Gong Isu ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) (age unknown, estimated early 30s)
Designation Number: IPE-1786
Alias: Bubblehead
Classification: Yellow Level 3
Special Notes: Class 7 Close Encounter (Type T).
Friendly / Holds Level 3 or above / Mental Contamination Level 8.
Height 1.6 m, Weight 78 kg. (Height and weight must be confirmed on attached page 2) Human male of Korean nationality.
Recorded birth year is 2010, making legal age at hospitalization 7. However, at the time of admission he already displayed the appearance of someone in their late twenties along with corresponding speech and intellectual abilities.
The patient himself claims to be a time traveler. He has experienced dozens of loops between 2023 and 2024, and claims to have “escaped” to past timelines.
To verify his claims, a genetic test was conducted with IPE-1786-2 (the person the patient claims to be his parent), but due to significant mutations in the patient’s genome, no definitive kinship could be established.
Prior to admission, he operated in the outskirts of Paju for two years under the guise of a “fixer.” He has been confirmed to possess Level 3 paranormal abilities. Primary abilities are telepathy, physical enhancement (Type C), and surreal mechanical engineering skill that cannot be replicated or reproduced (even with identical materials and methods). Additionally, limited precognition has been confirmed (*patient claims the information comes directly from future experience / see attached interview on page 4).
Special Notes
If a “corner” with an internal angle of 120° or less exists within a three-meter radius centered on the patient’s body, a Level 1 anomaly manifests.
Anomalies occur in the following sequence:
Additional Precautions
The patient’s mental contamination is at a critical level. Long interviews risk contagion of the patient’s ideology to the interviewer. Exercise extreme caution.
The patient claims to have visited IPE-45 (commonly called Cheonggeumdang) more than three times.
The patient refers to IPE-1786-3 as “the dog.”
It takes between 30 and 90 minutes for full realization of IPE-1786-3.
If the patient is sufficiently removed from any “corner,” manifestation of IPE-1786-3 is halted and the in-progress entity dissipates.
If multiple “corners” exist near the patient, IPE-1786-3 manifests in equal number to the corners.
IPE-1786-3 secretes a Level 1 “anomalous substance,” designated IPE-1786-4.
“Well, there sure are a lot of detailed settings.”
The folder contained a host of absurd entries, but in summary:
First, this Gong Isu fellow is a time traveler.
Although his experience differs in form from mine, he has repeatedly relived the story and events of this game.
“But this lousy world view is not friendly to time travelers.”
At the corners of time dwell grotesque creatures with ecologies beyond human description—no, calling them creatures is misleading. In any case, surreal monsters exist.
These are the surreal entities the hospital refers to as IPE-1786-3, the Tindalos Hound.
They roam the passages of time, moving from one temporal corner to another, and they do not forgive those who trespass through their domain.
“The problem is that to travel through time, one must pass through their territory.”
Once you set foot there even once, it’s over. They transcend time and space to hunt intruders forever.
Perhaps because they dwell at the corners between moments, they only appear at corners with internal angles of 120° or less.
Thus, if you shelter in a perfectly rounded room with no corners, you can evade their pursuit—at least temporarily.
“But does just making the room round really solve the problem?”
The human body has corners too, and clothes and other objects can create edges. Yet these creatures apparently cannot emerge from corners below a certain size, so sealing the wall and floor corners is enough to prevent their appearance.
“Well, that’s the game’s setting, so I have little to argue.”
Setting aside the details of this Gong Isu or Bubblehead fellow, disguising myself as Yi Haseo was a good choice.
He is such an unusual and distinctive character that I worried the disguise would be obvious, but—
“Doctor, haven’t you seemed a bit off today?”
“Well, I’d be off for a day or two before noticing today specifically.”
“True, we’ll just chalk it up to being odd today too.”
I heard snickering from behind.
The security guards assigned to each zone of the secure ward.
Even if I appear somewhat strange, Yi Haseo is naturally odd—so they let it slide.
This is the secure ward corridor of Paju Central Hospital.
Officially, it is a facility to “protect” patients with surreal contagious diseases or those who pose a risk of harming themselves or others supernaturally, but its real purpose is not protection.
Containment and isolation.
They lock up entities too surreal for the public to handle and analyze their paranormal abilities and issues.
To what end?
The game’s setting does not specify, but there are many possibilities.
The Round Room is unique here, but there are other similar facilities: the Foreign Authority’s “Special Quarters,” Helistic’s “Zone C,” Cure’s “Surreal Entity Research Institute,” and so on.
