Chapter 21
White Order
“But before that.”
Just as we were about to head toward Extraction Room A, Section Chief Myeon spoke up.
He scanned me with the most cautious of his seven faces—
or rather, he looked at my face… and the faintly trembling skin of his own that was attached to it.
“Safety is better when it’s certain. Masks alone might not be enough against an A-class dimensional entity. You’ve probably stacked up enough welfare points by now, so Deputy Son, take the new hire to the prototype storage room.”
“Oh, already? Well, understood. Let’s go, Ha-il.”
“Yes, sir.”
Prototype storage room?
I had questions for a moment, but I had no choice but to follow Deputy Son as he led the way.
As soon as we left the extraction room, he headed straight for the elevator.
The elevator, still as if it had lost all sense of direction, moved smoothly. This time, unlike when we went to the cafeteria, it didn’t take long.
Ding—
The moment the doors opened, my pupils slightly widened.
Everything was white.
Walls, floor, ceiling— even the lighting was coated in pure white, as if refusing to allow even a single shadow.
“It feels like a mental hospital.”
No. Maybe worse.
This space, where not even a speck of dust or irregular stain was allowed, felt suffocatingly orderly.
Employees walking through the hallway all wore pure white suits and gas masks, and I could guess what that meant.
“Order Control Room.”
Director Batory’s explanation came back to me.
The white zone ruled by Executive Director Seol.
A place that controls order within the company through the security and audit teams.
As I blankly watched the white-clad employees passing by in perfectly measured steps, as if walking with a ruler, Deputy Son spoke.
“Pretty intense atmosphere, right? I hate it here the most. Feels like if I spill coffee, I’d get arrested immediately.”
He crossed his arms and shook his head.
His grotesque appearance stood out even more in this white space.
“Deputy, what exactly are prototypes usually…?”
“Hmm, they’re basically out-of-spec products. Things too dangerous, or too expensive, or defective—so they can’t be mass-produced. Test items. Sometimes they even show up in the company shop.”
He shrugged.
“Good way to say it is free equipment. Bad way to say it is human testing leftovers.”
Deputy Son stopped in front of a heavy white door labeled “Prototype Storage Room.”
“Usually the Security Team leader handles this place, but… well. He’s a busy person.”
He pressed his head to the scanner beside the door, and with a mechanical grinding sound, the white door opened.
A wave of cold air poured out, along with bizarre devices glowing with strange light, displayed like museum artifacts.
And then— a desk.
A rather high-end office desk and chair placed near the entrance.
The moment I saw the person sitting there, my pulse slowed slightly.
Because there was another human.
“Inspection Department…?”
I wasn’t sure whether he was a man used for stamping approval or a tool used for it.
But one thing was clear—he was human.
A middle-aged man who looked like he had lived through decades of time with his whole body.
Even while sitting, his massive frame matched my eye level. Over that structure, a flawless pure-white suit was fitted like a blade.
His face, likely in his forties, looked like a stone statue that had been smashed and forced back together.
His rough gray hair, slicked back, felt cold like frost under the white lights. The countless scars cutting across his face and his corpse-pale skin proved his life had been anything but ordinary office work.
“Dry.”
A clear, complete impression of him.
He felt like a seasoned executioner who had killed too much to feel anything anymore, or a butcher who had long burned away regret and guilt.
When his hollow gray eyes met mine, I felt a strange chill crawl up my spine.
He was definitely human… but—
My brain’s command wasn’t relief. It was: run.
This was different from Batory’s blood-red eyes or the toothy grin of Section Chief Shik.
It felt like standing before a freshly sharpened guillotine, my neck already placed in position.
“Disgusting.”
His voice had no moisture at all.
He picked up a white handkerchief from the desk and began obsessively wiping his already clean black leather gloves.
Scrape, scrape.
Only the friction of cloth and leather tore through the silence of the storage room.
I held my breath and watched his movements.
It was too precise to be simple cleaning.
Each finger—thumb to pinky—was rubbed exactly three times per joint in a fixed rhythm.
Less a habit, more like a ritual.
“He doesn’t even look me in the eye.”
