Chapter 3

“Ha, damn it.”

Imari, the Director of Research at Sector 5, let out a string of curses upon arriving in the Foundation’s fifth management zone.

Last night, some inept agent had pulled a stunt that caused utter chaos. Failing to follow even the simplest containment procedures, they had ended up sending an anomaly into a rampage.

Thanks to that, Imari hadn’t managed to sleep a wink from dawn until now, forced to clean up the mess.

Regardless, the Sector 5 management zone where the commotion had broken out fell squarely under Sector 5 Research, which she oversaw.

Still.

“Why on earth is that thing Level 5, damn it?”

Muttered Imari with a look of utter revulsion as she walked down a corridor where the bloodstains had yet to be fully scrubbed away.

The anomaly that had broken out of its containment cell and gone on a slaughter spree: [The Blood-Drinking Beheading Sword].

No matter how high its danger level, an anomaly was an anomaly. Especially given the origin of [The Blood-Drinking Beheading Sword], once it started running wild, the likelihood of at least a hundred casualties was extremely high.

And yet, that very anomaly had stopped after killing barely a dozen people and returned to its containment cell on its own.

Had there not been recorded CCTV footage, Imari wouldn’t have believed it either.

They called them containment cells and containment procedures while managing these anomalies, but Imari knew all too well:

Anomalies were not something mere humans could ever truly handle.

That made it all the more headache-inducing.

Because the ‘monster’ that had made [The Blood-Drinking Beheading Sword] retreat with just a few words was also not human—it was an anomaly.

And an anomaly that Imari, the director of the research institute herself, had failed to grasp.

Or rather, to be precise, Imari did know what kind of anomaly that monster was—the one with ash-gray hair and eyes, wearing a black suit and black shoes.

She simply hadn’t known that the anomaly possessed that level of power. Or that kind of ego.

After all…

“[The Story-Devouring Grimoire].”

Wandering down the corridor for a long while, Imari finally stopped in front of the door leading to a specific containment cell and muttered to herself.

Subject name: [The Story-Devouring Grimoire].

Identification code: Kr-0298. The 298th anomaly discovered in Korea.

Classification: Grimoire. Danger level: Level 5.

It was an anomaly famous for being exceptionally safe within Sector 5, with containment procedures so simple they were practically trivial.

All one had to do was place a single book in front of [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] right on schedule.

Even so, an anomaly was still an anomaly; failing to follow proper containment procedures would naturally lead to a massive disaster.

And Imari knew the exact results of that through experimentation.

If containment procedures were neglected, [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] would swallow the story—meaning the memories—of a human within a hundred-meter radius. If another minute passed, it would take the memories of ten humans within two hundred meters; after two minutes, a hundred humans within three hundred meters.

Was that not precisely why it earned the name [The Story-Devouring Grimoire]?

Before she even realized it, Imari had arrived in front of the Grimoire’s containment cell, her expression sinking into gloom.

She truly hated this.

She genuinely despised it.

Though she came here to fulfill her duty as the research director, perhaps it was because she had witnessed her own parents killed by an anomaly with her own eyes.

Even as a research director, facing the supernatural directly was always agonizing for Imari.

It only dragged up bad memories.

Yet, she had no choice.

She had to take responsibility.

As the director of Sector 5 Research, for everything that happened in the management zone.

Right now, she had to deal with the matter directly in front of her.

Perhaps…

“Who knows, maybe it’ll actually be reasonable?”

Steeling her resolve, Imari moved.

Swiping her neck-card against the door sensor, the containment cell door slid open with a soft beep, completely devoid of mechanical noise.

Beyond the open door lay a small, hidden chamber.

Since the size of [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] itself was comparable to an ordinary book, there was no need to make the containment cell particularly large.

Even so.

“It gives me the creeps.”

Entering the interior of the containment cell, Imari shuddered slightly.

The system should undoubtedly be maintaining the optimal temperature inside the room. Yet Imari couldn’t shake the feeling that the air inside was chillingly cold for no apparent reason.

