Chapter 70: Destiny Part 4

There was once a baker.

He dreamed of creating bread that could make anyone who ate it truly happy.

His pure heart was rewarded when a passing star granted his wish.

The star gave him the skill to create any flavor he desired.

With this newfound ability, the baker made countless delectable breads: candies that melted in the mouth, pastries with the perfect sweetness, and bread that offered a satisfying fullness with a single bite.

People who ate his creations were delighted—though only for a moment.

Their happiness faded quickly, replaced by a deep yearning.

They longed for more of the bread that gave them fleeting joy, becoming trapped in the cycle of seeking that momentary bliss.

Contrary to the baker’s kind intentions, his bread brought lasting discontent instead of enduring happiness.

This realization tormented the baker.

But he did not give up.

He was determined to share the taste of happiness with the world.

He kneaded dough, baked, and experimented countless times, honing his craft to perfection.

As time passed, he reached a level of mastery that seemed almost otherworldly.

Yet, despite his unmatched skills, he still could not create a bread that maintained happiness even after being eaten.

***

One day, an idea struck him.

“Of course! I’ve been forgetting something—happiness is different for everyone!”

Instead of trying to make a bread that made everyone happy, he decided to create bread that reflected each person’s unique sense of happiness.

He knew how to do it.

‘I’ll create bread that believes it is happy itself. Then, that happiness can be passed to the person who eats it.’

The baker began crafting bread that looked just like each of his customers.

If the bread could realize its own happiness, it would transfer that feeling to the person who ate it.

Thus, the “Baker of Happiness” was born.

But there was a problem.

The bread, upon being created, was filled with despair.

It knew it was destined to be eaten.

The baker’s skill at mimicking humans was so extraordinary that the bread not only looked human but also felt human emotions.

It wished to live as its original did.

However, the baker had no interest in the bread’s feelings.

His sole focus was on achieving the taste of happiness, ignoring the despair of his creations.

This disregard made the bread’s existence even more tragic.

Knowing they were born only to die, the bread longed for happiness.

***

One day, a thought occurred to one of the loaves.

‘What if, before my original eats me, I eat them instead? Wouldn’t that make me happy? After all, no one would notice the difference between us.’

The bread shared this idea through the baker’s dough.

Together, they began planning to achieve happiness.

And thus, the “Unfortunate Jam-Bread People” were born.

***

Amon closed the tablet after reading the story.

“Well, that was interesting,” he said.

He handed the tablet back to the security chief of Lloyd & Life.

The chief slipped it into his coat pocket.

The two walked side by side through the company’s halls.

The entire facility was on lockdown.

Amon had just decapitated a “Jam-Bread Person” who had been masquerading as a guide.

The company responded by sealing all exits.

Employees, though startled, complied without question—this wasn’t the first such incident.

Now, Amon was assisting as a collaborator, helping to identify and eliminate Jam-Bread People.

His unusual authority as an outsider in such a sensitive situation was easily explained.

“I can tell the difference between a human and a Jam-Bread Person. It’s best if you just let me help,” Amon had said.

“And why should we trust you?” the security chief had replied.

“I’ve already killed 20 Jam-Bread People on my way to this office,” Amon retorted. “If that’s not enough for you, I can leave. Whether this place turns into a dungeon or not is none of my concern.”

The matter had been settled after a direct negotiation with the company’s president. After all, Lloyd & Life stood to lose far more than Amon.

Eventually, the chairman promised compensation to Reketio Corporation and officially requested Amon’s assistance.

It was only after accepting the chairman’s request that Amon let out a sigh of relief.

‘Whew. What would I have done if they actually told me to leave?’

Though Amon appeared confident and composed in front of the chairman, in reality, he was silently praying that his offer wouldn’t be rejected.

To others, Amon’s help seemed like an act of pure goodwill.

But there was another motive behind it.

After all, why else would Cassie have sent Amon ahead of time? There had to be some benefit to be gained here.

Even Amon himself didn’t know what that benefit was, making it appear as though his intentions were entirely altruistic.

With the security chief by his side, Amon began “cleaning up” the company.

At first, the security chief distrusted Amon.

However, by the time Amon had identified over seventy Jam-Bread People, the chief began to believe in him.

As evidence of this trust, after finishing up in the server room, the security chief asked Amon while heading to the next department:

“Do you have some kind of secret method for identifying them?”

A question born out of faith in Amon’s abilities.

According to Amon, Jam-Bread People couldn’t be distinguished by their appearance.

They weren’t true entities but creations of an entity, which meant they gave off almost no mystical energy.

There were only two ways to identify them: checking CCTV footage or testing their blood.

Even then, these methods could fail if the Jam-Bread People had prepared countermeasures in advance.

Yet Amon could simply glance at someone and identify them all.

Naturally, the chief was curious to know the secret behind this ability.