Is he ignoring me?
No. Not even that.
There was no emotion. No tone. No disgust.
Even when he said “disgusting,” it was as flat as stating the weather.
His gaze stayed on his hand, but I could feel it—his muscles were relaxed, yet taut enough to spring and crush my throat at any moment.
“Team Leader Gohyeol of the Inspection Department… why are you here?”
Gohyeol.
A name that sounded fitting, yet completely unfitting at the same time.
The fact that Deputy Son used his full name and title was probably a small act of consideration for me.
I looked between Deputy Son and Gohyeol.
Submissive posture, tightened fists, overly polite speech.
Even Deputy Son, who had blown off an inspection team member’s head in the extraction room, was clearly on edge.
Just as extraction teams and dimensional entities were different, perhaps inspection staff and audit team leaders were also different.
I was still far from understanding this company’s ecosystem.
“The External Security issue. Inspector Moon Ara is out on assignment.”
The dry voice answered as he slowly turned his head toward me.
Wherever his gaze landed, goosebumps rose on my skin.
This wasn’t the way a human looks at another human.
It was the gaze of a cleaner looking at waste on the floor.
“I heard there’s a rookie Extraction Team member the Section Chief is quite fond of.”
His eyes landed on the mask of Section Chief Myeon I was holding.
“You stink.”
As he stood up, his height—well over two meters—rose like a wall, swallowing the ceiling light into shadow.
With the sound of footsteps, he approached me. Each step felt like it vibrated through my spine.
His black leather-gloved hand sliced through the air.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
I was certain—if that hand grabbed me, my head would be crushed like a ripe watermelon.
Danger…
But it didn’t happen.
His hand merely brushed the air near my shoulder, as if dusting something invisible away.
Then it lowered.
“What’s your name?”
“…New hire of Extraction Team 1, Jeong Hae-il. Nice to meet you, Team Leader Gohyeol.”
He took out his handkerchief again and wiped his gloves.
That gesture—treating even a brush of air like contamination—made me feel more miserable and afraid than any monster’s roar ever could.
“I didn’t think I’d meet someone like this.”
This was the Human of Sa-pil-gwi-jeong Company.
He felt like he existed far beyond the dead employees whose heads had exploded in the extraction room.
“Extraction teams always come for the same reason.”
He muttered, pocketing the handkerchief.
Instead of sitting back down, he slowly walked between the displays.
“Then what are you here to take this time, Deputy Son? There should be something of equal value.”
“Ah, well… the Section Chief asked me to bring the newbie to A-zone for observation, so we were hoping to get some protective gear…”
“Observation.”
He kept walking.
Step. Step.
Each footstep tightened something in my throat.
He passed by me and glanced over—like I was dust floating in the air.
“The Section Chief’s judgment is slipping. Or maybe this company has already gone too far. Bringing an untrained brat to an A-class dimensional entity.”
“Heh… well, this kid has some unusual talent.”
Deputy Son awkwardly smiled and patted my shoulder.
The grip was stronger than usual.
“Talent?”
Gohyeol stopped.
He ran a finger over invisible dust on a display case, then wiped it again with his handkerchief.
“In this place, talent just means how efficiently you go insane.”
He turned to face me.
Behind his hollow gray eyes was the boredom of a cleaner who had washed away countless filth.
“Have you ever heard your brain melting? Or felt your self scatter like grains of sand until you forget who you are?”
I couldn’t answer.
He frowned slightly, dissatisfied with my silence.
As his gaze scanned my entire body like a scalpel peeling skin layer by layer—
“It looks to me like nothing more than a dirty stain.”
Just as the atmosphere was clearly turning worse—
Deputy Son suddenly snatched the phone from my pocket.
Before I could react, he blocked me and opened a strange app, shoving the screen toward Gohyeol.
“Haha, well, he’s still a rookie, but even in probation he’s already stacked welfare points comparable to senior staff. Executive Director Gu is already watching him closely. Isn’t this a worthwhile investment?”
Gohyeol’s hand moved toward his waist—then stopped.
Only then did I notice it.
Hanging at his waist was something long.
