TBR CH89

Since the 16th century, folklore along Russia’s eastern coast has spoken of a terrifying, colossal creature. The residents of that time not only firmly believed in its existence but also attempted to document it through various means. Surviving parchment scrolls can still be found in the National Museum. Scholars speculate that the concept of the monster stemmed from the frequent storms and shipwrecks caused by them. However, some records suggest a contrasting perspective, indicating that the indigenous people’s views on the “monster” were far more complex…

—Excerpt from an academic presentation at the Karsaha Palace Lecture Hall in the capital, delivered by renowned folklorist Dr. Ivan

—

Isidor stepped out of Project Alpha’s room. He looked no different from usual, except that his emerald-green eyes seemed a touch brighter with delight. He could clearly feel a damp tendril coiling around his wrist, tying itself into a small knot.

And just like that, the Institute’s most dangerous monster was secretly smuggled out by a human researcher.

The monster found the outside world utterly foreign. The air wasn’t tinged with the faint saltiness of seawater but was filled with a chaotic mix of scents. Harsh fluorescent lights poured down, and the sounds of human footsteps and conversations drifted near and far. Hidden within Isidor’s sleeve, the tendril gently pushed aside the fabric, its eye opening to observe this unfamiliar place it inhabited but barely knew.

“I’ll take you to the restroom,” Isidor said with a blink, appearing to talk to himself. “Then you can put on the name tag.”

The name tag had been prepared in advance, identical to those worn by every Institute employee, bearing the monster’s freshly fabricated alias.

Choosing a name was a troublesome task. The monster had long considered adopting a human name. It had discussed this with Isidor, but they’d never settled on one, as naming, by the researcher’s standards, was clearly no simple matter.

“Nothing too distinctive,” it had requested. “Something ordinary, like a stranger you’d pass by in the Institute, leaving an impression as fleeting as smoke.”

“Hm…” Isidor had responded slowly, his emerald eyes reflecting the monster’s slender form, feeling that a mundane name hardly suited it. But if the star liked it, that was enough. When he borrowed a term from folklore and called it “Star,” the monster accepted it without question. It didn’t care much about names—they were mere symbols.

But humans cared. Humans gave beautiful names to all sorts of things, pretending they could claim ownership over them.

As it transformed into human form, the restroom’s lights inexplicably flickered, the bulbs buzzing as if melting. The monster paid it no mind; it often caused bizarre phenomena. It took the name tag from Isidor, carefully studying the pin before attaching it to its coat.

The name tag read: “Asta Black, D-02 Sector Clerk.”

The monster had suggested names like “Tom,” “Jack,” or “John,” which made Isidor stifle a laugh. He had no objections, even playfully pretending he didn’t know anyone with those names when asked, despite knowing at least a dozen Johns. If it liked the name, that was fine by the researcher.

But the monster, perceptive as ever, sensed something and handed the paper to Isidor. After all, Isidor was a true human, far more familiar with the outside world. Isidor took the pen naturally, as if he’d pondered it many times, and wrote the letters “Asta” on the paper, reading them softly aloud.

Asta, from Greek, meaning as bright as a star.

“Sounds nice,” the monster said, its eyes lighting up slightly as it reached to touch the written word. The human lowered his head, a bit embarrassed, though his lips curved into a smile. He didn’t consider himself skilled at naming, having researched extensively, always feeling no symbol could fully fit the monster.

But if it liked it—that is, if Asta liked its name—that was enough.

“Next, just follow me. Be careful not to touch anyone or reveal your tendrils. I’ve swapped shifts, so my ID card can access Flower’s sector now. You only need to act on your own at the final step.”

This had all been planned. Stepping on the human-tiled floor, gazing at the mirror, the scent of disinfectant filling its nostrils, the monster listened absently until Isidor’s next words snapped it back to reality.

“…If you’re still discovered,” Isidor said, his emerald eyes avoiding its gaze for the first time. His tone was stiff, but the words tumbled out clearly, “you don’t need to worry about anything. I’ll handle it.”

Kill anyone who sees you. Erase all traces. Neutralize anything that could harm you.

These words were utterly out of character for Isidor, who always seemed gentle, as if harboring goodwill toward everyone. When he spoke of his daily life, it was with trivial, cheerful details. Clearly, saying such things unsettled him—his nails dug into his palm—but he still expressed his stance candidly.

