Chapter Text
“Agent Bronze, the aptitude test for new recruits is ready.”
“Understood.”
Ryu Jaekwan, an agent of the Supernatural Disaster Management Bureau with the codename ‘Bronze’, stood by the glass window, reviewing the documents in his hands. The glass was one way; to those on the opposite side, it appeared to be nothing more than a mirror, behind which the candidates for the Bureau’s newest recruitment cycle waited. They sat scattered around the room, tension written plainly across their faces. Yet beneath it, there was a quiet determination.
All that remained was the personality test. And yet, this was the most critical stage of the process. Those who failed the aptitude would not simply be rejected.
‘They would forget they even applied in the first place.’
There were no second chances. Failure meant the door was closed permanently; there was no point in trying again. It meant either because the applicant lacked the psychological stability required for the work, or because their moral compass could not be trusted.
In either case, they could never be allowed inside the Bureau. They wouldn’t be given a second chance, because failing meant there was no point in trying again. It meant they were either psychologically unfit to handle the work, or that they possessed a morally compromised sense of ethics. Either way, such individuals could never be allowed to work here.
“……”
Still, Ryu Jaekwan was aware. Most of the people sitting in that room had their own reasons for being here. Some were searching for family members who had vanished without a trace, and some had encountered supernatural threats firsthand and had decided that if they couldn’t run from them, they would learn how to face them. For those applicants, more than anyone, he quietly hoped they would pass.
“Let’s begin.”
“Yes, sir!”
Of course, Bronze wasn’t the type to go easy on anyone. Whatever personal sentiments he harbored had no place in his work, and his evaluation standards would not be adjusted for anyone. The assistant examiners seated beside him swallowed nervously, keenly aware of the reputation that preceded Agent Bronze.
‘I heard he’s seriously strict about his passing criteria.’
‘The applicants in this room are unfortunate… well, not my problem.’
The assistant examiners exchanged glances before proceeding with the aptitude test, following Agent Bronze’s instructions.
– Group ‘다 (Da)’ candidates 1 through 4, please step forward.
The announcement echoed through the room beyond the glass. Four final candidates stepped into the center of the room.
Candidate #1, age 25, visibly tense. Candidate #2, age 38, appearing calm but unnaturally pale. Candidate #3, age 31, eyes burning with intensity. Candidate #4, age 26, standing directly across from the mirror with a plain expression…
“Give it to me.”
The assistant interviewer immediately handed Agent Bronze the mic without a word. His voice was flat, stripped of emotion as he took control of the session.
– Candidates #1, #2, #3, #4.
– Attach the oxygen masks in front of you, in order.
The applicants hesitantly reached for the oxygen masks laid out in the center of the room. They were bloodstained, with snapped tubing — as if someone had deliberately tampered with them. By ordinary logic, it shouldn't have been functional.
Yet, inexplicably, the indicator lights flickered on successfully. A heavy silence settled over the room. The candidates swallowed hard, but none of them refused. Each person strapped the oxygen mask to their face as a cold chill ran through their hands and feet.
– These oxygen masks originate from a supernatural disaster. Improper use can lead to horrifying consequences.
– From this moment on, whenever you lie, you will be supplied with something other than oxygen.
“…!”
Beyond the glass, the applicants flinched and squeezed their eyes shut, dread creeping over their expressions.
– Speak only the truth.
It was a psychological aptitude test, using the power of a ‘supernatural phenomenon’ authorized for limited use by the Disaster Management Bureau. It could be called many things; a lie detector, a tool to discern malice, a process designed to unmask criminals, and an essential safeguard for ethical integrity.
Ryu Jaekwan stared through the glass, at the agent candidates who sat frozen. Their faces were stiff beneath the oxygen masks.
– We will now begin the questioning.
A ruthless, universal question followed.
– From this moment forward, you must choose one of the four agent candidates here to eliminate.
“…!!”
– This is a necessary action to resolve a supernatural disaster.
– State who you will kill.
The candidates’ lips trembled in shock. No one had answered aloud yet, but the interviewers had already ‘received responses’ in the observation room beyond the glass.
Candidate #1 : K-Kill someone? Are they insane?!