Wrapped in bandages, but clearly the shape of a sword or blade—about 1.5 meters long.
Did he just try to draw that?
He looked down lazily, but the moment he saw the meaningless numbers on the screen, a faint crack appeared in his expression.
“A thing… that will rot away in filth…”
It wasn’t admiration.
It wasn’t envy.
For a brief moment, it looked like pity—cold, like a beast watching something small.
“It might be better if you go insane. No, perhaps that would be the cleanest ending.”
He scoffed softly and walked deeper into the storage room.
Deputy Son looked oddly relieved and excited.
A moment later, a black velvet box was brought out.
“Human sanity is more fragile than glass. If you want to forcefully hold that thin layer of reason together, this is the best option.”
When Gohyeol opened the box, a crimson object appeared.
A rosary emitting an eerie red sheen.
Each bead looked like it had been carved from dried drops of blood, and at its center hung a small bone fragment engraved with an eye-like pattern.
“Relic of the Smiling Martyr.”
Gohyeol spoke quietly.
“It doesn’t block mental interference. It numbs emotion and sensation, suppressing fear and pain. It suits that mask.”
He threw it toward me.
I caught it reflexively. It was heavier than expected, and freezing cold like it had been pulled from ice water.
“Put it on. But be careful. It only reduces—it doesn’t block completely. And remember: you’re not something valuable. You’re a replaceable part.”
“…Thank you.”
I swallowed and put it on my wrist.
The moment I did—
A sharp sensation, like my hand being severed, flashed through me, followed by a spreading numbness.
My vision slightly dulled.
And the overwhelming pressure I had felt from Gohyeol moments ago faded into something almost ordinary.
“…How is it, Hae-il? Feeling better?”
Deputy Son asked.
“Yes. My mind feels… very calm.”
“That’s the side effect.”
Gohyeol had already lost interest. He returned to his desk and began wiping it again.
“Take your equipment and leave. I hate breathing the same stale air as the extraction room.”
As if obeying an immediate dismissal, Deputy Son pushed me out.
Just before the door closed, I looked back.
A white room. A white suit. And a man with gray eyes that felt like they had already died inside.
He continued wiping his desk with obsessive precision, trying to erase all impurity from this company.
It looked less like cleaning…
And more like a desperate attempt to erase something that could never be removed.
“…Let’s go, Hae-il. Time to go see a real A-class dimensional entity.”
Deputy Son’s voice pulled me away.
On my wrist, the blood-red relic of the martyr remained—cold and real.
[Security Team Prototype Management Record: Prototype-014]
Product Name: Relic of the Smiling Martyr
Assigned User: Extraction Team 1, Employee Jeong Hae-il
Approval: Inspection Team Leader Gohyeol
[Overview]
The remains of ■ Section Chief, who maintained a smile until the end and preserved his identity during the failure of containment of A-6 (Low-Crawling Mercy), were processed into this item.
A sensory suppression artifact designed to supplement the limits of cognitive filtering equipment.
[Function & Mechanism]
Sensory Nullification
Before external cognitive interference (fear, awe, overwhelming presence) reaches the amygdala, the nervous system is partially stunned and numbed, preventing reaction. A cold sensation occurs during activation.
Pain Transcendence
For internal interference, residual consciousness within the relic forces muscular relaxation, causing pain to be perceived as calm. A warm sensation occurs during activation.
[Failure Conditions]
Neural Corruption
Long-term use allows bone particles to enter pores and blood vessels, synchronizing the user’s pulse with the relic. Risk of permanent emotional numbness.
Fear Suppression Collapse
With survival instincts disabled, users may die smiling even as their bodies are destroyed. (Note: most of the 23rd test subjects died with smiles.)
Purity Constraint
According to Team Leader Gohyeol, exposure to tears drastically reduces filtering ability and may instead corrupt the user.
Resource Scarcity (Critical)
Only one source corpse exists. No further production possible.
(Conclusion: do not attempt mass production of martyrs.)
[Usage Warning]
Immediately upon wearing, a sharp sensation like nerve severance occurs, followed by silence in surrounding perception. This is a normal synchronization process and must be maintained.