Over seven years, the monster had come to realize that Isidor harbored an almost incomprehensible indulgence and possessiveness toward it, coupled with a stubbornness that seemed to place all its weight on a single point. “Friendship” could explain it, but every concept of friendship it knew had been taught by Isidor.

…Did he realize he was under suspicion?

Did he understand that such words only deepened the doubts and contradictions surrounding him?

Asta took his hand, smoothing out his rigid fingers, and gave Isidor a reassuring smile—a monster’s smile, its eyes dark and hollow, like a breeze passing through.

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

—

New employee Asta Black walked through the Institute’s white corridors, curiously observing everything around him. His curiosity was well-restrained, and Isidor deflected any gazes that lingered on him. People’s interest in a new colleague was minimal.

“That’s a coffee machine…” Asta whispered at a corner. “Remarkable. Can it control the sweetness of drinks? Back when I was in the ocean depths, fish and shrimp didn’t just pour out of a machine.”

It didn’t need to hunt. Its tendrils spanned entire seas, all creatures cowering beneath it. As a monster, it required minimal energy from the outside world, surviving effortlessly even in extreme conditions.

“Exactly,” Isidor said after a moment’s thought. “There’s a bakery not far from here, and it’s quieter later. Maybe after we’re done, I can take you there?”

Asta turned to him as if a keyword had been triggered. Isidor almost laughed. The monster wasn’t fully accustomed to human movements; he could even hear its bones creak with the abrupt turn. A sharper angle, and this could’ve been a horror story. But it really did love sweet things.

The human researcher stopped. The corridor ahead was marked “Sector D” in titanium-white lettering. He swiped his ID card on the reader, and the door slid open. Sector D operated as methodically as any other, with employees bustling through like ants in a colony.

“This is it,” Isidor said. “I’ll go talk to the sector supervisor, tell him we’re here for a shift swap. You don’t need to interact with him—just walk straight ahead. Flower’s room is number 27. There are special security personnel inside, but lingering at the door won’t be an issue.”

He paused, adding, “We’ll pick out some bread afterward.”

It was a bit risky, but an acceptable risk. Asta stood still, feeling, for the first time, the reality of being alone in the human world. A few glances briefly fell on the tall, slender stranger, but the monster observed them in turn, knowing how to control its gaze. Perhaps some of these people would have nightmares tonight, dreaming of a black star. That was irrelevant.

Isidor nodded, signaling him to proceed. Whatever the researcher said, the supervisor’s curious gaze lingered on Asta for a moment before shifting away in confirmation.

“Keep going straight.”

At the fourth corner, they parted ways, Isidor whispering a reminder. Asta, wearing the name tag and carrying Isidor’s ID card, walked forward expressionlessly, as if he belonged.

25, 26, 27…

A potent floral scent slammed into the monster’s senses, a smell only it could detect, unnoticed by passersby. This was the place. The fragment in its coat pocket grew faintly warm, as if sensing something. Asta pressed the pocket, first reading the message it transmitted:

“He has arrived,” Flower rambled in a frenzied broadcast to all. “The star of the world, the turning point, the final salvation of all anomalies. What is the purpose of His Majesty’s visit? Will His stance change? But first, you must know—He is out. He has come to me.”

This clearly wasn’t meant solely for Asta. It was a mass message. And no matter how you looked at it, this jumble of nonsense described none other than Asta himself, the SSS-class entity.

—It couldn’t enter the room, so communication had to rely on the fragment.

Asta paused for a moment but still crushed the fragment between its fingers. It wasn’t here to make friends, so there was no need for further interaction with “Flower.” Everything it needed to say and the assistance it required had already been encoded in the fragment. The fragment disintegrated into dust at its fingertips, mingling with Flower’s pollen and drifting toward the room.

The briny scent of seawater swiftly overpowered the cloying sweetness of the pollen.

Flower, an S-class entity, was volatile but lacked the strength to break free, confined tightly by the Institute. At most, it could impulsively kill a few nearby employees, but escape was impossible. By the time Asta reached this point, few people were around, and the guards inside the room weren’t overly vigilant.

The fragment carried an overwhelming amount of information. Flower, long accustomed to forcing other monsters to listen to its rants, now had to settle down and hear Alpha’s words in full, which took some time. Meanwhile, Asta continued forward as if the brief pause had never happened.

