Chapter 9: Food Safety

Chapter 9: Food Safety

I feel all mushy inside.

If you ask me to describe this sensation, I can only say it feels mushy.

I can’t even figure out how to articulate this feeling myself.

It’s probably because my body is morphing into an amorphous shape.

So, it seems there’s no one in this world right now who can understand my feelings.

If there’s someone else who has transformed into this kind of body, that would be pretty scary in its own right.

...It might, however, turn out to be a good thing for me.

As I move my mushy body, I notice a damp blanket soaked with sticky substances.

I can’t help but recall last night’s sudden gloominess and the uneasiness of not knowing who might appear next, prompting me to drink some beer.

I wonder if it was the beer I drank.

In this situation, I question whether drinking beer and getting drunk is wise, but honestly, I can’t help it.

Texture is crucial when eating, but with this squishy body, I can’t experience that.

I merely swallow and digest everything internally.

Just like when I digested a dog and observed changes in my body, I wonder if consuming something bigger would trigger further changes.

It doesn’t seem like something to ponder right now, so I shake my body to clear my mind.

Well, eating meat isn’t that different after all, I guess.

As I sluggishly crawl out of bed, faint daylight peeks through the curtains.

Even that brings satisfaction and makes my worries vanish.

How long had I been stuck in the sewer to feel this way, anyway?

After emerging from under the bed, I first tidied up the food I spilled on the floor last night.

I knew I shouldn’t leave traces of my brief snack, but I didn’t think of cleaning up the mess yesterday.

After arranging things neatly as they originally were, I need to figure out how much time has passed.

But that’s not easy.

Everything I had, like electronic devices and my wallet, has disappeared. Even my cherished laptop is nowhere to be found.

I never dreamed I’d experience the dark side of modern society like this. Without a smartphone, I can’t even tell the time.

Still, my shock is slightly lessened.

After all, I had already tasted the sludge in the sewer.

There’s nothing I can do about my grim situation.

Having quickly given up, I head to the bathroom this time.

It’s not like I need to use the bathroom. I just want to see what I look like now.

So far, I’ve only seen my vague reflection. Now is the time to see my true appearance.

I turn the doorknob and enter the bathroom.

I feel an uncomfortably strange sensation, similar to what I felt in the sewer.

Feeling oddly uncomfortable, I lower the toilet seat cover and hop onto the sink. Since I stepped on a box to get up, it must be near the sink.

*Splash!*

Although I turn into a puddle in the sink, luckily, it doesn’t flow down the drain.

It’s not my fault, but the sink’s annoyingly wobbly design is to blame.

Since I keep slipping, I grab onto the faucet and check myself in the mirror.

In the mirror, I see the image of a tiny girl tinged with a bluish hue.

I hesitate to call it a girl’s appearance because it reveals many flaws that make it hard to consider human.

...It would have been better if I had transformed into a human girl. At least then, I could have tried to find a way to survive somehow.

This is definitely a dead-end.

It might have been better if I could change my body color... but alas, it seems I don’t have that ability.

Appearing human but not quite human.

How did this even happen?

Still, does that make any sense?

What if it’s truly made by a company connected to secret organizations?

...What exactly is it made of?

I don’t feel good.

I become increasingly convinced that I must avoid being caught by those chasing me.

And then...

“Did you come from the company?”

“Yes, I came to check because Mr. Hosu didn’t show up for work.”

“Oh, really? He didn’t seem like that kind of person... Well, for now...”

I hear familiar and unfamiliar voices outside the door.

The familiar one is the landlord’s grandfather’s voice.

The unfamiliar one claims to be from the company, but it’s a voice I’ve never heard before.

If they were sending someone to check, it should’ve been someone familiar...

I don’t have close friends, but wouldn’t they send someone I somewhat know?

That is to say...

Feeling threatened, I tidy up the surroundings, grab the MRE and packaging, and slip under the bed.

There’s no time to escape now.

*Click, click...*

I hear the sound of the front door opening.

I stuff the retort pouch, packaging, and cup noodle container under my body, wrap myself tightly in the blanket,

...and hide in the corner as discreetly as possible.

Hoping not to be discovered.

If... they catch me.

What should I do?

Should I spray ink in their eyes and run like an octopus?

<!-- slime -->

The woman, staring at the document smeared with black ink, sighs while pressing her temples.

“What on earth is the Director thinking?”

She muses after reviewing the personal profile she had recently sent to the Compliance Department. Then, as she reads the directive that had been submitted, her suspicion turns into certainty.

Because the items she had requested to be censored were deleted instead.

Someone must have deleted them, and since no one in this research facility outranks her except for the Director, nobody else could have.

With a troubled expression, the woman taps her desk, recalling the recent chaos caused by the so-called ‘Damn Snot’ in the laboratory.

It was initially thought to be a standard incident of recovering entities derived from leaked anomalies, but this time, it was different.

“It’s wrong to say it’s ordinary because civilians were involved.”

She feels remorseful, but that is all.

Her concerns lie more with the Director’s suspicious behavior.

“Did that damn snot witness something?”

Could it be that his human consciousness is still present...?

If so, things become incredibly complicated.

An anomaly with human consciousness.

“...Could it be?”

It might be too far-fetched.

Perhaps the Director simply wanted to quietly inquire about the work.

“Anyway, it’s suspicious.”

She can’t just sit idly by.

It doesn’t suit her temperament to remain silent after having her responsibilities usurped.

The woman shreds the document, rises from her seat, and walks off to somewhere.