Fear Not

"Huh...? Wait a second... I might actually be lucky."

I checked the tablet screen one more time.

Sure, things might play out differently in reality — but by Lobotomy Corporation Abnormality standards overall, this one was practically an angel. Of course, the company's bar for "good" was roughly "doesn't tear people apart," so the reliability of that assessment was a little shaky. Still, an Abnormality that restored your mental fortitude for free depending on work results? There simply wasn't anything else like it.

Beside me, Yuri murmured carefully.

"The Fairies' Feast...?"

My expression hardened in an instant.

Fairies? Wait a second.

I dug through my memory. Fairy Festival, I knew. But that name — I'd never heard it before. Probably a subspecies that never appeared in the game...

And then, without my noticing when he'd arrived, a clerical employee was standing right behind us.

"A subspecies of F-04-83, previously assigned to Headquarters."

Holy shit — I nearly jumped out of my skin. How does someone have that little presence?

"This specimen exhibits certain traits that differ from the original entity, and is primarily assigned to new employees."

I'm screwed. Game knowledge doesn't apply here.

The clerical employee continued without pause.

"Certain Abnormalities assigned to branch facilities display characteristics that diverge from their Headquarters counterparts. These are referred to as subspecies."

Yuri looked down at her tablet, face tight with tension.

"...Is it dangerous?"

"This specimen falls on the stable side."

That was not reassuring in the slightest. In Lobotomy Corporation, believing the word "stable" got you killed.

"Employee LC-W-9724 will proceed to separate management training."

Yuri looked at me, her expression stiffening slightly.

"We're going separately?"

"Yes."

The clerical employee's voice carried not a shred of emotion.

"Management training is conducted individually."

Ah... so we really were splitting up.

Honestly, I was uneasy. Original Yuri had always been on the fragile side mentally — and now she was being handed a fairy-type subspecies? That was not a good combination.

"Well then..."

Yuri hesitated, her voice small.

"See you later."

"Yeah."

I forced a smile.

"Let's both make it out alive."

Yuri froze for a beat.

Ah... that was the wrong thing to say.

"I mean — I was just worried, so—"

"Pfft."

Yuri let out a quiet laugh.

"You're right... You stay alive too, Han."

And then she was led away by another clerical employee, walking off down the opposite corridor. I watched her back for a moment.

She'll be fine, right? She shows up in the sequel — Limbus Company — so she can't die. That much was fixed fate in this world.

"Employee ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠LC-W-9723?"

"Ah—"

I stopped short, then opened my mouth.

"Just call me Han, please."

The clerical employee looked at me with a blank face.

"Confirmed. Employee Han."

Wow... he actually switched it immediately. Do these people even possess the concept of social skills?

"Employee Han."

"Yes?"

"I will escort you to the Containment Unit."

I followed the clerical employee at a measured pace.

A low mechanical whir hummed overhead. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered faintly, and the wall monitors scrolled through departmental status reports.

And before I knew it, the Containment Unit stood before me — along with a low, dry clicking sound drifting from somewhere within.

My heart was pounding. In the game, this was just a button press. But this wasn't the game. I was about to walk in there on my own two feet.

"Employee Han."

"This Abnormality was temporarily reassigned to this branch during Headquarters' reorganization process. Most Abnormalities originally stationed at Headquarters have likely been transferred to surrounding branches for interim management."

There it was again.

"However, this particular specimen is classified as a special management target even at Headquarters."

What?

"Detailed information cannot be provided due to insufficient clearance."

Ugh... of course they leave out the important part.

A short while later, the clerical employee stopped in front of a massive steel door.

"This specimen demonstrates high stability during Attachment Work. Initial management will begin with Attachment Work."

Mm... I know. During this process, One Sin listens to sins. And accepts confessions. At least, most of the time.

"From this point forward, you proceed alone."

That was all the clerical employee said before turning on his heel.

Wait — is he seriously just leaving?

I watched his retreating back for a moment. Classic Lobotomy. Dump a new hire alone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in front of an Abnormality's door and just walk away.

A mechanical whir filled the air. The steel door slowly opened. Cold air spilled out in a rush.

And then—

Click.

A small sound. At the center of the Containment Unit, an enormous skull floated in midair — a great skull affixed to a crucifix.

And—

Click.

Click.

The faintest movement of bone against bone, producing that dry sound.

One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds. An Abnormality I'd seen countless times in the game. But seeing it in person, the atmosphere was completely different. Not so much frightening as suffocating. The air of the entire Containment Unit felt heavy and still. Almost no sound at all — only that quiet clicking. Just the soft noise that rose each time the stone figure shifted by the barest fraction.

"Still... kind of cool."

The words ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slipped out before I could stop them.

In that instant, the floating One Sin slowly, deliberately turned in my direction.

Whoa...

In the game it was nothing special. In person, the pressure was something else entirely.

I approached One Sin step by careful step and sank to my knees. Then I closed my eyes. Attachment Work and the form of confession — I already knew both. One Sin listens to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sins.

And strangely, my mouth opened first.

"The sin of standing by."

My voice resonated low in the quiet.

"The sin of knowing, and looking away."

The stone figure trembled by the slightest degree.

"And... the sin of compliance."

I drew a slow breath.

"The sin of knowing something was wrong — and letting it pass anyway."

My head swam for a moment. Red light. Screams. The smell of blood. And—

"The sin of running away..."

My breath caught in my throat. My skull felt like it was splitting open.

Then—

Click.

One Sin descended, slowly, until it hung directly before me.

And a soft chime rang out.

At the same time, my mind cleared with an almost unnatural sharpness. The anxiety and tension that had been crushing me moments before lifted as if they'd never been real.

"Whoa... so this is the mental fortitude boost."

"Still... I'm sorry, but... I'd rather not talk about those memories again. They hurt too much..."

One Sin rose once more, slowly drifting back into the air above, leaving only that quiet sound behind. I stared up at it for a long while, dazed.

My first day at Lobotomy Corporation had been, surprisingly, ordinary. The work that followed went without major incident. One Sin was stable. Attachment Work, Instinct Work — all of it passed without trouble. Of course, being real life, the tension was incomparably worse. But at least I didn't die. And in Lobotomy Corporation, that alone counted as an extraordinary achievement.

Before I knew it, the day was drawing to a close.

A mechanical voice crackled through the speakers.

Ah... it's over.

I slid down against the wall and sat. The strength had gone clean out of my legs.

I made it. For today, at least.

Tomorrow... please let today's luck hold.