Artifact? (Part 2)

"Whew, who turned on the AC? Why's it so damn cold in here?"

Kim Song-a, a staffer in the Artifact Management Department, rubbed his arms prickled with goosebumps from the unnaturally chill air. It was cold. Just moments ago, it had been a warm spring day. A glance ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out the window revealed dark storm clouds blanketing the sky. The sudden drop in temperature felt off, but he quickly shifted his gaze to the black suitcase Eunha had left behind, smacking his lips.

A priceless artifact that had practically rolled right into his lap. What could be inside? Even worthless junk could fetch hundreds of thousands for research purposes... and anything decent was easily worth ten million or more. Luxury goods cost more than their weight in gold, and artifacts outpriced even those. Seeing that F-rank pest make such a fuss about nearly dying, it probably wasn't a dud. With any luck, it might even be a rare combat-type artifact—the kind you rarely get a peek at.

If that hunch panned out, it would be a jackpot. Auction it off for hundreds of millions, or keep it and snag that long-dreamed A-rank promotion. The stuff of novels—serendipitous fortune. That's what artifacts were. And no matter what, this one wouldn't be going back to some F-rank bug.

Teach the pest a lesson, snag the fortune... yeah, this is living.

Come to think of it, that F-rank pest... Eunha, was it? She looked stunning today. How had he never noticed? No matter how he sliced it, it was a shame to let a beauty like that go to waste. He could use this as an excuse during her "lesson." Sure, an F-rank wasn't combat material, but she could make a fine disposable side heroine for killing time.

Click.

Whistling a cheerful tune, Kim Song-a laid the black suitcase flat and popped it open. A faint metallic tang of blood tickled his nose as the hidden interior came into view.

"...What the hell is this?"

The first thing that caught his eye was the Black Book plopped squarely in the center. Surrounding it like a seal were salt packets, and the suitcase's insides were plastered with countless talismans. Flanking the Black Book were a cross and prayer beads...

It was an occult altar that soured his mood just looking at it. Was this what it felt like to be cowed by atmosphere? Kim Song-a unwittingly stepped back, swallowing hard.

That F-rank psycho—he'd known she was off, but this? She was one of those unhinged freaks you steered clear of, even among the world's crazies. Who the hell stored an artifact like some cult relic?

Stunned by the shocking sight, Kim Song-a quickly regained his composure and activated his skill.

Whoosh... Mana haze rose from his body. His vision flashed crimson for an instant before returning to normal. And as if by magic... the purposes of the objects in view began floating into his mind.

Detection skill: Purpose Grasp. The skill that made him a renowned B-rank hunter and landed him an elite spot in the Artifact Management Department. Simple as its name: the uses of any inanimate object he eyed popped into his head unbidden. See a cane, and you'd picture someone leaning on it; a kitchen knife, and a chef slicing food. Crank up the output, and even more uses surfaced—perfect for inspecting and managing all sorts of artifacts.

Unfamiliar artifact? Skill it, done. Precision check? One glance from Kim Song-a, and you'd know exactly how to use it. That's why he'd blown off the F-rank pest's warning. What danger could there be in a quick look? His nagging section chief called it a safety phobia, but it was just old-man jealousy. The guy envied how Kim Song-a breezed through work with one skill.

Kuh... yeah, this is the protagonist vibe. Putting up with a shitty boss, then skyrocketing with an artifact cheat—classic plot.

Snickering at the thought of his bland-faced section chief, he swept his gaze over the suitcase interior, hoping this artifact would be his big break. As usual, uses for the various items surfaced in his mind.

Talismans. Cross. Prayer beads...

Then, a never-before-seen phenomenon etched itself on his retina.

"...Huh?"

Frowning, he picked up the Black Book. A thick tome with no title on the cover. Rain had begun pattering outside, and the chill now bit deep enough to see his breath. Kim Song-a exhaled a white puff and amped up his Purpose Grasp output.

"Why... is nothing showing up?"

Nothing. The cross and beads beside it showed clear images: clutching a cross in prayer, fingering beads while chanting sutras. But the Black Book? Blank. His skill failing to activate? Unheard of.

