Underground (2)
The voice crackled through the speaker.
> …Two personnel, swapping duties? Fine. Case 2. Proceed with supervisor and distributor roles exchanged.
I looked at Song Go-eun, still holding the file. She smiled brightly and grabbed the rooster by the neck with the capture tool.
“Watch closely, 'kay? This is how ya do it.”
The rooster stepped onto E-153. Her movements were swift, without a hint of hesitation.
At the same time, the machine whirred to life. The rooster began to speak, as expected.
“Where am I?”
“Hello there. I'm Song Go-eun, y'know?”
Song Go-eun guided the conversation with practiced ease.
“Ah, nice to meet you. I’m… I’m… What was my name again?”
“Don’t get confused now. Names aren’t all that fun anyway, y'know?”
“Is that so?”
“How about a vitamin instead? They’re great when you’re feeling anxious.”
So those vitamins really were handed out to anyone.
Even to chickens.
The packet in my pocket suddenly felt unsettling.
“By the way… wanna just chat for a bit? Y’know, I’ve been kinda troubled lately. My boss, the one I relied on, died in the most ridiculous way not too long ago.”
“Oh dear, that sounds serious. Tell me anything. I’ll help however I can.”
The rooster muttered that and—however it managed—flashed a genuinely charming smile.
“Counseling, even? You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’m all ears.”
…Way too nice for a chicken.
Even an emotionless person would feel guilty in this situation. Of course, our Song Go-eun was no ordinary human.
“Yep. So lately I’ve been all mixed up and depressed.”
“Have you considered seeing a psychiatrist?”
“But… what if my coworkers start looking at me weird?”
The rooster wore that same indescribably charming expression again. They were about halfway down the conveyor belt now.
“Anyone who mocks another’s pain is the strange one. You’re not strange, Go-eun. You’re just a little hurt emotionally.”
“Really?”
“Of course. These days, who doesn’t have at least one mental health issue? Don’t worry and go to the hospital. Your coworkers will understand.”
Once again, the rooster spread its wings wide and gave a thumbs-up—somehow.
……Unbelievable.
It wasn’t even human—just a chicken—yet it was doing things it absolutely shouldn’t.
“We’re really getting along well!”
“Indeed we are.”
“This is a little embarrassing to say, but… wanna be friends?”
“I’d be delighted!”
Song Go-eun smiled shyly. The chicken smiled back.
The climax of E-153’s song approached.
> Let’s all enjoy it together, Mirae Livestock Processing—!
“……Huh? Come to think of it, what’s this song?”
“Ah, don’t mind it. Anyway, that was fun. Bye now.”
“Bye…?”
> Forever—!
Keeeeeeeeee—!
A scream echoed. A fountain of blood sprayed.
> Processing complete!
The machine, satisfied with blood and suffering, stopped. A vacuum-sealed package of chicken slid out from its rear.
Song Go-eun’s reaction to losing a friend so suddenly was simple—almost too calm.
“See that? Just like that, all friendly-like. Pow, pow.”
She threw a few punches into the air, then sighed.
“Still, what a shame. Such a good friend, and we only just met.”
“……”
“Huh? Why’re you so pale? Smile! I’m sure the chicken went to a better place!”
Ah.
Is that so?
I see.
Why do I feel more guilt over the chicken Song Go-eun killed than the one I killed?
…I want to go home.
Work continued regardless.
Song Go-eun insisted on keeping the distributor role, muttering something about “one more time” that I couldn’t quite follow.
I was relieved. Talking to a chicken—especially one about to die—was mentally exhausting.
Time passed.
> Processing complete!
By the time Song Go-eun, now thoroughly enjoying her role, had fed three more roosters into the machine—
“Ah, that felt good. The chickens were such nice guys. They even gave great advice!”
Our quota was finished.
“Song Go-eun, we’ve met the quota. Let’s report and head back.”
I stopped her as she approached the coop. She looked openly disappointed.
“Already? We barely did any… Can’t we do just one more?”
“No… we can’t.”
“Darn. I wanted to make more friends.”
I smiled awkwardly.
That was when Song Go-eun, who had been grinning, suddenly stared at me with a meaningful look.
“……”
“……”
“……Hee.”
“……!”
