The Reaper, who had lost interest in the 'Fortune-Measuring Coin', now turned its interest elsewhere and wandered around the car, peeking here and there.

To the extent that it interfered with the vehicle operation.

Fortunately, the Reaper, who had quickly lost interest in the car as well, curled up in the backseat and started to sleep peacefully.

But perhaps it was an unlucky day.

Now, just when I was about to drive calmly to the destination, a variable occurred in the schedule.

I was being followed.

It seemed like they were making an effort to follow me secretly while maintaining a distance, but their following skills were at an amateur level.

When I looked back at the pursuer, it seemed to be a news vehicle from 'Daily Object'.

I heard the broadcasting station was closely related to the Sehee Research Institute in various ways, but I had no connection with them.

It seemed they were chasing my car, wondering if there might be some news material coming from the Sehee Research Institute.

Shaking off an amateur's follow would be easy if I took some time, but it didn't seem worth the effort.

Rather than troublesomely shaking it off, I decided to just ignore it and hurry to the Sinkhole Evacuee Camp.

I don't have time to waste on a stupid third-rate journalist.

I also didn't have enough time for the commission.

***

Following the car of the detective who had been bragging a bit lately, the 'Sinkhole Evacuee Camp' appeared.

As expected, the detective, who had lived comfortably, was unable to shake off the skilled following of the experienced 2-year journalist.

Should I quit being a journalist and become a detective instead?

Isn't that guy being the number 1 detective a bit too much of a blue ocean?

T/N: 'blue ocean' seems to refer to a situation where the top detective operates in a field or area with little competition, where they significantly stand out from others. correct me if I'm mistaken.

On the other hand, being a journalist was a clear red ocean that was too difficult for me to handle.

These days, there are too many media outlets using the Gray Reaper to earn views, making it not as easy to make money as before.

What's needed in times like these is a 'big hit'.

Chasing the detective's vehicle that departed from the Sehee Research Institute, I arrived at the jackpot - the 'Evacuee Camp' that was off-limits under the suspicious pretext of an 'Object Accident'.

It was a place perfectly suited for high-risk, high-return.

The fact that the detective from the Sehee Research Institute was entering the restricted area gave a strong scent of a big scoop.

***

When I arrived at the camp with the detective and looked around, the sight of the Evacuee Camp was unpleasant.

Butterflies, butterflies.

Wherever you go, butterflies.

The 'Songpa-gu Sinkhole Evacuee Camp' was surrounded by a wall, and the camp below was full of butterflies.

Butterflies on the ground, butterflies on the doorframes.

The sheer number of butterflies, as vivid and horrifying as the mayflies clinging to a convenience store in midsummer.

However, there was something I didn't understand.

Ghostly butterflies were flying around, so why bother building such a physical wall?

By erecting this useless wall, it was clear that the butterflies had spread all the way to the Sehee Research Institute.

The detective seemed to know about the existence of these ghostly butterflies, but shouldn't he point out that this kind of wall is useless?

***

Time was running out.

The time limit was about 48 hours.

48 hours later, the Korean government planned to launch missile attacks and bombardment on the camp and the sinkhole to resolve the butterfly situation.

The government believed that all the personnel in the camp had died and was planning the attack.

But why was that the time limit?

It was because of the fact Watson had informed me.

If the missile attack is carried out on the sinkhole in 48 hours, Lophiomus and numerous Objects will emerge from within, and Seoul currently has no ability to defend against that.

I wanted to prevent the missile attack, but my claim without any evidence would not be accepted.

But the government also had no choice.

The number of butterfly-infected people was increasing exponentially over time, and if they delayed for just a week, an enormous number of people would be infected.

From the government's perspective, it was a choice between being 100% certain to be destroyed by the butterfly infection, or being destroyed by the uncertain invasion of Lophiomus.

In other words, the government could not afford to delay.

So the time I negotiated with the government and obtained 48 hours.

Within 48 hours, if I destroy the culprit who is causing the butterfly incident, the missile attack will be canceled.

This commission was the most difficult and time-sensitive one I've taken on while working as a detective.

Now that I think about it, it's always been like that.

Following the information Watson gave me, an incredibly difficult commission was always waiting.

And it was a huge commission that was hard to give up.

As I looked at the gas lamp 'Watson' in my right hand, I thought it was a suspicious Object as usual.

