The old wooden speakers mounted on the wall, as if cradling untold stories, released the melody with a soft, trembling warmth. The music brushed the tightly packed edges of LP records lining the shelves, then slowly dissolved into the air beneath amber lights, casting tender shadows across the café.
As hot water poured into the beaker, a deep, full-bodied aroma rose from the freshly ground coffee beans. The scent spread outward like quiet ripples from the café’s center, embracing tables, chairs, walls— even the shadows gathered by the windows.
Hyojeong paused, her hand still wrapped around the beaker, gazing somewhere beyond the rising steam. As the opening notes of Moonlight mingled with the scent of coffee, a long-buried memory gently stirred awake.
Just then, the café door opened.
“Oh—unnie! What brings you here?You didn’t even call.”
It was Yoonjeong—Baek Gyeongsu’s wife—stepping unexpectedly into the café on her way home from work.
Yoonjeong smiled brightly.
“I missed my little sister, so I came.”
Hyojeong’s face lit up at once. She took Yoonjeong’s hands, nearly pulling her into a hug.
“You came at the perfect time, unnie.I missed you too.”
Guiding her to a seat, Hyojeong asked,
“I just brewed some coffee—would you like a cup?Or tea?”
Yoonjeong waved her hand.
“Oh no. Coffee in the evening keeps me up.When I was younger, ten cups were nothing…but after menopause, coffee scares me.Just cold water is fine.”
Hyojeong smiled weakly.
“But you came all this way—plain water feels a little sad.I’ll bring you sparkling water. Just a moment.”
As she gestured to the new part-timer, Yoonjeong looked around the café.
“Where’s Dahye?You’ve got a new part-timer—she didn’t quit already, did she?”
Hyojeong shook her head, amused.
“No. She’s at the philosophy office.”
Yoonjeong blinked.
“The philosophy office? Why?”
“She’s filming a lecture with Hyeonpil and the teacher.Kids these days think of everything…she’s really grown up.”
Yoonjeong nodded.
“That explains it.A package arrived the other day, and she locked herself in her room.Always talking about becoming a YouTuber, singing nonstop…She’s my daughter, but she really is something.”
As Yoonjeong leaned back, Hyojeong hesitated—then spoke quietly.
“Unnie… actually,I’ve been supporting Dahye lately.But there’s a reason I couldn’t tell you.”
Yoonjeong’s expression hardened.
“What is it?Did Dahye say something?”
Hyojeong shook her head gently.
“No.…it’s because of Hyeonpil.”
“Hyeonpil?What about him?”
Hyojeong took a deep breath.
“There’s something I couldn’t bring myself to say.When Hyeonpil was young,he was diagnosed withLevel 3 intellectual disability due to autism spectrum disorder.”
Yoonjeong froze.
“What…?Hyeonpil…?Why does that diagnosis sound so long?”
Clenching her hands, Hyojeong continued.
“You know the drama Extraordinary Attorney Woo Young-woo…He was almost exactly like that.He spoke late, avoided eye contact,often withdrew into himself.
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So I thought…that was how he would live forever.”
Yoonjeong couldn’t speak. She only stared.
Lowering her voice, Hyojeong went on.
“But last time…after he went through that ritual with the teacher for two days,he changed.His speech became natural.His expressions softened.His focus…improved beyond anything I imagined.”
A faint tremor lingered in her eyes.
“At first, it felt like a miracle.So I just watched.But as time passed…I became afraid.
What if he goes back?Or what if…that ritual brings some other change?”
She whispered,
“That’s what I’m most afraid of these days, unnie.”
Yoonjeong remained silent, then gently placed her hand over Hyojeong’s.
“Hyojeong…you must have carried so much on your own.”
Her voice steadied.
“Don’t worry.Hyeonpil will only continue to grow.What other mother has raised a child the way you have?”
Then her expression shifted.
“But—”
She placed her hands on her hips.
“Why does Dahye’s dad look like that right now?”
Hyojeong blinked.
