SCP - 031 "What is Love?"
Object Class - Euclid
-----------------------------------------------------------
The Ryugyong Hotel loomed over Pyongyang, its glassy, unfinished pyramid reflecting the gray sky. Foundation Agent Min-jun Kim adjusted his hazmat suit as the armored van pulled up to the main entrance. Next to him, Dr. Laura Chen checked the seals on her own suit, her voice muffled through the respirator.
"Remind me why we're the ones going in?" Laura muttered.
Min-jun gave a dry laugh. "Because we speak Korean and don't mind risking our brains being eaten, apparently."
A local officer in a black uniform waved them forward. "You have one hour. Stay with the team. If you see anything… familiar, do not engage."
Laura nodded, glancing at the Foundation's North Korean liaison, Mr. Park. "Ready as I'll ever be."
Inside, the air was thick and humid. Tendrils as thick as fire hoses snaked along the ceiling, pulsing gently. The team advanced, flame projectors at the ready.
Suddenly, a pod-like structure—an SCP-031 sporocarp—descended from the ductwork, blocking their path. Laura froze. The pod shimmered, and in its place stood her late mother, smiling softly.
"Laura, it's been so long," the figure said, voice achingly familiar.
Min-jun grabbed her arm. "Don't listen. It's not her."
But Laura couldn't look away. "Mom?"
The figure reached out with cilia-like fingers. "Stay with me. We can be together again."
Min-jun fired his flame projector, the burst of fire passing through the illusion. The figure dissolved, replaced by the oozing, alien pod. Laura staggered back, shaken.
"Thank you," she whispered.
They pressed onward, passing rooms filled with writhing tendrils and the faint, echoing voices of lost loved ones. In one chamber, Min-jun saw his childhood friend, lost in the famine, beckoning him forward.
He looked away, focusing on the mission. "Keep moving. Don't listen."
Mr. Park's voice crackled over the radio. "We're approaching the central mass. Prepare the suppressant."
The team entered a vast ballroom. In the center, a pulsating mound of flesh and bone, studded with hundreds—no, thousands—of human crania, stared back at them with empty sockets.
Laura's knees buckled. "Are they… alive?"
Min-jun's face was grim. "The brains are. Maybe even conscious."
A wave of psychic pressure pressed against their minds, promising love, comfort, and belonging. Min-jun gritted his teeth. "Deploy the suppressant!"
They fired canisters of chemical agents into the mass. The mound shuddered, a chorus of voices crying out in unison.
The suppressant worked—at least for now. The tendrils recoiled, and the psychic pressure faded. The team retreated, dragging Laura, who kept glancing back at the central mass.
Outside, Mr. Park locked the blast doors behind them. "We lost two men," he said quietly. "But the reclamation continues."
Laura slumped against the van, trembling. "I saw her. I almost… I almost wanted to stay."
Min-jun put a hand on her shoulder. "That's how it gets you. You're not alone."
She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Let's never come back here."
He managed a weak smile. "Agreed."
Above them, the Ryugyong Hotel stood silent, its secrets safe for another day.
End of Log