Editor’s Survival Guide - Chapter 145

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Editor’s Survival Manual Chapter 145

ep20. Editor’s Checklist (2)

I turned Oh Tae-o’s words over in my mind before asking in a flat tone.
“Am I really normal?”
All eyes converged on me.
Expressions of feigned shock, but I pressed on undeterred.
“I’ve simply failed to discover any abnormalities using the Management Bureau’s Contamination Level Measurement method—but I’ve never been normal from the start.”
The dictionary definition of “normal” is “a state of proper functioning without fluctuation or defect.”
The standard for “proper” typically rests on past versions of oneself or the majority of others.
By either comparison, I’m abnormal.
Fluctuations and defects abound.
That’s precisely why the Management Bureau recruited me in the first place.
“My phrasing was imprecise then.
Oh Tae-o appeared to accept my argument and corrected his earlier statement.
“Agent Seo seems contaminated, yet the contamination numbers read normal. Has transformation already occurred in some form we can’t detect? Could there be changes we simply don’t understand?”
At Oh Tae-o’s blunt remarks, the researchers’ gazes grew noticeably more cautious.
Everyone here knew how terrifying contamination was.
I was no exception.
Speaking of contamination in front of the subject himself—that was spectacularly insensitive.
Everyone seemed to share the thought; they began watching for my reaction, and Cha Si-eon stared at me from beside me as well.
So I laughed weakly.
“If the Analysis Team doesn’t know, then naturally I don’t either. But something’s definitely happened to me.”
As I calmly acknowledged my condition, silence fell across the meeting room for a moment.
Then I spoke again.
“And earlier, you said the Raven seemed all-powerful.”
A nod.
Oh Tae-o answered with a gesture.
“It’s likely an optical illusion.”
“An optical illusion?”
“Yes. Kim Ji-an being controlled, the Director continually resurrecting—they appear all-powerful from our perspective. But think about it differently: it’s closer to the point where the Raven revealed its limits.”
Oh Tae-o showed interest in my words.
“The Raven’s current objective is to make us enter the Train Station, right? If it were truly all-powerful, it would have controlled the Director from the beginning. Then we’d already be inside the Train Station.”
“…If you put it that way—that it resorted to this troublesome scheme because it couldn’t do that—then it’s more constrained than omnipotent.”
Oh Tae-o grasped my point immediately.
“Then we should examine the Raven’s constraints and rules. Why it can control some people but not others. If the Raven exerts influence only through certain rules, only on specific individuals…”
“Then there’s something entangled between it and me.”
I lightly supported Oh Tae-o’s rapidly flowing thoughts.
Then I added with some reflection.
“Even if I can’t remember it now.”

