TBR CH85

Captain John Clive’s Response to the Latest Decision from the Higher-Ups:
“I believe the ‘Dawn Project’ should not be restarted.”

–The email consists of only this single sentence.

—

The monster’s blood flooded the entire corridor. Hill shoved past the green-eyed researcher standing at the entrance, ignoring the cordon tape, and rushed inside. No matter how much he loathed these monsters, this was his conquest achievement, and the feeling of being uniquely favored wasn’t bad at all. Besides, this was directly tied to his mission objectives. Just that morning, he’d argued with the system over this very issue…

A bullet grazed his cheek, carrying the stench of sulfur. He hadn’t even processed it. The blond, blue-eyed boy froze in place.

Before him, the unimaginable monster lay dying on the ground, its body riddled with horrific bullet wounds. It was severed at the waist. At that moment, the monster’s black-bean-like eyes, shrouded in the haze of death, slowly turned toward Hill.

It seemed to want to say something.

Having endured two shocks in a single day, Hill stood dazed. The monster’s gaze, filled with a mix of hope and attachment, locked onto him. But for the boy, the only sensation was fear. His mind short-circuited from the sight, driven solely by the primal instinct to flee.

“You…” The monster’s raspy voice struggled to function. It had a thousand limbs but only one pair of eyes and a single organ for sound. For the human it cherished, it desperately tried to turn over, to face him with its less grotesque side, whimpering, “Like… don’t…”

“Stay away from me!” Overwhelmed, Hill turned and bolted, unable to listen to the monster’s final words. It was just a monster, a useless mission target. No matter how you looked at it, it was about to die.

Another gunshot rang out.

The sound was so close that Hill’s limbs stiffened.

The monster let out a final wail. The bullet had been aimed at the boy’s back, but the SS-level creature, known for its explosive power, mustered its last strength to rise, using its armored back to shield Hill from the speeding bullet. The bullet lodged deep in its vital spot. Until its eyes closed, all it saw was the boy’s retreating figure.

Hill had no idea what had happened.

Since arriving at the institute, he’d lacked any real understanding of its cruelty. Everyone put him on a pedestal, and he effortlessly tamed monsters that outsiders deemed untamable, reveling in the feeling of being uniquely needed. He knew monsters could kill humans—some had even slaughtered their previous handlers just to see him. But as long as he didn’t witness it firsthand, such events only fueled his vain sense of being special.

But—how could a monster be killed?

Humans shouldn’t possess such power. The bullet that had grazed him carried a chilling, dangerous aura, capable of shattering a monster’s heavily fortified heart. The armed personnel he usually saw seemed like child’s play in comparison.

He had to turn around.

Standing before him, holding a silver pistol, was a fully armed man with a grim expression, clearly displeased by Hill’s inexplicable presence. Hill instinctively sighed in relief, noticing the institute’s emblem on the man’s chest, confirming he was an internal operative.

But Hill didn’t recall ever seeing such an armed operative, and the emblem on his chest was different from the others.

“Anyone who trespasses past the cordon does so at their own risk,” the man said sternly, his eyes briefly flashing with admiration at the terrified, golden-haired boy before his professionalism took over. “Are you Hill, the one assigned to ‘Limb Nest’? Regardless, you’re coming with me. Your intrusion involves a Level 1 institute secret. We need to ensure you don’t leak anything.”

“What?” Hill repeated, stunned. “What… who are you? You almost shot me!”

His voice grew shrill.

“No,” the man said, holstering his pistol and glancing at the monster’s massive corpse at his feet. “It only exposed its final weak point to protect you. My bullet wouldn’t have pierced your chest.”

“How could you know that?” The man’s words were absurd. Hill, recalling how his life had just hung in the balance, struggled to calm down. “You were clearly going to shoot me! Something like that can’t be predicted…”

“It absolutely can be predicted, Mr. Hill.”

The man offered no further explanation. He raised his eyes and gestured firmly for Hill to follow. “John Clive, Captain of the Institute’s Special Armed Forces, codename Black Hawk. Walk this way.”

Hill glared at him, as if staring at a monster. But he quickly realized he had no choice. The boy cautiously stepped around the bloodstains and corpse, his face a mix of disgust at the chaotic scene and anger at being used as bait.

John led the way, not retracing their steps through the corridor. The other end of the hallway was now deserted. After the gunshots, anyone with sense stayed clear. The cordon expanded further, and the lounge staff were told they couldn’t brew coffee for the time being.

Isidor had left earlier and was now standing by the coffee machine.

The green-eyed researcher pressed the button, and scalding coffee slowly filled the paper cup in his hand. He stared thoughtfully at the dark liquid for a moment before sipping it slowly.

After Hill took leave, Isidor, having proven his worth, had openly secured the role of “temporary monster handler.” His ID card now functioned fully. It seemed his morning efforts had succeeded, perfectly aligning with their planned outcome.

He needed to gather news about Hill within the institute, and he’d stumbled upon one such opportunity on his way.

But at that moment, his thoughts drifted to the first time the monster tried coffee, complaining that the bitter stuff was awful. His “star” preferred sweet things. Later, Isidor made it a latte with plenty of sugar and milk, and it suddenly discovered coffee’s appeal.

Isidor took a small sip of his coffee.

He still preferred the bitter taste of black coffee, as always.

