Safety Management Target (4)

? Month ? Day.

The shipwreck sways.

With every wave, I felt like a leaf being swept aimlessly down a river. It was as if the ground itself was fleeing, making it impossible to even stand properly.

People lose their balance, falling and colliding into each other.

Injuries and fainting incidents erupt one after another—it's utter chaos.

The lifeboats are packed full of people, leaving no room to squeeze in.

The crew struggles to calm everyone down, but it doesn't seem like they can control the situation as easily as they'd like.

"It's, it's a ghost!"

Not to mention the horrified reactions of people who see me.

But maybe it's because of the situation. Even though people are startled by me, their reactions don't last long.

Everyone's too busy trying to survive to spare me any attention.

"Hey, Blue Head! Blue Flame!"

Kang Tae-jun's voice comes through the in-ear.

It seems I can still communicate with the outside world where Kang Tae-jun is, even here.

"Can you hear me?"

"Crackle—I hear—you."

"Good. I already confirmed we could talk from here to your side. Good thing I packed the radio and in-ear just in case."

"Crackle—Is there—a way—out?"

"A way out? Hold on."

The radio cuts out for a moment.

During that time, I walk across the increasingly chaotic deck, surveying my surroundings.

It looks like something went wrong somewhere below the ship. There are signs that the hull is starting to crack.

'There aren't any islands or reefs to collide with, though?'

The sea level isn't low either. This is the middle of the ocean.

An internal defect? The damage traces are too minimal for that.

It was when I reached the railing.

The radio comes back on.

"There are two ways. One is to wait until the ship sinks."

"Crackle—A waste—of time."

"I know. Anyone can see it's a pointless waste of time. That's why I looked for another method."

At that moment, I felt a strange sensation from the sea.

...It's big.

Something unbelievably massive is beneath the sea.

It's sinking now, but based on size alone, it might be as large as a small island.

'That dark energy unique to anomalies. If I had to guess, that thing is the cause of the sinking.'

A massive anomaly near a ship that has no reason to sink.

I can't help but suspect it.

But if it's the Management Bureau, there's no way they wouldn't know about an anomaly in the ocean. It's not my concern.

"The world you're in is from the era when the ship sank, so there should be an identical film somewhere, right? I don't have any related records, so I don't know the location."

"Crackle—I see—."

"If you burn it, maybe you can get out. You can find it, right?"

I expanded my detection range.

A dark energy seeping out from somewhere.

Following the sensation, I headed toward where the energy was felt.

Below the deck. One more level down.

When my detection range reached the cabin area, I located the source of the dark energy.

It's one of the cabins.

"Crackle—Found it—."

"Good job. Go give it a thrashing."

I cut through the people frantically running around and went down the deck stairs.

People in a hurry rush up past me.

Those who pass by are startled when they see my head.

Old people mutter that it must be their time to die.

I pass by leisurely and enter the cabin hallway, which reeks of dark energy.

'Look at that guy?'

It's blatantly obvious.

Even from a distance, hostility travels through the air.

It seems to have sensed my presence.

The dark energy stirs restlessly.

Kugugugu-

The ship tilts sharply.

The straight corridor gradually turns into a downward slope, then becomes completely vertical.

I was about to fall, but I managed to grab the handle of a nearby cabin door, so I didn't plummet.

'It tilts this suddenly?'

The ship wasn't about to tip over or crack open immediately. This phenomenon is suspiciously premature.

There's no need to figure out why it happened.

The cause is obvious.

'So it's putting up a fight.'

Good thing my body type has long limbs.

Like a gibbon, I pull my arm to grab the side door and climb up. If I do this, I can reach the bastard.

All I had to do was climb up without difficulty.

Dreureureu-

The dry sound of a motor running.

That's not coming from the hull.

Shureureureu-

The hull balances itself at a rapid pace.

People walking backward enter the cabins.

The ear-piercing screams and hull noises reverse like a playback, producing grotesque sounds.

Tak.

The sound of the motor stopping.