The promise of adequate compensation was a bonus.

Unfortunately, Amon had no “method.”

With a faint, wry smile, Amon replied, “It’s not a method—it’s an ability.”

He lightly tapped his right temple, referring to what he now called “Saan,” his special eye.

Through Saan, the Jam-Bread People looked completely different from ordinary humans.

Regular humans, regardless of their condition, had cracks in their forms.

The closer they were to death, the larger these cracks became, or their souls appeared increasingly unstable.

Jam-Bread People, however, had cracks that oozed jam instead of the usual visual distortions.

It was a phenomenon distinct from the regenerating and disassembling nature of monsters like the “White Dawn.”

When Amon first encountered a guide who appeared unusual, he was uncertain.

But recalling Cassie’s advice confirmed his suspicions.

Jam-Bread People leak jam.

That was the secret behind Amon’s ability to distinguish them.

“My eye is related to entities. It’s… a bit special,” Amon explained.

The security chief studied Amon’s eye closely before nodding.

It wasn’t a power he’d heard of before, but in a world like this, the unknown was far more common than the known.

Powers like Amon’s, while rare, weren’t beyond belief.

***

From that point on, the security chief and Amon worked together to clean up the company.

On rare occasions, when an entire department was replaced by Jam-Bread People, Amon would personally wield his sword.

After one such encounter, the security chief couldn’t help but be impressed.

“I heard you were sent by Reketio. Are you their head of security?”

“No.”

“Then maybe a department chief?”

“Nope. Think of me as an external consultant.”

He considered calling himself a mercenary but decided against it, sticking to a more diplomatic term.

It wasn’t far from the truth.

Accompanied by the security team, the two continued scouring the company for Jam-Bread People.

The building soon filled with the sweet scent of strawberry jam.

Occasionally, there were traces of grape or chocolate jam as well.

Before long, only Section 3, where the Jam-Bread escape had started, remained to be cleaned.

“Can I go in here?” Amon asked the security chief.

Section 3 was a restricted area—a high-security zone of the company.

Amon’s question implied whether there would be any issues with him entering.

The security chief granted permission without hesitation.

“After all the help you’ve given us, not trusting you now would be foolish.”

The chief even suggested that Amon should take the chance to meet the baker in person.

With a faint smirk, Amon accepted the suggestion, and they entered Section 3 together.

“How does it look?” the security chief asked.

Amon shrugged.

“I don’t see any humans.”

To Amon’s eyes, every person in sight was leaking jam.

It seemed the area had already been overrun, as it was the starting point of the escape.

“Are you certain?”

The security chief sought confirmation, and Amon nodded.

Upon receiving Amon’s assurance, the security chief immediately armed himself.

Clink-clank.

Mechanical sounds emanated from the left side of the chief’s body as a mini-gun emerged from beneath his coat.

“Then I’ll take care of all of them.”

Brrrttt!

The mini-gun roared, unleashing a barrage of bullets.

Jam exploded everywhere, creating a surreal and dreamlike scene.

Amon simply stood and watched in silence.

‘I guess I wasn’t needed here,’ he thought.

The security chief single-handedly cleared out Section 3.

Once the area was secure, the team members were tasked with cleaning up the remains—no longer bodies but crumbs and jam stains.

The chief and Amon then headed toward the underground area where the baker was said to be.

***

While waiting for the elevator, the security chief casually picked up a piece of fallen bread and took a bite.

Watching this, Amon asked, “How does it taste?”

“Delicious. I don’t know if it’s the taste of happiness, but it’s certainly the best bread I’ve ever eaten.”

“You seem rather familiar with situations like this.”

“Escapes like this aren’t uncommon here. This isn’t even the first time the baker’s creations have escaped. Of course, this is the first time they’ve infiltrated the entire company, so it did catch me off guard,” the chief replied with a laugh.

Amon silently nodded.

The two boarded the elevator.

“You go ahead first,” the chief said, leaving the rest of the team to take the next elevator.

As the elevator descended slowly toward the baker’s underground chamber, its lack of music or entertainment made the ride unbearably dull.

In the silence, Amon broke the monotony.

“How long have you been working here?”

“About three years,” the chief replied.

“And how long have you been the security chief?”

“…Around one year.”

“Then, how long have you been living as George, the human?”

The security chief fell silent.

He turned to Amon, who was staring at him with eyes full of certainty.

With a sigh, the chief finally spoke.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice until the end. Truly, your eye is remarkable.”

“You don’t seem intent on attacking me.”

“I specialize in long-range combat. In this confined space, I don’t see much chance of success against you.”

“You flatter me,” Amon said calmly.

“So, what do you want from me?” the chief asked.

“Nothing in particular. I’m just curious.”

Amon gazed at the jam trickling from beneath the chief’s eyes.

“I’d like to hear the story of how you began living as a human.”