Uninvited Guests: The So-Called Management Bureau
The uninvited guests—commonly known as the Supernatural Management Bureau—weren't some cliché from internet creepypastas or urban legends floating around online. Only a rare few truly knew of their existence.
It had been ages since countless mysteries lost their power, reduced to mere myths and legends turned into outdated fiction. Humanity had been lording over the world from the top of the pyramid for centuries now. Mysteries had slunk back into the shadows long ago, only recently starting to rear their heads again as grotesqueries and ghost stories regained their bite. That made the bureau's history incredibly short. Few countries had managed to build proper organizations in response.
Korea, a near-desert when it came to mysteries, had only just taken its first stumbling steps. The National Intelligence Service. Ever since its founding as the Central Intelligence Department, the NIS had worn many names while lurking in the government's shadows. A secret intelligence agency handling all sorts of missions to protect national security and interests. Traditionally a presidential agency focused on anti-communist espionage as befitted a divided nation's spy outfit, it had recently taken on one secretive new duty.
The Supernatural Management Bureau, a special division shrouded even within the NIS itself. Unlike the independent agencies in other major powers, it was just a small subsection for now—but it was swelling rapidly to match the fast-changing landscape. Still, it lacked structure and manpower across the board. Most work relied on individual talents.
That was why a woman barely out of college age was wearing the title of team leader amid the NIS's elite ranks. Team Leader Jung Ha-yeon was something of an expert in this world, having mastered qigong—the kind dismissed by most as cult nonsense.
From street-side fortune-teller to elite national agent. Who could predict the future? Even the sharp-minded Ha-yeon never saw her once-shunned path flipping so drastically.
Tap tap tap.
"Hm..."
Just as humans survived by devouring others, the mysteries born from humanity needed to feed on humans to endure—whether literal flesh and blood or something less tangible. With no special detection system yet, they could only predict, act, and throw bodies at the problem endlessly.
They compiled domestic incidents, and if anything seemed off, field teams with scouting abilities went out to investigate. Being so people-dependent meant chronic shortages and overtime as routine.
The agency was watching recent spikes in casualties for mystery involvement, but peeling them back always revealed human culprits. Catching tiny bugs in a stinking landfill was far harder.
"Child abduction reports have been rising around the capital these past few months."
Police reports alone didn't reveal any clear anomalies. Investigations seemed stalled, but direct intervention was premature.
"Still, can't just let it slide..."
Old folklore and famous tales often featured kids, and derivatives from those could target children for horrific damage.
As Ha-yeon rifled through files, the office door burst open.
"Emergency! Emergency! It's almost quitting time!!! Overtime confirmed again today!!!!"
A woman who looked barely older than street kids screamed at max hype. NIS Agent Moon Sera, Ha-yeon's teammate. The bureau's youth-heavy staff made them naturals to bond, especially as the youngest pair. Ha-yeon might be team leader, but with all agents being top talent, she led as a fellow comrade in a loose, free atmosphere rather than pulling rank.
"Alright, food first, then work!! Food!"
Sera slammed a huge box onto the table. Inside: stacks of neatly packaged sushi, four or five trays per type—plenty for desk-jockeys, a snack for field agents who burned calories.
"Got tons of your fave engawa, Team Leader~"
"Thanks. Digging in."
Casualty counts climbed with unsolved cases, results stagnant. Fatigue piled up; morale propped by dumb jokes and weary sighs. But bonds forged in hardship were solid anchors.
As Ha-yeon popped sushi and half-wished for some special incident to boost spirits, the door flew open again.
"Emergency! Emergency! Warning dispatch from the U.S. Management Bureau. Level-5 BIA. Code Zero!"
There was this .375 H&H Magnum round. Made for dropping elephants or bears—ammo designed to kill beasts that'd shrug off dozens of rifle shots.
So, what weapon do you need against something that rips those beasts apart barehanded? One thing's sure: not a sashimi knife.
"Raaagh!!! Come out, I said come out!!"
The panicked man swung wildly at shadows—his blade whooshed through empty air.
Clang!
"Huh?"
His frantic slash hit something, jolting up his arm with fierce resistance. A chill gust whooshed in. The man's slumping body was yanked skyward before he could react.
Spluuurt—
Brawny torso split from head-and-shoulders to crotch, blood spraying everywhere.
"Gaaahhh!!!!!"
"S-suddenly, a-a guy's body just floated up."
Seeing incorporeal spirits like ghosts or certain yokai wasn't for everyone—only the rare gifted with sharp spirit sight. But it wasn't absolute.
Why else did ancient shamans burn herbs, inhale smoke, shake madly amid noise? Or meditate in silent dark?
Sometimes coincidences sparked temporary acquired spirit sight.
"M-monster!!!!!!!!"
"W-what the hell is that....."
A grizzled thug's girlish shriek drew a smirk from me.
"Harsh, calling it a monster... Rude to the lady."
Trance states had many paths to oblivion. Inexplicable horrors and vivid death spectacles before your eyes? Sheer terror could push minds to extremes.
How could a spirit ripping people apart lack physicality?
A touch of awakening let them glimpse the forbidden.
Poof—
To the men, it wore a gray dress hugging its form. Ample bosom, hair in an updo—like a trendy young housewife from the suburbs.
But no elegant matron filled it. Gaunt limbs, withered face on a towering frame.
Locking eyes with its pitch-black voids—arms elongated impossibly, claws lunged.
One arm stretched over 9 meters, grotesque proportions. Massive hands with real mass shredded limbs; the factory filled with screams.
One hand gripped ceiling beams, dangling like a sloth; the other snatched victims in blinks. Monkey-swinging branches, centipede-crawling floors—it moved like no sashimi knife could counter.
"No, don't wanna die..... Run, everyone!!!!"
Even reinforcements drawn by the chaos got plucked and slain. Survivors lost all fight.
Lucky escapees barely stepped out before yanked back.
Only the floor-bound panicker awaited his turn, frozen.
"Please, pick up!! Come on!!!!"
Huddled behind crates, he hammered his smartphone for backup, cursing the endless ring.
Click.
"Ahh......."
"Bzzzt, time's up!"
"Hwaaaahhh!!!!!!!"
Thud. The phone clattered from his dragged feet; screams cut off, faint Chinese leaked out.
"Huh? Yeah, what's up? Hello? Hey, what's wrong, no answer?? Hey, hey!! Hey!!!!"