I was standing on the deck again.

"Heeek! Wh-what is this! What's with the flaming head?!"

"Kyaaaah! It's a ghost!"

The same reactions I heard when I first entered the film world.

The people I saw earlier pass by again.

People startled by me, people rushing past in a hurry.

The chaos of collisions, falls, and fainting.

The lifeboats are still packed full, with no room to step.

'I came back?'

Regression? Time reversal?

I can't make sense of the situation when the radio comes on.

"Hey, Blue Head. Did something change in there?"

Kang Tae-jun must have noticed something too, given his perfect timing.

"Crackle—Time—reversed. It's—refusing—to let me—approach."

"I figured. The projector just ran backward. This phenomenon has records from before. You're fine for now, right?"

"Crackle—I'll—try again."

This time, without taking a different route, I moved to the cabins again.

The same as before, but a slightly earlier scene.

I reached the cabin area with the film again, but the ship didn't tilt this time.

Instead.

Dreureureu-

'It's doing it again?'

The sound of the projector running backward once more.

I found myself standing on the deck again.

"Heeek! Wh-what is this! What's with the flaming head?!"

"Kyaaaah! It's a ghost!"

The same screams, the same reactions.

The same scenes, the same lifeboats.

'It won't kick me out of the film world, so what's it doing? Does it want to play tug-of-war with me forever?'

It seems the film anomaly hasn't figured something out.

From my perspective, this situation is no loss.

I just need to approach however I can. That bastard can only keep repeating the same loop.

Maybe it's in such a panic that it can't think of a way out.

'Let's see who's more stubborn.'

Then I'll speed up.

At a speed humans can't perceive.

I'll reach it before the film anomaly can react.

The moment I move quickly, people I hit with my body go flying.

I don't have time to worry about them.

No, I don't need to.

The people here, the place.

Everything I see.

It's all remnants of the past.

Illusions.

None of it is real.

I went down to the cabins in an instant and was about to grab the doorknob of the cabin with the film anomaly.

Dreureureu-

One step too late.

In that moment, the projector's motor sounds again.

I came back to the deck.

And it didn't stop there.

Dreureureu-

'What?'

I hadn't even moved this time, but the projector ran again.

It didn't stop, just kept going.

Dreureureu-

Dreureureu-

Dreureureu-

I can't move on the deck.

The people are stuck repeating the same postures and situations in regular one-second intervals, as if they've broken.

Everything, including me, has fallen into a time loop with no end in sight.

'Are you messing with me?'

My speed must have been quite shocking.

One second.

No.

Even 0.5 seconds would have been enough.

That would have been enough to open the door.

"It looks like you've run into another problem."

Even amidst the dreureureu- noise, Kang Tae-jun's voice comes through clearly.

"Crackle—It's—making a last—stand. Is there—any way—from there?"

"I'm afraid I have bad news. I've tried everything—tying the projector down with rope so it won't turn, and all sorts of other things—but nothing works. You have to handle it from your end."

"Crackle—But it's—not letting me—move at all."

It's like a child's mindset, preventing me from doing anything, and it's getting on my nerves.

It's like a little kid who doesn't know when to stop and just keeps acting out. Of course, from its perspective, it's fighting for its life.

Kang Tae-jun, having heard the situation, let out a hollow laugh.

"Heh—Looks like a cornered mouse. But I learned one thing. The film doesn't have a solution either. Doing this won't let it survive. It can't make a proper judgment call."

"Crackle—How—annoying."

"I agree. But you don't seem sad?"

Not sad?

Come to think of it, I heard that humans who come into contact with the film anomaly are usually consumed by feelings of sadness.

But I'm the exception. Is it because I'm an anomaly?

Or maybe...

'They say it's because it's a sad movie and you get swallowed by the atmosphere. But I've never made it to the end of the film. I've never had time to feel emotions.'

Feeling the sad atmosphere is the original story of the movie.

If that's the case, what would happen if I destroyed the original story?

I'll finish the sinking ending on my own terms.

