TBR CH82

Up until now, the person in charge of Project α had been Dr. I.W. Over the past seven years, α and he had unexpectedly achieved harmony, breaking the institute’s records and making great contributions to our cause. Although it was unknown who sent him there in the first place, it was undoubtedly a correct decision.

— This was written in the initial draft of the institute’s annual report, found in a broken shredder. The revised version did not contain this paragraph.

*

The concept of “friend” was taught to the monster by Isidor.

Isidor White looked no different from any other clerk at the institute—slim build, soft brown hair, extremely gentle in manner. A person like him could easily gather a crowd just by standing next to the coffee machine. His only two distinguishing features were a pair of beautiful emerald-green eyes and the fact that the nature of his work was kept secret from most colleagues.

This wasn’t very rare either. There were many jobs within the institute that required confidentiality. Everyone tacitly understood this—or rather, they were too lazy to pry into others’ privacy, lest they not survive to come in to work the next day.

He had a desk in the staff lounge, with only some basic office supplies on it. There was a time when everyone started keeping plants, saying that the biology lab had discarded a large number of experimental samples. But he declined, the reason being that he rarely stayed in the lounge, and would inevitably be an irresponsible plant owner.

The only personal item on Isidor’s desk that could be considered decorative was a doll. It was octopus-shaped, stuffed with cotton, and its soft tentacles felt very pleasant to the touch.

This was how most people saw Isidor. The monster, however, naturally had the advantage of understanding his work.

Seven years ago, he had been assigned to work in the most mysterious and profound place within the institute. At the time, this misfortune had completely thrown him off. No one believed it was a good assignment.

Previous supervisors had all died tragically, one after another, casting a shadow of ill omen over the job. Everyone said that inside that room was a monster that was extremely terrifying and extremely violent—dangerous and evil, in short, an utter disaster.

Isidor had offended the higher-ups for some reason. As an ordinary staff member, being sent to face the monster was no different from being sent to die.

A fragile human being, the kind who looked like his fingers had only ever touched paper and pens.

Faced with overwhelming pressure and fear, on his first day of work, Isidor appeared extremely nervous.

The control room could adjust the temperature of the artificial seawater, trace elements, water pressure, and a whole series of complex parameters. While turning the knobs whose effects he had memorized thoroughly, he quietly lifted his eyes to glance at the seawater. The water was dark green, while his eyes were emerald.

He couldn’t see anything—but the monster could see him. The monster had countless eyes, lurking beneath the water, watching the new administrator. After Isidor finished handling all the trivial matters regarding the complex data systems, he had to face the most troublesome step.

He pressed his lips together and stepped onto a platform with pressure sensors. As he was detected, the platform slowly moved forward. He needed to place food on a designated reef, which served roughly as the monster’s dining table.

The platform only allowed one person to stand, with low railings on three sides and no protection on the fourth. The sea breeze lightly brushed the researcher’s face. His vision, sense of smell, and taste were all able to perceive the saltiness—because fine salt particles had blown into his eyes. Isidor reached up to wipe his eyes, and unconsciously glanced down—only to freeze in place.

Black star.

Spread across the entire sea region—bizarre and dangerous, deep and terrifying, like a scene that only appeared in nightmares.

Like a seabird, the young researcher’s white lab coat was tangled by the sea wind. Isidor blinked again and again, trying to determine whether what he was seeing was real. He seemed stunned by the monster’s appearance, though the monster was quite used to this reaction.

To the right of the transfer platform’s railing was a red button. Generally speaking, when new administrators saw it for the first time, they would press it immediately. This would allow them to return to the control room quickly and safely. No one ever didn’t press that button.

Until this moment—it had gone just the same as every other time.

…Isidor didn’t press it.

Not only did he not press it—he stumbled. His foot slipped due to the fright, and he fell from the edge of the platform—just like a real seabird—plunging rapidly toward the bottomless seawater and the unnameable monster. In the next second, he would either be smashed by the turbulent sea surface or pierced by the monster’s spear-like, gleaming tentacles.

Whenever recalling this, the monster would always complain a little about his carelessness at the time. To the monster, the Isidor it had only met once seemed rather slow-witted, falling in its direction without any defense. But for a human who had never undergone training, this was also quite normal—he shouldn’t be blamed too harshly.

“But you caught me—”

Isidor also accepted its grumbling without resistance. The memory shimmered in his eyes, glowing with bright and dazzling light. “I didn’t die, right?”

At the last moment, a tentacle broke through the water at an unbelievable speed. The salty water droplets made it shimmer in the sunlight. The tip was extremely sharp—yet at the moment it touched Isidor, it curved into a gentle arc. The tentacle firmly wrapped around the researcher who had fallen, keeping him steadily afloat on the water’s surface.

