“Damn it.”
Yoo Gang-jik was absently fiddling with his increasingly bald scalp as a coarse word slipped out.
The smooth sensation registered under his rigid fingertips. Letting out a heavy sigh that seemed to sink straight into the ground, he pulled his hand away.
What good would touching it further do besides making it shine even more?
Still, a slight sense of injustice lingered.
“What exactly do they think I am?”
His role, as dispatched from the general branch, was to conduct inspections of subordinate branches and laboratories.
Admittedly… even aiding is technically included within the scope of his duties.
But still, isn’t this going too far?
It wasn’t terrible when the No. 1-ranked lab director’s misconduct was uncovered, leaving the position suddenly vacant. That was precisely what he was supposed to uncover.
However…
Strange events kept happening as if the world was intentionally testing his patience.
The result of such events landed him in this current predicament – Dr. Han Seori, the acting lab director, had left for the East Sea branch with a Singularity and one agent.
He might have thought there was some reason had it ended there, but then this exchange happened:
“Expect an intrusion or attack soon.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll explain further later. Please look after the lab.”
“Wait a moment!”
Yoo Gang-jik felt his hairline receding just contemplating this.
Aiding is part of the job, yes, but…
Sighing once more, he thought to himself:
Complaining won’t change anything.
What truly concerned him was the meaningful… no, explicit warning Han Seori had left behind.
Gazing at the slowly decreasing red timer, he fell into thought.
“Indeed, something’s off.”
Reflecting calmly, it was clear that suspicious elements were present.
To begin with, the mere existence of these entities was scarcely known within intelligence circles, yet now they were suddenly engaging in public activities. This seemed less like a sudden change in their disposition and more like a cover for some other purpose.
“Dr. Han alluded to the Singularity’s involvement, didn’t she?”
Pondering on what this might mean, Yoo Gang-jik thought he had a lead. The isolation chamber he brought up on the panel appeared empty but had an ostentatiously white, luxurious air about it, hardly seeming appropriate for quarantine.
“Could their true objective be 7496 – KR?”
If so, Han Seori’s actions became somewhat comprehensible.
Given the turmoil among the branches and laboratories nationwide:
The East Sea branch, which is currently under heightened alert due to some detected anomalous activity, must be the target.
Could it be that she didn’t disclose more because she wasn’t entirely sure herself?
“Hmm…”
His deliberation didn’t last long.
Though he hadn’t known Han Seori for too long, her judgment thus far had proven quite sound.
She had been entrusted as acting director at such a young age—surely this wasn’t due to the director’s influence alone but rather higher-level decisions.
Granted, there had been moments of incomprehensible behavior, but ultimately, they worked out well enough.
“It’s well-known that all researchers are eccentrics.”
That’s why people like himself existed—to handle the fallout.
Han Seori fit into this mold too—a genius oddball.
“Tch.”
Yoo Gang-jik clicked his tongue briefly. He scratched his increasingly glossy scalp, now operating the panel. Before his eyes, 7496 – KR materialized in the supposedly luxurious chamber with its peculiar occupants: a Jelly Girl, a small Jelly girl, and a moving doll. They were preoccupied with a TV.
At this point,
“Probably enough of a diversion.”
Whether they really intended to target 7496 – KR remained unclear.
Based on what he thought Han Seori was aiming for, Yoo Gang-jik’s next move was to:
Prepare for potential intrusions and attacks.
He would actually prefer an intrusion, should anything happen; that would cause less damage.
But.
As if fate had conspired against him,
The next morning, around dawn, an explosion was heard somewhere in the lab.
“Damn it.”
Once more, Yoo Gang-jik was overcome with unfairness.
Scaling the sticky walls of the whale’s stomach, something unusual caught my attention.
Similar to a door, a peculiar structure was affixed to the interior wall of the whale’s stomach.
The door appeared to be constructed from some extremely robust material.
When I grabbed the handle, it surprisingly yielded without a struggle, the door—roughly wide enough to admit one person—opened without resistance.
Creeeeak!
