Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: ■■'s Printer
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Whirring—clunk
A room where all six sides—walls, no ceiling, everything—was coated entirely in white paint. Right in the center, a lone printer churned out sheets of paper.
🖨️ PRINT OUTPUT 🖨️ […Hello?] [Anyone there?] Whirring—clunk
Papers cascading down to the floor, with nowhere left to stack.
🖨️ PRINT OUTPUT 🖨️ [There was definitely a printer here…] [I can't see a thing!] [Please! Is anyone there?!] [Help me!] Desperation seeped through the gaps between the letters.
Whirring—clunk
[Please…] […] Whirring—clunk
[ ] No more letters appeared.
Whirring—clunk
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ I'm inside a company right now.
A perfectly ordinary one, not some tale-infested nightmare.
If a security camera caught me, they'd probably call the cops for trespassing.
Of course, they couldn't actually catch me, but failing to do so might stir up even more controversy.
And if the Tale Management Bureau got wind of that footage, my biggest secret—that I can slip outside—would be exposed.
I'd come wearing a mask just in case, but the Bureau wasn't so incompetent they'd miss something like that.
I absolutely could not get caught on camera.
And yet.
"Why is the nearest exit all the way over here…?"
Thinking it was close, I'd come this way, only to realize I had another five minutes of walking ahead.
In other words, five straight minutes of spy-movie sneaking.
Luckily, I had the building's layout memorized.
I knew the security camera positions too, though I'd never tested dodging them before. That was the issue.
There was one dead ahead, so I circled around to the back.
From here, I needed to climb two floors via the stairs, but a camera lurked midway, so I went up one and switched to the opposite stairwell.
Open this door, push through the waterfall (of stacked documents), cross the log bridge swarming with crocodiles underneath (spilled double clips), and…?
The printer room.
"Never imagined I'd end up here."
Its functions were severely limited, and the risks were a real pain, so it rarely came up during gameplay.
If I hadn't botched that contract with the Label Library, I'd never have set foot here in my life.
"Tch. What can you do when you're a tale yourself?"
The printer before me looked just like any standard office model.
The room's all-white walls gnawed at my autonomic nervous system, but that was just an illusion.
Maybe my fatigue-dulled senses were playing tricks after hunting another tale so soon.
Anyway, in this room, the tale was the printer—and only the printer.
I picked up a sheet scattered on the floor.
[Ther.. e.. so..] The ink had smeared; impossible to make out.
Looked at least three years old, minimum.
"You must've had it rough."
■■'s Printer changed its name periodically, so it had no fixed moniker.
One day it might be the firefighter's printer; the next, a high schooler's.
No telling whose it was this time.
I placed the Label Library from the scanner atop the printer.
No clue how it worked, but it scanned the whole book without needing it open.
Soon, a white light glowed as it began scanning.
Still looked like a perfectly normal printer.
Whirring—clunk
With the familiar operational hum, sheets started printing one by one.
The first was a deep leather-brown all over, then progressively varied papers layered up from the bottom like a 3D printer.
About ten minutes later, they'd formed a perfect duplicate of the Label Library.
"Handy, sure. But if it could copy multiples or different types, that'd be even better."
At a glance, it seemed like it could duplicate anything, but no—it was a printer, so paper products only.
Anything paper-based, though, it replicated flawlessly: handwriting, paper type, texture, the works.
Conversely, nothing non-paper, which made its spot awkwardly niche and easy to skip.
"Time to head out."
Tucking a Label Library under each armpit, I headed for the door.
Whirring—clunk
That instant, the printer's noise rang out—different this time, like a scream, a raw howl of agony.
🖨️ PRINT OUTPUT 🖨️ [Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.Help me.]
I'd never printed that.
This was the printer's captive speaking.
"This one's not quite mad yet, huh."
What was the risk I'd mentioned earlier?
■■'s Printer devours people.
Obviously not always—I'm fine, after all—but overuse triggers it.
To normal eyes, it's just an ordinary printer, so folks use it cluelessly... and get eaten.
Whirring—clunk
[Please use the printer more.] If it just ate you and done, that'd be one thing.
But victims get trapped inside, singing for a replacement for years on end.
Whirring—clunk
[Please use the printer more.] [Please use the printer more.] [Please use the printer more.] As if begging me to keep using it.
Why no issue while I printed? Why only when I tried to leave?
"Ugh, leaves a bad taste."
This victim, trapped for ages, had realized the truth.
Someone had to replace them for freedom.
They'd waited quietly for a user, then clung when I tried to go.
"This is exactly why I hate this place."
If they'd gone fully insane and quiet, it'd be fine.
But a sane soul pleading for release? Bitter aftertaste unavoidable.
"Not like I can take their place."
Whirring—clunk
[Please…] "Ah, damn, tugging at my heartstrings."
There was one other way, actually.
Dead simple, anyone could do it.
But it required a condition: someone who'd never signed a social contract, immune to police no matter the crime.
Conveniently, never caught on camera, not human, no contracts—me.
"Ah, seriously."
I drew a tentacle from the shadows.
"Be grateful."
Bang—!
A fierce spark erupted, and a sheet fluttered weakly atop the now two-ton printer.
[Thank you.] The soul's probably off to a better place now.
The company president would have a headache replacing it, but one person's freedom covered that.
"Hm? Another one underneath?"
[Fucking bastard] Hm.
The printer's parting words, I guess.
Nothing worth remembering.
Ignoring the malice aimed my way, I left the printer room.
Now, backtrack the same route.
"Ah…"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Was it the blue lighting? The office walls looked pale, stripped of their everyday facade.
"This… isn't it."
A striking woman in a white coat, rare for daily office wear.
On her desk, under a microscope: a substance blending black and blue.
A sample her friend, Park Se-jin, had entrusted yesterday.
"Hm… looks like various substances stuck together."
Brown unidentified meat chunk, black stone fragment.
"So what's this green liquid?"
She'd tested bits in reagents—no reaction.
In other words, an unknown substance, unprecedented.
Seo-yeon combed through recent papers and reports.
What caught her eye? A recent report.
📄 Tale Shop Records 3. Items 3-1. Momentary Dream . . . "A green, wriggling pill dream…"
Seo-yeon headed to her private storeroom in the lab's back.
"Where'd I put it… Ah! Found it."
She'd been allocated one Momentary Dream.
Meant for later study, but her mind brimmed with it now.
She sliced the pill with a scalpel, fed the oozing green liquid alongside the sample into the analyzer.
Ten minutes later, it beeped, displaying indecipherable English codes and numbers.
At the bottom, a line anyone could grasp seized her attention.
🔬 ANALYSIS RESULT 🔬 Match Rate: 98.7% Right on cue, her phone buzzed and rang.
Park Se-jin.
"Ahem. Hello?"
"Another bust today. Shop won't open till next week, probably."
"Ah… again?"
"Yeah. Don't get your hopes up."
"Mm, got it."
"Anyway, any new leads on that sample?"
"…"
"Hello? Yoon Seo-yeon?"
"Huh? What'd you say?"
"Any findings on the sample?"
"Nope. Nothing at all."