'After all, it's just a remnant of memories. I don't need to feel guilt.'

In this situation, trapped in an infinite loop, this is the only defense I have.

I focused on the flames on my head.

Hwaaak!

Flames burst out violently.

Dreureureu-

The projector runs again.

Hwaaaaak!

But the concentrated flames grow even larger than before.

"It's, it's hot!"

"Kyaaaah!"

The screams of people exposed to the flames follow one after another, but I don't stop.

Dreureureu-

Hwaaaaak-

The more the projector repeats, the larger the flames grow compared to the previous loop.

'The radio and in-ear aren't affected by the projector. They communicated with the outside in real-time. My body is no different. I come back to the deck, but my memories and stamina don't reset to the beginning.'

Chiik- Tadadak.

A change occurs.

In the constantly rewinding time loop, the deck floor was gradually charring black.

Even when the projector ran, those black marks couldn't restore their original color.

In the black-and-white world, the remnants of the blue flame gnawed away at the time loop.

Deureureuk-

Deureureu-

Deureurit-

The motor sounds, clearly tinged with panic, clatter noisily.

Despite the projector's efforts, the black holes slowly began to spread across the entire deck.

The humans touched by the flames also turned to ash.

It spread further, and even the people near the lifeboats became part of the ash.

As ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the entire deck was dyed black, the range expanded to the cabins.

Chijijiji-

Dreureureu-

Dreureureu-

Dreureureu-

Teok.

My foot moved.

The time loop I thought I'd be trapped in forever finally showed a crack.

My consciousness was pulled, trying to send me back to the deck.

But I kept moving forward.

The film's prison, created by breaking the movie's flow just to trap a single entity.

Its desperate, last-ditch struggle had reached its limit and ultimately couldn't even hold my ankle.

I reached the completely burned-out cabin area, resisting the reversal.

Among the burnt cabins, one door still maintained its form.

Kkik-

I opened the door and saw inside.

A man clinging to the window.

His eyes, full of fear but unable to suppress curiosity, were fixed on something outside the window.

I didn't feel dark energy from the man. But he must be closely related to the film.

He is the amateur film director, the owner of the film.

I also found the identity of the anomaly.

A metal film reel placed on the desk.

Inside the reel, the film was carefully wound.

"Look outside. Something huge came up from the sea and sank just now. It seemed much bigger than a whale."

Thanks to his strong curiosity, he hasn't run away and is only interested in the creature outside.

But it seems he mistook me for an acquaintance.

When I remained silent, the director turned his head.

"Ugh!"

Kwadang.

He falls backward in surprise.

Well, of course, he'd be surprised. When he turns around, instead of an acquaintance, there's an unknown being before him.

Not to mention, with no head and a flame floating above my neck, I'm not even human.

"Huuck...huk. Huk, huk. Ah... Ad, Addie? Addie! Where are you, Addie!"

It seems the acquaintance's name is Addie.

She's probably become one of the countless lumps of charcoal outside by now.

"Oh, my God. Lord, have mercy..."

Since it's a black-and-white world, I can't tell his complexion at all.

Old-time people really lived in an era without color.

These days, TVs with high resolution and vivid colors can show you all around the world.

To this remnant still stuck in the past, I said.

"Crackle—Time for—the credits."

"...What?"

Ignoring the man, I grabbed the film reel.

The metal reel emitted a dark energy in my grip.

But for the film anomaly, which can no longer put up a fight, there's nothing left but to accept the outcome.

"No... no! Ah, no!"

The director hangs onto my arm.

No human has ever gotten this close to me before.

Not even trained Management Bureau soldiers could do it, but this remnant from the 1920s did.

The reason he could move even in extreme fear.

Because of responsibility and his own sense of mission.

"Don't... touch my film. That's my life's masterpiece! A poor film that hasn't even been shown to the world yet!"

No matter how much he clings, pulls, or pushes, a human can't overcome my strength.

When I held firm, the director begged, on the verge of tears.

