Scenario D
The Management Bureau's main headquarters conference room had no windows.
It was a space reserved for agendas rated security level 1 or higher. Any calamity-grade matter automatically qualified as level 1, so using this room was a procedural inevitability.
Fluorescent lights bathed the table evenly. Without windows, any sense of time dissolved. Morning or afternoon—it was impossible to tell in here. Not that anyone needed to know.
Three executives from the Planning and Coordination Department sat on one side of the table. Their documents and tablets were neatly arranged. Postures ramrod straight. Neckties perfectly knotted, suits impeccably wrinkle-free.
Across from them sat Han Jeongsu and Lee Seojin. A cup of coffee sat before Han Jeongsu; Lee Seojin had only a single pen on the table.
Seo Taeho occupied the head seat, with Jin Soyul beside him.
Seo Taeho leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He'd been in that position since before the meeting started. It could have been sleep or deep thought.
Jin Soyul set a file folder on her lap and adjusted her posture. Her eyes, visible through her glasses, swept the room once.
Yoon Hyeongjun, the chief executive of the Planning and Coordination Department, activated his tablet.
Mid-forties. The fastest riser to the top spot in the Bureau. No field experience. But his reputation for policy design and crisis analysis was unmatched within the organization.
He wasn't a bad person. Just carried that peculiar cleanliness of someone who'd never seen blood up close. The kind who believed numbers on paper were reality itself.
"The calamity-grade entity 'Black Dog' has remained in a civilian residence for 23 days."
Yoon Hyeongjun's voice was calm. The tone of someone well-practiced in briefings.
"During this period, one additional danger-grade entity has been confirmed in the same residence, coexisting with it. There have been four observed anomalous behaviors: one sign of hostility in the park, one engagement with a danger-grade near a lingerie store, and two minor mana fluctuations."
Lee Seojin's expression hardened ever so slightly. 'Engagement with a danger-grade near a lingerie store.' That's how it would read in the report. Bras flying through the sky, a mannequin sprawled on the sidewalk staring at the heavens—all flattened into that single line.
"Current entity power output is estimated at approximately 17% or less of maximum observed capacity."
"What's the basis for that estimate?"
Han Jeongsu spoke. His first words.
Yoon Hyeongjun met his gaze.
"On-site residual mana analysis. Matches Hunter Park Doyoung's assessment."
"Does that estimate account for the remaining 83% manifesting in unknown forms?"
Yoon Hyeongjun paused briefly. Then answered.
"It does."
"And scenarios for that 83%?"
"Three have been outlined."
Yoon Hyeongjun swiped his tablet.
"Scenario A: The entity maintains its current state in shrunken form and remains stationary. Risk controllable under existing surveillance protocols."
"Scenario B: Partial expansion due to external stimulus. The lingerie store incident fits here. Civilian casualties expected within a 500-meter radius."
"Scenario C."
Yoon Hyeongjun took a measured breath.
"Full power exertion. Casualties projected within a 2-kilometer radius of central Seoul. Estimated fatalities."
He stopped.
"Four digits."
The room fell silent.
Four digits.
Over a thousand.
Han Jeongsu said nothing. He knew. He'd seen three digits firsthand in Busan. And that had been by the sea. Not the city center. Surrounded by water on three sides—that's what kept it to three digits.
In the heart of Seoul, four digits would be optimistic.
"Therefore."
Yoon Hyeongjun continued.
"The Planning Department's assessment is that we must review proactive threat mitigation measures."
At that, Seo Taeho tilted his head slightly toward Jin Soyul.
"...What the hell does that mean?"
A whisper. Barely audible. Utterly detached from the room's tension.
Jin Soyul didn't turn her head. Just moved her lips.
"Means strike first."
"Ah."
Seo Taeho turned back. Gazed at the ceiling again.
Han Jeongsu spoke up.
"I heard the scenarios."
His voice was dry.
"One question. You said 'proactive threat mitigation.' What exactly do you mean?"
Yoon Hyeongjun replied.
