The World was flustered.
The aftershocks of joy that had blanketed the entire universe still lingered, drifting like residual heat between the galaxies.
The World gazed at Han Saetbit amid that vast wave of emotion.
He was small, fragile, and dazzlingly brilliant.
But within that brilliance, he was suffering.
His furrowed brow and pained expression were all too vivid.
At the sight, The World felt a pain as if its nonexistent heart were tearing apart.
It wasn't physical agony, but a sensation of its very essence plummeting.
The World's eyes trembled quietly as it peered into his face.
Within them, countless stars reflected, and every one of those stars dimmed at once.
The World realized.
Its own joy had hurt Han Saetbit.
For The World, this was an atrocity too horrific to even imagine.
Han Saetbit being in pain was tantamount to The World itself breathing wrong.
The World was afraid.
If it saw him suffering again, even its infinite existence might not endure it.
So The World resolved.
Such a thing must never happen again.
And it thought.
Then, the first thing that needed to change was The World itself.
The World began to breathe in slowly, oh so carefully.
Haaaaah—
With every inhale, remnants of countless stars were reborn, galaxies twisted into new forms and bloomed.
Hooooh—
With every exhale, the orbits of light gently unraveled, and tiny lives awakened in the darkness.
Each of The World's breaths became the pulse of the entire universe.
Haaaaah—
Hooooh—
Its breathing grew steadily deeper.
From that vibration, thousands of superclusters formed, and innumerable lives were born.
Yet amid that grand creation, The World kept its gaze fixed only on Han Saetbit's face.
As his expression softened into peace, The World let out a sigh of relief.
As time passed and its breaths grew rougher, The World's presence gradually faded.
The World's power hadn't weakened.
Just as a nation's army scattering from the capital to the provinces didn't diminish the nation's strength, its consciousness—once concentrated in one point—was simply dispersing slowly.
To stay by Han Saetbit's side, to lessen the burden he felt, The World made itself faint.
The World dispersed itself.
But still, it was all The World.
Its form had changed, but its essence remained the same.
Like how blood circulating from the heart throughout the body was still part of the life.
Its power hadn't diminished in the slightest; it merely existed in another form.
By the time the final breath ended, The World finally knew.
That Han Saetbit was no longer in pain.
That it had become small enough to stay by his side.
That realization was another joy for The World.
The entire universe trembled gently, distant stars from other dimensions rippling like waves.
The World wanted to cheer right then and there.
To burst with happiness and shout it across the universe.
Of course, it held back.
It didn't want to hurt him like before.
The World slowly, gently swept through the void, as if cradling a most precious gem.
Within it, only Han Saetbit existed.
Still not enough...
The World's thoughts echoed softly through the vacuum.
The fragments of The World, dispersed by its own will, heard those words.
And shared a single consciousness once more.
The World didn't stop.
It could not tolerate even a single blemish on its most beloved being.
It wished for all of him to be perfect.
His name, his breath, every single day in his memories.
The World thought earnestly.
Compared to such radiant feats, what Han Saetbit enjoyed was far too meager.
From The World's perspective, his possessions, fame, rights—everything was an absurd imbalance.
He had saved the world, yet The World itself hadn't even recognized it.
That was unfair.
No matter how small the being, The World had to treat him with perfect fairness.
So The World moved.
Light bent ever so slightly, the threads of time rewove.
Past and future intersected, new sentences inscribed on the underside of the world.
To correct this unfair reality, The World moved quietly but resolutely.
Its still-immense will crossed through space and vanished leisurely.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
An Anomaly is a phenomenon or entity that defies human reason and common sense.
There are Anomalies that harm humans not at all, or even help them, but most are hostile to humanity.
Thus, humanity has long established organizations and groups to survive Anomalies, study them, and counter them.
At the center today stands the International Anomalous Entity Management Organization, commonly called the Management Bureau.
Independent groups like the Vatican or the Mage Tower exist for Anomaly management, but none match the Management Bureau in scale or influence.
Most nations host Management Bureau branches domestically, making its influence practically supranational.
Underpinning it all is the Management Bureau's overwhelming Anomaly comprehension and related technology.
But even the Management Bureau hadn't fully grasped the recent large-scale incident.
"What the hell is going on!?"
"We still haven't identified the cause! A massive perception and history alteration has struck all of humanity! Estimated level is 7!"
A level 7 was something the Management Bureau could handle alone.
This shouldn't have caused such chaos.
The problems boiled down to five key issues.
One.
"What's the scope of the alteration?"
"Uh... It seems to block names containing the syllables 'Han', 'Saet', or 'Bit'?"
"...What?"
Perception alteration was one thing, but history alteration was blatant reality manipulation.
A fairly advanced form, at that.
Even high-ranking Anomalies with significant authority hesitated to use such resource-intensive history alteration lightly.
'And they're wasting that on just changing names? What kind of bastard...'
Two.
"Unknown Anomaly detection impossible!"
"...What level gear did you use?"
"Level 8!"
'Fuck, should I write my will right now?'
"Anyone who hasn't written their will, grab some paper here."
"Wow, Team Leader's the best!"
The Unknown Anomaly—the culprit behind this massive alteration—couldn't be observed even with level 8 equipment.
This meant its minimum grade was level 9 or higher.
Even in such a situation, the Management Bureau agents who avoided panic and lightened the mood with jokes proved their top-tier expertise in itself.
Three.
"Anomalous Psychology team?"
"No clue. Just speculation that the altered syllables form a Korean name..."
"Yeah, I didn't expect much anyway."
Anomalies are hard to understand, but not incomprehensible.
The approach called Anomalous Psychology starts from the premise that an Anomaly's psyche or rules are merely twisted, yet possess their own rationality.
But this phenomenon defied Anomalous Psychology entirely.
Four.
"Range?"
"..."
"What, worldwide, right? Hey, why the long face?"
"The universe..."
"What?"
"The entire universe, maybe even beyond..."
"Uh... so if HQ tells us to handle it, we might have to go all the way to Andromeda? And that's in the lucky scenario?"
"Fuck yeah!"
"Okay, got it. I'm off to die~"
"Team Leader, any wills left over there?"
"Nope."
"What's an orphan doing with a will? Just die clean."
"Hing."
I'll skip the explanations.
Five.
"'System' still hasn't woken up?"
"Seems connected to this massive alteration."
System.
One of the Management Bureau's core technologies: an artificial Anomaly fusing Anomalies and science.
Its main abilities include precognition of level 7+ Anomaly phenomena and, theoretically, resistance to level 10 contamination for short periods.
System's core role is analyzing Anomalies to produce high-level intel.
Specifically, risk levels, subjugation/isolation difficulty, utilization potential, expected side effects—data for tactical and strategic decisions.
So useful, it's actively employed across all Management Bureau departments.
Anomaly detection, prediction, analysis, recording, even policy support.
Half the reason the modern Management Bureau exists is thanks to System.
But its dependency was excessively high.
The moment System went offline for maintenance or replacement, parts of the Bureau ground to a halt.
Reporting slowed, prediction nets dulled, field judgments grew unstable.
'The Management Bureau without System is worthless' wasn't just empty talk.
"No volatility so far?"
"Yes, exactly the same as initial readings. No anomalous changes in any metrics yet."
"Haa... Good. Report any changes immediately."
"Yep."
As the brief exchange ended, the room filled once more with the low, heavy hum of machinery.
The Management Bureau's lights beyond the glass never dimmed.