By Zephyria 
“Yoo Jiha! What time is it, and you’re still sleeping! Get up this instant!”
“Ah, Mom… I’m on break…”
“Right, well said. Just because it’s break, are you going to drink yourself blind again today?!”
“….”
Having committed a sin, Yoo Jiha quietly got out of bed. After a quick wash, he headed downstairs to find his father in the middle of lunch. Usually, his father would subtly take his side when his mother scolded him, but not today.
“Just say ‘yes, yes’ to whatever your mother says for a while, you brat. Do you have any idea how worried she was at home?”
“Uh…”
His mother’s anxiety had evolved into rage after receiving a phone call from her son in the early hours of the morning. To be honest, he felt it was unfair. It was true that he had been drinking, but it wasn’t his fault that he had been unreachable until after 4 AM.
The rage that had entered the kitchen was reignited upon seeing the glass of makgeolli his father had poured as a side drink.
“Why did you bring out alcohol again!”
“Honey, I only had one glass—”
“Don’t act cute with me! I really can’t stand the people of the Yoo family! With the father and son both drinking like fish, even that little kid is learning to drink! Am I supposed to spend my old age nursing a son who’s an alcoholic?!”
If he timidly protested that he wasn’t an alcoholic, it would only further ignite his mother’s fury. Yoo Jiha curled his body up, pretending not to exist, and crouched on the sofa. Just then, the doorbell rang. At his father’s shout—who was being grilled by the mother—“It must be the coffee delivery I ordered!”—he flung the front door open without checking.
And then, he froze. Standing at the door was not a delivery driver, but his grandmother. Upon confirming it was Yoo Jiha, the grandmother’s expression also froze coldly.
“What is this? Why is this thing at home at this hour?”
The simple phrase, ‘Because it’s break,’ wouldn’t easily leave his lips. Seeing him frozen in instinctive fear, his father, realizing a moment late that his mother had visited, raised his voice.
“Mother! I told you not to speak to Jiha like that!”
“I can’t even say this to the one who cut off our family line?”
“Jiha, go to your room.”
Even his mother pushed him toward the stairs, shielding him behind her. Yoo Jiha barely managed to move his frozen limbs and climbed the stairs. He collapsed onto his bed and pulled the blanket over his head. His father’s roar asking why she came without notice and his grandmother’s irritation, asking if he wouldn’t even come to his father’s funeral even if they were estranged, cluttered his mind.
But more than anything, what made his stomach churn was the expression on his grandmother’s face the moment the door opened, and…
〈I can’t even say this to the one who cut off our family line?〉
It was a label seared into him like a brand.
It took a long time before the house became quiet. His father, who entered after knocking on the door, stroked the blanket.
“Grandmother has left. Shall we eat something my son likes for dinner tonight?”
“Yeah.”
Though he answered while pretending to be okay, the grandmother’s sneer filled with disgust would not leave his head.
The group chat with his college classmates was noisy with the belated news of Park Jun-yeol’s current situation. It seemed the situation had been summarized as him entering a building under construction while intoxicated, falling asleep, and getting into an accident. After reading that his arm had to be amputated during surgery, he felt sick to his stomach.
‘I had a feeling, but I guess that arm really was Sunbae’s arm.’
Over the image of the delusional person throwing away one arm, Park Jun-yeol’s face—intentionally tripping someone—shimmered. If Sunbae hadn’t fled alone, would they have been able to escape together when he met Jeil Heon…?
Yoo Jiha scattered the futile hypothesis with a sigh. He felt that dwelling on it would only make him more distressed. His mind was already complicated enough. The reason, naturally, was the Management Bureau.
He couldn’t tell anyone about what happened a few days ago. It wasn’t just because other people wouldn’t believe him.
〈Language has power. If circumstances are observed where the Management Bureau is mentioned to a civilian, a fine is imposed under the guise of gambling debts.〉
〈How much?〉
〈Five million won per instance. Including the number of people the information was passed to.〉
〈…!〉
According to Assistant Manager Jang’s explanation, if Yoo Jiha mentioned the Management Bureau to Person A, Jiha would have to pay a fine of 15 million won, covering the shares of Person B and Person C who heard it from Person A. And Person A would be fined 10 million won. If B and C also passed it on to others, the fine would increase exponentially. It was truly a capitalistic way of silencing people.