His eyes were wide open, and his emerald pupils shrank slightly in astonishment.

In his eyes, the monster’s form was reflected with perfect clarity.

—That was how they met.

*

The boy hailed as the “Child of God”, Hill, walked down the institute’s corridor. He had pure golden hair and sky-blue eyes—just like a complete and utter angel. Most people in the institute were, of course, atheists. Giving him this nickname was not out of faith, but out of admiration for his special ability.

Indeed, all monsters would lower their heads docilely and show goodwill to him, even expose their weaknesses. Researchers had spent years trying to find a way to calm certain monsters without success. But it didn’t matter—once Hill approached the lab, the chaos would subside.

All the research seemed to lose meaning—the solution was unbelievably simple.

Some people therefore turned into his fanatical supporters. They hoped the boy would come into contact with higher-level monsters—the terrifying great entities the institute kept hidden. The opponents were usually silent, but among them were people with real power. That was also why the higher-ups never approved of the boy coming into contact with monsters ranked SS or above.

Until—he accidentally entered the deepest forbidden zone of the institute, the room housing the SSS-level “It.”

Everyone knew this was not a simple case of getting lost. Outside the monster’s room were impregnable security doors and complex unlocking procedures. Soon, the fanatical supporters behind Hill’s plan were identified in the institute’s top council. Due to a severe security breach, one of them was removed from office by vote and exiled to an area plagued with frequent anomalies to serve as a bottom-tier staffer.

He left full of confidence, believing that with Hill, everything would be fine.

In that sense, Hill himself truly wasn’t punished. The “Child of God” was a key focus of the institute. When they learned he had charged alone into the domain of Project α without fear of death, the higher-ups didn’t even have time to hold a small emergency meeting before immediately enacting the highest-level alert protocol. However, α’s response brought joy to every one of Hill’s supporters.

Not everyone saw that scene with their own eyes. But those in the know all said that the angelic boy was surrounded by waves, with a crown of condensed seawater on his head. He had completely subdued the monster. The sea raged behind him, and those fierce, sharp tentacles struck the surface impatiently and swiftly—but not one touched Hill.

It was said that, in front of the special agents, Hill smiled and said to the monster:

“You want me to be your one and only future administrator. You want to be with me, don’t you?”

And the monster bent its tentacles, lowering them before his eyes—that gesture acknowledged his words. The favor of an SSS-level monster—what did that mean? It meant Hill could never be punished, now or in the future. That was simply how things went. The boy stood high above, like an angel, while the “It” behind him was terrifying and grotesque.

The monster of dark power finally submitted at the feet of the radiant human. Everything was supposed to develop this way.

This was the version passed around by everyone.

Isidor received the period, or perhaps the end point. It symbolized that, to the monster, he was no longer someone necessary but an obstacle to its will. The institute regarded him, this discarded manager, with tolerance yet detached indifference. His attempts, again and again, were treated as jokes. Isidor walked in the storm that filled the beach, the sea was a dark color, its power kept pushing him away again and again. He opened his emerald-green eyes blankly toward the sea, only to find that he could no longer see his star.

How could this be?

He thought: Clearly, just yesterday it still said it wanted to eat the cream bread he brought. He had bought a double portion, but they were all soaked and ruined by seawater.

He thought again: the star didn’t want him anymore. He shouldn’t keep pretending to not understand that.

People told him that monsters were just like this—cruel and heartless. He would find a job more suitable for him. Isidor looked at his own fingers and muttered that it wasn’t like that. He just needed one more chance. As long as he could see the monster, things would turn around. At the very least, he needed to ask and understand. He looked like someone foolish enough to pin all their hopes on something else, and the person across from him looked at him with a trace of pity. But he would have no more chances—this was just the last time.

In contrast, at the same moment, the favored young man spoke of the monster.

It was during a break after finishing work at the core of Project α. The young and beautiful boy couldn’t bear it anymore and rushed into the restroom. His face was pale, and even the dazzling aura of a heartthrob couldn’t hide how unwell he looked. Hill glanced around—there was no one nearby. Very few staff could access this level.

He looked at the mirror again, and this time, unable to hold back, he cried out in discontent, then accused the entity that claimed to be the system in his mind?:

“Look at me, just look how terrible I look. If it weren’t for your promise, why would I force myself to get close to such a, such a, such a…”

He seemed at a loss for words for a moment, then reluctantly found a not-so-fitting term.

“Ugly and disgusting? monster!”