Was it because of the anomaly resting in the exact center of the room, preserved inside a glass case—[The Story-Devouring Grimoire]?

Or was she simply having an overactive, hypersensitive reaction?

She didn’t know.

Right now, she just needed to do her job.

With that thought fortifying her, Imari opened her mouth to address [The Story-Devouring Grimoire].

“Um… can you hear me?”

— *

Tap—.

Sitting in his rocking chair, Han Seong-jun closed the book resting in his lap.

It hadn’t been long since he had resolved the noise that disrupted silence—the most fundamental etiquette of the library—when yet another racket began to graze the edges of his hearing.

—Ah-ah, can you hear me?

No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the noise wouldn’t stop.

In fact, as time passed, the commotion only grew louder.

At first, it was noise tempered with a certain degree of politeness, but now…

—Ha, damn it. Is anyone even in there or what?

Curses were now occasionally mixed into the sound.

Unable to endure it any longer, Seong-jun heaved himself up from the rocking chair.

It seemed he needed to have a word with this woman who so sorely lacked manners, etiquette, and basic common sense.

Determined, Seong-jun swept his hand downward.

From top to bottom.

Following the concise arc drawn by his hand, space split open, and a wooden door materialized from within.

It was both the exit and the entrance of the library. Only Seong-jun’s will could open and close that wooden door.

Without a shred of hesitation, Seong-jun opened the door and stepped through.

His field of vision shifted abruptly.

The moment a thick wave of darkness rushed in to obscure his sight, Seong-jun found himself standing inside a small, hidden chamber.

Before him stood a woman, her mouth parted in shock as she stared.

A woman he knew.

Or rather, strictly speaking, a woman he had ‘read about’.

The Life Record that had been added most recently.

The title was probably…

‘Was it Kim Tae-ho?’

According to the story, this woman’s name was Imari.

Her title: Research Director of Sector 5 within the Foundation.

She was also the supreme director in charge of all Level 5 anomalies.

Han Seong-jun had no idea why this woman had sought him out. He had spent all this time quietly reading books in the library.

Meanwhile, Imari was completely losing her grip on her sanity.

Truly. Truly, [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] had taken on human form.

Of course, it was a fact she had already verified through the CCTV footage.

Even so, a corner of Imari’s mind had harbored disbelief. An anomaly wearing human skin? It was the height of creepiness.

Because of that, even as she came to meet [The Story-Devouring Grimoire], Imari had secretly harbored a desperate hope that this entity wasn’t the one responsible for turning [The Blood-Drinking Beheading Sword] back.

But it was the truth.

Imari had witnessed it with her own eyes.

At her call, [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] had responded and manifested. Thousands of pages, appearing as though water was seeping through the walls on all sides—from the ceiling, down to the floor—coalescing together to transform into human shape.

“What business do you have calling upon me?”

Jolt—.

At the sudden sound of [The Story-Devouring Grimoire]—Han Seong-jun’s—voice, Imari trembled.

Forcing herself to reel back her scattered wits after being confronted with a reality she still couldn’t quite believe even after seeing it twice, Imari thought frantically:

I called him out, but where on earth am I supposed to start asking questions?

It was chaotic.

Utterly chaotic.

From entering the Foundation to becoming the director of Sector 5 Research—though she had encountered, studied, and managed countless anomalies over nearly ten years, not once had an anomaly ever taken on human form and spoken to her directly.

Because of that, Imari couldn’t readily bring herself to open her mouth.

Seong-jun simply looked at her with gloomy, ash-gray eyes.

How long did that bizarre silence last?

Having belatedly managed to subdue her confusion, Imari asked:

“Are you truly [The Story-Devouring Grimoire]?”

No answer came from her counterpart.

It didn’t matter. She hadn’t asked the question expecting a conversational reply anyway.

However.

‘If things keep going like this, we’re in trouble.’

Imari thought to herself.

As the Director of Sector 5 Research, she had come here to investigate [The Story-Devouring Grimoire]. If things continued this way, she couldn’t guarantee she would achieve her primary objective of investigation.