Research in such isolation facilities generally focuses on the reproducibility and simulation of paranormal abilities or surreal events.
“In the end, they are studying whether they can popularize or mass-produce these abilities.”
I had been walking for quite some time, but the destination was still far off.
A vast pyramid-like interior with confusing branching corridors and three-dimensional layouts.
A monotonous design intended to impair cognition, with gentle ramps replacing stairs to induce disorientation.
Unaware, one might move from the first floor to the third, then from the third to the second.
Just the insane layout makes it clear they want to imprison their “patients” rather than protect them.
“Even if you escape your cell, you’ll keep wandering the labyrinth.”
But I have walked these halls several times before.
I know the layout so well I can predict routes by shape alone, without consulting a map. Familiar atmosphere, familiar faces.
“Ah, here.”
Isolation methods vary by the subject’s danger level. This room holds an object, not a person.
It is locked to prevent removal, but items here can be withdrawn according to the security clearance on an ID card.
Beep—
The item here is...
Tabula Rasa
Designation Number: IPE-273
Alias: blank slate
Classification: Yellow Level 6
Special Notes: Artifact B-rank.
A thin, flat mechanical device measuring 10 cm by 15 cm.
A thin metal plate densely affixed with small grooves and complex mechanisms (alloy confirmed: 85% copper and three unidentified elements).
Five 3 cm metal tubes are arranged along the bottom edge of the plate.
When these five tubes contact a living skull and are “activated,” flexible metal needles spring out and induce permanent changes in the subject’s brain (see attached page 2).
Thirty-nine experiments attempted to determine its operation and effects, but a clear mechanism could not be defined.
However, in experiments, subjects experienced on nineteen occasions (see attached page 3 for methods and subject details).
The manner and scope of memory deletion varied each time, but in two cases the subject’s trauma and obsessive behavior were precisely alleviated.
Separately, there were twelve fatalities, ten instances of severe cognitive decline, three cases of physical disability, two cases of brain death, three paranormal manifestations, and nine cases with no effect.
Ongoing experimentation and analysis are required to determine its exact purpose and operation.
Request for dismantling was rejected by resolution.
Paju Central Hospital does not fully understand this device’s purpose, but I do. It is an object of the great Edenians that removes madness.
“Hmm.”
But honestly, I don’t know how to use it either. It requires a dedicated trait to operate.
“Anyway, since I previously obtained the parasite-knowledge device, maybe that will help.”
I haven’t tested it properly yet, but with a bit more research I might uncover its use.
“I don’t know. In any case, nothing to lose by taking it.”
An exit record will show under Yi Haseo’s name, but she will be pleased that someone impersonated her to do such a dangerous deed.
There is nothing else to take.
I would like to bring more, but some items here cause issues with game progression.
Some induce freezing glitches that hang the entire game or bizarre green noise before crashing.
“Usually restarting the game fixed it, but I don’t know how to restart this world.”
Better not touch those.
Anyway, a few more steps from the Tabula Rasa room brings me to the room I sought.
A room with a perfectly circular door, unlike any other.
Nobody guards this room either.
The person inside did not enter by force, but of their own volition.
I knocked on the door several times and said,
“Mr. Gong Isu, are you there?”
“.......”
I sensed movement but there was no answer.
After several more knocks, the response was the same. I sighed, ended the disguise, and returned to my original appearance.
“I am the Sacrificial Feast.”
“Get away from me!”
A barely audible reply. But it was not satisfactory.
“I came to ask you something.”
“Don’t come near me! Don’t speak to me and don’t try to look at me!”
“Why not?”
“Don’t think of me! Don’t remember my words! Don’t attempt to describe my appearance!”
He was in a very bad state.
“They are watching! The Sacrificial Feast! The Sacrificial Feast! I hate it now! I don’t want to be observed! Let me be forgotten in peace!”
A thud.
“Uaaaah!! Observation! Observation has begun! They, they are watching me! They are reading my thoughts!”
“What kind of bullshit is that?”
Silence for a moment.
I felt Gong Isu approach the door.
“Hey, hey, hey!”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“You... by any chance, is your name Kim Sinhwa?”
Gong Isu had clearly been confined in this room for years. Hearing my name from his mouth was a bizarre situation, yet somehow it did not feel entirely impossible.
That’s right. If he truly came from the future, he could know my name.
Or perhaps he heard it from the hospital’s doctors or researchers who had outside information.
I answered calmly.
“That is correct.”
A horrific scream echoed from inside the room. It was a spine-chilling cry beyond description in any language I know.