***

The Journalist POV:

---

I heard that blue ocean detective, accompanied by soldiers, would barge into the camp about 24 hours later and search for something.

How did I obtain this information?

There's nothing money can't do.

It's a well-known fact for a journalist in the red ocean.

So the only thing I had to do was to infiltrate the camp first and find the object the detective was looking for.

Even if I couldn't find it, it didn't matter.

I could just hide and follow the detective again to catch the scoop.

Why would they deploy soldiers to search a place that no one can enter or leave due to the blockade?

My journalist's instinct was strongly tingling.

***

Still the Journalist POV:

---

It wasn't difficult to infiltrate the camp to find the scoop.

The soldiers' focus was only on preventing people from leaving the camp.

After sneaking into the camp, the atmosphere of the camp was not normal.

The camp was quiet, but not asleep.

It was very strange.

The people in the camp were not sleeping at this late hour.

Well, that could be understandable.

But the problem was that they were just staring blankly at people.

There was no sign of intelligence in the eyes of the camp people, and their gaze was a bit strange.

To put it in a metaphor... yes, I'd say their eyes were like shark eyes.

An unpleasant, emptyaze with almost no emotion.

Due to the atmosphere of the camp, the more I wandered around, the more my shoulders drooped and I felt drained of energy.

What kind of hardship is this in the middle of the night?

Cough cough

While looking around for anything unusual, I heard a coughing sound.

Looking in that direction, there was a container house with the door wide open.

As I entered the container house where the coughing sound came from, there was a boy lying down in the completely dark interior.

He had hollow eyes, dark circles, and an extremely tired expression.

"Ah...haha... Are you normal, mister?"

The boy weakly smiled and continued speaking, coughing up blood.

"Mister, is this a nightmare? When can I wake up from this dream?"

The boy said something completely nonsensical.

Just as I was about to say, 'Hey kid, what the hell are you talking about?', the boy suddenly started vomiting blood furiously.

"Ugh! W-What is this?"

The boy was vomiting as if trying to expel everything inside him, until only wrinkled skin remained.

Gasp, ugh.

I couldn't breathe properly from the horrific sight.

I was so startled that my hands and feet were freezing cold.

As I caught my breath, I couldn't help but scream again.

"Aaaaaaah!"

Seeing the blood spilled on the floor being sucked back into the boy's body and swelling up again, I couldn't hold back and ran outside.

"This is crazy. Crazy. What the hell is that? Could it be that the reason the government has blocked this place off is because of this damn thing?"

"They should tell us! Where has the people's right to know gone?"

"This is a dangerous place, they should let everyone know!"

The camp, which had seemed quiet and peaceful at first glance, had a completely different impression.

It was like a scene from a horror game.

The sticky gazes that clung to me wherever I went did not let me go.

And only now did I realize that they were gradually surrounding me.

I'm scared.

Now I no longer know if the people in this camp are even human.

From very far away, slowly. The encirclement towards me was inescapable.

Before I could even reach the opening I came in, I became immobilized, trapped.

Just like being packed in a crowded subway train, they surrounded me tightly and stared at me fixatedly.

A man slowly approached me from the front and gripped my shoulder painfully tight.

"W-What are you doing? You know this kind of behavior is considered assault, right?"

But no one answered my words, they just laughed.

Kekekekee~

Making this strange, muffled laughter, these people started dragging me away roughly.

"You guys are making a mistake! I'm the famous Daily Object reporter!"

I struggled desperately to escape by invoking my reputation, but it was completely useless.

Instead, I felt an eerie atmosphere.

Not like a reckless criminal without a care for the future, but something more fundamental.

As I thought about it, I began to be convinced.

These guys are not human.

Looking at them now, their expressions did not seem human.

They were making strange expressions.

It was hard to describe, but if I had to, I'd say they were twisting their faces in a bizarre way.

I couldn't even grasp how they could make such expressions.

Then, blood suddenly gushed out of my mouth like a broken faucet.

No matter how hard I tried to stop it, it wouldn't stop.

"No, no, no, no!"

The image of the emaciated boy came to mind.

I tried to stop the blood pouring from my mouth, but it just kept endlessly gushing out.

My limbs lost strength and I collapsed like an empty husk of skin.

Along with the cold, my vision started to darken.

At the edge of my vision, I thought I saw the figure of the 'Gray Reaper'.

'P-Please save me.'

But those words never formed and just scattered.