Chapter 4

“Hah— I’m dead.”

Imari, the Research Director of Sector 5, collapsed heavily into the chair of her assigned office and let out a deep sigh.

Because she had unnecessarily gotten swept up in this whole mess, the situation had tangled up hopelessly.

The root of all this trouble traced back to the incident a few days ago: the containment breach caused by failing to perform the simple containment procedure for [The Blood-Drinking Beheading Sword].

While the one who actually caused the incident was that inept Sector 5 agent who had now been consumed by the sword, Imari was the one stuck cleaning up the aftermath.

Seeking to investigate the truth behind the incident, she had gone to visit [The Story-Devouring Grimoire], but investigating the truth had been the least of her worries—she had almost been swallowed whole by the anomaly.

About the only thing she managed to get out of him face-to-face was a single name: ‘Han Seong-jun’.

Still.

“Just what on earth is that anomaly?”

Staring blankly up at the ceiling, Imari pondered over [The Story-Devouring Grimoire].

It possessed ego, took on human form, and furthermore, was capable of holding a completely coherent conversation with a human.

That was not the [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] she knew.

Because of that, ever since parting ways with it, Imari had spent every waking moment scouring every single database and document within the Foundation.

However.

“There wasn’t a single mention of anything like that anywhere.”

The records regarding [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] were extraordinarily brief.

• Containment Procedure: Feed it a book at 00:00.

• Failure Penalty: If proper containment procedures are neglected, the Grimoire consumes the stories—meaning the memories—of humans in the surrounding area.

Compared to other anomalies, its containment procedures were trivial, and the damage caused by failing them fell on the relatively harmless side. Because of that, the Foundation hadn’t paid it any special attention.

Yet… perhaps [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] wasn’t the only anomaly taking on human form.

Even at this very moment, other anomalies might be roaming the streets, hiding their identities and pretending to be human right under the Foundation’s nose. The possibility that an entire collective society of anomalies existed, much like her own Foundation, could not be casually dismissed.

And that was precisely why Imari kept whispering:

“Han Seong-jun. Han Seong-jun…”

The name mentioned by [The Story-Devouring Grimoire].

Imari turned it over in her mind dozens and dozens of times.

Could there be a reason connected to this why the anomaly chose that specific name out of all the names in the world?

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed.

After turning thoughts over and over in her head for nearly an hour:

“First, I need to report this to the Foundation. And then…”

She needed to investigate this ‘Han Seong-jun’.

You never know.

By digging into the name Han Seong-jun, she might uncover a bit more insight into [The Story-Devouring Grimoire].

However, separate from that.

“For now, I need to lean toward a ‘wait-and-see’ approach.”

With that muttered conclusion, Imari heaved a heavy sigh.

She couldn’t just recklessly run an experiment now to learn more about [The Story-Devouring Grimoire].

Based on what she had seen on the CCTV footage and from her own direct, terrifying encounter, the moment she tried running an experiment to uncover its secrets…

Perhaps.

‘Sector 5 itself might be completely wiped out.’

More accurately, every single human story within the research institute might be devoured.

And so, Imari could only pray.

To a god she had no rational reason to believe in.

Please.

“May it continue to stay as quiet as it is right now.”

— *

Meanwhile, Han Seong-jun, who was sitting in his usual rocking chair in the library reading a book—

“Hmm?”

—frowned at a strange sensation.

How should he describe this?

Longing? No.

Craving? Not that either.

Affectionate yearning? No, not affection either.

This was…

“Ah— I see.”

Realizing it belatedly, Seong-jun nodded to himself.

This was a visceral, instinctual urge.

However, it was an urge entirely distinct from hunger or the need for sleep.

It was the desire to possess more stories, and newer stories.

If so, should this instinctual drive be called an urge to collect?

Yet, it wasn’t an ordinary urge to collect.

It wasn’t merely the casual sentiment of wanting to own something… It was an urge bordering on a survival instinct—the absolute necessity to gather stories in order to maintain his own existence.

The reason for this was likely…

Seong-jun looked down at his own hand.

The edges of his fingers, which should have possessed a clearly defined human form, were blurred and distorted into wisps of mist.

As if a portion of his existence had been stripped away.

Thus, he knew instinctively:

‘An anomaly has occurred within this library.’

Seong-jun rose from his seat.

Rrrr-rip—.

Space split open, and right before Seong-jun’s eyes, the wooden door he had used to venture outside recently materialized.

As Seong-jun stepped out of the library through the wooden door, his eyes burned with a mad, fervent craving.

— *

Rustle—. Rustle—.

Accompanied by the light sound of turning pages, Han Seong-jun simply walked.

Stepping out of the containment cell where he—or more precisely, [The Story-Devouring Grimoire]—was housed.

Walking past the complex, interlocking steel labyrinth.

Throughout the steel maze, other containment cells were situated, and countless humans hurried past.

Yet Seong-jun paid attention to none of them as he walked.

The humans wandering through the steel maze didn’t pay any attention to Seong-jun either.

In fact, it went beyond merely ignoring him; their reactions were as though they couldn’t even perceive the existence of Han Seong-jun in the first place.

Except for a single person.

Only one person within Sector 5, populated by researchers in white coats, spotted Seong-jun and recognized him.

The expression of that sole human who perceived Seong-jun—Imari—stiffened rigidly.

Her eyes shook wildly, and her hands trembled uncontrollably, laying bare the sheer terror gripping her.

Stopping right in front of Imari, who was frozen stiff and too terrified to even open her mouth, Seong-jun spoke.

“It’s been a while.”

“Ah…”

At Seong-jun’s greeting, Imari let out a low gasp.

