༺ Black Butterfly (5) ༻
The Seongpa-gu sinkhole victim camp was in utter chaos.
It was only natural, given the grotesque and terrifying scene that had unfolded before them. Blood flowed like a river, and human skin floated in the air like falling leaves.
The Gray Reaper stood in the center of the blood pool, creating a macabre spectacle. The clothes and belongings submerged in the crimson blood only added to the eerie atmosphere.
It was a view straight out of a horror movie poster.
Reporters swarmed around, jostling and pushing their camera, each hoping to take at least one more picture.
The soldiers tried their best to push them back, but their efforts were futile.
Blocking the reporters wouldn’t prevent articles from being written, and it would only add to the numerous myths surrounding the Gray Reaper.
Come morning, headlines like ‘The Culprit behind the Disappearance of the People in Victim Camp is… The Gray Reaper?’ would likely be splashed across the newspapers and blogs.
Alongside the articles, the photos of this macabre scene, that were being taken now, would spread throughout the country.
Unfortunate as it may be, it was in our best interest to let the Gray Reaper’s get all the notoriety. After all, I was unable to prevent this from happening despite being in charge of this place.
If the soldiers had kept the front door closed and kept the reporters unaware, we might have been able to avoid this situation. However, seeing the blood oozing from under gates, the guards were startled beyond their wits. As a result, they opened the door, letting the reporters enter the camp and take pictures.
Even on the day of the operation, the soldier who caused this incident had deserted his post without leave and committed the outrageous act of opening the gate without authorization.
The stress was giving me a pounding headache.
Ideally, we should have sorted out this commotion before proceeding with the plan, but we didn’t have time.
With the butterflies spreading around Songpa-gu as well as the countdown to the missile launch, we couldn’t afford to waste any time.
There were approximately twenty-four hours remaining.
Before time ran out, we had to secure the Object and initiate the destruction process.
I left the soldiers to fend off the reporters, while only those assigned to search the area entered the now eerily quiet camp.
***
As we entered the camp, we were greeted by a huge puddle of blood.
With just one glance, it was clear that more than half of the camp’s population had died there.
The sheer amount of blood, scattered belongings, and clothes strewn about painting an even more grim picture.
Meanwhile, the one responsible for this tragedy, the Gray Reaper, was just prancing around, and jumping on the puddle of blood.
Though I could understand that the Reaper was either stepping on or chasing away butterflies, thanks to my monocle, to others, mustn’t it have appeared as a deranged Object frolicking in a pool of blood?
And, sure enough, everyone except the blind old man seemed to be on edge.
To regain their attention, I clapped my hands and gave an order.
“Listen up. Let’s spread out and look for the Objects I told you about in advance. If you find them, shoot a flare. A few of us, including me, will be preparing in the center of the camp.”
As expected, since they were professionals who I had spent a lot of money on, they dispersed efficiently, and started searching around their designated areas.
“Woah! This wall has a hole shaped like the Reaper!”
As we made our way to the center of the camp, my junior exclaimed, having found something strange.
Intrigued, I turned to check, and noticed some interesting traces among the horribly broken traces.
The wall was littered with holes in various shapes—
A hole in the shape of the Reaper, a hole in the shape of the Reaper’s hand, and even a hole in the shape of the sole of its foot.
‘Just what in the world did the Reaper do here?’
It was an enigmatic trace.
It offered no answers; only raising questions.
***
The detective had sent a lot of people to the camp.
To eliminate all the butterflies, a difficult condition had to be met.
[Break the black mirror.]
Perhaps the Object called ‘Black Mirror’ was the source of the butterflies.
After all, Objects that had spawned other Objects had followed a similar pattern in the past.
If the detective, who seemed to be smart, believed that the ‘black mirror’ was here, mustn’t he have some basis for it?
However, it was evident that the detective did not know what exactly he was looking for.
After all, when referring to it, he didn’t mention the name but simply referred to it as an ‘Object’.
Well, unless he had the ability to see the killing condition like I do, it would be difficult for him to know that the Object that needed to be destroyed was called the ‘Black Mirror’.
I observed the detective’s actions with interest, waiting for an opportunity to intervene.
***
In the end, the search ended in failure.
At least we had obtained something. The Object seemed to be impossible to find through normal means.
In other words, the search team I had mobilized had fulfilled their role perfectly.
I sent them away from the camp before the old man began his work.
Nothing good would come from having a lot of people watch the old man’s work.
I glanced at Watson in my right hand before addressing the old man, who was waiting for my instructions.
“Sir, I’ll leave it to you.”
