Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Back to the Office
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The studio apartment was quiet.
Ian sat on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window. Gangnam's nightscape stretched out beyond the glass. Neon signs and car headlights weaving a tapestry of light. A city night impossible to see in the Backrooms.
Reality sank in slowly, steadily, inescapably.
In the Backrooms, Ian had lived through the birth and death of entire civilizations. Countless kills, countless chases, countless solitary nights endured.
And now.
He was sitting in an ordinary one-room studio apartment.
A space of about 300 square feet. A bed, a desk, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom. He'd gotten it three years ago when he started at the company. Rent was 550,000 won a month, plus separate management fees.
Ian looked around the room.
A laptop sat on the desk. Stacks of work documents beside it, with the "Hanwoo Bulgogi Hansang Proposal v3.2" file on top.
The wardrobe door hung half-open. White shirts and suit pants dangled inside. The clothes he'd worn to work.
Instant noodle boxes piled on the fridge. Stocked for late nights at the office.
All relics from three years ago, when Ian had used them.
'My room.'
An obvious fact, yet it still felt foreign.
Ian let out a sigh.
'......So what now?'
There was a lot to think about.
First, tomorrow.
Should he go to work tomorrow?
Ian bowed his head. Memories flooded back up to the moment he'd vanished in the bathroom.
Day & Night. Convenience store giant, number two in the industry. Eight thousand stores nationwide.
He'd joined three years ago. As a newbie on the Product Development Team. He'd applied to dozens of places during job hunting, and this was the one he'd barely landed. He remembered stuttering through the interview from nerves.
"Why did you apply to our company?"
"I... I like convenience store food. Things like triangular rice balls or lunch boxes... I think they make people's days a little easier."
Looking back, it was a childish answer. But the interviewer had smiled and nodded. And he'd gotten the acceptance call.
After starting, he'd thrown himself into work nonstop.
Lunch box concepts, rice ball recipe tweaks, dessert trend analyses. Manufacturer meetings, tastings, cost breakdowns. Overtime galore, frequent weekend shifts.
Honestly, it had been tough. Low pay, heavy workload, nitpicky boss. He'd contemplated quitting more than once.
Still.
It had been fun.
Crafting new flavors was a joy. Reviews saying "this new product is tasty" filled him with pride. Watching a lunch box he'd planned roll out to eight thousand stores nationwide brought a peculiar sense of accomplishment.
Among his fellow new hires, his performance hadn't been bad. The team leader had called him "sharp." He'd even earned ace status now and then.
Then he'd vanished in the bathroom.
'What a joke.'
Ian chuckled softly.
Back from battling monsters for tens of thousands of years. Now a convenience store employee again. Tomorrow, crunching lunch box costs. Holding meetings on rice ball seaweed crispiness.
Ridiculous.
And yet.
Ian gazed out the window.
It might not be so bad.
He needed to do something, at least. Sitting idle would drive him insane. For tens of thousands of years, every day had been fight, hunt, survive. Dropping that cold turkey—his body wouldn't adjust.
And routine.
He had to adapt to routine.
Back in the human world now. Had to live like one. Earn money, eat meals, sleep at home. Restart that ordinary life.
The company could be the starting line.
'I'll check it out tomorrow.'
Ian rose from the bed.
He showered, brushed his teeth, changed into pajamas. Routines long forgotten. No water for washing in the Backrooms, no spare clothes. He'd just lived filthy.
Warm water kissing his skin.
The minty bite of toothpaste.
Soft cotton pajamas.
All things he'd forgotten. All things he'd missed.
Ian lay down on the bed.
The mattress cradled his body. Soft, plush. Nothing like the Backrooms' damp carpet.
He pulled the body pillow close.
Bought it three years ago. Bad sleeping habit—needed something to hug. A long pillow in a white cover. Nothing special, but right now, it felt strangely soothing.
Fluffy texture filling his arms.
Warm.
Ian closed his eyes.
For the first time in tens of thousands of years, he could relax, drop his guard, just sleep.
As his mind began to blur.
Slither.
Something stirred at his feet.
Ian's eyes snapped open.
The foot of the bed. The shadow rippled. It undulated like black water, and something crawled out slowly.
A transparent form.
A distortion in the air.
It was Null.
Null lowered its body and clambered onto the bed. The massive shape pressed the mattress with a creak. Then it stared holes into the body pillow Ian clutched.
Keeeng.
A dissatisfied whine.
"......."
Ian's hunch proved right.
Null's transparent, paw-like appendage stretched out and prodded the pillow. Then it began nudging it aside, inch by inch.
"Hey."
Ian gripped the pillow tighter.
Null didn't relent. It kept pushing.
"Hey, cut it out."
Keeeeeng.
Null shoved harder. The pillow slipped from Ian's grasp and thumped to the floor.