Maybe it had no use? Impossible. Everything had a purpose. He glanced at a novel on his desk—uses flooded in: reading it, swinging it like a weapon, tearing it for kindling. All sorts.

Back to the Black ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Book.

...Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Is this even possible?

His shivering hands reached to open it, but the pages wouldn't budge, glued like with industrial adhesive. A strange bookmark had appeared where none was before, and a fishy blood reek filled the office. The temperature plummeted in real time; his cracked lips oozed blood.

Whoosh—

Torrential rain poured beyond the window now crusted with white frost. Overwhelmed by dread, Kim Song-a flung the Black Book to the floor and scrambled back. Everything was wrong. The book, the cold— all of it.

"Hahk... hahk..."

His brain short-circuited from the sudden anomalies. Panic surged as his phone wouldn't power on, and the emergency button under his desk stayed dead. Numb fingers dropped the phone. Realizing sensation was gone from his hands, he clutched them desperately.

This made no sense. Just minutes ago, he'd been chilling alone in the office.

"What the hell... what did that bitch hand me?!"

He screamed, recalling the F-rank pest's dumb grin. He had to vent or freeze solid. What had she brought? If it was this dangerous, warn a guy! This was terrorism. Artifact terror aimed at the Association. A trash villain threatening him, the elite of the department and this world's protagonist.

Forgotten was how he'd dismissed Eunha himself. Muttering curses, his frozen limbs trembled, craving warmth. His torn lips froze solid, no blood dripping.

"Hoo... hoo... cold..."

He needed to flee outside, but his legs were ice-locked. His nerves were shot—now he felt hot. Too hot. Strip?

He flinched. Then, amid shivers, a realization hit.

Deactivating the skill, he circulated mana desperately to reinforce his body. His gaze fixed on the fallen Black Book.

His skill, Purpose Grasp. Reveals uses of inanimate objects.

So... maybe the Black Book wasn't inanimate.

That's no artifact...!

The other voice came around then, as he stared at the Black Book.

Behind it, someone stood.

When had she arrived? A B-rank hunter like him hadn't noticed.

A woman with blue skin like a frozen corpse. She wore the Association's standard gray suit, her body cracked like shattered glasswork. Repeating the same words, she pointed with broken fingers toward the office door.

Kim Song-a realized it. B-rank hunter instincts on death's door: that thing was the cold's source. The Black Book had summoned it. And it was beyond a B-rank's power.

Crackkk—

A massive fissure spiderwebbed across his frozen skin.

"......"

"...Wh-what... is... th-there?"

A question wrung from his last dregs of life. No answer. Just repetition.

The rain outside now sounded like countless palms slapping the window.

"...Hahaha."

Sunset glow filtered through the frosted glass, palm prints horrifying—realized too late they'd been made from inside.

Did that epiphany move him? Statue-still like frostbite's victim, Kim Song-a cracked his legs free and shuffled slowly.

Toward her gesture, out of the office.

Creeeak...

Still cold outside. He kept walking. Past two offices, stairs appeared.

Third on the right. Down the stairs.

First basement. Down again.

Hunter Association basement level 1.

Down the stairs, left. An open storeroom with Artifact Management staff sorting items.

"Ah, there you are, Team Leader Kim Song-a. We could really use your skill right ab— Team Leader Kim Song-a?"

"T-Team leader? What the hell happened to you...?"

Right. Today was artifact routine inspection day. He'd skipped with a fake stomachache. Regret hit. If he'd worked hard... he might not die today.

"...It's cold, Section Chief..."

Hunter Association basement level 1. Artifact incinerator.

Where damaged artifacts burned.

Ah, so that's why she led him here.

Kim Song-a felt grateful. No more shivering in the cold.

"Team Leader Kim Song-a!!"

"Stop that bastard now!"

"What...! My legs won't—! Hey! Kim Song-a!!"

As colleagues froze "like ice sculptures," Kim Song-a hurled himself toward the warm glow.

No more cold. He was content.