I Was Quarantined
There’s a hypothesis that if you cross three bridges, everyone knows each other.
I was the exception.
That day started out perfectly ordinary.
It all began with a tiny mistake—just like how a reporter’s error brought down the Berlin Wall.
“Actually, I work at this place called the Management Bureau.”
Someone had broken the secret pact. It was the kind of thing that happened from time to time, so it should have ended with severe disciplinary action and a memory wipe.
“...What?”
Someone else asked back.
They should have played dumb. They should have reported it to the security department.
They should have—but they didn’t.
“...Me too. Which department are you with?”
The sense of kinship that came from sharing the world’s secret.
The guilty thrill of being able to speak that secret out in the open.
The deviants multiplied from two to four, then from department to entire facility.
Not long after, one ordinary day.
The exact same broadcast appeared on every screen across the globe.
“Upon re-verifying the Management Bureau’s linkage rating system, we have confirmed that every human being on Earth is aware of the Management Bureau’s existence. I repeat. Every human being on Earth is aware of the Management Bureau’s existence.”
Streets erupted with noise. Some people shouted that they’d known all along, while others proudly pulled out their security credentials.
“From this moment forward, the Management Bureau will officially begin intervening in the surface world. All governmental anomaly research institutions will be absorbed and merged into the Management Bureau.”
May humanity achieve victory over the anomalies.
With those final words, the Management Bureau’s logo filled every screen.
Humanity had entered an official, all-out war against the anomalies.
‘Or so I imagined.’
That had been nothing more than my own delusion while I was scrolling through Management Bureau horror stories on my phone.
It was ridiculous from the start.
The Management Bureau was fictional.
And even if it did exist, the idea that every single human on the planet knew about it?
‘And I was the only one who didn’t? That’s way too much effort for a prank.’
I let out a small laugh and turned off my phone.
I had a lot to do tomorrow.
I needed to make curry for the orphanage kids, and Seo-ah had promised to do something for my birthday…
Right before falling asleep, I thought hazily:
If anomalies were real, and humanity had been secretly waging a species-wide deathmatch against them in the shadows,
‘It’d be nice to stand at the very front and rip them all to shreds…’
COMMON SENSE ALTERATION DISASTER OCCURRED
COMMON SENSE ALTERATION DISASTER OCCURRED
Origin: Area 82, Republic of Korea
Management Bureau Council Unanimous Vote for Intervention
Paradise Lost, Silencer, Sealing Stamp, Gatekeeper, Tanker Artisan Union, White Veil, Incinerator, Apocalypse Delay Squad — Emergency Deployment
This is not a drill.
All Management Bureau personnel, regardless of security clearance, immediately enter quarantine procedures.
Abnormality Value Increasing
7.83
34.21
102.66
[…]
Cognitive Field Interference Detected
Noosphere Collapse Observed
Estimated Alpha-Class Anomaly
Disaster Type Changed
Common Sense Alteration → Reality Reconstruction
REALITY RECONSTRUCTION DISASTER OCCURRED
Affected Zones: 81, 86, 7, 48…
Code Modification in Progress
Affected Zone: Entire Human Civilization Sphere
The end is imminent.
All Management Bureau staff must attempt suicide, isolation, evacuation, or regression according to assigned rank.
May God be with you.
“Ugh…”
I dragged my stiff body upright. The sunlight was warm and gentle.
It was an absurdly peaceful morning. It damn well should have stayed that way.
‘It’s noisy outside.’
Sounded like a full-blown riot. Did something happen?
I slid the window open.
The giant street screen was broadcasting the exact same message.
“Upon re-verifying the Management Bureau’s linkage rating system, we have confirmed that every human being on Earth is aware of the Management Bureau’s existence. I repeat. Every human being on Earth is aware of the Management Bureau’s existence.”
?
What the hell? Was I still half-asleep?
I turned on the computer. The moment the screen lit up, it automatically tuned to the same broadcast.
“From this moment forward, the Management Bureau will officially begin intervening in the surface world. All governmental anomaly research institutions will be absorbed and merged into the Management Bureau.”
????
What the fuck is this?
Is this real?
‘No, relax. I’m not part of this.’
Unfortunately, I was just the director of an orphanage. I wasn’t affiliated with the Management Bureau or whatever, and I’d never even heard of it.
‘This has to be some kind of event or a really elaborate hidden-camera prank.’
It was eerily similar to the delusion I’d had last night, but that had to be a coincidence.
I’d just buy curry ingredients and cook for the kids like usual.
Knock knock knock.
Someone pounded on the door.
‘It can’t be the Paradise Lost quarantine team… no way.’
I was letting my imagination run wild. I smacked my forehead and shouted.
“It’s open!”
The door flew open and a woman burst inside.