Wouldn’t it be better for his parents that their son was an impious drunkard rather than having to pay tens of millions of won because of their son’s gambling debts…?
He tried to console himself, but thinking of his mother’s eyebrows, which showed no sign of lowering, brought a tear to his eye. This was actually for the best. Let’s use this opportunity to quit drinking and regain the health of his stomach and liver.
While running a positive circuit, he fell back into thought.
Just in case, he searched for terms like Water Abnormality Worship Management Bureau, Aberrant Realm, or Aberration, but nothing came up. Realizing that the Management Bureau even controlled the internet, Yoo Jiha felt a slight chill. Could he really join such a terrifying place…?
‘They say it’s a civil service job, but the annual salary is absolutely insane…’
The salary level was similar to a large corporation, and it was a “iron rice bowl” job until retirement. Not to mention the various employee benefits. Even the number of vacation days was at a European level. At this point, it felt like a deception to be wearing the mask of a civil servant.
It was a set of conditions that would make anyone’s eyes spin. Even Yoo Jiha, who was only a sophomore and hadn’t felt the pressure of employment since he hadn’t enlisted yet, felt his heart flutter as he calmly chewed over it.
The problem was that the price for this salary and benefits was a life allowance.
‘They said the possessor of the true eye must work in the Investigation and Exploration Division.’
Just as anomalies originate from humans, it was said that the true eye was a power born from the human desire to be safe from anomalies. Just because he found out he had the true eye didn’t mean anything changed visibly right away.
Rather, he was told that possessors of the true eye instinctively avoid the Contamination of the Otherworld, so they rarely encounter Aberrations in reality. This meant that if he didn’t join the Management Bureau, he could live an ordinary life as he had until now, after receiving memory erasure.
On the other hand, if he joined the Management Bureau, he would have to intentionally seek out Aberrant Realms, like the one he saw at Eight Phases Mental Hospital, and deal with Aberrations. Monsters that suck human blood or sever limbs.
Risking one’s life for a corporate salary vs. getting a job as a humanities major.
And not just any humanities major. He was in the Folklore Department, where people would ask, ‘Are you going to get a job at a folk village?’ when he told them his major. No, of course, if he could just get a job at a folk village, he would go from Suwon to Yongin doing three steps for every one bow…
A sigh escaped him. He wanted to have a heart-to-heart consultation with someone, but he couldn’t. Only one adult came to mind who knew the situation and might agree to a consultation, but he was unreachable.
‘…If I erase my memories, will the memories of that man be gone too?’
The smile of the man who had closed the car door for him and said, ‘Get home safely,’ as a final greeting, shimmered in his mind. If he erased his memories, that smile would also be forgotten.
The broad back that hadn’t wavered once in front of him, and the side profile that had watched over him silently until he woke up, would also have to be carved out forever. Imagining it, his chest felt cold, as if it weren’t a memory but a piece of his heart that was being permanently lost.
The swamp of deliberation, which had been at a standstill for a long time, pulled him back in. As Yoo Jiha groaned, curled up on the sofa, his phone rang.
It was a call from the Management Bureau.
“I apologize for the sudden contact.”
“No, it’s okay. I didn’t have anything to do since it’s break anyway.”
Yoo Jiha bowed repeatedly to Assistant Manager Jang, who had come to pick him up in a car at Seoul Station. The call he received from the Management Bureau yesterday stated that they were doing some internal work and needed him. Assistant Manager Jang said he couldn’t give a detailed explanation over the phone but assured him it was absolutely not dangerous, which is why he visited the Management Bureau again.
He was tempted by the mention of a reward, but above all, he had come this far because of the expectation that he might meet Jeil Heon again at the Management Bureau. If he wasn’t there, he decided he would at least get his contact information.
As he started the car, Assistant Manager Jang explained the reason for the urgent contact.
“It’s because of the entity that came out of Eight Phases Mental Hospital with you.”