We were calmly heading back with me in the carrier, but something felt off.
It wasn’t as though a black sedan had approached, rolled down its window, and started shooting at us, nor was it like some unidentified 5-ton truck had come and crashed into the car that Hwang Bo-yul and I were in. If such an event were to happen, personally, I’d find it rather thrilling; however, while I might survive unscathed, it was all too clear that Hwang Bo-yul would inevitably get injured or worse—so it’s not something I wish for.
Thus, the odd feeling I had wasn’t stemming from such dramatic scenarios but from Hwang Bo-yul’s demeanor.
The way she hastily loaded me, practically at the speed of light, into the carrier and then into the car—I could accept that behavior. After all, thinking back to the time we returned from that place with the never-ending staircase, it wouldn’t be too surprising if she’d developed some sort of trauma.
Back then, it really felt like a disaster. Come to think of it, there were even people who looked like some sort of special ops team breaking down doors and storming in. So in a way, she had already experienced that.
…Though, we also had even more unusual experiences, so maybe it wasn’t all that shocking after all.
In any case…
After ensuring I was securely buckled into the passenger seat—with an actual seatbelt for the carrier—Hwang Bo-yul set off, gripping the steering wheel with an unusually rigid expression.
Her face is normally stoic and not easily expressive, but comparing that to the way she looked now, the difference was pretty significant.
It was obvious she was deeply engaged in some serious thoughts. Her facial expression had changed so dramatically that even a fool could tell, and it would be ridiculous if I couldn’t pick up on it.
Why was she acting this way?
Even with my sharp mind, I couldn’t figure out why Hwang Bo-yul had such a tense look while driving. Ideally, she’d be muttering to herself, giving away hints, but unlike in novels or movies, she wasn’t doing that.
In movies, characters usually mumble to themselves during such moments, offering information to the audience, but reality isn’t that straightforward.
So, I was left to speculate. The most promising clue seemed to be the shift in atmosphere I noticed when we were heading to the car after eating.
The mood upon entering that place and leaving it was clearly different, just like her current expression.
Had something gone wrong? Was it perhaps a singularity we were never supposed to eliminate so casually? Could it be that by doing so, people who had turned into furniture might never come back?
If that’s the case, a change in atmosphere would be understandable. While I didn’t necessarily know all the details, it follows that complaints would logically be directed at me.
I’m not sure whether that would be fair or unfair. If it were someone I knew, I’d understand the need to place blame… despite not being entirely justified.
However, given that I’m (probably) the one being blamed, the situation feels even more frustrating.
Thinking reasonably, it’s not right to blame me. If I hadn’t acted, far more people could have turned into furniture… and likely, things would have gone worse.
Still, reflecting on all the human experiences I’ve had, it’s not altogether implausible that these events would occur. Regardless, I feel a bit despondent.
On the other hand, I felt a tinge of pride. Thinking about how I solved something that even secret organizations might not be able to handle gave me a surge of confidence—confidence that wasn’t baseless either, since it was based on real results.
And so, while being driven away as though fleeing, I felt a bit regretful—not really anger, but disappointment. After all, we’d played board games and shared food during that somewhat chaotic chase.
When I think back, we stayed there a while after the task was completed… so the fact that we’re returning so quickly this time might be a sign that something went awry.
Unless I’d slept for several days and that’s why this feels odd?
Hmm… probably not.
Sleep wasn’t a necessity for me, so the chances of that were low.
…
I don’t know.
Shouldn’t Hwang Bo-yul have told me if I needed to know?
If she’s acting this tense, it might mean there’s a reason she can’t tell me… right?
I stopped my train of thought. For some reason, it felt like knowing the reason might change everything, just like the child who learns there’s no Santa Claus.
Like someone who realizes there’s no paradise to run to.
There are some things better left unknown, after all. So, I decided to busy myself with the jellies that were in the carrier.
Judging by their decreased numbers from when we set off, it seemed plausible that those turned into furniture wouldn’t return. These ones likely got lucky and avoided that fate. When I think about the ones who were consumed… perhaps being furniture was their fate.
Could it be that once inside, people turned into food for those who consumed others’ flesh?
Maybe this is a truth no one should ever learn…
Nah… right? The jellies are unique cases of transformation, but surely humans must have turned into furniture due to some other cause.
I suddenly felt a little nauseous and decided to occupy myself by fiddling with the jellies. As I massaged them, the motion calmed my stomach.
How long had I been playing with the jellies? Absorbed as I was in kneading them, I noticed familiar scenery outside the window, marking our approaching destination.
Or maybe it was just the effect of Hwang Bo-yul’s aggressive driving. She obviously wanted to get back quickly, and I was pretty glad to be returning home sooner.
Now that I naturally think of it as ‘home,’ it gives me a strange, warm feeling.
Whatever the case.
I wanted to be greeted by Han Seori’s warm embrace and enjoy one of Kim Cheon-soo’s puddings. I also missed seeing Yang Ha-na laughing with Electric Scent in some playful quarrel. Even lying around with the jellies on the bed didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
How is Lee Yoo-jin recovering, I wonder?
“Hmm…?”
While reminiscing about these now-ordinary occurrences, Hwang Bo-yul’s voice reached me from above. Her tone wasn’t cheerful, so I pressed my face against the window cutout of the carrier.
As I flattened against the glass like jelly, I clearly saw the cause of her strange tone. The view ahead revealed a group of people, not armed but gathered in a suspicious manner, scanning their surroundings like they were searching for something.
Hwang Bo-yul must have sensed something unusual, as she immediately hid herself and the carrier.
“What are all these people doing here?”
Exactly.
Given the unease in her voice, this wasn’t a situation she had anticipated. After a moment of contemplation, she maneuvered through the recognizable landscape while avoiding the gathered group’s gaze.
Stealthily and cautiously.
Eventually, as we neared home, the familiar steelworm portal burst through the ground with a mild tremor. It’s become something I can’t imagine commuting without.
Hwang Bo-yul smoothly boarded and with a solid thud, the closed portal transported us past the strange individuals to the safety of home.
No matter what happened outside,
I had returned to my cozy, warm home.
*
From that day onward, I still don’t know the identity of the people outside.
Han Seori and Hwang Bo-yul didn’t bother informing me unless it involved my next mission, so in a way, it was understandable.
Honestly, I didn’t care to know. What good would it do me? My only concern is learning what I need to do regarding singularities.
The world is full of things better left unknown.
Why else would there be that saying, ‘Ignorance is bliss’? I now appreciate the wisdom of our ancestors, as it still applies even now, despite my changed state.
Of course, one shouldn’t be overly entrenched in ignorance, but for now, things are good.
Peaceful days.
The jellies wriggled about, perhaps feeling the need for a change of mood. Daesik transformed into his colossal Alice form, twitching and fidgeting as he basked in the bright sunlight.
Jung-sik continued to spew jelly, and Sosik created sleep bubbles—a tranquil day.
Even Electric Scent was motionless, seated somewhere, lost in thought.
“A significant, unidentified large organism has been detected in the Korea Strait,” came a report on the TV.
It wasn’t particularly alarming but piqued my interest. According to the news anchor, it wasn’t near our seas but rather around the island nation’s waters, where something unusual had been spotted.
The exact nature of the creature wasn’t disclosed, merely mentioned as something massive that appeared on the radar—an account that seemed rather far-fetched.
An expert then appeared, speculating about its identity and marveling at it, before the regular news resumed.
This wasn’t much different from the odd news I saw last time. Even if this were related to some singularity, it wasn’t our territory, so it wasn’t really my problem.
Still,
Why did I feel this unease?
My knowledge pool twitched anxiously.