It knew Flower would obey.

This wasn’t a judgment of its own persuasiveness but a certainty born from mixing a trace of its own essence into the fragment. The power Alpha wielded was immeasurably terrifying, capable of profoundly affecting even other monsters’ minds. Flower already held a mix of awe and reverence toward it, and now, it would undoubtedly act exactly as Asta intended.

Sure enough, after a short distance, its fingers twitched slightly as pollen clung to its human skin. This time, the floral scent lacked its usual aggression, instead bowing tamely, lingering faintly before Asta.

Flower had shown its loyalty. This was the main part of the message. A little later, its instructions would transform into a scent that would seep into every monster’s room in the Institute. As for the other part of the reply… Asta tilted its head slightly, its pure black pupils seeming to pierce through the walls, locking onto the S-class monster inside.

“You’re mistaken,” it said, no longer veiling its words but speaking directly. “I wasn’t referring to the human named Hill. You should be watching the other human tainted with your essence. Join us. The Institute harms us, strips us of our nature. With your immense power, you should lead us to escape.”

The “us” it spoke of was actually a faction of particularly violent monsters who harbored extreme hatred for humans. They seized every opportunity to connect, plotting to kill the Institute’s humans and escape to wreak havoc in the outside world.

Asta had no intention of joining such a group.

But—“Why should I watch that human?”

The fragment solidified in its hand. It couldn’t leave entirely unmoved. The monster’s steps halted at a corridor corner, where lingering briefly wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Leaning against the cold wall, Asta recalled Isidor’s expression earlier when he’d lowered his eyes and said it could kill. He knew the action didn’t align with his persona, yet he said it anyway.

The gentle human, the smiling human, the human who had averted his emerald eyes.

It took Flower a long while to respond, so long that Asta, unwilling to wait further, began moving again. The floral scent wavered across the corridor, its answer vague and cryptic, like the mutterings of a madman.

“I sensed his essence somewhere, long ago. Forgive me, I can’t provide more clues—I’m not certain. But it’s a deeply unsettling instinct. If… I had only one word to tell you.”

Asta didn’t create a new fragment. It had already walked too far, and the fragment was on the verge of losing effect. Besides, Flower, eager to spill its answer, clearly didn’t need a response.

So it kept walking. Following the planned route—turn left, move forward, circle a rounded corridor. As Asta rounded the corner, those emerald eyes leaped into its view. Isidor had likely been waiting for a while. Seeing its return, the human flashed a relieved smile.

“You’re back.” Isidor reached out, his human hand warm, leaning toward it but quickly realizing this wasn’t the place for an embrace. The researcher gave an embarrassed smile and stood beside it.

It wasn’t until they walked out of Sector D together that the word Flower had promised finally drifted to the monster.

“Kingfisher,” it said. “Kingfisher, kingfisher.”

The word was far from its true meaning, shrouded in thick fog.

Asta glanced at the human beside it. Isidor tilted his head as if sensing something, his emerald eyes quietly reflected in its own, brimming with unmistakable delight.

“The bakery’s in Sector A. We’ve got to keep going—it’s a bit of a trek,” he half-jokingly complained, though he secretly wished their walk side by side could last as long as possible. “The Institute’s interior is practically a city of its own. It’s got everything. Employees who sign NDAs aren’t allowed to leave, and mental health matters here. On that front, it’s pretty satisfying.”

Asta had never seen a kingfisher. For anything puzzling about the human world, it would turn to Isidor for answers, but this time was different. It didn’t speak.

It stayed silent, and Isidor noticed nothing amiss. He continued talking softly beside it, as if eager to share every good, trivial detail of his life. The monster’s dark, fathomless pupils were illuminated by the researcher’s sparkling emerald eyes. He seemed joyful, always open with it, as he’d always been. Isidor loved sharing his life—its intricate textures and rich aromas, like a pile of colorful drink wrappers.

Doubting a friend was wrong.

Friends should trust each other, with no secrets between them.

The word “kingfisher” was finally pushed aside by mentions of “cream bread” and “maple sticks.” Entering Sector A, the world seemed to brighten. Department stores, fast-food joints, and bakeries unfolded before them. Isidor carefully shielded it from view.

The shopping went surprisingly smoothly.

