A Visitor from the Bureau
Two days had passed.
Heukgu and Kong-i now seemed to treat this place like it was their real home.
Heukgu had claimed the corner by the front door as his spot. In the morning, he'd curl up there to sleep. During the day, he'd move to the windowsill to bask in the sunlight, sprawling out lazily. In the evening, he'd come to my feet. His route was set in stone—like a commute for a human.
Kong-i stuck to me wherever I went. Kitchen? She'd be right there. Bathroom? Waiting outside the door. Lying on the floor? She'd flop down beside me. She was my satellite. I was Earth, and she was the Moon.
...What am I gonna do with you two?
And after those two days, I realized something.
The dog food was running out.
I'd bought the jumbo size. It said right on the bag: "One month's worth for a large breed."
Three days in, and I could see the bottom.
No way—that size, eating like that? Heukgu had shrunk a bit, sure, but he was still medium-large dog territory. Finishing a month's supply for a Great Dane in three days? Did I buy the wrong stuff? Or is "jumbo" measured differently?
I'd never raised a dog before, so who knows. Pets are sneakily expensive, huh. I'd seen a news article once: "Average monthly pet care cost: 150,000 won." That must've been for normal-sized dogs. Heukgu wasn't normal.
Kong-i ate well too. At first, one triangle kimbap satisfied her, but now she polished off a whole lunchbox no problem. On the third day, she even said, "More." Her vocabulary was expanding.
Kong-i seemed a bit brighter overall.
She used to be so quiet. Barely answered questions. Wouldn't meet my eyes. She'd just hide behind me or clutch my pant leg—that was it.
Now it was different.
"Food."
That's what she'd say when I woke up in the morning. One word. But yesterday, she'd just stared at the frying pan in silence, so this was huge progress.
"Heukgu, this."
Even when feeding Heukgu, she'd talk. She'd carry his food bowl over and set it down in front of him.
"This."
She used that word the most. Handing something over, pointing something out, showing something off. It was her all-purpose word. In Kong-i's world, "this" seemed as versatile as "the" in English.
And yesterday, for the first time, she asked my name.
"...Name."
"Huh?"
"Name, what is it."
I was shocked. It was the first time Kong-i had asked me a question first.
My name. Should I tell her this body's name? It was on my ID, sure, but it still didn't feel like mine. Tell her my old guy's name? That'd be even weirder.
"...I'll tell you later."
Kong-i tilted her head.
Sorry. I haven't sorted that out yet either.
Anyway, it was good that Kong-i was starting to talk more, bit by bit. She even chatted with Heukgu. "Heukgu, come." "Heukgu, sit." He seemed to get "come," but "sit" was lost on him. He'd just wag his tail.
Adorable. Wagging tails must be the universal dog language.
That said.
The real problem was money.
I checked my balance.
270,000 won.
From 380,000 won, after two rounds of dog food, a bunch of lunchboxes, and a few daily essentials. 110,000 gone in two days. At this rate, I'd be broke in a week.
If the Management Bureau didn't sort out my identity soon, we might actually starve. No temporary ID yet, no word on support funds. I'd called their ARS line three times. "Your case is being processed by the relevant department." Where the hell was that department?
...Should I call them first?
I was thinking of ringing up the Bureau directly and giving them a piece of my mind. It wasn't my fault I had that awakening accident, but they couldn't even fix my ID while talking about victim support?
Right as that thought crossed my mind.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
Who could that be? No one was supposed to come.
Delivery? Didn't order anything. Neighbor? Never even said hi.
No real sense of danger, I headed to the door.
"Who is it~?"
I opened the door, and there was a woman standing there.
Where'd I see her before? Tall, black coat, hair tied back. Perfect posture.
Oh, right—that hunter from before.
The rainy day. The one yelling about a calamity-grade something. She'd checked my ID.
"Hello."
Her voice was clear. Same as last time.
"Ah, hello. You're the one from before..."
"Yes. Lee Seojin from the Anomaly Management Bureau. I'm here again regarding support for the awakening accident victim."
Oh, the Bureau. Perfect timing—I was just about to call them.
"You couldn't have come at a better time. I was about to contact you guys—"
But her face was way too stiff.
She'd seemed formal last time, but this was next level. Like... interview nerves? No, worse. Like a soldier heading into battle.
Did I do something wrong?
"Um, are you oka—"
Her gaze shifted behind me.
Ah, Heukgu.
He must've heard the door. Heukgu was standing right behind me, staring over here.
Lee Seojin's world froze.
Everything had been fine until the door opened and the girl appeared. Training pants and slippers. Zero guard up on her face.
No presence at all.
Lee Seojin had thought: Maybe she really is just a civilian.
The problem came after.
The black dog. The Black Dog.
A calamity-grade anomaly.
