A very tender life sentence.

It was a truly magnificent pretext. Imprisoning things that weren't human, dissecting them, proving their utility, and issuing certificates of guarantee. The Foundation called that entire process a devotion to humanity. People were relieved, employees received their salaries, and inside the containment cells, something cried again today.
ㅤ
Then one day, a newly brought-in anomaly became help me please save me helpmemomwhat*is?thisbleeeergh.
ㅤ And then the Foundation died.
A poor little lamb
□
Morning no longer comes to the Foundation.
Nevertheless, Lee Hwan goes to work every day.
To be precise, he pretends to go to work. He puts on his crumpled lab coat, checks a watch that has stopped, and sits in his office after passing through corridors whose lengths have changed since yesterday. There is no power, no water, and no boss to sign off on anything. Everyone except himself is dead. Even so, he diligently keeps a research log.
Number of survivors today: 3.
Number of survivors yesterday: 3.
Number of survivors the day before: 3.
Lee Hwan traced over the number 3 three times.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound of water droplets falling from the ceiling. The smell of damp paper. Decay progressing slowly somewhere. The dead Foundation was rotting away faithfully today.
That was when Nemo visited.
A silver name tag dangled from his long, black fingers. Nemo held it out as if he had discovered a treasure.
Lee Hwan looked at the name tag.
Park Seo-jin. Senior Researcher.
The person who had pinned his employee ID on him on his first day. Two sugars in her coffee. Her left eye crinkled first when she laughed, and she always called her family before heading home.
Release Date 2026.10.19 / Last Updated 2026.10.21