Why is ‘that thing’ here?

She hadn’t received any report stating that ‘that thing’—[The Story-Devouring Grimoire]—had escaped from its containment cell.

Now that she thought about it, something was bizarre.

Countless people, including researchers, were bustling about inside Sector 5. Yet not a single one of them had noticed its presence.

As if it were invisible.

As if it couldn’t be felt at all.

Just as Imari was sinking deeper into terror at that realization:

“I haven’t come here to harvest your story.”

“Then…?”

“I merely wish to gather other stories nearby—stories that do not belong to you.”

Not her story.

Other stories nearby?

At Seong-jun’s words, Imari blinked in utter incomprehension.

What did ‘other stories’ mean?

No, more importantly—what on earth had managed to stimulate its urge to collect?

Books with recorded narratives?

Or memories containing the life span of an individual human?

She didn’t know.

She truly had no idea.

However.

Strangely enough, Imari felt the terror she held toward the entity slowly receding.

As the fear faded and reason returned, Imari’s frantically shaking eyes and uncontrollably trembling hands also regained their stability.

Offering her a gentle smile, Seong-jun continued.

“Furthermore, I am here to request your cooperation.”

“Cooperation… you say?”

“Indeed.”

An anomaly asking a human for cooperation?

Did such words even make sense in this world?

Confusion surged within Imari’s eyes once more.

It wasn’t as though anomalies with ‘ego’ didn’t exist at all, regardless of danger levels, origins, or classifications.

The reason she had been so shocked that [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] possessed an ego in the first place was simple:

From the moment it was first discovered until now, [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] had never once revealed its own will. Because of that, it had become accepted dogma that the Grimoire lacked an ego entirely.

Above all else.

‘An anomaly requesting cooperation from a human? Something like this is…’

Even Imari, serving as the Research Director of Sector 5, had never heard of or witnessed such a thing.

Would an anomaly even have any need to cooperate with a human in the first place?

If there was something it needed, shouldn’t an anomaly simply use its own inherent power to take it?

Perhaps sensing her confusion, Seong-jun looked straight into Imari’s eyes and spoke.

“I read it in a ‘story’. That the vast majority of humans on Earth know nothing about anomalies. And that when an anomaly causes an incident, the group you belong to—what do you call it? The ‘Foundation’?—disguises it as a regular accident. Or, if disguising it proves too difficult…”

They take measures such as eliminating all witnesses.

Gulp.

At Seong-jun’s words, Imari swallowed hard.

“I do not wish to cause chaos. I simply want to quietly collect various stories. That is why I am asking for your cooperation—to minimize the inevitable chaos that arises when I gather stories.”

That was right.

The reason Seong-jun was asking Imari for cooperation was simple.

He simply had no desire to cause chaos on the Earth where he once lived.

If he moved about entirely on his own, chaos would inevitably follow. Unnecessary turmoil would eventually expose the existence of the Foundation and anomalies to the general public.

And if that happened, Seong-jun’s peace—reading books in the silent tranquility he loved—would be disturbed.

Yes. All of this was ultimately to collect diverse stories and read books in the quiet solitude he cherished.

Of course, the biggest reason of all was to maintain his own existence.

However.

‘There’s no need to tell her about that part.’

At least, that was what Seong-jun believed.

Imari looked at Seong-jun and thought.

Cooperation with an anomaly?

It was a dangerously reckless proposition, yet deep within her heart, a different thought began to stir.

If that was genuinely possible… especially if she could cooperate with [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] rather than some pathetic Level 5 threat right in front of her…

Perhaps.

‘Couldn’t I prevent other people from suffering the exact same tragedy I suffered in the past?’

However, Imari shook her head, banishing the thought that had just surfaced.

No matter how tempting it sounded, her counterpart was an anomaly.

Besides.

“This isn’t a matter I can decide on my own accord.”

Imari forced the words past her lips.

Part of her wanted nothing more than to accept the Grimoire’s request for cooperation.

However, she was merely the Research Director of Sector 5.

Though it might look like a high-ranking position at a glance, the reality was different. Sector 5 was a research facility that managed and studied Level 5 anomalies—the most ‘stable’ containment items, meaning its political influence within the Foundation was rather limited.

For a mere Sector 5 research director like her to arbitrarily mandate cooperation with an anomaly? If things went wrong, the Foundation might execute her on the spot.

Therefore.

“Could you… give me a little time?”

At Imari’s follow-up request, Han Seong-jun closed his eyes for a moment.

Even at this very moment, there were stories nearby that were stimulating his urge to collect, stories he wanted to grab immediately.

He wanted to bring them back, sit in his quiet library, and read them.

Well, even so…

“I will give you twenty-four hours.”

Twenty-four hours should be fine.

Thinking thus, Seong-jun granted Imari a 24-hour grace period.

If twenty-four hours passed and she failed to bring back a proper answer:

“I will assume cooperation with you is impossible.”

“Then…?”

“I will move myself to collect the stories. Not just the ones nearby, but every single story that stimulates my urge to collect—even if, in the process…”

Even if massive chaos breaks out in the human world.

If anyone else had heard those words, they would have worn an expression of utter absurdity.

He had claimed he didn’t want to cause chaos for humans because he wanted to read his books in quiet silence. And now he was saying that if they didn’t cooperate, he would go ahead and act even if it caused massive turmoil in human society?

Yet, when those words came from [The Story-Devouring Grimoire], the context changed entirely.

An anomaly was, by nature, something that could never be judged by human common sense.

And so, Imari could only do one thing.

“Thank you.”

Expressing her gratitude that Seong-jun had granted a 24-hour grace period, Imari lowered her head.