And Null slid right into the spot.
"......"
Ian was at a loss for words.
Null's enormous form hunkered down beside him. The transparent body warped as it wriggled into his arms. Like a giant dog burrowing into its owner's embrace.
Keeing, keeing.
A contented purr.
"......Hey."
Ian tried shoving Null away.
Null didn't budge.
"I need to sleep. Work tomorrow."
Keeing.
'Don't care.'
"Seriously......"
Ian gave up.
He could beat it, but he was too drained for a fight. And honestly.
'......It's kinda cute.'
Null's form was see-through, but it radiated warmth. An anomaly born in the Backrooms, yet it felt almost body temperature. Warmer than the pillow.
"......Not even a retriever."
Ian grumbled.
Null purred and snuggled deeper.
Ian sighed and shut his eyes.
They'd been together tens of thousands of years. Enemies at first—hundreds of years of battle before submission. After that, a loyal underling. Less subordinate, more... pet? Family? Hard to say, but his longest companion by far.
And now that creature was curled in Ian's arms.
A smile tugged at his lips.
Ian drifted off, holding Null.
The next morning.
The alarm jolted Ian awake.
7 a.m. The phone screen glowed with the time. Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Ian tried sitting up but caught on something.
Null.
It had wrapped around him all night, apparently. The transparent form coiled tightly around his body.
"......Get up."
Keeing.
'Five more minutes.'
"I have work."
Keeeeng.
'Don't care.'
Ian sighed and shoved Null off—for real this time.
Keeing!
Null let out an indignant whine and retreated. It slunk sulkily into the shadows.
Ian got out of bed.
Washed up, changed clothes, scarfed a simple breakfast. Jam on bread from the fridge, with a cup of coffee.
This, too, had been ages.
8:30 a.m.
Ian opened the front door.
Gangnam's morning bustle unfolded. Commuters hurrying, roads clogged with cars, buildings gleaming in the sun.
An ordinary Monday morning.
Ian set off.
The Day & Night headquarters loomed into view.
Ten-minute walk from Gangnam Station. A 20-story glass-clad building sparkling in the sunlight. Every floor the company's HQ. Convenience store number two, eight thousand stores nationwide.
Ian walked the familiar route, glancing up at the structure.
'Worked here.'
Joined three years back as a Product Development newbie. Lunch box planning, rice ball recipes, dessert trends. That kind of stuff.
Fun. Honestly fun. He loved food, enjoyed crafting new flavors. Solid performer among new hires—ace material, even.
Then poof, gone in the bathroom.
'What a joke.'
Ian chuckled and pushed through the revolving doors.
Past the lobby, into the elevator. Hit 12, and familiar hold music piped up.
In the mirrored walls, he caught his reflection.
Twenty-five-year-old face. Tired-looking, but your standard office drone.
'Tens of thousands of years, and the face stays the same.'
Ding.
Doors parted. Twelfth floor—Product Development.
As he stepped out, familiar scents assaulted him. Brewing coffee, paper, faint whiff of food samples. Three years' worth of office aroma.
And the fluorescent lights.
Whine.
Ian's steps faltered.
Ceiling fixtures lined up at intervals, bathing the office in harsh white. A faint buzz hummed in the air.
'.......'
The Backrooms flashed in his mind.
No yellowed wallpaper or brown carpet here. But that buzz... identical. It echoed in his ears.
"Ian?"
The voice snapped his head around.
Jung Yujin. Three-year senior on the team. Short bob haircut, round glasses—her eyes wide.
"Hey, Ian!"
Yujin shot up from her desk and hurried over. Nearby coworkers' heads turned.
"Where the hell were you? No word for two days, ignoring calls. I thought something happened."
"......Ah, yeah. Some stuff came up."
"Stuff? What stuff? You sick or something?"
Ian paused, thinking. What to say? Couldn't exactly spill about eons battling monsters in the Backrooms.
"......Family issue. Hit out of nowhere."
"Family? You still gotta call in. Department Head Park was pissed. You know what week this is?"
Ian's brow furrowed.
This week?
"......Remind me?"
Yujin sighed.
"Tasting eval. New lunch box product. That's your baby."
Ah.
It clicked. The project he'd prepped right up to the bathroom trip. Summer launch: "Hanwoo Bulgogi Hansang." Proposals, manufacturer meets, sample tweaks. On the verge of rollout.
"How'd it go?"
"How d'you think? You ghosted, so I covered. Tasting was yesterday."
"......Sorry."
"Save it. Go see the boss first. He's been eyeing your desk."
Ian glanced over. Far end of the office, glass-walled department head office. Park Gi-cheol stood arms crossed, staring.
Their eyes met.
The head pointed at Ian, then jabbed toward his own door. Get in here.
Ian dropped his bag at his desk and headed for the office.