Parcel Reception Desk (4)
“Where is the cargo you wish to ship?”
The voice from behind the gas mask held no emotion. But that very monotony drilled a bone-chilling pressure straight into their marrow. The air in the waiting room froze solid.
Lee Kanghyeok's brow furrowed menacingly. His gaze swept over the mother, then Yoo Se-rin in turn. Yoo Se-rin had gone pale as a ghost and shook her head frantically.
'Sacrifice.' Lee Kanghyeok's mind cooled to ice. Unique Company's manual. The necessity of 'expendables' for situations like this. He half-turned toward the mother.
“Hold on.”
At that moment, a low voice cut through the icy silence. It was Han Yujin. She stared motionlessly at the security guard. Or more precisely, at the signboard over his shoulder reading
Cargo Storage
.
Lee Kanghyeok's menacing glare stabbed into Han Yujin—a warning for daring to butt in at a time like this.
In truth, Lee Kanghyeok hadn't fought humans all that often, despite his appearance. Not many crazies picked fights with him on sight. Usually, one glare like this had everyone trembling and crawling on the floor.
But Han Yujin ignored it. In her ten years of gallery lurking, threats like that were everyday fare. Keyboard warriors who bullied with atmosphere instead of logic. The easiest type to deal with.
“Lee Kanghyeok.”
Han Yujin turned her head, facing the hulking musclebound man head-on. A delicate girl barely scraping 160cm staring up at the scarred giant. Yoo Se-rin swallowed dryly without realizing it.
“You know why Unique Company's survival rate in this horror is so damn low?”
“...What?”
“'Cause you always pull this crap.”
Han Yujin jerked her chin toward the mother. “You were gonna shove that lady in right now, huh? As a sacrifice? Classic. And stupid as hell.”
“You little...!”
Lee Kanghyeok's patience hit its limit. As he took a heavy step forward, the floor seemed to shake with a thud. But Han Yujin's voice pinned his foot in place.
“Cargo.”
Her clear voice rang sharply through the waiting room.
“Rule 0-4-2. 'High chance of living things being recognized as cargo.' That's the trap. You've always been sacrificing people based on that rule, right?”
“......”
“Might save your skin right now. But the second you do, this horror's system redefines 'human = cargo.'”
“...What?”
“Think from the horror's perspective. This place is obsessed with cargo and logistics. If you were the anomaly, could you tell Dongwon tuna cans from Sajo tuna cans?”
...What kinda insane analogy is that?
While Yoo Se-rin reeled in confusion, Han Yujin brazenly pressed on. “No way in hell. They're identical. To them, all humans look the same. Once one human gets processed as cargo, the odds of humans being seen as cargo skyrocket. Especially since the anomalies here seem to share judgments and senses with nearby ones.”
Lee Kanghyeok, who'd opened his mouth to argue, shut it again. He'd seen it the moment they entered: every anomaly in the area stopping work to stare at them in unison.
Seeing him speechless, Han Yujin's lips curled into a sly smirk.
“And then that cargo walks around on two legs just fine? System glitch. 'Cargo deviated from delivery zone.' So security or workers hunt you down on sight. Your own damn fault.”
“...So you're saying.”
“Yep. Reason this horror got insanely hard? All because of Unique Company's lazy habits.”
Dragging humans around as disposable sacrifices. Efficient, in a way. Lots of people dying in the horror? Just bring more to boost your odds. Peak corporate math—tally everything, maximize profit.
But horrors aren't that rational. They don't bend to human shortcuts. They're something higher, beyond human logic and concepts. The only way lowly humans grasp them? Rules.
Lee Kanghyeok clamped his mouth shut amid the crashing realization.
“......”
A perspective no one in Unique Company had ever considered. Decades of data and sacrifices dismantled perfectly by this kid in minutes. His gaze wavered—not from fear, but the shock of his lifelong organization's efficiency and rationale being utterly rejected. A sign he could grow to the next level.
Right in the heart of his epiphany stabbed the cynical mockery of a ten-year gallery vet.
“So quit hunting for scapegoats like an idiot and just do what I say. Least I'm way more used to this 'rule-fuckup game' than you.”
Lee Kanghyeok had no retort. In his eyes, Han Yujin was no longer some civilian girl. A being who pierced the system's core with unshakable reason amid incomprehensible terror. Overwhelming insight pouring from a fragile frame. The bizarre imbalance unnerved him. Like...
Understanding the anomaly itself. Or maybe being one. An ominous hunch.
He blurted it out without thinking. Did that tiny head hold the way out?
“...So, what now?”
His voice cracked. Unbelievable, but he was begging this girl for answers.
Han Yujin shot him a pitiful look, then strode toward the security guard.
“Yujin! Dangerous...!”
Ignoring Yoo Se-rin's cry, Han Yujin stepped right up to the guard.
“Mister. Making cargo right now.”
The gas mask lenses turned to her. Han Yujin nodded toward the other 'customers' in the corner—three-headed dog, bandaged mummy, and such.
“Those guys. Customers, right?”
The guard nodded slowly.
“No rule saying customers can't be cargo?”
“......”
The guard tilted his head. Yeah, figures. You primitives treat customers as cargo too. Should learn from that king-god bank that loans money and offers protection services.
Han Yujin sauntered toward the customers, casual as ever. The bank president would curse the ground in outrage if he heard, but whatever.
Yoo Se-rin, watching slack-jawed, clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. “......!!”
Is she seriously gonna turn anomalies into cargo? That three-headed dog? Looks C-rank at least! Cerberus! Myth-shaped anomalies are always OP!
Of course, Yoo Se-rin's panic meant nothing. Han Yujin calmly approached one anomaly and squatted in front of it.
“......?”
Question marks popped up over every human and anomaly's head at the sight.
Click.
Han Yujin pulled out the money bag and set it down. Yoo Se-rin gawked again. 'No way—she's offering so much cash here they'll have to accept?!'
But do anomalies have to accept big bribes? Yoo Se-rin tilted her head—
“Good boy, good boy. Come here.”
What came from the bag was anything but. Leftover pizza slices. Ones she'd swiped from Jeong Gongbeop in case she got hungry in the horror.
She tossed them on the floor. All three heads lunged at once. Pizza vanished in seconds.
And... three tails wagged in unison.
“Good boy.”
Han Yujin casually petted one head. Lee Kanghyeok and Yoo Se-rin's faces stiffened. 'What the hell is this psycho doing?'—their expressions screamed it.
Han Yujin's inner logic was simple: gallery trivia from her lurking days. Feed a starving beast, and it lets its guard down. It's just an animal, right?
She turned to the security guard and declared, “There. Cargo.”
She pointed at the pizza-licking Cerberus. “Name's Baduk-i. He's the cargo.”
The guard's massive frame shuddered violently. Like system overload.
Cargo... recognized. Redefining.
He snatched the number tag from Han Yujin roughly. Pulled out a massive stamp from his pocket.
Thud!
The guard handed the stamped tag back to Han Yujin, then stamped something Cerberus-shaped with another stamp. Turned on his heel.
As if nothing happened.
“......”
“......”
Lee Kanghyeok and Yoo Se-rin stood frozen like they'd seen a ghost. No sacrifice, no crisis—just words. Logic alone neutralized a instant-death trap.
Han Yujin tsked at them. “What're you all spacing out for? Back to the waiting room chairs. Gonna call that guard again or what?”
She sauntered back to her seat leisurely. Only then did Lee Kanghyeok realize he'd been holding his breath. He looked at her again—not contempt or anger. Raw curiosity. Or awe. Toward something he couldn't comprehend.
Ding-dong.