I Can Love Ppoppi Too
I can love Ppoppi too.
"Let's break up."
"What do you mean, Hyejeong?"
"Are you asking 'cause you don't know?"
Hyejeong's face grew colder than when I'd asked her to sell the car.
"You're seeing someone else besides me, aren't you?"
"No. There's no one like that."
"Don't deny it. I have all the proof."
The cafe fell silent at her clipped, deliberate words. I could feel the invisible stares from the other patrons, but I had nothing to hide.
Because Hyejeong was wrong.
"Hyejeong. The only 'person' I'm seeing right now—the one I actually like—is you."
"What?"
"I like you."
Her hand trembled faintly. She was the type who read people's moods well, the kind who could spot my sincerity from a mile away.
She knew my words weren't a lie this time.
Hyejeong narrowed her eyes.
"Does that mean there's something that's not a person?"
"……."
Sharp girl. Asking that here?
Slap!
Tears welled up in Hyejeong's eyes.
"I'm leaving. Don't contact me."
She whipped around and stormed off. I lunged forward and grabbed her wrist.
Pathetic? If you really like someone, that's how it is. I had something important to say.
"Even if we break up, let me see Ppoppi one more time."
"What?"
"Just once, at the end."
"You don't mean……."
"No, whatever you're thinking—it's not that."
"Shut up."
Slap!
She fled in tears. Though really, I was the one who wanted to cry.
Poppi was the pet name for the car she drove. Its sleek, glossy bodylines, the chubby tires weathered and cracked from years of use, the classic black exterior—it was charming, but that didn't mean I was doing anything weird with Ppoppi.
I just admired it one-sidedly. When she left, I wanted to savor its charms a little longer…….
Tsk.
What a shame.
Sitting on a bench, nursing my aching heart with coffee, a woman caught my eye. She looked at least 250 cm tall.
I couldn't let her get away. I sent Hyejeong off in my mind—freshly broken up and all.
I followed her, mesmerized. As I drew closer, a bizarre bird call echoed: po-po-po-po—.
Tailing her, I overheard a strolling couple in the park.
"Honey, did you see that woman? Her height……."
"Shh. Don't even look."
"But her back looks so weird, doesn't it?"
Nonsense.
Her skin pale like it'd spent a week ripening in the morgue, limp seaweed-like hair hanging down, that white dress hugging a silhouette just teasing enough to drive you mad.
She was beautiful, that's all. How could they call that weird?
People's standards of beauty were so narrow. Everyone has a hundred different charms, and they can't even appreciate it in their fellow humans?
If you can't see beauty like that, you couldn't see it in passing bugs or objects either.
It was tragic to me.
"Excuse me!"
Her long legs made her stride fast. At this rate, I'd lose her—I broke into a sprint. This speed should let me dash across the crosswalk just in time to catch up.
Vroooom—BANG!
Drowsy driving? A massive fuel truck barreled right into me. My last sight wasn't her face, but the truck's rugged underbelly slamming down. At least it was a part rarely seen.
Fuel tank's plump and full. Won't starve at the gas station anytime soon.
Crunch!
That was my final memory.
*
You have awakened the trait Containment Facility and become its Director!
Mission: Contain an anomaly in the Containment Facility.
Time Limit: 72:00:00
Success Reward: Containment Facility privileges granted
Failure: Eternal containment of the Director
I opened my eyes to a dim space with a faint light filtering from the ceiling.
Ding—
A translucent blue window appeared before me without warning.
"What the hell is this?"
I'd devoured enough webnovels and webtoons to recognize this blue panel as a status window. But what was a Containment Facility? Or an anomaly? No clue.
These things usually came with a manual or tutorial.
I fiddled with the window. Magnifier, brightness, size adjustment—yep. No manual.
No way to leave, either. Just the window staring back.
The rounded corners with their subtle bevels, the dense non-slip texture etched to prevent slips, the touch feedback yielding softly like dipping a hand in water yet accepting input.
"Truly beautiful."
Nice texture. As I browsed absentmindedly, a sudden alert blared.
A familiar community interface popped up beside the window.
[Things to Do After Leaving the Containment Facility (200)]
[I've Realized the Ugly Truth of the Containment System (5)]
[Ugh.. My Containment Pals Got Huge.. (1)]
[Solo Rampage vs Management Control (30)]
Seeing the familiar shitposts, I figured it was safe to post.
Author: [Redacted] (112#@.1&%!19)
First time here and I'm totally lost. Stuck alone in a dark space, this Containment Facility trait thing—anyone wanna help a guy out who knows nothing?
1. The Containment Facility and status window are anomalies. Add anomalies periodically so they don't eat you.
2. Anomalies include beings from ghost stories/urban legends, weird phenomena, even specific areas.
3. No time now—get out and grab an anomaly ASAP. Good luck! :)
1. Close your eyes and imagine stepping into the world. To return, portal opens—you enter, stuff anomaly in.
2. Go hunt your first anomaly. Some don't scream "anomaly" at first glance. Hurry.
A doubt crept in.
If the status window's an anomaly, how trustworthy is the gallery?
Time to test.
Alerts kept pinging with curses flying—seemed legit.
Not the time to fondle this sleek status window…….
Had to snag an anomaly quick. Preferably a beautiful one. I closed my eyes, imagined stepping into the world. Felt reality shift—I opened them on the road where the truck hit me.
Not my original spot. Billboards, faces—everything subtly off.
[The number you have dialed is no longer in service…….]
Hyejeong's line wasn't just blocked—it didn't exist. Definitely a different world.
Tips poured in. Key was spotting the incongruous. Needed sharp eyes.
Incongruous—unique traits, basically.
Something I was good at.
Anomalies. Never seen one in the old world. How uniquely beautiful would they be?
Wanna see one. Might as well contain it. Cool stuff's worth keeping around.
Light changed at the crosswalk. Pushed along by the crowd, a tiny feature phone caught my eye—invisible even by flip-phone standards these days.
Worn fabric keys grimed from thumbs, pixelated screen, design so passé it looped back to retro chic.
Perfect for my new world phone.
Ring ring~
Call from unknown sender.
"I'm Mary. I'm at the dump right now."
Click.
Line dead. No answer on redial.
Armed up roughly: knuckles and steel pipe from beating down some street punks. Plenty to subdue a mannequin.
A 20+-year-old mannequin anomaly coming for me.
Honestly, kinda excited.
What beauty would it bring?
Can't wait to see.