But standing at the gate and looking toward the entrance outside, Arthur didn't leave immediately. Instead, at the very last moment, he asked:
"Guide… can I bring someone else into Terraria next time?"
He had noticed that the system's management guidelines stated that anyone permitted by the Guide could enter the world of Terraria.
So it wasn't necessarily limited to him alone, the transmigrator.
Moreover, the efficiency was simply too low.
Eight hours of nonstop movement across the Terraria map, risking his life underground—and he had only managed to dig out a single Life Crystal.
Part of that was due to the poor pickaxe, of course. But before the Pylon network was established, large-scale exploration and travel in Terraria were always painfully inefficient.
He needed extra hands.
The Guide smiled, clearly having anticipated this question, and replied casually:
"Of course you can. For every boss you defeat, I'll allow you to bring in one additional person."
"Consider this a beginner's benefit. I'll allow you to bring one person in now. The slot is limited—once chosen, it cannot be changed."
"They won't retain memories of what happens in Terraria once they leave. I'll interfere with their cognition to a certain extent."
As the guardian of Terraria, it was only natural that the Guide could accomplish such a thing.
Arthur wasn't surprised—but—
"Oh~ I see. Is that how you get them to work for free?"
He finally understood why the Oak House had accumulated so much furniture and so many chests in such a short time.
It wasn't some anomaly caused by the G-01-05 containment room.
Rather—
Over the past few days, many employees who came to work had already been sent into Terraria to mine under the Guide's arrangements.
That also explained why Arthur hadn't found many jars, bottles, or chests this time—those resources had likely already been looted.
"Working for free… sigh, don't put it so harshly."
For once, the normally calm Guide looked a little awkward, clearly feeling guilty.
"I still gave them some trinkets…"
"You mean sunflower seeds and glass bottles?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. He was only teasing.
In fact, he genuinely admired the Guide in this regard.
Letting first- and second-level employees work during the day with only a dozen or so HP—and still keeping them from being killed by slimes—was already proof of excellent guidance.
Seeing the Guide's troubled expression, Arthur decided to stop there and turned to leave.
"I'm heading out."
He raised his left hand, clad in a torn suit, and waved—a farewell to the Guide.
So… who should I choose?
Walking back toward the dormitory, Arthur pondered.
He had very few friends left in Lobotomy Corporation; most of those from his original batch were already dead.
That addict Hill is definitely out.
Yulia?
Lyons?
They were elites of their respective departments, with excellent attribute values in this Branch.
But precisely because they were elites, they had too many responsibilities that required their direct oversight. The Control Department, Information Department, and his Training Department operated very differently—they couldn't afford hands-off leadership.
Moreover, their ranks were too high.
What if Angela noticed during a meeting?
This was something Arthur was still wary of.
For now, he didn't want Headquarters to know that they were also containing these abnormalities.
Whether it was the Guide or SCP-049, none of them came from the Well or were native to this world.
They shouldn't exist here at all.
They were extremely dangerous—dangerous enough that the chain reactions they caused could potentially overturn the entire City.
Keeping them at Headquarters wouldn't make things safer either.
If anything, Headquarters—with so many terrifying entities locked inside—was inherently unsafe.
If I keep excluding people like this… there really won't be anyone left.
Arthur felt conflicted. For a moment, he even considered doing what the Guide did—grabbing someone at random and treating them as labor.
Then—
A quiet figure surfaced in his mind.
…
That ponytailed girl.
Alright… there really is one more.
Komini was easy to manage. She was his direct junior and also from the Training Department.
But—
Arthur recalled her first time being scared off by Yulia, and the second time being frozen in terror by SCP-049.
Was this unreliable junior—who had only been employed for five days—really capable of facing Terraria's monsters alongside him?
And more importantly—
She's probably regretting joining Lobotomy Corporation right now… Would dragging her into Terraria only make things worse?
The dilemma deepened.
Lost in thought, Arthur suddenly stopped in the orange-yellow corridor.
Employees and clerks passing by stared in surprise at this disheveled Training Department elite.
Ignoring their gazes, Arthur sighed.
He suddenly remembered that he had promised a clerk earlier that he'd go check on Komini.
…Fine. I was going to go anyway.
Inside a dormitory decorated in pale pink, there was no one in sight.
Only a pile of bedding lay tangled messily on an otherwise spacious bed.
And without question, the junior Arthur had been worrying about was curled up inside.
Even with her eyes tightly shut, Komini's slender body trembled uncontrollably.
Mom… I want to go home…
Ever since she had escaped SCP-049 and returned alone to her dormitory, she had been like this.
A full day and night.
Curled up in the darkness, unable to work—unable even to get out of bed.
Before, she had feared every anomaly she encountered, but she could still force herself to work.
Now—
Even with her eyes closed, 049's blood-stained avian mask appeared vividly in her mind.
I'm going to die… I'm definitely going to die…
Her trembling worsened, and the thoughts spiraling through her head grew increasingly distorted.
Opening her eyes to the surrounding darkness, Komini suddenly felt as though she wasn't in her dormitory at all—
But back in yesterday's P3 corridor.
In the shadows, the corpses of the Safety Department staff at the corridor's end slowly stood up and began approaching her.
"We must perform a swift and effective surgery immediately."
049's gentle voice whispered beside her ear.
This time, no senior was there to save her.
A black-gloved hand wrapped around her neck, lifting her little by little.
There was no physical pain—but the suffocating terror never eased.
That sensation didn't fade until—
"Ding-dong—"
The crisp sound of the dormitory doorbell rang.
The hallucination shattered.
Before her dazed mind could even decide whether an anomaly or a corpse stood outside, a familiar voice followed.
"Hey, Komini? Are you there? Why didn't you come to work today?"
Not an anomaly.
Not a corpse.
It was Senior Arthur.