“You said he didn’t sleep for two days too, right?Just like Hyeonpil?Then why does he…barely look human?”
She tapped the top of her head.
“Bald patches everywhere.Face completely worn out.Honestly, I feel sorry just looking at him.”
With a sigh, Yoonjeong concluded,
“That’s why I came today.You said today is another Gyeongshin Day, right?If things go wrong,isn’t he really going to end up bald?”
Hyojeong’s eyes sparkled.
“Unnie!Then instead of worrying here—why don’t we go to the philosophy officeand cheer them on together?”
Yoonjeong smiled at once.
“Sounds good.But you haven’t eaten dinner yet, have you?I know a great gondre rice place.Let’s eat properly before we go.”
Hyojeong jumped to her feet.
“Okay, unnie. Let’s go.”
She asked the part-timer to watch the café,then stepped out with Yoonjeong,as another strand of classical melodyquietly wrapped itself around their footsteps.
---------
Above the darkness of Titan,a colossal structure caught the sunlight and gleamed in silver.
The building’s name—
Situation Room Headquarters.
This was no ordinary structure.It was the true brain governing the planet Earth,the ultimate command center of Reapers Inc.’s Earth Branch.
All twenty subterranean levels formed a vast archivewhere every record of humanity was stored.
From the instant a person was bornto the moment of their final breath,every “record” an individual accumulatedwas meticulously layered into strata of data.
Endless rows of black server pillars stretched into infinity,while countless employees moved ceaselessly between them.
This was humanity’s black box.
Above ground, the headquarters rose straight up to the 230th floor.As elevators ascended,the massive control lines threaded through each levelunfolded in full view.
Hundreds of staff members occupied every floor,interpreting and analyzing human data from Earthin real time.
Some levels performed precision analysesof human behavioral patterns from the past sixty days.Others converted those findings into operational plans,while still others deployed field personnel accordingly.
Near the highest floors,all outcomes were consolidated into comprehensive reportsand long-range predictive models of the future.
All 230 floors together functionedas a single, colossal neural network,unceasingly operating to manage Earth itself.
And on the busiest levels of all,hundreds of thousands of human complaintspoured in every single day—received, processed, and analyzed in real time.
Desperate prayers.Fear and screams leaking from half-sleep.Bitter lamentations.Even the small nightmares dreamed by children—
All of it gathered hereunder a single designation:
“Complaints.”
The lobby, where thousands moved endlessly up and down,flickered with light and streaming data,like synapses firing within a gigantic brain.
This was not merely a situation room.
It was the main server operating the entire Earth system—the planet’s very heart.
And for any employee of Reapers Inc.,this was the legendary desk assignmenteveryone dreamed of at least once.
Here, warm coffee flowed freely—a luxury field agents never knew.There was no need to chase scattered souls through the rain.
There were watchful eyes everywhere,and an endless stream of irritating directives—but in exchange, the body was spared.
Among employees, there was a saying:
“The Situation Room means promotion.Promotion means immortality.”
Marco, Team Leader of Situation Room Unit One,knocked softly before opening the door and stepping inside.
“E-excuse me, sir. I’ve brought the report.”
Holding the approval folder with both hands,Marco stopped carefully at the threshold.
At the very top of the building—where all authority converged—stood Director Harris’s office.
The moment one stepped inside,the floor-to-ceiling glass and vast empty spacepressed down like an invisible weight.
At the center of it all,Director Harris sat with his chair turned halfway aside.
Without even glancing at the report,he casually swept the papers on his desk asidewith a single finger and spoke.
The gesture felt as thoughhe were not dismissing the report,but the man who had brought it.
“Leave it there.”
Short. Solid.A voice steeped in authority.
Marco hesitated.Then, gathering his courage,he took one step forward.
“Director… regarding the personnel reinforcement proposalI submitted earlier—may I ask when the approval might—”
That was when it happened.
Director Harris’s gazeshifted—slowly, deliberately—toward Marco.
In that instant,the air in the office sank,heavy and oppressive.