“How beautiful it always is.”
The man with hair white as snow murmured in awe, gazing at the ‘something’ atop the table.
The ‘something’ was encased in pristine, sturdy-looking glass, and the man’s face was clearly reflected in it as he leaned in close.
In the reflection, a glint of indescribable obsession flickered in the man’s eyes.
For a while, he caressed the glass with his fingers, lost in thought, before suddenly frowning and clicking his tongue as if an unpleasant memory had surfaced.
“It’s unfortunate that I can’t obtain more now. It’s unfortunate. Besides this, that man had no other use. Well, I’m glad I still have you.”
The man babbled on to the ‘something’ atop the table as though addressing an absent person.
Even though he received no response, his face remained tender, as if speaking to a beloved grandchild.
The man seemed to feel quite warmed by this interaction, but anyone else might have questioned his sanity, perhaps wondering if dementia had set in.
…Though he looked slightly younger than his years, his prematurely silver hair and weathered wrinkles belied his actual age.
Suddenly, the man’s demeanor shifted, and he rose to his feet. His transition was so abrupt that anyone observing would have thought a completely different person had taken his place. After gently stroking the glass one last time, he left the room silently.
Before leaving, he double-checked the room carefully.
With a soft click, the door closed, plunging the room into absolute darkness. The only light came from the ‘something’ encased in the glass, glowing faintly due to a light source beneath it.
Though it didn’t emit light by itself, the installed lighting was surprisingly powerful, likely more so than necessary for mere admiration. Indeed, the heat emanating from it caused droplets of sweat to form on the man’s face as he stepped out of the room.
The ’round’ something, carefully stored inside the glass, remained silent despite the radiant heat.
And it seemed it would remain silent forever.
Suddenly,
It quivered slightly, swaying left and right, perhaps affected by the heat. If the man had been there, he would have been overjoyed, but no one was around to witness the stirring of ‘something.’
After a brief disturbance, the room returned to an eerie silence, like the absence of even a mouse’s breath.
—
Suddenly, Kim Cheon-soo entered, and Lee Yoo-jin thought it was time for dinner.
Well, it did seem like dinner time. In his hands, he carried what looked like a serving tray stacked high with sumptuous dishes that would likely satisfy even a grown man.
Seeing the sheer quantity of food, I couldn’t help but stare at Lee Yoo-jin. She didn’t seem like someone who would eat so much.
Upon catching my gaze, Yoo-jin blushed unusually, muttering softly.
“It’s just… the food smells so good…”
Though I hadn’t exactly asked, the meals prepared by our chef were well known for their quality.
Kim Cheon-soo’s cooking skills had only improved since arriving here, consistently serving meals that rivalled those of a large family every day. Perhaps that was to be expected.
…Didn’t Kim Cheon-soo belong in a kitchen rather than in this place?
What kind of backstory brought him here?
Now I was slightly curious, but we weren’t close enough for me to ask yet. I decided to save the question for later. Currently, I’d have to either write it down or use Electric Scent’s help, but that would ruin the mood.
Someday, when I can speak again, we’ll share a drink and talk about it—
…Maybe I’m dreaming too big.
Anyway.
While I was lost in thought, Kim Cheon-soo placed the tray in front of Lee Yoo-jin before leaving with Han Seori, seemingly in a rush.
Must’ve been something urgent.
Was it those middle-schoolers again, leaving another present?
Last time, I was excited without knowing better, but now, it doesn’t excite me as much. Of course, adventure always comes with risks, but these risks are somewhat… pedestrian.
It’s disappointing. I didn’t come here for barbarism; I came for romance. I am, after all, a civilized being.
Reflecting on past events in the Singularity, my mood dropped. Thinking about those who never escaped, my thoughts were interrupted by Lee Yoo-jin’s hesitant voice as she fidgeted with the tray.
“It’s… Lime, right? Would you like to eat with me?”
Hmm.
I wasn’t looking at it with hunger in mind.
But the tray emitted a tantalizing aroma that seemed to beckon me, drawing me closer—a level of temptation that made me wonder if someone might abandon their job just to run a restaurant with this skill.
Of course, it would take a lot of effort to succeed in the long run, but this certainly seemed preferable to working in such a dangerous place.
Thinking back, I remembered hearing the term “memory erasure” slip out of Han Seori’s mouth earlier.
Does Kim Cheon-soo keep working here because memory erasure is required when leaving?
Would that also erase his cooking skills? Or, more fundamentally, can the same person even exist without memories?
I’ve heard before that the human body’s cells aren’t permanent; they are constantly replaced with new ones. After a long while, one’s physical self would technically become someone else.
So, the only proof of identity that remains constant is memory, right?
Can someone still be considered the same person if their memories are erased?
…Maybe it’s natural that this question captured me.
If memory defines identity, then can I, who retains memory, truly be called human?
…Honestly, I have no idea.
It’s like in science fiction where teleportation involves disassembling a person into particles and reassembling them elsewhere. Could the person on the other side truly be the same self?
I couldn’t resolve this philosophical dilemma without a headache, and I couldn’t have anticipated this train of thought would stem from a simple joke about Kim Cheon-soo’s cooking. I was oddly bitter about it.
…Kim Cheon-soo would probably find it exasperating if he heard, but since he can’t read my thoughts, why should it matter?
Rather,
Yoo-jin looked worried as she observed my deep contemplation, probably sensing something was wrong.
The cause was likely me.
Who wouldn’t be startled if someone frowned after being asked to eat together? If I were her, I’d either decline or just start eating the food already.
…She seemed to be hesitating over something, perhaps waiting for my reaction.
Anyway,
Since she asked if I’d eat with her and I can’t speak, it must be fine to indulge. I nodded gently at her anxious expression and reached for the braised pork.
The tenderly stir-fried pork disappeared into my jelly body, granting me flavors of sweetness, aroma, and spice.
There’s no chewing sensation, but not needing to chew makes it all the more convenient, right?
Yoo-jin, who had been prepared with chopsticks to feed me, seemed startled when the pork disappeared beyond my hand and quickly moved on to serve herself.
She truly seemed to enjoy the meal Kim Cheon-soo prepared.
Even though I was unilaterally taking food, I felt content as I observed Yoo-jin enjoying her meal.
She was quiet indoors, almost gloomy, but watching her now, happily eating under sunlight, made me feel rather good.
I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic toward her struggles with that group of kids. I thought again about the Whale incident—those people probably weren’t entirely bad, but their group’s overall atmosphere certainly was.
Not all of them might be bad, but the general air of things wouldn’t be enjoyable to talk about.
…Still, those people—
Could they possibly be targeting me?
Though it sounds random, the fact that I was sucked into the Singularity, where others didn’t easily end up, likely had a reason behind it. Whether it was to kill or capture me…
Neither seemed particularly pleasant, so goosebumps ran down my jelly body.
While I was grinding my thoughts against the group of kids, Yoo-jin finished her meal. The tray sparkled so brightly I was tempted to ask if she was worried I’d take more.
After clearing crumbs around her mouth with my jelly form, I waved goodbye to her and left the room.
Yoo-jin’s expression as she watched me leave was quite amusing.
Her face, filled with a mix of confusion and doubt, suggested there might be something wrong, but this has become my way of life now. I have no intention of changing.
As I turned back toward the hangar, I noticed Electric Scent’s drone buzzing about, apparently constructing something.
I wonder what she’s making.
Hopefully, it’s nothing strange.