"No. Please... Just, just let me screen it. I found a distributor who will screen it. Just let me screen it once!"

"... ..."

"My mother and sister are waiting, I tell you! To see my film!"

I admit it's a tragic accident.

But this film was never delivered to the distributor a hundred years ago; it sank into the deep sea with the hull.

It's pointless.

I can't tell him, point by point, that he's the remnant of a dead man, and this is the world of the film.

Burn it.

The movie is over.

Tadak. Tak. Tadak.

It burns quietly.

Burning pieces of the film scatter.

"Ah... aaah..."

The expression of one who has lost the world.

Drowned in despair, the director sank to the spot, picking up the film scraps and holding them to his chest.

He had been silently despairing, then suddenly stood up.

He rummaged through the luggage he'd packed on the bed and pulled out two screening tickets.

He held them out to me with both hands.

"In Manhattan, New York, near Times Square, my mother and sister will be waiting for me. 42nd Street! Go there. They'll probably... be somewhere around there. Eleanor Wells, Clara Wells. Those are their names. Please, I beg you."

Tears flow from the director's eyes.

Even in this black-and-white world, those tears were vivid.

"If they can't see my film... at least let them see this film. I beg you like this."

Kneeling, the director pleaded desperately with the unidentified anomaly.

Even though the other party wasn't human, he had a film he was proud of that he absolutely had to deliver to his family.

If he couldn't deliver the film, he wished at least they could watch another great film and find consolation.

'But your family is already... ...'

My chest aches.

A feeling of bitterness, suffocation, something welling up.

So this is what sadness is.

I took the tickets.

I don't know if I can deliver them.

But I hope this brings him some comfort.

Thanks to that, a peaceful calm settled on the director's face.

It burns.

The film reel.

The cabin.

Even the film director.

Everything burns, collapsing into charcoal.

The world flickers, and the sound of an old film is heard.

The screen rises.

True to an old movie, a simple phrase reading 'THE END' appears.

'The credits are simple. So this is how it was back then.'

As the letters ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faded, rough Gothic capital letters appeared.

'FOR MY BELOVED ELEANOR AND CLARA,' the director had inserted.

The names of his mother and sister.

A phrase that showed how close the family was.

'...What's that?'

And below the family's names.

A small phrase, but easy enough to read.

'SPECIAL THANKS TO THE CLOCK-HEADED MAN.'

I doubted it.

At first, I didn't recognize it.

But no matter how many times I read it, the final phrase expresses separate thanks to a man with a clock head.

The screen goes dark.

Slowly, my surrounding senses fade, and I return to the containment room where I originally was.

"Hey, Blue Head."

Next to the projector, burning with a blue flame.

Kang Tae-jun, having stepped back with a stiff expression, quickly approached and patted my shoulder as if pleased.

"Well done. You handled the unexpected situation admirably. As expected, my decision to cooperate with you was right. Now you should absorb that thing, right?"

His face is full of satisfied ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠joy.

I stared blankly at Kang Tae-jun's face, then raised my hand to look at it.

The two screening tickets I received from the director.

They're not in my hand.

They were ultimately just objects within the movie. It's natural they wouldn't exist when I returned to reality.

"Crackle—I have—one—favor."

※※※

A clear sky, a beautiful city.

Antique houses and streets mixed with blue nature.

For a moment, I feel an impulse to live here if I ever leave Korea.

Kang Tae-jun went to one house there and tucked an envelope under the door.

He was about to turn around.

"Who are you?"

The door opened, and a woman came out.

She picked up the envelope, then stared at Kang Tae-jun with suspicious eyes.

"There's no name. Whose letter is this?"

"Just a item that should have been delivered a hundred years ago, arriving belatedly. Do with it as you please."

Kang Tae-jun slightly tipped his fedora in a simple salute, his coat fluttering as he boarded a black vehicle.

The woman watched the departing car for a moment, tilted her head, and went inside.

On the living room wall, barely visible.

A small black-and-white photograph of Arthur Wells, his mother, and his younger sister hung there.