A chill ran down my spine.
From today onward, I decided I would become a complete loner who had never made a single friend.
The chaotic, bewildering, and utterly frantic feeding of anomalous phenomena came to an end.
> All done? Good. Thirty minutes early. Gather the byproducts and let’s return.
“Whew, that was fun! Let’s do it again sometime!”
……Never again.
I picked up the bag of byproducts using only tongs and my thumb. The occasional twitching made my skin crawl, but then the department head’s voice came through.
> Opening the barrier. Step back one pace.
We took a step back.
> Step— step— step— step— step— step—.
The speaker repeated the same word.
Thud—.
A dull sound echoed from far away. I looked around in confusion. Song Go-eun tilted her head.
“Um— Department Head? What’s going on?”
> Step— step— step— step— step— step—.
“Step? Like a measuring tape? Or…”
Thud—! Another dull impact.
Only then did we realize something was wrong.
“Song Go-eun, this is—!”
BOOM—!
The ground shook. The lights flickered. I fell on my backside.
Dust rained down from the walls and ceiling.
The first thing that came to mind was the safety notice I’d seen in the elevator.
Collapse?
We had to evacuate immediately. If this continued…
Wait.
Collapse? This suddenly?
That didn’t make sense.
Don’t panic. Stay calm.
This was the Mirae Co., Ltd. headquarters. A skyscraper over thirty stories tall.
A building this large didn’t just collapse without warning. If it had been structurally unsound, it never would have received construction approval in the first place.
So this shaking was…
An anomaly.
Better than a collapse, but hardly reassuring.
Fortunately, we were inside a containment chamber. And as far as I knew, there were no high-risk anomalies on the twelfth basement floor.
If the manual could be trusted, that is… I could only hope the company wasn’t lying.
I pushed myself up using the outer wall of the chamber.
Meanwhile, the tremors grew stronger, and the lights flickered intermittently.
“Song Go-eun, come over here for now.”
“Okay. What do you think happened?”
“It seems like an anomalous phenomenon.”
“Hmm……”
Song Go-eun made a strange face. She looked like she knew something.
“Do you have any idea what it might be?”
“Maybe a containment breach? Y’know, an escape.”
“An escape?”
She nodded.
According to her, these things happened occasionally—when the wrong measures were taken with an anomaly in containment, or when new rules were discovered.
“Why the hell would they bury something like that under the headquarters…!”
I muttered without thinking. Song Go-eun patted my shoulder comfortingly.
“Aigoo. Don’t get worked up. It’s fine. This is Mirae, after all. They’ll suppress it soon enough.”
Right. That was true. For now, all I could do was trust the company.
……Was that really all I could do?
At the very least… I should try everything I can.
I took a deep breath, then inhaled deeply.
Finally, I shouted with all my strength.
“Department Head—! We’re in here—! What’s happening outside—!”
Song Go-eun’s eyes widened like a rabbit’s. I ignored her.
What mattered now was the sealed state of the containment chamber.
There’s an anomaly on the twelfth basement floor that uses sound as a medium. That’s what I need to watch out for right now.
I listened carefully.
No reply from Department Head Jo. That meant either my voice hadn’t reached him, or his reply couldn’t reach us.
This place was completely sealed.
Which also means our safety is guaranteed.
I let out a small sigh of relief.
Next, I needed to use the radio.
“Containment Three. Containment Three. This is One-Two-E-Three-Seven. Containment Three, respond.”
The radio only emitted static. After a few more attempts, I turned it off.
This isn’t good… How long are we going to be stuck here?
I considered the worst-case scenario. We might have to hold out for a long time, without water or food.
I looked down at the twitching byproducts from the livestock processing plant in my hands.
“Um, Oh Team Leader?”
Song Go-eun spoke up. She was still smiling brightly.
Her calmness was almost eerie—borderline unsettling.
“No need to make such a fuss. This is the company, y’know? The lights are still on, and……”
Pop—! The lights went out. The timing was almost too perfect.
“Oh dear. That wasn’t supposed to happen…”
In the darkness, Song Go-eun spoke. She sounded a little sulky, but the very human reaction actually made me feel more at ease.
“Aah, I can’t see anything. What do we do now……?”