—

Swiping his card to return to work felt even better than expected.

Pushing open the titanium-white metal door, knowing he was the only human in this area, Isidor felt an unprecedented sense of calm. This time, no armed personnel escorted him to the end, as Researcher Isidor had proven through his actions that he could still interact amicably with the monster inside.

Then again, the presence of armed personnel was more for reassurance than necessity.

It couldn’t be harmed. If it wanted to kill someone, stopping it was nearly impossible. The list of previous handlers was filled with crossed-out names, all dead. These records only underscored the monster’s brutality and terror. Before Isidor took the role, the Alpha Project position was synonymous with a death sentence.

The feeling of facing imminent death was something Isidor could still vividly recall.

As the titanium-white door slowly opened, a biting sea breeze grazed his cheeks. The sea before him was like a storm from a painting—dark waves surged with the sky, crashing against the shore in frothy white tides. The green-eyed researcher paused, then shook his head with a smile, as if guessing something, and dismissed his thoughts. He stepped forward without hesitation, walking into the room.

In the seawater, countless tentacles writhed, their fearsome tips glinting sharply in the storm. It was a hellish scene—countless black eyes split open along the tentacles, and an unblinking gaze seemed to rise from the water. The creature emerged from the sea, staring at the approaching researcher.

“No,” Isidor said, struggling to suppress a grin in the face of the writhing, menacing tentacles. “Um… the prank was a success, but I’m still not scared of you.”

In an instant, as if a pause button had been pressed, the oil-painting-like storm froze.

The sea calmed, the towering waves subsided, revealing patches of indigo sky. The creature retracted its mass of tentacles, sinking back into the water, leaving only one lazily swaying tentacle to reach the shore. It curled around Isidor’s hand. The researcher opened his left hand, which he’d kept clenched since entering.

A coffee candy. The monster happily took it. Then, as if collecting a toll, the tentacle wrapped around Isidor’s wrist, pulling him into the sea. Isidor could walk on the water without sinking.

Following the tentacle’s gentle pull, he arrived at the familiar cabin and the familiar figure.

“Compared to what I showed you just now,” the humanoid monster said, as if stating a fact or genuinely curious, “yesterday, I only revealed a tiny fraction to that human called the Child of Fate. Even so, he was so terrified he refused to return. Why aren’t you afraid, Isidor?”

“Maybe I’m just braver?” Isidor replied, not entirely sure himself. His eyes crinkled, like sparkling emeralds. “You’re my friend, and you’ve always been gentle with me, so of course I’m not afraid.”

He didn’t seem to be lying. The monster studied Isidor’s expression, concluding this was likely the most fitting answer he could give. But after reading everything recorded in the black book yesterday, it felt a new kind of confusion.

“Isn’t it because of ‘love’?” it asked, recalling the letters on the page, pronouncing the syllables clearly and earnestly.

The question had a far greater impact than the monster expected.

“What…” Isidor blinked, his green eyes reflecting disbelief from every angle, a mix of joy and fluster plain to see. His face burned, his ears tinged red. He almost doubted he’d misheard, but the monster’s enunciation was crystal clear. Isidor bit his lip, unsure how to respond.

“Why would you ask that?”

“The black book, which claims to predict everything, said so,” the monster replied, a bit concerned as it observed the human, wondering if this reaction was normal. “Liking someone can overcome fear, and becoming lovers with a monster allows the Child of Fate to achieve their goal. Isidor, he doesn’t want to be my friend. You’ve only told me what a friend is in the human world, not what ‘love’ is.”

“I know you’ve read books—human books,” Isidor said, clearly eager to steer away from the topic. The word “love” felt heavy and scalding on his tongue, filling him with panic, as if his deepest secret was about to be exposed. “They mention love, so…”

“There are too many concepts I can’t guess on my own,” the monster said. “If you hadn’t brought me bread, I wouldn’t know what bread is. Coffee was like that, and so was friendship. You’re my friend, but it’s different from what the books describe.”

“How is it different?” Isidor’s words slipped out softly, and he immediately regretted it. He should’ve changed the subject. But he desperately wanted to know.

“In your books, ‘friends’ aren’t always sincere—some are terrible. But you’re different. You’re better to me than the friendships described in those books. Maybe the authors never experienced a friendship good enough. But love—is it what the books depict? I’m not sure.”

“In the books,” Isidor steeled himself, “how do they describe it?”

The monster’s memory was impeccable; it didn’t need to reopen the book to recall the passage.

“Seeing the one you love is like seeing the sun.”

Seeing the Star is the same, Isidor thought, but didn’t say. He let out a soft breath, letting the heat fade from his face, and said jokingly, “I don’t think I’m much like the sun. And I don’t want to be—I know you don’t like sunlight, right?”

He was acting strange. The monster mulled over the word “love,” not discarding it but tucking it away in its heart. It didn’t want to press Isidor, especially since he seemed embarrassed, subtly avoiding its gaze. There was little point in dwelling on it now.

The researcher’s green eyes flickered until he blinked heavily, suppressing emotions that seemed ready to break free like wings. Smiling, he said, “Just think of me as a friend—your best friend.”

Compared to monsters, humans seemed far too cunning, always chasing what wasn’t theirs. Yet Isidor willingly bound himself to this limit, never daring to hope for more.

To him, Star was a distant, burning sun.