could it be some survival strategy?
Just then, a deep clanging sound echoed as the platform finished ascending, delivering her and the group to a new space.
“Man, I thought I’d die of boredom.”
“It’s a new place.”
“…”
While Park Jin-soo and Lee Sang-yong exchanged words, Lee Yoo-jin remained silent. There was no point in trying to get closer to people she didn’t particularly want to befriend.
Instead, she looked down at the small singularity holding onto her wrist.
Though it had been lackadaisical in the lower levels, the arrival at this new space invigorated it, reminiscent of a child receiving a new toy.
…Maybe trying to understand it was futile.
Lee Yoo-jin decided to accept it as it was. However, she started to feel a twinge of concern.
Would this small singularity comply with what those crazy people intended?
It seemed unlikely.
Its mysterious caution only deepened with every passing moment.
Unless there was something hidden…
And if there really was something…
Would it benefit this little singularity?
Lee Yoo-jin doubted it. The image of ‘that person’ who had somehow pulled her into all this kept resurfacing, inducing an overwhelming feeling of revulsion.
After all, it wasn’t like she had any real loyalty to the disgraceful group she’d stumbled upon.
…Or was it?
Could her involvement in this situation be part of someone else’s scheme?
The chilling possibility sent a shiver through her, and Lee Yoo-jin silently shook her head to dismiss the thought.
Perhaps…
She might need to make a choice.
An option that hadn’t even occurred to her when she first volunteered for this madness.
The saying about putting new wine into old wineskins must be something like this.
The feeling of despair that had sunk to the bottom had somehow risen to an average level.
Or was it… because of the soft grip on my wrist that made everything seem okay?
Even if I held someone’s wrist, the sensation would feel similar, but there’s something calming about clinging to someone like this—a habit I never had before.
Maybe it’s from spending so much time with Han Seori, Yang Ha-na, and Hwang Bo-yul—it became natural.
After all, we often physically interacted, sometimes even very closely.
Listening to their heartbeats while being so close… honestly, it felt… good.
Hearing someone’s heartbeat up close feels like something only family or lovers would do, right?
I wasn’t sure how they regarded me, but based on my (former) human instincts, it seemed I wasn’t treated as less than human.
Anyway…
The horrifying scene from that night tried to resurface, so I forced myself to look at the new environment.
Where the lower level had been a cave-like labyrinth of holes, this space looked more like a perfectly drawn maze.
Compared to the holes in the lower levels, this area felt properly constructed.
Perhaps stepping on the wrong floor would cause spikes to emerge, or entering the wrong passageway would result in arrows flying out.
Maybe flames would erupt from the walls.
Or worse, the floor might collapse into an endless abyss.
…Or perhaps, just like the lower level, there would be nothing at all.
Logic whispered that having nothing would be ideal, but my romantic side hoped for an adventure.
“Does it look like a maze? Or just passages? Not quite sure.”
“Hm… we’ll find out soon enough. Just be careful where you step; you never know what might be here.”
The adult once again snatched the words I wanted to say. After briefly glancing at him, I turned my eyes to the man beside me, resisting the urge to look.
I didn’t want the disturbing scenes I witnessed that night to surface again just by looking at him.
I hated even receiving his gaze now.
Though I couldn’t confirm what exactly this individual had done, it was clear to me, given the context, that he was responsible.
Regardless.
Despite my unease, the group moved forward without hesitation. The path behind where the platform had risen was sealed, leaving us no choice but to continue ahead.
After walking some distance in the moist space, we soon encountered our first trial.
“Hmm… which path do you think is the correct one?”
“Who knows?”
“…”
A very classic split in the road.
Without any hints.
A classic “you die if you don’t know” trope?
Maybe…