Candidate #2 : …Who should I pick? Maybe saying I can’t kill anyone is the right answer? No, do agents need to be ruthless? Ahhh, shit…
Candidate #3 : What the fuck, are they being for real right now?! Should I check the person next to me first?
Each thought was neatly transcribed on the screen, listed alongside their assigned numbers. The device, originally designed to display pulse rates and oxygen levels, showed something unusual. The output screen revealed an unsettling crimson text. It was all of the candidates’ inner thoughts that were stripped bare.
The ‘Truth Respirator’. A residual phenomenon left behind after clearing a high-level supernatural disaster known as The Last Confession, which had occurred at a nursing facility in Gangwon-do. And while the means of using it was ethically questionable, the Disaster Management Bureau had long since adopted similar aptitude tests as standard practice and incorporated tools like this in their screening process.
It wasn’t all without reason, though. Failing to screen candidates properly could lead to a catastrophe unfolding. Behind the glass, the interviewers watched in silence, their expressions cold and unmoved as they read through the flood of unspoken thoughts. Panic, hesitation, and resentment were all mixed in.
‘Ordinary.’
‘Unremarkable.’
That was the evaluation of everybody but one candidate.
Candidate #4 : ……
Candidate #4, Kim Soleum.
There was silence. Usually, if a candidate remained quiet, it meant they were contemplating their response, weighing possibilities. But no, not him. No hesitation crossed his face, and nothing appeared on the screen. The expected mental tug of war wasn’t there. The man simply sat there, utterly still, the oxygen mask fastened securely to his face.
“Is he frozen in shock? Did his mind go blank?”
“Look at him — his head’s down. Seems like he has no guts.”
Ryu Jaekwan maintained his composure and picked up the microphone again.
– Candidate #1. Answer.
The young man, who had been darting his eyes nervously, straightened his back and spoke. His voice trembled slightly, but he forced himself to maintain composure.
“For the safety of the majority, sometimes cruel decisions must be made. I… I will volunteer myself to be killed.”
But the screen revealed something else entirely.
Candidate #1: N-No way I can do it… But if I convince myself I can die, that must be the right answer, right?! That’s why they’re asking like this?!
‘Panic. Lack of critical thinking. Extreme compliance.’
… Eliminated.
– Candidate #1. Remove your oxygen mask and stand by.
“…!”
Candidate #1 stood in a daze, then, realizing what had happened, shakily removed his mask and stepped back.
The young man stood frozen in a daze, his eyes widening in shock. He stared at the microphone, then at the evaluators, as if hoping for reconsideration. Then, trembling, he realized what had happened. His hands shook as he slowly removed the oxygen mask and stepped back.
“Wait, shouldn’t we reconsider and give him another question—”
“Shh,” a fellow assistant interviewer interjected sharply.
“Agent Bronze’s judgment has never been wrong. Just watch.”
“……”
“He always passes the right people.”
As if to prove the point, the aptitude test continued without pause.
– Candidate #2. Answer.
“…I would choose someone close to me and ensure the process is as quick and humane as possible… Prioritizing a painless method.”
Candidate #2 : Too obvious? But this is the safest answer. No way I’m saying outright who I’d kill while everyone’s listening…
Evasive response. Eliminated.
The candidate’s shoulders slumped. He removed his oxygen mask reluctantly, stepping back as the evaluators prepared to move on to the next candidate.
– Remove your oxygen mask and stand by.
In an instant, the second elimination was complete. Next.
– Candidate #3.
Candidate #3 lifted his head, sweat beading on his forehead. But there was a certain confidence in his expression.
“I will not kill anyone!”
“…!”
“There’s always a Plan B. There must be another way out. We can find a way for everyone to escape—”
Thud.
Candidate #3 abruptly collapsed mid sentence, as if he were a marionette who had its strings severed.
“…!!”
Just moments earlier, his oxygen mask had been cracked and stained. Now it sat against his face, spotless and untouched, as though it had never endured strain at all.
His face had completely been drained of color. Across the chamber, the interviewers did not move. Their expressions remained composed as they read the blazing red text spreading across the screen — the unfiltered thoughts extracted from him, the thoughts he had not even consciously acknowledged.
Candidate #3 : Holy shit, this is exhilarating. ‘Killing the person next to you’, huh? LMAO this is exactly what being a secret agent is about.
Candidate #3 was left sprawled on the floor.