"Several options under review. Transferring the subject to a Bureau facility. Separating the anomaly from the subject. And—"
"Separating."
Han Jeongsu cut in.
"You mean prying the calamity-grade away from Ha Yujin."
Yoon Hyeongjun fell silent for a moment. Then nodded.
"One of the options."
"Does your scenario include how Black Dog reacts to that?"
Yoon Hyeongjun's mouth closed.
Han Jeongsu pressed on.
"Let me spell it out. When Ha Yujin stepped out to the convenience store for five minutes, Black Dog's mana spiked past 1.8. When she was twenty minutes away at the lingerie store, mere proximity of a danger-grade pulled out 20% power. And that was just her stepping away briefly—not separation."
Han Jeongsu paused a beat.
"Force a separation, and it's Scenario C. Not a review— a certainty."
One of the Planning executives countered.
"We respect your field judgment, Team Leader Han. But the status quo is tantamount to abandoning a calamity-grade. Surveillance alone can't prevent incidents. The lingerie store proves it. An undetected danger-grade approached, and three civilians made bare-handed contact with the calamity-grade—"
"Those three civilians? Ordinary high school girls."
Lee Seojin spoke for the first time.
"They scratched Black Dog's ears, took a photo, said 'See you later,' and left. Black Dog just sat there."
"That's hindsight. If the entity had—"
"If you're talking 'ifs'."
Lee Seojin's voice dropped lower.
"If provoking Black Dog triggers Scenario C, who takes responsibility for those four-digit casualties?"
The room froze.
Lee Seojin and the executive locked eyes. Hers were as always—steady, restrained. But beneath lay something forged from ten years facing calamities.
The executive didn't look away. He sat there with his own resolve.
"Then let me ask."
He said.
"Under the status quo, what if it rampages spontaneously? Internal factors, no external stimulus. Any guarantee Ha Yujin can control it?"
Neither Han Jeongsu nor Lee Seojin answered.
Guarantee.
A guarantee against a calamity-grade.
Nothing like that existed in this world.
"No guarantee? Then this is gambling."
The executive said clearly.
"Leaving a calamity-grade in the city center, no control mechanism, relying on one civilian. Is that a plan?"
Han Jeongsu shut his mouth.
Not for lack of words. He knew they wouldn't carry weight here. 'That one civilian treats the calamity-grade like a dog' was true, but on paper, it was just an implausible anomaly—not evidence.
Policies couldn't be built on miracles.
Silence settled over the table.
The fluorescent hum was the only proof time passed in this windowless room.
Then.
Yoon Hyeongjun flipped a page in his documents.
"Additional item. Should transferring the subject to a Bureau facility prove infeasible, we must also review application of the non-voluntary subject relocation protocol."
Seo Taeho's head tilted again. Toward Jin Soyul.
Her pen stopped.
A fraction of a second's pause. From halt to resumption on the meeting minutes.
"......Means drag her out by force."
Her voice was even. But the end clipped faintly. A thin edge of irritation.
Seo Taeho glanced at Jin Soyul.
She was already back to scribing minutes. As if nothing happened.
Seo Taeho turned away. Didn't look at the ceiling this time.
He spoke.
First time since the meeting began.
"Chief Yoon."
Yoon Hyeongjun looked up immediately. The other two executives straightened.
Han Jeongsu and Lee Seojin turned to him too.
Seo Taeho's face was unreadable. The blank mask honed over 27 years in the field. Like Han Jeongsu's, but where his was worn into shape, Seo Taeho's seemed innate.
"You said three scenarios."
"Yes, Director."
"One's missing."
Yoon Hyeongjun's eyes flickered faintly.
"Ha Yujin turning against us."
The room went still.
Seo Taeho continued.
"Drag her out by force. Separate the anomaly. Subdue the anomaly. Move to a facility if needed. Fine. But what if Ha Yujin sees us as the enemy in the process?"
No one replied.
"You said the calamity-grade is bound to Ha Yujin. Flip it—what if she says 'sic 'em'? Or she feels threatened, and Black Dog acts on its own?"
