Surviving Among the Entities

Heartpoison is regret.
Regret is obstinacy and foolishness towards an unchangeable past.

“It’s all your fault. I shouldn’t have reached out to someone as gloomy as you.”

Therefore, heartpoison is nothing more than a part of life.
For Shin Se-hoon, who had survived until now by investigating and resolving entity-related cases as a Mystery Detective, mental anguish was something he could overcome through meditation and contemplation.

“While you were wandering due to your childhood trauma, my parents got divorced because of you.”
“Because they grew tired of looking after such a pathetic person like you.”

However, heartpoison was a real poison.
Neither meditation nor contemplation worked, and once regret began weighing on his heart, it only grew heavier, etching itself into his soul like it could never be forgotten no matter how much he wanted to.

“Why didn’t you stop me back then? If you had wanted to, I would have waited for you. I wouldn’t have worn my shoes on the wrong feet, and I would have visited you often while you were in the military, and then our future would have been different. But you abandoned me, telling me not to wait for you while you were in the military. It may have been consideration on your part, but it wasn’t consideration, it was selfishness. With your selfishness, you only hurt me.”

Regret swirled in his mind during every waking hour.
Regret became dreams during every sleeping hour, making him experience resentful moments.

“If you had resolved it a bit sooner, I would have lived. Didn’t our daughter cry her heart out at my funeral? Didn’t you feel any pangs of conscience watching that? Why not? If you had been a little more capable, I wouldn’t have died!”

Past mistakes became self-reproach.
Self-reproach became blame, blame led to self-loathing, and self-loathing ultimately resulted in the negation of life itself.

“……”

After washing his face, Shin Se-hoon stared into the mirror.
Three months since the first heartpoison.
After that day, moments of regret from his life appeared daily in his office, the corridor, or other offices, and each time, Shin Se-hoon, entranced, would gaze upon them as countless heartpoisons accumulated in his heart, tormenting him.

“Ha.”

The mirror no longer reflected his former appearance.
The dark circles were so deeply set, it seemed like he had applied mascara, his skin had lost its luster, and his lips were cracked and dry despite having just washed his face.
His eyes lacked any vitality, the pupils were bloodshot with burst blood vessels, and all his nails had long fallen off.

“Even ghosts wouldn’t look like this.”

When he woke up, an old, tattered rope lay beside his pillow.
Several notes were tied to the rope, each containing the Chinese character for ‘death’ (死).

“It’s telling me to die, it seems.”

What would happen if he died now?
Like the other missing persons, his disappearance was certain, but where would his soul go after death?
A calamity to ward off calamity – then would his soul become fuel for calamity, or would he become an evil spirit spreading calamity?

“Let me die.”

At the moment he was about to die, the master detective’s touchpad lit up.

[Information 149: There has been a change in Resolver Seung-hoon Lee, and this change is related to the Missing Four case.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 91%]
[Hint 9: Could this case be resolved by working with Resolver Seung-hoon Lee?]

The touchpad, which had progressively displayed garbled text until it no longer showed any at all, had returned to normal.
However, it wasn’t completely normal, as the screen kept flickering.

“So you were enduring too.”

His gaze still lacked any vitality.

“I have to do what needs to be done.”

His sense of duty as a detective took its place.

“This will be my final case.”

Even after that day, Shin Se-hoon continued to suffer from heartpoison daily, spending agonizing days.
Dozens of times a day, his mind would fill with thoughts of death, and the urge to act on them would boil over, but each time, he endured through self-harm and self-reproach, even biting his own limbs.

[Information 150: Heartpoison is not simply regret, but a mental contamination.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 91%]

Enduring, he entered information into the master detective’s touchpad.

[Information 151: Heartpoison is not simply regret, but a cognitive distortion.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 91%]

The master detective’s touchpad was also not in perfect condition.
While the text had returned to normal, it seemed to be expending all its power on that, as it remained discharged and turned off for most of the time, only intermittently coming on for a few minutes at best.

[Information 152: Heartpoison is not simply regret, but reality manipulation.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 92%]

Each time, he input and input again.
The inputted information was the essence he had deduced through guessing and guessing again while suffering from heartpoison, constantly jotting down notes.

[Information 231: Heartpoison does not immediately afflict upon entering the infinitely looping space. One becomes afflicted the moment they see their past and feel regret.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 93%]

It still stopped functioning for a month if he made three incorrect inputs.
Therefore, inputting took a really long time.

[Information 238: The Lee clan of Dangjin is not a family of occultists. They received their current power from an entity. The rest is just knowledge passed down through generations.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 94%]

Over time, this became his sole purpose in life.

[Information 267: The entity that granted power to the Lee clan of Dangjin is so powerful that even the Foundation cannot do anything about it.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 95%]

He suffers daily.
He contemplates information daily.
The information eventually veered into the realm of delusion, and he spent an endless amount of time writing them all down.

