Titan Earth Branch – Situation Room Center, 195th Floor

  Blue light flickered across the wall of monitors, painting the command room in a cold, artificial dawn.More than twenty operators worked without pause, fingers flying over consoles as streams of afterlife data scrolled endlessly.

  Marco stood before the central situation board.

  “Team Leader, operations active between longitude 124.6° and 131.9°.”

  “Current recovery total?”

  “3,264.”

  Every single day, nearly 170,000 souls were retrieved from Earth and routed through this floor to the Intermediate Realm.

  This wasn’t just an office.

  It was the artery of Earth’s entire post-mortem system.

  “How much time left in the Korea sector?”

  “Thirty minutes.”

  “Recovery count?”

  “Seven hundred forty-six.”

  Almost complete.

  “Good. End operations in thirty minutes. Then assemble in the conference room. We have instructions from above.”

  A mutter slipped from the back.

  “Overtime. Again.”

  Marco glanced toward the sound.

  He didn’t react.

  But exhaustion had already settled behind his eyes like sediment.

  Thirty Minutes Later – Team 1 Conference Room

  The team filed in, one by one.

  Marco remained standing.

  “A new directive has come down from headquarters.”

  All eyes fixed on him.

  “We are to submit a significantly expanded Samshi-chung report.”

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

  “Team Leader, we’re already handling over thirty reports each!”

  “That’s why Yun Ji-chung left!”

  The restraint snapped.

  “They don’t even know what they’re asking for.”

  “There’s no consistent standard.”

  “Orders change daily.”

  “We produce results—upper management takes credit.”

  “And evaluations depend on someone’s mood.”

  The room simmered.

  Marco let them speak.

  He did not interrupt.

  When the noise reached its peak, he straightened.

  “I know you’re tired. I do.”

  The murmurs softened.

  “But anger alone won’t move the structure.”

  Silence.

  “Earth has been destabilizing for years.That’s why headquarters deployed the Special Inspection Unit.

  The Branch Director is under scrutiny.”

  He met each pair of eyes deliberately.

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  “This surge in data requests isn’t about mistrust of us.Headquarters is under pressure too.”

  A hand rose hesitantly.

  “Team Leader… what about the staffing proposal?”

  Marco paused.

  “It remains pending at the Branch Director’s level.Until approval is granted, focus on your assignments.”

  A bitter voice muttered—

  “They don’t do their part, but we—”

  Marco raised his hand.

  “I understand. That’s why we must remain disciplined.”

  The room fell still.

  Then his tone shifted.

  “What concerns the Inspection Unit most…are the Samshi-chung who failed to return on Gyeongshin Day.”

  The atmosphere tightened.

  Everyone felt it.

  “Records confirm that during Korea’s second Gyeongshin Day,two Samshi-chung did not return. Correct?”

  No one spoke.

  “Three years ago, one failed to return—and never did.After that, civil complaint reports on Earth spiked dramatically.”

  Marco’s voice lowered.

  “And now, two more have failed to return.

  In Seoul—three Samshi-chung are currently missing.

  All within nearly the same radius.”

  He let the silence deepen.

  “Too close…to dismiss as coincidence.”

  Static burst through his in-ear comm.

  “Situation Room Team 1, respond. The Inspection Unit requests Team Leader Marco. Please report to Reception. Over.”

  Marco pressed the button calmly.

  “Received. Moving now. Over.”

  He surveyed the room one last time.

  “That concludes today’s meeting.Finalize your tasks. Further instructions will follow.”

  He left without taking a single document.

  The door shut.

  And in its wake—

  the conference room felt heavier than before.

  Not with frustration.

  But with the sensethat something within the systemhad already begun to fracture.

  Beneath the blue sky of early June,in the center of a redevelopment district,a church stood firm—its walls built of aged red brick.

  The warm bricks caught the early summer sunlight,glowing with a quiet sheen that seemed to wrap the building whole.

  At the highest point of the roof stood a white statue of Jesus,arms spread wide.

  Between bright sky and drifting gray clouds,He gazed silently down upon the world.Even from a distance, His presence was undeniable.Those who entered the church found themselves bowing their heads—sometimes without even knowing why.

  In the courtyard stood the Virgin Mary, cloaked in blue,the infant Jesus resting in her arms.Bamboo and pine trees cast a gentle shade around her.Visitors paused there naturally,their brief bows carrying the weight of old faithand familiar reverence.

  Beside the entrance steps,an archangel stood with a spear raised high,one foot pressing down upon evil.He looked almost alive—as though a sudden gust might set him in motion.There was silent resolve in his face,like a steadfast guardian ensuring no darkness crossed the threshold.

  When the noon Mass ended, the doors opened,and the congregation flowed outward in steady waves.

  “Mom… are we getting kalguksu again?Isn’t that a bit too much flour?”

  Da-hye whispered, sticking close to Yoon-jung.

  “What do you want instead?You eat ramen just fine.”

  “As long as it’s not jokbal…”

  Before she could finish,Kyung-soo—still wearing his mask—cut in.

  “Maybe Da-hye has something she wants.I was thinking we could try something different today too…”

  Hyo-jung smiled.

  “Oppa, let’s choose today’s menu.Anything you’re craving?”

  Hyun-pil smiled back easily.

  “As long as it’s meat, I’m happy.”

  Da-hye shot her hand into the air.

  “Perfect. Samgyeopsal it is.No objections, judging by your faces.I know just the place.”

  She took the lead.Behind her followed one particularly grumbling figureand three others who trailed along with mild resignation,naturally forming a line.

  On the blackened grill, pork belly sizzled.

  The edges crisped into a deep brown,while the inside remained tender, juices glinting in the heat.

  Whole garlic cloves slowly caramelized at one side.Kimchi and bean sprouts crackled nearby,sending a rich, savory aroma into the air.

  Rendered fat shimmered across the surface of the grill,and a pair of tongs lay resting—quiet evidence of recent chaos.

  “Take off your mask and flip it properly!It’s burning. Give it here.”

  Yoon-jung snatched the tongs from Kyung-soo.

  “I told you—I hate the smell of meat…”

  He removed his mask with another complaint.

  “Enough about smells.You’re making me nauseous.”

  Her patience was thinning.

  Ever since completing his second mission,Kyung-soo had insisted that strange odors clung to everything.He mentioned it constantly—and no one wanted to hear it anymore.

  “Dad,” Da-hye said firmly,“if you can smell what everyone ate,maybe just… keep it to yourself.It just makes it feel gross.”

  His shoulders sank.He fiddled with his mask and stared at the grill.

  Across from him, Hyo-jung spoke gently.

  “Teacher… does it not suit your taste?Should we order some doenjang stew?”

  “Hyo-jung, try this,” Yoon-jung cut in quickly.“It’s perfectly done. Wrap it and eat it while it’s hot.”

  She shot Kyung-soo a pointed glance.

  “You fasted for a week and stayed up all night.You need protein.If you’re going to keep up that ridiculous penance,you’d better eat properly.”

  Kyung-soo stayed quiet for a moment.

  “I’m hungry too…but this strange smell keeps hitting me.It kills my appetite.”

  “Don’t say things like that while we’re eating.Think about others.Frowning won’t solve anything.”

  He said nothing more.

  Slowly, he lifted a slice of pork,laid it on lettuce,added ssamjang and garlic,and pushed it into his mouth.

  He chewed—heavy, mechanical.

  But his eyes kept driftingtoward his family,laughing and eating with appetite.

  Hyun-pil wrapped his meat neatly and ate without hesitation.

  A flicker passed across Kyung-soo’s face—

  envy, perhaps.

  And beneath it,something quieter.

  Something lonely.