“I understand.”
The old man responded curtly. He then opened a red book, taking out many nails from inside, and began driving them into the ground around him.
What sent shivers down my spine was that as each nail was driven in, blood would suddenly ooze out, as if the ground itself was bleeding.
Once the old man had driven the nails into the ground all around him, he closed the book and dropped to his knees.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The old man’s shout reverberated through the camp.
Moments later, tears of blood started pouring from his eyes like a waterfall.
I couldn’t help but feel that something was amiss when I saw that.
When I had seen it before, it hadn’t appeared to be such a grand ceremony, nor as painful. So, what’s going on?
“Senior… something seems off. Is that really how it’s supposed to work?”
When I looked down at the old man’s feet in response to my junior’s comment, I noticed that the Book of Foreknowledge had begun to burn like charcoal.
Just what on earth was happening?
***
Death loomed right before me.
With every passing day, with my every breath, I felt myself transforming into a monster.
The urge to destroy something tried to consume me at every chance, the Book of Foreknowledge urging me to give in.
As I was looking for a place to die before I was completely turned into a monster, someone called out to me.
It was the young man who had done me a huge favor when I was in search of my daughter.
At that time, I had a hunch.
The place where the young man was going to take me to, would be the place where I would meet my end.
And so, I had come here to return the favor.
However, from the very instant I set foot in this camp, a sense of unease washed over me.
A powerful being, far surpassing the ‘Book of Foreknowledge’, gave me a warning.
[Begone.]
It was a chilling warning.
Nevertheless, I gritted my teeth and ignored those warnings
After all, I had to pay back the debt I owed before I died.
When the search was over, and it was finally my turn, I decided to wager my life on this single question.
‘Where is the Object that is the source of the butterflies?’
Excruciating pain surged through me, preventing any proper words from escaping my lips. Although I had used the ‘Book of Foreknowledge’ far beyond its capacity, it still granted me my wish.
Oh, Book of Foreknowledge, if the price is not enough, then take it all.
I shall give up my life as well.
Before my eyes that could no longer perceive light, the shape of the red ‘Book of Foreknowledge’ was reflected.
And then, I saw a mirror.
The Object the detective was looking for was a mirror.
And the location…! it was…
***
“What the?”
I exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden occurrence.
The ‘Book of Foreknowledge’ was reduced to ashes, and all the nails embedded in the ground were blown away in an instant.
The old man looked at me, as if he had finally figured out the answer.
Yet when the old man attempted to speak, he lost his voice, his throat contorting grotesquely into the shape of a korean doughnut.
What in the world? Was the butterfly’s main body an Object powerful enough to do something like this?
“Se…senior.”
My junior stammered, her face turning pale as she trembled at the horrifying sight.
I rushed towards the old man, but it was too late. He had already taken his last breath.
I had a feeling that the old man’s days were numbered, but I never thought he would pass away so suddenly.
It was evident that this was no mere accident.
It was clearly a murder, and it didn’t even appear to be a side effect of the ‘Book of Foreknowledge’.
Moreover, the old man seemed to have uncovered something significant just before his death.
Who on earth could have killed him?
Was it the work of the Object that had spawned the butterflies?
If that were the case, I had to prevent the missile attack at all costs.
There was no way an Object capable of such transcendent phenomena could be neutralized by a missile attack or its likes.
But time was not on my side.
I might have been able to inform them if I had more time, but with only twenty-four hours remaining, it was impossible.
As I shifted my gaze away from the lifeless body of the old man, my eyes fell upon Watson, held firmly in my right hand.
Wait…! If it’s Watson… it might be possible!
It would be able to provide a solution.
Ignoring the nagging doubts in the back of my mind, I decided to go with the only option I had left.
I raised the lamp in my right hand and shouted.
“Watson, tell me which Object is the source of these butterflies!”
“Watson, tell me which Object is the source of these butterflies!”
“Watson, tell me which Object is the source of these butterflies!”
As I finished my plea, a giggle emanated from the lamp.
[Don’t wanna.]
[Don’t wanna.]
[Don’t wanna.]
The lamp in my right hand trembled violently and ascended into the sky, casting a shadow.
[This is cheating, Holmes.]
[Using an Object as a cheat sheet is not something Holmes would do.]
[Asking Watson for the solution is also not something Holmes would do.]
[Fake Holmes must die! Must die! Must die!]
[But this Watson is nice, so I’ll give you a chance.]
Watson—the shadow cast by the lamp—chimed in.
From that shadow, I could smell a strong scent of blood.
