During the time Amon halted the elevator to create a forced sealed room, the security chief began his story.
George Bread.
He was from the backstreets.
Born to an alcoholic and abusive father and a drug-addicted prostitute mother, George ran away from home at the age of 15, taking his disabled younger sister with him.
Though he knew it was dangerous to leave with her in her condition, he had no choice.
His parents’ gaze toward her had shifted to one that viewed her as a piggy bank rather than a person.
Unlike his wretched parents, his sister was his only blood relative who mattered.
George survived in the backstreets by doing various odd jobs, barely managing to sustain himself and his sister.
However, her condition worsened over time.
She fell asleep so frequently and uncontrollably that it became impossible to maintain a normal life.
Trusting hospitals had never been an option for George, but he had no choice left.
He finally took her to the hospital, where the doctors handed him a diagnosis and an unavoidable dose of reality.
Diagnosis: Congenital central nervous system underdevelopment, epilepsy, dissociative identity disorder, among others.
The doctor explained that she was born with a brain disorder, preventing her from regulating sleep.
As a result, she suffered from multiple neurological complications.
Without proper care, she could fall into an eternal sleep.
At first, George denied the reality.
Eventually, he accepted it.
To cover the cost of her life-support system, George did whatever was necessary.
Starting as a mercenary, he eventually found himself working as a corporate security officer.
He was lucky.
His body was adequately suited for mechanization procedures, allowing him entry into the security department.
However, his luck ended there.
His talent was only sufficient for an entry-level position in the department.
After paying for his sister’s medical bills with his meager salary, George barely had anything left for himself.
Yet he couldn’t abandon her.
Not only because she was his only family but because he saw hope.
A faint, precarious hope that her condition could be managed if he sacrificed his own life for her sake.
This borderline situation only made it harder for George to give up.
It was the perfect example of a curse disguised as mediocre talent.
And so, George destroyed his own life to save hers, continuing his routine of reporting to work as a security officer.
***
One day, George was assigned to escort a vehicle transporting “unfortunate jam-bread humans.” Jam-bread humans resembled humans closely, with their blood replaced by jam.
Many entities also regarded them as human, making them suitable for sacrificial offerings in transactions with other companies.
George’s task was to deliver these humans safely to a client company.
It wasn’t considered a particularly difficult mission.
The danger of jam-bread humans lay in their ability to blend into crowds for assassinations.
They weren’t particularly threatening in direct confrontation.
The mission was even popular among officers because of the danger pay associated with entity-related assignments.
For this reason, George had volunteered for the mission, confident it would go smoothly.
But George had overlooked one crucial fact—humans could become infinitely vile in the face of money, surpassing even entities in their depravity.
***
“Sorry, George.”
“Manager… How could you…”
It was a betrayal he had barely dared to imagine.
The reason? Bonus rewards and performance achievements.
In entity-related assignments, additional pay was provided to officers in the event of management failures.
George’s manager planned to kill all his teammates, frame the incident as a management failure involving the jam-bread humans, and report the situation to claim both the additional pay and career achievement.
The manager had meticulously prepared for this over time.
He had fabricated evidence on the scene and staged the killings to look as though the jam-bread humans were responsible.
George could only watch as his manager’s perfect crime unfolded while his life drained away.
But the manager’s dream never came true.
Bang!
The sound of a single gunshot pulled George’s consciousness back to the present.
“What?”
He saw his manager clutching a hole in his chest, a look of shock on his face, before collapsing.
Struggling, George turned his head toward the source of the gunshot.
It wasn’t hard to identify the shooter.
The man stood right above him.
“Me?”
It was a man who looked exactly like George, holding a rifle registered with George’s fingerprints.
Seeing this, George couldn’t help but curse internally.
‘Damn it…’
The realization dawned on him—his jam-bread human had been aboard the transport.
Now, this jam-bread human would take on his identity after his death.
‘Worry surged alongside his revulsion. What if this imposter did something to his sister?’
But there was nothing George could do.
As his consciousness faded, George looked up at the jam-bread human approaching him and slowly closed his eyes.
***
Surprisingly, George opened his eyes again—not in the afterlife but the real world.
He was in a clinic.
As he tried to understand his situation, he noticed the jam-bread human sitting beside his bed.
He realized that he had saved his life.
But though George understood this, he couldn’t comprehend why.
The jam-bread human answered his unspoken question.
“I am you.”
“What?”
“If you die, what happens to your sister?”
“Ah…”
Only then did George understand.
Jam-bread humans were exact replicas of their originals, replicating not just memories but also beliefs.
The only difference was that jam-bread humans were aware of their doomed fate and their inherent misfortune.
However, George’s jam-bread human was different.
He valued his sister’s life more than his own—just as George did.
He would endure any hardship, even death, for her sake.
Though he knew he wasn’t the real George, his love for the sister embedded in his memories was real.
That love had made it impossible for the jam-bread human to kill George.
And so, George’s copy had chosen to save him.
The jam-bread human could only imitate appearance, not abilities.
Even if he succeeded in killing George, he couldn’t function as a security officer.
As a result, George’s sister would die.
Aware of this, the jam-bread human didn’t just refrain from killing George—he fought desperately to save him.
When George finally regained consciousness, the jam-bread human had already prepared for his own death.
“Now kill me,” he said. “That way, you’ll receive additional compensation. Use it to buy something nice for your sister.”