Thus, she opened her mouth to prompt the conversation once more.

Or rather, she tried to.

The exact moment Imari looked up at him to hurl her next question:

“Ah…”

Catching his gaze, Imari let out a low gasp.

She was being sucked in.

Swallowed whole and swept away.

Her thoughts.

Her mind.

Her soul.

The story titled Imari was swept away and dissolved into that gloomy, profound sea of ash-gray.

Before she knew it, Imari realized she had fallen into a vast expanse of knowledge far too immense for a human brain to handle.

Within it, countless pieces of knowledge twinkled like brilliant stars.

Imari’s eyes could not tear themselves away from that mesmerizing current of information.

It’s beautiful.

So extraordinarily beautiful.

If she could just grasp that vast, beautiful knowledge… then she felt she could do anything.

Driven by that impulse, Imari took a step forward, completely forgetting her original purpose—forgetting even how to breathe.

Reaching out a hand toward that gorgeous current of knowledge.

With blank eyes, Han Seong-jun looked down indifferently at Imari as she walked toward him with an outstretched hand, and spoke.

“Director Imari.”

Jolt—!

At Seong-jun’s voice, which shook her very consciousness, Imari belatedly snapped back to reality.

“Hah—!”

Gasping for air, her expression twisting in agony, Imari immediately realized what had just happened to her.

She had almost been swallowed whole.

Everything that made up her identity was on the verge of being consumed, reduced to a mere fragment of the anomaly.

As a researcher studying anomalies—and further, as the supreme supervisor of every single anomaly housed within Sector 5—she had committed an unforgivable mistake.

Had she not regained her senses just in time, she might have…

‘I would have become nothing more than a speck of dust swallowed up in the current of knowledge.’

No, she probably would have been degraded into something even less than that.

That vast yet breathtaking current of knowledge couldn’t even be compared to a mere human’s meager thirty-odd-year life span.

While Seong-jun watched her with an impassive, gloomy ash-gray gaze, Imari—having barely managed to steady herself—spoke with a strained breath.

Just what on earth are you…

“What are you?”

Are you truly… the one I know…

“Are you really [The Story-Devouring Grimoire]?”

To Imari’s question, Han Seong-jun simply remained silent.

Am I really [The Story-Devouring Grimoire]?

Why is she asking a question like that?

Seong-jun couldn’t understand why Imari was asking such a thing.

He was Han Seong-jun.

And at the same time, he was [The Story-Devouring Grimoire].

As for why he had become [The Story-Devouring Grimoire], even Seong-jun himself didn’t know the reason.

There was also the distinct possibility that [The Story-Devouring Grimoire] had simply tailored its manifestation to match the memories of the human named Han Seong-jun—a possibility he couldn’t entirely dismiss.

Yet Seong-jun didn’t care about that.

I am Han Seong-jun. And I am [The Story-Devouring Grimoire].

And above all…

‘As long as I can read books, I am satisfied.’

Therefore, Seong-jun spoke.

Looking toward Imari, who was still staring at him with a trembling, anxious gaze even at this very moment:

“My name is Han Seong-jun.”

“Han… Seong-jun.”

At Seong-jun’s reply, the confusion Imari had only just managed to press down reared its head once more in her eyes.

He introduced himself not as [The Story-Devouring Grimoire], but as Han Seong-jun.

How was she supposed to take this?

Beyond simply taking human form, did he actually consider himself human?

Or was he merely mimicking humanity by claiming a human-like name?

If so…

‘Why the name Han Seong-jun?’

Was there something significant about the name Han Seong-jun?

Was he simply using the name of one of the humans he had consumed in the past?

Thinking simply, a name like Han Seong-jun shouldn’t carry any grand meaning.

However, considering that her counterpart was an anomaly, there might well be some profound significance behind that name.

Yet, at present, there was not a single thing Imari could do.

Swallowing down the surging waves of doubt, confusion, and fear, Imari could only yield:

“I look forward to working with you.”

She had no choice but to back down.