* * *

We couldn’t mention Lee Seob in the meeting room.
Too many people listening, and even circumventing the topic felt burdensome.
So Kwon Mu-seop and I could barely relate half of what we’d learned at the Hotel, and the meeting ultimately concluded after sharing only information about the Raven and the nascent Special Zone.
After the meeting ended, as I walked out of the meeting room down the corridor.
Bang—!
Something caught my foot and I nearly stumbled.
A grunt.
Fortunately, I caught my balance and planted my feet firmly.
Looking to the side as I stood, I found Cha Si-eon.
Thinking my foot had caught on his, I apologized first.
“Sorry about that.”
“It wasn’t you.”
Cha Si-eon replied dismissively while scrolling through his smartphone.
Walking while looking at a phone is dangerous.
I left the hazardous pedestrian behind and continued on my way.
But then Cha Si-eon called out to me from behind.
“Seo Do-un.”
I turned to see what he wanted.
Boom—!
Cha Si-eon swung down beside my face.
“…!”
A massive hand came down on the wall with a deafening crack, and I flinched in alarm, staring at him.
What the—why? A bug?
Who crushes a bug like that?
I felt my heart hammering as I tried to discern Cha Si-eon’s intent.
But Cha Si-eon’s expression remained utterly calm.
Ding—!
At that moment, an alarm sounded on Cha Si-eon’s smartphone.
He checked the alert, then slowly withdrew his hand from the wall.
“…What are you doing?”
“I suspected a device malfunction and was checking it.”
“Device malfunction?”
“Your heart rate wasn’t registering. I thought.”
“…?”
“It’s functioning normally.”
This guy’s actually insane.
“We’re speaking the same language, Team Leader Cha.”
“I’m aware.”
And knowing that, you just trip someone’s foot and hit a wall to check their heart rate…?
All just to verify a pulse reading?
I was about to say something more when someone called us.
“Cha, Do-un.”
It was Kwon Mu-seop, who’d been walking ahead.
He held his phone in hand as he spoke, apparently having received a call.
“Come to my office for a moment.”
What’s the sudden summons about?
We followed him without understanding.
It certainly wasn’t going to be a workplace harassment warning.
Upon arriving at the Manager’s Office, Kwon Mu-seop spoke without preamble.
“The Train Station operation has been approved.”
Finally.
Finally we’d cleared the hurdle, but instead of relief, Kwon Mu-seop pressed his eyes shut, worn out by exhaustion.
Right. I wonder how Director Ko’s doing in the isolation room.
For some reason I felt a twinge of guilt, and I glanced at Cha Si-eon.
Cha Si-eon tilted his head slightly, eyes fixed elsewhere entirely.
Show some filial devotion to your supervisor, Team Leader Cha.
It seemed Kwon Mu-seop had been through a lot; after a long while washing his face dryly, he finally lifted his head.
Then he spoke in a deliberately grave tone.
“Of course, the operation must proceed without complications.”
A voice closer to warning than advice.
This was an operation forced through with all manner of excuses.
Failure would reduce the Management Bureau to rubble.
Now there was nothing left but to prove results.
“Understood. I’ll make it succeed.”
“…”
But Cha Si-eon didn’t yield an inch to Kwon Mu-seop’s pressure.
And Kwon Mu-seop heaved a deep sigh at the Team Leader’s resolve.
…Really, show some filial devotion, Team Leader Cha.
“And there’s something we didn’t share in the meeting earlier.”
Kwon Mu-seop opened the file document he’d been holding all along.
He pulled out a single diagram and slid it toward us.
It was a human anatomical cross-section diagram like those used in hospitals, with a check mark on the collarbone area below the neck.
Cha Si-eon studied the diagram carefully.
But I recognized it immediately and looked back at Kwon Mu-seop.
This was the vital point location of the Siren-headed Being we’d met at the Hotel.
The pressure point it had revealed to us directly.
“You probably understand the general context. We met Lee Sol’s father at the Hotel.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“He transformed into a Siren-headed Being mid-encounter.”
“…”
“The mark indicates where the Siren-headed Being’s heart was located. And if this isn’t meaningless hallucination, the vital point of the Massive Siren would be the same location.”
There are already far too many clues to dismiss this as meaningless fantasy.
Foreshadowing and symbols have accumulated high enough to obscure the sky.
Denying it would be escapism.
Kwon Mu-seop seemed to agree he could no longer keep silent and avert his gaze, and he spoke plainly.
“Stopping the Massive Siren might create a situation like what happened with the False God.”
A situation like what happened with the False God.
Finding a colleague’s corpse amid the Hazardous Entity’s remains.
Never knowing whether we recovered our colleague’s body, or whether we killed him ourselves with our own hands while he was still alive.
That same uncertainty might repeat with Lee Seob’s name replacing Kang Seung-cheol’s.
Even this hypothesis alone was stifling, but Kwon Mu-seop shook his head again.
Then, discarding the inadequate hypothesis, he stated it more plainly.
“No, I think it will happen. Kim Ji-an mentioned that even in conversations she couldn’t remember, such implications were made.”
Kwon Mu-seop looked at me, and I nodded.

—Could the Hazardous Entity’s true nature be a contaminated person?
—Not all entities in the Special Zone are like that. But some of them were originally human.

—So Lee Sol’s father is currently inside the Train Station?
—It hasn’t been confirmed yet. But everyone’s making that assumption. It’s probably the case.

The conversation I’d had with Kim Ji-an—or rather, with whatever had been controlling Kim Ji-an—at the Cafe.
If this was something the Raven had said, then it was no longer mere human speculation.
It was an explicit hint dropped by something that appears all-powerful in our eyes.
“We can’t just doubt and ignore this any longer.”
So Kwon Mu-seop asked with warning in his voice.
“Can you do this?”
It was a question heavy with implication.
If it were me, I’d need half a day just to ponder the meaning and imagine the consequences.
But Cha Si-eon didn’t hesitate and answered.
“I’ll let them rest.”
At that answer, I found myself remembering something.
The image of Kwon Mu-seop severing the Siren-headed Being’s heart.

* * *

It’s a place where sanity is hard to maintain.
That’s what I thought as I trudged down the corridor.
Then Cha Si-eon, walking silently beside me, suddenly called out.
“Seo Do-un.”
I immediately increased the distance between us.
I remained cautious in that posture for a moment, but fortunately no ambush came.
“Why are you calling me?”
“Are you of sound mind right now?”
Surprisingly, this wasn’t accusatory or reproachful.
It was a genuine question composed purely of inquiry.
He’d been walking in weighty silence, then suddenly questioned my mental state…?
I was bewildered enough to ask back.
“Do you think that’s a reasonable question…?”
“Your response has changed, so I’m asking.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Until recently, whenever changes in your condition were mentioned, you showed agitation. And today there have been several such mentions.”
I started to respond casually before I stopped short.
Cha Si-eon’s tone was far more grave than I’d expected.
Beyond grave even—it was serious, with a note of caution beneath.
“But you showed no agitation.”
Cha Si-eon asked me again.
“Are you of sound mind right now?”
It was a question laden with grave suspicion.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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