“Oppa! Happy birthday!”
“Seo-ah.”
Yu Seo-ah.
My childhood friend. Twenty years old this year.
Glossy jet-black hair, gentle drooping eyes, and a suspiciously violent chest that defied physics.
“Eep!?”
She tripped on the threshold. I caught her before she could fall.
She still hadn’t fixed that clumsy personality of hers.
“What’s with the early morning visit? You here to help make curry for the kids?”
“No, no! I mean, I will help with that too! But first…”
Seo-ah beamed, completely unbothered.
“You heard it too, right, oppa? We don’t have to hide that I work for the Management Bureau anymore! I was always so nervous you’d find out. I feel so stupid now, right? You probably knew everything already. Ehehe.”
Oh.
Oooh…
Yu Seo-ah kept chattering excitedly.
“I got promoted! I’m a B-class Assistant Researcher now! The anomaly I’m in charge of—ah, right, right. Oppa, are you with the Management Bureau too? Which facility are you stationed at? Should I request a transfer!? We could commute together!”
“…”
“Oppa? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
I stared blankly at the monitor.
The man on screen adjusted his glasses and added one more line.
“Correction. One individual who is unaware of the Management Bureau has been identified. Area 82, Republic of Korea. Seoul sector. Lee Shin, age twenty-two. Date of birth…”
My entire personal record was being broadcast to the world.
“You were the only surface human who knew nothing.”
Thud.
Seo-ah dropped the bag she was holding. Her voice trembled as she asked,
“...Oppa? It’s not you, right? It must be someone with the same name?”
Like hell it is.
It’s me, dammit.
Thud-thud-thud-thud—
The sound of helicopters had already begun outside. Unidentified footsteps converged around my sweet home, the orphanage.
“W-what do we do!? Oppa! Let’s hide for now, okay? I’ll explain everything!”
Seo-ah stamped her feet in panic. She clearly knew who was coming.
‘This is actually happening.’
At this point even I could more or less figure it out.
Crash!!
The window shattered.
Armed personnel poured in through both the door and the broken window.
“Entry successful.”
“Assistant Researcher! Get behind us!”
“Kyaa!?”
The gunmen snatched Yu Seo-ah away in an instant and hid her behind their line. When she struggled, one of them clamped a hand over her mouth.
As I stood there looking mildly annoyed, the person who seemed to be in charge stepped forward.
Judging by height and silhouette, it was a woman. She wasn’t very large.
An emotionless voice flowed from behind the gas mask.
“I am the captain of the Management Bureau Quarantine Special Task Force Paradise Lost. I apologize for the somewhat aggressive entry.”
“You’ve got better manners than I expected.”
“...You’re not shaking. I assumed you’d be terrified.”
Why would I be?
I’d completed my full term in the Marine Corps without a scratch and rescued the orphanage kids from human traffickers with my bare hands. Why the hell would I be scared?
I didn’t bother saying it out loud.
“Lee Shin. We request your cooperation.”
“What kind of cooperation?”
“The Management Bureau has designated you as an anomaly. In other words, you are a quarantine target.”
“What? Why?”
“All of humanity knew about the Management Bureau. You were the sole exception. The Management Bureau has interpreted this as an abnormality.”
Abnormality.
Not normal. Not standard. In short, it meant ‘You’re the broken one, dumbass.’
The charge… if I had to call it that.
My only abnormality was this:
‘The entire world is pulling a prank on me.’
I’d seen a movie like this before.
‘The Truman Show with a gender-bender beam?’
Losing every last bit of masculinity. Terrifying stuff…
“Lee Shin. Are you listening?”
“Ah. Sorry, I was thinking about something else for a second.”
What a ridiculous bolt from the blue.
More than ten gunmen were pointing their weapons at me.
I calmly raised both hands.
“I’ll cooperate. But I have conditions.”
“...Command center. You receiving this? …Confirmed. Very well. State your conditions. As long as they are not unreasonable, the Management Bureau will comply.”
“Curry.”
“Curry?”
Eating and living were serious matters.
Especially for the kids who had grown up without parents.
“Make curry and feed it to the orphanage children. And while I’m gone, your organization will take full responsibility for our kids.”
“………Understood. Approval from command has been received.”
The task force captain lowered her weapon and extended her hand. I shook it lightly.
‘Softer grip than I expected.’
Anyway.
Negotiation complete.
***
A pure-white isolation chamber.
The carefully arranged furniture felt slightly unnatural. At first glance it resembled a psychiatric ward.
The task force captain faced the man seated at the table.
At least two meters tall. Sharp, upward-glaring three-white eyes. Muscles that looked ready to burst through the orange prison uniform, paired with a rugged beard.
‘He really does look like a gangster.’
More like the boss of a drug cartel than a mere thug.