Seo Taeho tapped the report with a finger.
"Know why Hunter Lee Seojin got that green tea? Ha Yujin saw her as a guest. The Bureau as helpers. Shatter that trust, and it's not Scenario C—it's D. Scenario D won't have space for casualty estimates."
Seo Taeho stood.
"Remember one thing. We're not managing the anomaly. We're managing Ha Yujin. As long as she eats well, stays comfortable, and trusts us, that calamity-grade wags its tail in a one-room."
Yoon Hyeongjun opened his mouth.
"Director, that's—"
"No guarantees, of course."
Seo Taeho cut him off.
"You're right, Chief Yoon. This is a gamble."
Han Jeongsu looked up at him.
"But the alternative's a gamble too. Touch it and it blows—gamble. Don't and it blows—gamble. If it's a gamble either way."
Seo Taeho patted his suit's inner pocket. Habit. Reaching for a cigar. Of course, none there. No lighter either.
"Pick the one with lower stakes."
That ended the meeting.
No one declared it over. But when Seo Taeho opened the door and left, and the rest exchanged glances, everyone knew there was nothing left to say.
Yoon Hyeongjun closed his tablet.
Han Jeongsu sipped his cold coffee.
Lee Seojin pocketed her pen.
Each returned to their post.
Hmmmmm….
Two tuna mayo triangle kimbaps left. Grabbing both would cover me and Kong-i, but Heukgu was the issue. He swallows them whole—wrapper and all. Once the plastic stuck to the roof of his mouth and he hacked away, tail still wagging. No such thing as remorse in that creature.
So Heukgu got a lunchbox. Bulgogi. 1,300 won more, but double the portion. Value's what they call this.
Kong-i tugged at my pant leg, standing there. Coming to the convenience store together had become routine lately. Heukgu waits outside; Kong-i follows me inside. Weird how naturally it settled in. Read somewhere that families share routines.
"Ha Yujin."
Kong-i looked up at me.
"Hungry."
"I know. Picking now."
"Ha Yujin. Hungry."
"......Yeah. Heard you."
Twice means she's really hungry. Emphasis in Kong-i speak. Linguistic progress.
I reached for the display.
Then, same moment, a hand rose from the side.
Big hand. Twice the size of mine. Fingertips brushed mine over the tuna mayo.
"Ah."
A guy. Tall. Short-sleeve tee, jeans. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but he had that athletic vibe. Knee brace on the left.
"Sorry, go ahead."
I pulled my hand back.
"No, it's fine."
He stepped back. Low, drawling voice. Not particularly apologetic, but not off-putting. Just how he was.
"Thanks."
Grabbed the triangle kimbap. Bulgogi lunchbox for Heukgu too.
Led Kong-i to the counter. Paid, bagged, out.
Heukgu lay prone in front of the store. Tail spun fast when he saw us.
"Let's go, Heukgu."
Park Doyoung stood blankly before the display.
One tuna mayo left.
First week back. Office felt stuffy, so he walked near the field site. Entered the convenience store for thirst. Triangle kimbap on impulse. No real reason.
None.
Until Ha Yujin.
The kid's call echoed in his ears. The name from the report.
Training pants, slippers. Plain, soft impression. Matched the description.
Honestly, bewildering. Fate's prank?
But when their fingertips brushed, his sensing ability reflexively read her. No mana.
Zero.
Not an awakener.
Just a namesake. Ha Yujin couldn't be unique. Neighborhood big sis and niece grabbing kimbap. Overthinking.
Park Doyoung pocketed the thought, took the last tuna mayo. Headed to the counter, glanced idly through the glass door.
A small black dog lay prone outside.
Toy breed. Jet-black fur. Front paws stretched, chin atop them.
The woman and child rounded the corner and vanished. The dog rose, trotted after. Tiny legs pattering.
Only then did Park Doyoung's feet stop.
His hand with the kimbap stopped.
Black toy dog.
"......Huh?"