It emitted a sharp, grating noise, likely from neglect.
If I still had human emotions, I might’ve winced and possibly released the handle.
Regardless,
The moment I opened the door and stepped inside, a passage consisting of flesh-like walls came into view.
It’s like stepping into someone’s video game.
Due to economic reasons, perhaps, human footprints were visible only on the floor, while everything else closely resembled perforated organs.
Just then,
– Bwooong!
A tremendous vibration and sound reverberated through the area, strong enough to jostle the jelly.
Could this be because the stomach wall has been breached?
Sensations of discomfort are natural after one’s stomach is punctured—though sensations I no longer feel, I could roughly gauge it.
Creeeeeeek!
Things became quieter once I closed the door, giving the impression the whale felt more at ease.
As I mused this over, I contemplated the jelly.
Should I leave the door open? It might benefit me in the long run, maybe cause the creature to tire out and collapse.
But deciding to simply close it,
My limited knowledge suggests that even the largest whales on Earth can survive cancerous growths.
If that’s the case, perhaps this discomfort will quickly ease.
Though I haven’t seen Earth’s largest whales, this airborne whale-mech fusion is undeniably enormous.
Choosing to avoid troubling my conscience seems fitting.
Not that it particularly matters in the grand scheme of things.
In a worst-case scenario, either me or the whale would eventually die, marking the conclusion.
Han Seori got hurt because of me, but something still felt uneasy.
How do scenarios like this suddenly arise?
Traversing the fleshy passage underfoot, a reassuring trail on the floor guided the way, precluding the possibility of getting lost.
The only snag—compared to appearances from the exterior, the passage was narrower.
It must be healing.
Though no issue for me to navigate, it seems adults might find crossing challenging.
As I took steps, sensing the moisture against the jelly, I encountered a relatively spacious area.
Someone might have carved out a base here, as traces of installations hinted at prior use.
These, too, were crumpling as the space healed, making it impossible to determine the exact purpose.
Though guessing the intentions of whoever made something here feels like its own problem.
At least one thing became clear:
This airborne whale wasn’t a mecha-whale but rather something crafted by humans for a purpose, likely as a base.
It seems its purpose was served; all but the essentials appear abandoned.
This realization made the whale seem tragic, though it hurt Han Seori trying to eat me, which irked me.
Nonetheless,
With the passage still open, I continued advancing.
Once this passage and space heal completely, they’ll become impassable again.
But surely not today.
Presumably.
As I traversed the soft, firm, and narrow passage,
A door similar to the one in the stomach wall appeared.
This one seemed sturdier, possibly indicating an important space.
Creeeeaaak… Creeeek.
But no matter,
The door wouldn’t open.
Briefly deliberating, I submerged the handle within my jelly.
Though eating the whale was out of the question, melting a small handle wasn’t much effort.
As the handle dissolved within my jelly, the locking mechanism released, and the door started to sway.
…It seems I won’t be able to close it again.
Will that be alright?
Who knows.
Thus, proceeding through the newly opened door,
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A massive presence was palpable, making my vision dart around.
What I beheld was a red, massive, pulsating shape.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
That must be the… heart, I suppose.
Though inconceivably enormous for a heart—my limited knowledge still identified it as such.
With every beat, a thunderous “Chuak! Chuak!” echoed around.
Certainly, with such a colossal lifeform…
…The heart had to match the scale.
Then,
A rancid smell arose.
The passages I crossed before emitted a pungent odor, but the heart’s vicinity was an order of magnitude worse.
Small and Large Jelly reacted instantly, shivering violently as they clung to my body.
Ignoring the thunderous heartbeats, I focused on tracking the source of the fetid stench.
Tracking it wasn’t difficult… but it was.
Pardon the odd description, but it was genuinely a mix of both.
Why?
Because the source of this stench seemed to permeate the entire area around the heart.
And the source?
Inexplicably, it turned out to be decaying flesh.
And not just a few spots.
In contrast to the external healing process,
It seemed the airborne whale was rotting from within.
At the sight,
Something within me stirred uneasily.
