🔊 TTS Settings
chapter 9
In an instant, chaos erupted.
The researchers went pale, each hastily activating the watch on their wrist or gripping their tablets tighter.
Mechanical beeps and clicks filled the air as everyone frantically manipulated their devices—taking emergency measures, it seemed.
Somewhere, someone cursed in frustration.
I ducked behind a desk, pulling at the drawer with all my strength once more.
It didn’t budge.
– Repeating the announcement.
All three drawers of the filing cabinet were locked with a single mechanism.
I immediately began searching around.
A drawer this close to a desk was bound to be used frequently.
For convenience, chances were high that the key was kept nearby.
– Emergency situation. Intruder has escaped. All personnel to assume security positions.
I knocked over a pen holder, checked beneath the keyboard and behind the monitor, then grabbed the desk calendar.
Running my fingers along the folded inner side, I felt something clipped to the metal coil.
A paperclip was holding a key.
I jammed it into the drawer lock and turned—smoothly, it opened.
The top drawer was a mess, full of junk.
Do they ever clean this thing?
Gritting my teeth, I searched through all three drawers.
Among half-eaten chocolate bars and broken staples, I grabbed every single card I could find and stuffed them into my pocket.
I could only hope that one of them would unlock the security room.
– Intruder has escaped. All personnel to assume security positions.
I shut the drawer. I had to get back down to the basement security room.
As I tightened my lab coat and rose from my seat, I realized something was wrong.
Quickly, I crouched back down and peeked out.
Researchers in the hallway were projecting screens from their watches into the air—showing my face.
– All personnel to assume security positions.
I turned away and sat back against the drawers, trying to steady my breathing.
There was no way I could blend in with the researchers anymore.
Everyone knew what I looked like.
I took a deep breath, grabbed the mouse, and kept myself hidden as much as possible.
The monitor displayed a lock screen.
I typed in the numbers from the sticky note under the monitor—failed, again and again.
I gave up and looked around the desk instead.
Checking the memos tucked under the glass desktop, I flipped the mouse pad over.
There—a sticky note with a different number on the back.
I entered it. The screen unlocked, revealing the desktop.
Clicking open the message window, I selected “All Staff” as recipients and began typing rapidly.
[Emergency.
Intruder holding researcher hostage on the top floor.
Immediate support requested.]
The effect was instant.
Researchers murmured about the message and rushed toward one direction.
I used that chance to slip out of the lab.
Instead of the elevators, which would soon be crowded, I chose the emergency stairs.
I ran into a few researchers along the way, but they were easy to subdue.
I knew firsthand how powerful the syringe was—I’d blacked out the moment it touched me.
When I reached the security room, I pulled all the cards from my pocket and gripped them in my left hand.
With my right hand, I tried them one by one against the security pad, tossing each failed card to the floor.
Cold sweat ran down my neck as the cards dropped one after another.
If I failed here, it was over. I had no plan left.
Then, with only three cards remaining, the security pad beeped softly—unlocked.
I dropped the remaining cards in shock, then hurried to pick them back up.
Pushing the heavy iron door, it groaned and swung open.
It opened!
Panting from tension, I shoved it fully open and stepped inside—only to freeze, overwhelmed by what I saw.
The space looked like a massive exhibition hall, not a storage room.
It wasn’t made to store things, but to display them.
The air was fresh, and soft light shimmered everywhere.
Though I was underground, it felt like standing at the top of a mountain—exhilarating, surreal.
I could feel a faint breeze.
My loose hair fluttered, rose, and fell again.
“Pick the best-looking one you can find. You can tell by the grade.”
There weren’t many items stored.
In the vast space, where moss and grass had begun to grow, a few large and small objects floated midair, glowing faintly.
That was all.
I approached slowly, then broke into a run.
Each step sent ripples of light across the floor, spreading outward like water waves before fading.
“You can’t just grab anything.
A human can only have one bonded weapon.”
There were five objects floating in total:
A sleek black bow,
a rust-red iron chair,
a small blue pebble,
an intricately carved white ring,
and a palm-sized, golden, jelly-like lump.
“No need to overthink it.
The good ones look good for a reason.”
But… I had no idea!
I circled them several times, flustered.
I couldn’t just touch one—what if it stuck to me or fused with me by mistake?
People always said anything below grade F wasn’t even worth looking at.
They said you could see the grade…
I raised one of the stolen cards half-heartedly.
To my surprise, translucent windows popped up above each object, showing details—name, grade, date stored, handler, supervisor, and so on.
I looked for the grade first.
Instead of letters like A or B, they were shown as symbols:
Two bore blue castle emblems, two had red spear symbols, and one had its grade field completely blank.
Which was better?
Was blue good? Red? Or the one with nothing at all?
I didn’t know. I checked the “Supervisor” field next.
All five had the same handler—researcher.
But the supervisors differed: four listed “Research Team Leader.”
The last one said “Commander, 207th Special Operations Battalion.”
Suddenly, the holographic windows blinked out.
I waved the card again—nothing.
Someone had revoked its access.
And just as I thought that, the heavy metal door clicked open.
Through the gap, I saw a group of researchers rushing in.
Locking eyes with the one in front, I instinctively reached for one of the floating items—
and yanked it out of the air.
The golden, palm-sized jelly.
The only one supervised by the battalion commander.
“Stop!”
The lead researcher screamed, running toward me, panic in his eyes.
The others followed, shouting incoherently.
“Hey—you—no, not that one! Put it down! Stop! Stop! Please—!”
Seeing their terrified faces, I was certain.
This was it.
This was the one I needed to make mine, no matter what.
Backing away, I rubbed the jelly against my forearm.
It only slipped around disgustingly, refusing to stick or absorb.
Clutching it, I bolted in the opposite direction—then, in desperation, shoved it into my mouth.
I couldn’t think of anything else.
It was lukewarm and squishy.
Too big to swallow whole, so I bit down hard.
With a crack, a foul-tasting liquid burst out.
I almost threw up, but forced it down.
“Ahhhh! She’s crazy! Crazy!”
“Stop her!”
“Grab her!”
As I stuffed the rest into my mouth, a researcher tackled me from behind.
We tumbled across the floor together.
He climbed on top of me, shaking my shoulders violently and shouting.
“Spit it out! Spit it out! Aaaaah!”
It was the lead researcher—the card’s owner.
His name tag swung wildly before my eyes: Team Leader, Jang Seok-ju.
“Team leader! Just—just pull it out!”
“How?! You want me to cut her open?!”
“Use your hand! Reach in and pull out whatever’s left! I’ll help!”
“No, I’ll—hey! Hold her jaw!”
Someone grabbed my chin, forcing my mouth open.
As Jang Seok-ju’s hand reached inside, I twisted violently and bit down hard.
“Aaagh!”
“Team leader!”
“She bit me! She bit me! Blood—there’s blood!”
“Pull your hand out!”
His hand slipped free.
In that brief moment, I swallowed the rest of the slimy liquid.
A dizzying nausea hit.
I coughed violently as my vision warped and twisted.
“She swallowed it. She actually swallowed it…”
“Did she really?”
“Look—her mouth’s empty…”
I gasped, clutching my abdomen.
Something inside clawed at my organs, a searing pain spreading to my fingers and toes.
Even as I felt my life slipping, one thing was certain—
The horrified faces staring down at me.
Jang Seok-ju’s glasses were askew as he whispered, trembling,
“…We’re screwed.”
Whatever I had eaten—
I’d eaten it completely.