When she lowered her gaze to the personal file, a dry laugh escaped her.
SIN-998
◈ Alias: The Director
◈ Risk Rating: Epsilon
The task force captain double-checked the file.
‘Nothing except the name is believable.’
How could someone with that vicious face be a twenty-two-year-old orphanage director?
And how could a middle-school graduate even hold that position?
“SIN-998. How are you feeling today?”
“How do you think I’m feeling?”
The low, rumbling answer was surprisingly intimidating.
“If you have any complaints, speak up. We will address them.”
“Does the Management Bureau have anomalies too?”
“Yes.”
Lee Shin asked with deadly seriousness.
“Can I meet the strongest one? I want to fight it under yacha rules.”
“...Today’s interview ends here. It’s your first day, so you must be overwhelmed. Rest comfortably.”
He was clearly out of his mind.
As the task force captain stood, the stone-faced soldiers carrying rifles fell in behind her.
Click.
When the door opened, the assistant researcher waiting in the corridor flinched.
Yu Seo-ah. She had said she already knew SIN-998.
“C-Captain! Our oppa— I mean! I’m sorry! SIN-998 is…”
“Contrary to his appearance, his level of cooperation is high.”
“Then… is temporary release or assignment to the task force possible…?”
“That depends on the entity himself.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed.
Judging by how fidgety she was, it seemed Yu Seo-ah might have feelings for that entity.
‘More importantly, something feels off.’
When had it started? Last night?
Throughout the Management Bureau, many personnel—regardless of security clearance—had complained of headaches.
The symptoms varied.
Sense of alienation. Déjà vu. Intermittent daydreams.
Every single one was related to the human mind and cognitive domain, so the relevant departments had launched an urgent investigation.
Those who experienced the symptoms all gave the same testimony.
—Let’s think logically. Does it make any sense that all of humanity knows about the Management Bureau?
—The Management Bureau exists to protect surface humans who know nothing about it. But there was only one surface human?
—Isn’t this a Common Sense Alteration disaster?
‘A Common Sense Alteration disaster…’
If that were the case, the Cognitive Technology Department should have detected it immediately.
The captain asked Yu Seo-ah carefully.
“Assistant Researcher. The Management Bureau has revealed itself to all of humanity. We have begun surface operations. Do you feel any sense of incongruity about this?”
“Huh? Not at all? Everyone already knew about the Management Bureau anyway, right?”
“...I suppose so.”
The captain nodded and began to walk away.
At that exact moment, a headache like a spike through her temples tore through her skull.
Last night, the captain had taken personal time. There had been no containment breaches or emergencies, so it should have been peaceful.
Into that peace, memories that should not have existed began to intrude.
—Current time 00:32. Common Sense Alteration disaster occurred. Large numbers of civilian casualties reported.
—Quarantine Special Task Force Silencer, Sealing Stamp, Gatekeeper combat incapable! Requesting immediate reinforcements!
—Holy shit. Is it SIN-002?
—No! SIN-002 is under normal containment! An unidentified entity—
In the middle of those memories, the captain herself had clearly been present.
Her limbs refused to move properly. Sensations that should have reached every part of her body felt impossibly distant.
—This is the special task force captain of Paradise Lost. This is not a Common Sense Alteration disaster. I repeat. Current ■ ■ construction. ■■ ■■■ disaster. Sensory organs not functioning pro■. Self is being lo■■—
Her mind filled with static. What she had been saying grew fainter and fainter.
‘What is this? Imagination? Or a delusion?’
Cold sweat had already formed inside the captain’s gas mask. When Yu Seo-ah called out in concern, she barely managed to lift her head.
“Captain? Are you all right?”
“...Excuse me.”
For some reason, a chill ran down her spine.
If what had just flashed through her mind wasn’t mere imagination.
If everything had truly happened, and neither the council nor anyone else in the Management Bureau had noticed.
If the world had already been rewritten into a completely different form.
‘Risk rating Alpha. A high-risk entity comparable to SIN-002 and 003.’
In the field, they were sometimes referred to with a mixture of awe.
Outer Gods.
Entities for which the Management Bureau’s objective shifted from containment to the continued survival of civilization.
Because they could inflict irreversible damage upon human civilization and shove it off the cliff called apocalypse in a single push.
“…”
The captain paused at the end of the corridor and looked back.
[SIN-998 The Director]
[Risk Rating: Epsilon]
The dry, clinical text entered her eyes.
‘...He said he wanted to fight the strongest one under yacha rules.’
Perhaps.
Some entity had hidden its true risk rating, deceived both the Management Bureau and the entire world, and pretended to be harmless.
If that being was actually capable of brawling on equal footing with Outer Gods like SIN-002 and 003,
it would be a truly horrifying catastrophe.