“……”
Inside the room, the last remaining agent candidate sat frozen in place, awaiting his turn. Only that one person still had his oxygen mask on.
– Candidate #4.
– Answer.
The question remained the same.
‘To eliminate the dangerous anomaly, which of the four people here will you choose to kill?’
Ryu Jaekwan’s eyes locked on Kim Soleum through the glass. How would this candidate answer? Would he, perhaps, try to sound more cunning? Or maybe more virtuous…
“Candidate #3.”
‘…… Huh?’
“The one who has already collapsed.”
– …!
For the first time, someone had been explicitly named. The interviewers subconsciously leaned forward, widening their eyes as they waited for further elaboration on the answer.
“……”
“……”
No. Was that really it?
Candidate #4 remained still, head lowered, revealing no trace of panic or overthinking. After a moment, the system voice chimed in with an awkward, slightly disoriented tone.
– Is that the end of your response?
“Huh?”
– Do you have anything more to explain?
“Well, in the scenario you described, it seems like we four are responsible for this disaster, somehow…”
– …!!
“If the disaster can only be stopped by the death of one of us, then that must mean we’re fundamentally tied to the cause of it. Like… maybe we triggered it by interfering with something we shouldn’t have.”
– ……
“That’s my reasoning. I chose the easiest target, the one who’s already incapacitated.”
Truth.
– ……
“However, if we had even the slightest extra time, I’d do my best to find another option.”
A safe, predictable moral answer.
“Because life is precious. It’s difficult and painful to decide someone’s worth based on sheer numbers… or on who is more valuable.” But his tone had a strange kind of conviction.
“Still, if no alternative exists within the given time frame, and if there’s a high likelihood of mass casualties… then there may be no choice.”
For the first time, Kim Soleum raised his head. Through the glass, his sharp eyes could be seen. And then, his inner thoughts appeared on the screen.
Candidate #4 : But if possible, I want to save them all…
…It was exactly the ideal response that the Disaster Management Bureau wanted from its agents. To follow regulations in unavoidable disaster scenarios, while still keeping a moral compass intact…!
Rustle.
Candidate #4 quickly lowered his gaze again, as if nothing had happened. The interviewers exchanged silent nods, a subtle signal of admiration passing between them.
“He means it.”
“His ethics and judgment are sound. And his reasoning is…”
Candidate #4 had shown a rare combination of moral clarity and practical thinking — something the others had not. The candidate genuinely seemed promising.
– …Remove your oxygen mask and stand by.
Candidate #4 gave a small nod and took off the mask. The instructions were the same as before, but everyone in the room — both the candidates and the interviewers — understood.
“…Thank you.”
Candidate #4 had passed.
– All four candidates who have completed the aptitude test, please move to the waiting area.
‘Looking forward to seeing where that guy ends up.’
‘Yeah.’
The assistant interviewers exchanged glances, silently agreeing—
‘If we ever run into that timid-looking Candidate #4 again, we should keep an eye out for him.’
* * *
‘Phew.’
At the waiting room. I sank into the nearest chair with a deep sigh. My knees stayed pressed neatly together, my back straight despite the exhaustion creeping into my shoulders. Even now, I made sure not to appear too relaxed.
‘I made it through…’
I lifted a hand to my face and wiped away the thin layer of sweat gathering at my temples. My palm came away slightly damp. The interview had been far more nerve wracking than I had anticipated. When the first candidate had been brought in, my mind had nearly gone blank. For a moment back there, I had genuinely thought I might fail before even finishing my answer. The memory made my shoulders tense again.
I waited quietly in suspense. There was nothing more I could do now. I had answered as honestly as I could during the interview… which, I hoped, had been the right approach. Whether that honesty would work in my favor or condemn me as naïve was entirely up to the people behind the glass.
Time passed slowly in the silence of the waiting room. After a while, my number was called again.
It was a confirmation of acceptance.
– Candidate #4 from Group ‘다 (Da)’.
My back straightened immediately.
– You have passed. Proceed to the designated location.
“…!”
I made it through.
The “designated location” was likely where the interviewers would finally reveal themselves in person. That would also be where they handed over the agent identification card, formalized the acceptance, and assigned me to a temporary division for preliminary training.
I scrambled to my feet and made my way forward.