But George couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He couldn’t see the being that cared for his sister as much as he did as a stranger.
Instead of killing the jam-bread human, George chose coexistence.
“Let’s start by giving you a name,” George said.
He named him Meiji.
Meiji Bread.
Creating a legal identity for Meiji wasn’t difficult.
In the U.S., where social security numbers didn’t exist for everyone, it wasn’t unusual for a twin to suddenly appear in the records.
In fact, such occurrences were common among those from the slums.
Thus, Meiji Bread emerged as George’s twin in the eyes of the world.
George explained the situation to his sister, and Meiji became part of their family.
Like George, Meiji began working to cover the costs of the sister’s treatment.
During this time, Meiji discovered something remarkable—he had no limits to mechanization procedures.
While George could only handle limited enhancements, Meiji’s body tolerated complete mechanization.
Whether it was because Meiji was a jam-bread human or due to his unique physiology, it didn’t matter.
Realizing this, George and Meiji devised a plan.
Meiji, now fully mechanized, would take George’s place in the security department, while George stayed home to care for their sister.
Meiji’s transformation into a fully mechanized being elevated his status in the company, and he eventually became the chief of security.
The Chief of Security, George Bread, was actually Meiji Bread.
***
Meiji concluded the story, shrugging his mechanical shoulders.
“I know it’s strange. Even I think I’m an anomaly.”
While tragic stories like George’s weren’t uncommon at the company, a case like George and Meiji—where coexistence occurred—was unprecedented.
Normally, jam-bread humans were consumed with jealousy toward their originals upon creation.
This had been confirmed through thousands of cases and was considered an immutable law.
The company had easily accepted Meiji and George’s “twin” story because of this law.
Meiji’s very existence defied that rule.
Meiji speculated about the reason.
“Maybe I’m like a cancer cell among jam-bread humans.”
That was his personal theory.
Meiji looked at Amon.
“So, what do you plan to do with me?” Meiji asked, meeting Amon’s gaze like a prisoner awaiting judgment.
After a moment, Amon spoke.
“You’ve been through a lot. It’s touching.”
Meiji was visibly taken aback.
“That’s it? That’s your reaction?”
“What kind of reaction were you expecting?”
“I thought you’d at least be wary of me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a jam-bread human!”
“And why is that a problem?”
“Of course it’s a problem! I mean, jam-bread humans harm people!”
“But before being a jam-bread human, aren’t you a human?”
Meiji’s eyes widened in shock at Amon’s words.
“A human? Me?”
Reading Meiji’s expression, Amon continued.
“Yes, a human. To me, you’re just a slightly unusual human with strawberry jam for blood.”
The statement stunned Meiji.
He had never considered himself human before.
While he had admired human life, that admiration had always been from afar.
Yet Amon was treating Meiji as a human.
Amon wasn’t relying on philosophical concepts.
His standard was simple—if someone acted human, they were human.
By that standard, Meiji was undeniably human.
“You’re more human than that manager who tried to kill George,” Amon added.
Having seen people whose behavior barely qualified as animalistic, Amon found Meiji deeply human.
Even from a religious standpoint, there was no issue.
“After all, everything is created by the goddess,” Amon thought.
As long as something wasn’t an external entity, it was part of the goddess’s creation.
“Let me say it again: You’re a slightly unusual human with strawberry jam for blood,” Amon repeated.
The impact of these words left Meiji speechless.
Amon, seeing the still-dazed security chief, joked, “If it’s grape jam, I apologize.”
Finally snapping out of it, Meiji smiled faintly.
“It’s mulberry jam.”
“Wow.”
***
With that, Amon deactivated the elevator’s stop button and proceeded toward the baker responsible for the current chaos.
Along the way, the jam-bread humans blocking their path were swiftly dealt with.
Together, Amon and Meiji reached the baker and put an end to their rampage, successfully resolving the incident.
As soon as the situation was under control, Amon pulled out a prophecy box from his pocket.
“‘Open it once the situation is settled,’ huh?”
He unfolded the second paper.
“Sometimes, a free gift is heavier than anything else.”
Amon grasped Cassie’s meaning.
It was a reminder not to overstep and expose himself in front of the chairman, but instead to simply return.
With his task clear, the paper in Amon’s hand burned away.
He turned to report to the chairman with Meiji by his side.
The mission report was straightforward:
“Jam-bread humans neutralized.”
The chairman found the mission’s completion flawless and offered Amon several rewards in gratitude.
However, Amon declined, saying, “I’m here as a representative of Reketio Corporation. Please discuss compensation with my company.”
Faced with Amon’s firm stance, the chairman agreed to settle the matter with Reketio.
Amon then left the building and headed to the airport to return to his company.
Meiji accompanied him to bid farewell.
As they walked, Meiji, now at ease with Amon, asked, “Have you ever encountered other jam-bread humans like me?”
“No. You’re special, Meiji.”
“I see.”
The word “special” brought a pleased smile to Meiji’s face.
Amon let Meiji enjoy the moment as he pulled out the last prophecy box.
“Open it before leaving,” Cassie had instructed.
Amon unfolded the final prophecy.
“You can bring them along.”
Seeing the message, Amon chuckled wryly.
“I really can’t win against her, huh?”
Now certain of his next move, Amon turned to Meiji.
“Would you believe me if I said there’s a way to cure your sister?”