The bakery’s customers were clearly distracted by the array of pastries and the scents of sugar and cream, paying no mind to strangers. Asta blended in perfectly, gravitating toward the sweetest breads, dusted with thick frosting—good thing monsters didn’t get cavities. Isidor accepted it all, even reassuringly adding an apple tart when Asta, feeling a bit guilty for buying so much, looked at him.

“You’re so kind,” it said, clearly touched, clutching the paper bag and suddenly speaking to Isidor with earnest sincerity.

On the way back, Isidor had applied to visit the monster’s space under the guise of equipment checks. Asta would soon revert to a tendril around his wrist in the restroom, bringing this unexpected outing to a perfect close. Isidor relaxed considerably, no longer so tense.

So the human was caught off guard by the sudden directness.

Isidor felt his heart ignite, warmth rushing to his cheeks. He raised a hand to fan the air, then found the gesture silly. Hesitating, he pondered how to respond to the suddenly serious monster. He hadn’t done much, not compared to it…

Wait.

The researcher’s expression tightened. He swiftly turned, pressing himself against Asta, pushing it into a corner. They were already close, and now those emerald eyes were almost right in front of it. The monster, slightly confused, complied fully. Isidor spoke softly and quickly, “Hold me.”

Embraces weren’t unfamiliar to it. It wrapped its arms around Isidor, feeling his soft hair brush against its neck. Isidor raised a hand to cover the monster’s eyes, the pose intimate. He leaned into its embrace, shielding most of its body, standing on tiptoe. No one could see its face now.

They looked like a couple nestled in a corner. Onlookers glanced over, then quickly averted their eyes.

Asta felt the distance was a bit too close, an indescribable oddity. With its eyes covered and unable to sprout extra, non-human eyes in public, it experienced the sensation of losing its sight for the first time. The world was black, but slivers of light seeped through the gaps in Isidor’s fingers.

Isidor’s fingers rested over its eyes, cool at the tips, while his breath was warm and moist, very close.

“Sorry,” his lips trembled silently, his voice a faint whisper in the monster’s ear. “Someone was watching us just now. I had to block you for a moment.”

His other hand pressed against the monster’s human body, right over the heart, separated by the shirt. The human organ was strange, and inexplicably, Asta began focusing on the heartbeat—steady, delicate, clear under Isidor’s palm. How many beats per minute?

Perhaps because it was too warm—and it disliked warmth—its heart beat a little faster.

Asta counted the rhythm, but Isidor let go before a minute passed, blinking at it, his emerald eyes still tinged with lingering caution. Evidently, the person watching had been forced to look away like the others, swept away by the crowd.

It was just a small incident.

Everything after that went truly smoothly. Isidor brought the tendril-formed monster back to its room, where its fragment rejoined its true body. Asta confirmed that Flower, as promised, had sent the message to all the monsters.

It was late, so the researcher didn’t linger. He soon bid it farewell and left the room.

Sinking into the cold seawater, floating upward in the deep, the light from the surface pierced down like stars. Asta began recalling everything that had happened during the day’s outing. It had been so long since it left this room; the outside world felt distant, yet today it had been within reach, unfolding piece by piece before it.

Until, at last, that word resurfaced from the sea of memory, presenting itself once more:

Kingfisher.

Though it knew Flower’s meaning went beyond the word, it began to wonder: What kind of bird was a kingfisher?

—

When Isidor returned to the staff lounge, it was already late. He hesitated, opting not to pull out a chair, and simply gathered his belongings. Just then, he heard footsteps.

At the door stood an unfamiliar employee. In just a few seconds, Isidor roughly grasped the situation. The man’s expression was far from polite, delivering a cold announcement:

“Researcher Isidor? Mr. John Cliff, Sector C Security Chief, requests your presence.”

He offered no explanation for why John wanted him or how a Sector C security chief could bypass protocol to summon an ordinary clerk and monster handler from Sector F. As a messenger, he knew John held a special status. He’d seen John secretly summon all sorts of people for talks, and those who left his office looked thunderstruck, dejected—some vanishing entirely afterward.

He knew better than to ask questions that didn’t concern him.

Isidor clearly had no intention of prying either.

“Alright,” he nodded, his gentle demeanor devoid of any threat, softening the stranger’s attitude somewhat. After all, he had no reason to make things difficult.

—Besides, based on past experience, this employee named Isidor was about to face some serious trouble.