The system was clearly already used to the boy’s dramatics. It patiently consoled him:

“Didn’t you achieve your dream? Being in the spotlight, adored by everyone, everyone likes you. I told you, when these monsters take human form, they’ll look exactly like your ideal type. You’ve seen the human form of an S.S.-class monster before.”

“You always say that.”

Hill seemed slightly less angry but still spoke in a doubtful tone. , “It’s been so many times; how come I still haven’t seen α in human form? Every time I see those tentacles, I’m scared out of my mind. God, that’s really not something a human can accept. Anyway, I can’t take it. But I still have to pretend to be all friendly and fake.”

“Relax.” the system’s mechanical voice buzzed, “Your heartthrob aura is always working. Look, didn’t the other monsters love you so much they’d rather die?”

Finally convinced, the boy’s unhappy expression faded. He pressed his lips together and smiled, studying his flawless appearance in the mirror.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t panic. Monsters are scary but stupid things, just showing a bit of friendliness is enough to trick them completely. Though being liked by them does feel pretty good. Whatever I want, they’ll help me get it—hmm, just for that, I guess I can barely tolerate the disgust of interacting with them.”

He took one last look at himself in the mirror—this was the face Hill had dreamed of having.

Then he left, satisfied.

Isidor couldn’t help but smile. Maybe a little silly, but he couldn’t control the curve of his lips. He reached out to touch the tentacle sliding and hissing on the shore. The end of the tentacle curled nimbly, wrapping around the freshly made croissant.

“I bought some extra today. Fresh cream filling. I just knew you’d like it.”

Isidor had considered what to do if the monster still refused to see him. When he handed double the money to the bakery owner, she kindly nodded at him. At that moment, a thought flashed through Isidor’s mind—if he were to eat all the bread by himself, he’d still be eating it by the day after tomorrow.

But the bread wouldn’t last that long. It would go bad before that day came.

Damn, were these thoughts causing tears to gradually rise into his bright green eyes? Isidor blinked, and the world in front of him felt like it had been washed clean—pure and fresh. The blue sky, the dark sea, the monster’s tentacle with its complex and strange colors, the croissant’s shiny golden crust. He was indeed crying, and the monster had definitely noticed.

The tentacle had been about to roll up the bread in front of him, but now it hesitated, bent into a soft curve, and gently nudged Isidor’s? cheek with its blunt edge.

Then came more tentacles, quietly wading up from the sea. Enough to terrify any first-time onlooker into madness—fierce and dangerous. The seawater churned uneasily, swirling with deep and dark whirlpools. But Isidor knew he wouldn’t be harmed.

Choking up, he offered his arms to the tentacles until the large ones gently shifted shape from all directions and lifted him up. The artificially created sea had no visible bottom. Countless ominous shadows swam below. This was probably the most dangerous sea area in the world—or perhaps, the safest.

He was safely delivered to the center of the ocean, where there was a platform formed from condensed seawater. The water looked like a giant block of solid pudding. Standing on it felt like stepping on a soft carpet. The monster was there, looking at him helplessly.

“Isidor?” It hesitated for a moment, then still reached out to wipe his tears. The cool hand touched his face. Human instinct should have rejected such non-human closeness, but Isidor didn’t move at all, allowing the long fingers to fumble around his eye corner. The touch felt like a damp tentacle brushing past. In terms of mimicking humans, the monster still wasn’t very good.

It reached out the other hand, and Isidor grabbed it, slightly leaning his body toward it. It quickly realized what the other wanted and awkwardly moved forward to hug him. This was something Isidor had taught it—humans used this gesture to express friendship.

“I’m sorry. This kind of thing will never happen again.”

Making a friend who had always been kind to it cry—of course, to a monster, that called for an apology.

Isidor blinked. Being hugged by the monster felt extremely unique—like being tightly wrapped in countless tentacles, suffocating and unable to breathe from the pressure on his chest, yet it also gave a deep sense of being fully accepted. The embrace ended quickly. When Isidor looked up again, he was clearly starting to hold back his tears—and doing it very well.

The area around his eyes was still damp. His green eyes glowed softly and brightly, but he smiled at the monster, as if its worry had been an overreaction.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, feeling a little embarrassed for crying.

“I just…”

Just what? At this point, he suddenly paused unnaturally, as if searching hard for the right word to explain his loss of composure. But it was safe now, and in front of him was a familiar monster—one he had taken care of for seven years. His time with it had already gone beyond instinctive fear and become a habit. Isidor knew there was no place more relaxing than this.

So he paused, then said in a joking tone,

“…I just thought you didn’t need me anymore.”