It had definitely shrunk. Medium-large dog size now. Shoulder height just over knee level. Matched the photos from animal community sites.
But the eyes were completely different.
They blazed. Pupils contracted. A red glow rising from deep in the sockets. Fangs visible between parted jaws—canines at least three times a normal dog's. Rough, low breaths leaking out.
No growl. Just silence.
That was scarier.
Lee Seojin's legs locked. Heart pounding, cold sweat down her back. She remembered where the blade was inside her coat, but her hand wouldn't move.
Her body knew instinctively. Pulling a weapon against that would get her torn apart on the spot. Ten years of experience screaming it.
"Um, are you okay?"
The girl's voice reached her, faint and distant. Like her ears were full of water.
"...Excuse me?"
The girl called again.
Then the calamity shifted its gaze. From Lee Seojin to the girl.
The blazing red faded. Pupils relaxed. And its tail gave a slight wag.
The warped space from the pressure righted itself.
"Hah..."
Strength returned to Lee Seojin's legs. She barely kept from collapsing. Her face held thanks to ten years of trained muscle memory.
"...Ah, yes. I'm fine. Sorry about that."
Though she wasn't sure her voice sounded normal.
"I came about the awakening accident support. Temporary ID issuance and living expense aid."
"Oh, really? I was just about to call you. Wanna talk inside?"
Inside?
Lee Seojin almost echoed it.
Inside. The one-room with a calamity-grade inside.
"Inside?"
She ended up asking anyway.
The girl paused for a second.
"Ah... it's a guy's place, might be rude? Wait, not a guy—well, I used to be, but now... Anyway, it's cramped."
No, that's not it.
Lee Seojin's eyes flicked back to the Black Dog.
It was watching her. Still. Unmoving.
'Can I come in?'
That was the whole point of coming here, of course.
But... the way this girl invited her was so casual. Like calling a neighbor over for tea. The fact that a calamity-grade loomed behind that casualness scrambled her brain.
The moment Lee Seojin opened her mouth to respond.
Bam!
The door slammed shut behind her.
Lee Seojin whipped around.
A child stood there.
Tiny. Elementary school size. Barefoot in an oversized T-shirt. Probably borrowed from the girl.
The child looked up at Lee Seojin.
Her eyes were empty.
A chill ran up Lee Seojin's spine.
Danger-grade. Humanoid. Predator type. Absorbs life force from approaching lifeforms.
"Kong-i, what's wrong? Why'd you close the door?"
The girl asked, but the child didn't answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on the outsider.
3 seconds.
5 seconds.
The child retreated behind the girl. Without breaking eye contact.
"Aigoo, Kong-i, why'd you do that. Sorry, she's super shy."
"...It's fine."
It was not fine.
Steadying her breath, Lee Seojin slipped off her shoes and stepped into the one-room.
On the rooftop across from the one-room building.
Han Jeongsu couldn't tear his eyes from the monitor.
The mini-camera on Lee Seojin's coat. Small screen, crappy quality, but it showed enough.
Door opens. Familiar black dog appears.
Red eyes glowing. Contracted pupils. Fangs between split jaws.
Good thing the feed was low-res. HD would've broken the team.
A team member watching beside him muttered.
"...It's there."
Her voice trembled.
"It's really there..."
Han Jeongsu didn't respond.
The camera shook—Lee Seojin moving. The one-room interior came into view. Cramped space. Blanket on the floor, dishes in the kitchen, laundry by the window.
A perfectly ordinary one-room.
Home to one calamity-grade anomaly and one danger-grade anomaly. Seven pyeong of it.
"Captain."
The team member looked at him.
"Will Hunter Lee Seojin be okay?"
No idea.
Han Jeongsu stayed silent.
On-screen, the girl came out of the kitchen with cups. Tea, probably. The black dog lay at her feet. The child sat beside her.
From one angle, an utterly normal scene. Unsettlingly so.
Han Jeongsu spoke.
"Open comms."
The team member activated the radio.
"All units, maintain standby. No engagement so far. Repeat, no engagement."
Relieved breaths echoed faintly over the line.
Han Jeongsu kept watching the monitor.
Lee Seojin sat on the floor. The girl handed her tea. She took it.
The Black Dog watched Lee Seojin. From the corner of the frame. Motionless.
One team member asked.
"Captain. That thing... really calamity-grade?"
It was way smaller than before, so doubt was fair.
Han Jeongsu didn't answer this time either.
Instead, he took a sip of his cold coffee.
Yes.
It was calamity-grade.
The 17th identified calamity-grade anomaly: Black Dog.
Spawned right in central Seoul at rush hour. Maybe the most dangerous one in Korean history.
And now it sat in that tiny one-room. Across from Lee Seojin, who was being served tea by the mystery girl.
And the girl.
That girl was smiling.
'Fuck.'
Han Jeongsu had no idea what was so funny.