My thoughts turned to the anomaly.
If we panicked in the dark, we might accidentally approach it.
We might even touch the conveyor belt.
That would mean death.
8. Under no circumstances may personnel come into contact with E-153’s conveyor belt.
8-1. In the event of the above, the containment chamber will be sealed and all personnel will be disposed of.
I froze completely.
Human perception relied far too heavily on sight.
In pitch-black darkness, the risk of losing your sense of direction was enormous.
“Song Go-eun, come this way. Here, I’ll reach out……”
I kept my voice as steady as possible, careful not to let it echo. I wanted her to be able to locate me by sound.
“Here. Walk toward my voice. Slowly, and watch your step……”
“……”
“This way……”
…Wait.
Why wasn’t she answering?
I stared into the deep, dark blue darkness, like the depths of the ocean. Within it, even darker shadows loomed, and beyond those, an unfathomably deep blackness blocked my view.
Only silence remained. No sound reached me.
It was strange. Song Go-eun was in this room. The livestock we had caged was here.
It felt as if I had suddenly gone deaf.
Uneasy.
Creepy.
Terrifying.
A primal fear, passed down through human bloodlines since the beginning of time, wrapped around me.
“Song Go-eun?”
My voice was startlingly loud. Even the sound of saliva sliding down my throat and the rustle of fabric against fabric felt like thunder.
“Song… Go-eun? Are you joking around? It’s not funny. Answer me.”
My voice boomed. Sound had color. Small gray dots flickered in the darkness. I squeezed my eyes shut. Sweat trickled down the furrow between my brows.
“I’m serious. This really isn’t funny.”
I curled into a ball. I hated the dark. I always had.
The room was closing in. I could feel it. It was getting smaller and smaller.
To crush me, to stuff me into a vacuum-sealed package and put me on display…
“S-Song Go-eun? Department Head Jo?”
Realization.
I had been here before.
Just as the animals had come here to become food for the anomaly, I had returned to become food for the room.
There was no way out. I couldn’t endure this. I couldn’t take it anymore.
It was too much.
And then—
Keeeeeeeeee—!
A sharp metallic scream. The stench of blood rushing in. The vacuum-sealed package twitching in my hand.
All of it felt so alien that I—
“Hik!”
I screamed and collapsed. My heart pounded wildly. I clutched my head and gasped for breath.
“P-Please, someone answer… Anyone……”
Grab.
“Shh.”
“H-Huh?”
“Don’t struggle.”
“Wh-Who? S-Song Go-eun?”
No.
The voice was different. It lacked her distinctive lisping tone.
There was… an intruder in here.
My hair stood on end. I thrashed, trying to escape the grip on my forearm.
“Stay still. I won’t hurt you.”
“Who the hell are you……”
Only the hand gripping my arm was visible—bright, almost transparent, with veins showing through. Everything else seemed nonexistent.
The uninvited guest asked,
“Don’t you want to know how Department Head Kang Mi-young died?”
“What the……”
“Don’t forget to take your vitamins.”
Silence.
Then—Pop—!
The lights in the containment chamber came back on.
The sudden flood of light stung my eyes. I raised a hand to shield them, and a worried voice called out.
“Oh Team Leader! Are you okay?”
It was Song Go-eun. All the strength drained from my body.
Only then did sound seem to return. I could hear the panicked livestock slamming against their cages, faint, terrified whimpers.
The smell of animal fur brushed past my nose. I felt the cold sweat soaking my back.
“Ha, hahaha……”
I laughed. Not from despair, but from sheer relief at being alive.
“What, are you crying? Aigoo, don’t cry. My mom always says, if you cry, Santa won’t bring you any presents.”
Song Go-eun crouched in front of me, spouting nonsense. Even that was comforting.
I kept smiling for a long time. The reality of being alive still hadn’t fully sunk in.
Still crouched before me, Song Go-eun kept murmuring, “Don’t cry. Stop now. Here, have a vitamin,” trying to calm me down.
Of course, I wasn’t crying. So her words remained a collection of incomprehensible sounds, unable to fully reassure me.
> …Hello? Can you hear me—! Hey, containment chamber! You okay?
Only after finally hearing Department Head Jo’s voice did I regain my composure completely.