[Information 299: The victims of the Lee clan of Dangjin’s heartpoison become evil spirits, and this is the calamity.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 96%]

[Information 315: The souls transformed into calamities by the victims are sealed underneath the Lee clan of Dangjin’s land.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 97%]

[Information 347: Through the sealed victims, the Lee clan of Dangjin is able to ward off their own misfortune and unleash talents more exceptional than others.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 98%]

Though delusional, the endless delusions were mixed with truth, and the progress increased one by one.

[Information 398: The entity that granted power to the Lee clan of Dangjin is not benevolently helping them. It is merely a transaction to serve each other’s purposes.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 99%]

[Information 444: The moment the entity’s purpose in granting power to the Lee clan of Dangjin is achieved, a great calamity will befall the Earth.]
[The Missing Four: Progress 100%]
[Achievement 100%! Final hint!]
[Hint 10: First, do not be bound by preconceptions! And this is merely the first! They claim it was influenced by Russia and emerged, but in fact, it is a culture that emerged from them. There is no need to use their language. They use the language of truth, which humans cannot pronounce. Instead, it is sufficient to speak in the languages of the Earth, as they will understand!]

Finally, the end had arrived.
Carefully placing the master detective’s touchpad beside the monitor, he took the rope and headed to the bathroom.

“At last.”

He hung the rope from the ceiling, fashioning a noose.
Like a castaway in the desert longing for an oasis, he longed for death.
He had lived by his sense of duty as a detective, but having fulfilled his obligations, it was time to end his life.

“Resolver Seung-hoon Lee.”

He called out to someone from reality he had experienced a long, long time ago.
The name of someone who had stood firm like a pillar within his sense of duty, someone he believed would definitely resolve the problem.

“I leave the rest to you.”

His legs drooped, and his dangling body rapidly lost its vitality.
Eventually, his soul emerged and headed towards the elevator.

[“……”]

The elevator, with only the 4th floor button, plummeted downwards.
The destination was B444.
As the doors opened, the darkness filled with previous missing persons greeted Shin Se-hoon.

[“I! I am the most despicable!”]
[“No, me! I should never have been born! You’re better off than me!”]
[“There is no one as foolish and worthless as me!”]

The missing persons who had died addicted to heartpoison endlessly shouted that they were more despicable than each other, consumed by self-loathing.

[“Isolation, it seems.”]

The occult information he had researched about the Lee clan of Dangjin.
The ritual of isolation, where venomous insects are placed in a jar and made to devour each other until only one remains, containing all the venom.

[“Calamity’s isolation.”]

Shin Se-hoon’s body was gradually pulled into the darkness.
Right before entering, a final regret tormented him.

[“I wish I could smoke just one more cigarette.”]

He should have stocked up in advance.

He took out a cigarette from his pocket.
After lighting it, he placed it in the sand that had not completely vanished yet, in place of incense.

“You worked hard.”

Despite being able to escape his immediate suffering, he had chosen a much longer and more agonizing path to obtain more information.

‘It won’t turn on.’

Unfortunately, the master detective’s touchpad would not turn on.
It seemed to have completely drained its power after being overexerted in the space of heartpoison.

“Nevertheless, your suffering was not in vain.”

I saw it.
With this left eye, I saw the path of suffering and sacrifice he had walked.

[“Mr. Seung…hoon, space, interference, proper, conversation.”]

Sarang-a suddenly looked for me.
Her voice kept cutting out until she discharged and shut down.

“I’ll just start a bit earlier.”

Shin Se-hoon didn’t finish eating the dishes until the end, did he?
I ate them until the end.
That must be the difference that caused this change.

“Mr. Seung-hoon Lee’s Protector, please come to Exam Room 3.”

A woman’s voice rang out.
Opening the office door and stepping into the corridor, a hospital corridor with pristine white walls awaited me.

‘It was like this back then, too.’

Walking down the corridor, inhaling the pleasing scent of disinfectant alcohol and the unique hospital aroma, I found a child peeking through the slightly open door of Exam Room 3.

‘So that’s what I looked like.’

The feeling was different from seeing myself in a mirror or photo.
Was this when I was 7 years old? I’m not certain since the notebook effect in my mind isn’t functioning.

“Pardon? Could you clarify exactly what you mean?”

I heard the dearly missed voice of my father.

“Could you please explain in simpler terms?”

And the equally missed voice of my mother.

“In other words, this is Seung-hoon’s diagnosis. This is his MRI scan, and the development of his frontal and temporal lobes is significantly smaller compared to normal people. This means his ability to empathize with others will be lower than most.”

I also remember the composed voice of the doctor.

“You mentioned he beat a frog to death, right? And nonchalantly washed it to preserve it as a specimen?”
“Yes, yes.”
“And he dissected the neighbor’s pet rabbit too?”
“……Yes.”

The doctor recounted in detail the embarrassing misbehavior I had committed in my immature childhood.

“And he even assaulted other children to steal their snacks?”
“That’s correct.”
“You said he couldn’t empathize with fairy tales and only asked realistic questions, and his violent tendencies increased noticeably?”
“Yes.”
“With the MRI results and his usual conduct showing such symptoms, there is only one possibility.”

The doctor spoke.

“It’s called antisocial personality disorder.”

This is what I remember.

“In other words, a psychopath.”

It was the first time my parents cried.