Prologue
In a world filled with flower scent.
In June of 2022, The Blooming occurred, a K-Class scenario which erupted without any warning. The Foundation was caught entirely off-guard and left with no choice but to desperately handle it. They poured their efforts into research, focusing all their resources on catching up with the surging waves. However, they forgot one thing: great waves seldom come alone. The emergence of a world-wide anomalous event does not exclude other events from befalling humanity. And the story that follows is one such case.
The following document is for reference purpose only.
The document you are reading was written by a Foundation staff during their Aletheia service period. Please note that all information in this document can either be fully accurate or deviate greatly from the current situation.
Should you choose to continue referencing this document, duly note that it reflects a personal perspective and has not been fully reviewed by the Foundation, due to the large amount of information about the anomaly that had already been reported.
Best of luck on your journey to see the truth.
Mhm, I am not sure how to start this; with a famous quote maybe, or should I go straight to the matter? I suppose that a simple approach would be best. Alright, time to get serious. Greeting, brilliant member of the Foundation whose name I know not, and thank you for spending your precious time reading this. I highly doubt that the higher-ups actually bothered to archive the diary of a random guy like me. To be honest, I’m not a good writer, so the following text might be a bit of a rambling and may not be engaging enough to keep you hooked. That being said, this diary summarizes my one-year journey working on the project, along with the experiences I’ve gained in my research of the anomaly, so I hope you can begrudgingly tolerate my writing and make it to the end.
Enough talking, let us begin.
Aletheia, the Greek deity of truth. Did they really name the project that just to find the truth about the anomaly? That’s quite ridiculous. Maybe I should give it another name of my own later. And I’m assuming that no one at the Site has given you any report on SCP-092-VN yet, those people always put their own business first. So, to save you, my friend, from having to dig through this mess yourself, I’ll reiterate the contents of the document below:
Item #: SCP-092-VN
Object Class: Uncontained
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-092-VN cannot be physically contained due to its nature. Current efforts focus on deploying the Aletheia duty1 and keeping note of signs of the anomaly to prevent potential recurrence in the future.
Description: SCP-092-VN is the designation for a class-VI dream variant anomaly affecting the subconscious space of all humanity. As of June 2022, approximately 450,000 affected individuals have been recorded worldwide and the Foundation has declared the anomaly to the public. All affected individuals’ descriptions of the anomaly follow the same vague pattern, saying they all dreamt about “a nameless flower, with a light and mesmerising fragrance that they have seen/witnessed once before”.
The initial document found in the database is just that. I thought that they basically weren’t keen on putting more resources into deeper research of this anomaly, so they handed it over to desk workers like me. Oh, and the Aletheia duty thing, the email said it’s like being sent to work elsewhere. Good thing is I get an allowance and double my usual salary, but the bad thing is… I’ll be living like a nomad. The number of times I sit on an airplane to travel with family and colleagues might not even be half as much as I did during this duty. Plus, for someone who’s prone to airsickness, this is torture.
I departed in early July from Nội Bài airport, seen off by a few coworkers and my younger brother; I don’t have many bonds you see. Sitting on the plane, I suddenly felt uneasy. I didn’t know the destination because the management rushed the plan, saying they would inform me later, the usual formula. The flight attendant temporarily confiscated my phone because of an anti-tracking clause from a ten-page long security policy, so I had two choices: read the economic magazines about stocks in the drawer or sleep. I briefly looked out the window, the night sky was pitch black and I couldn't quite find the words for it. Let’s just describe it as “the encroaching tranquility punctuated by a few stars from foreign worlds. Outside, clouds of all sizes clustered together, majestically lining up like a waterfall. And even while sitting on a sofa, being kept warm by a heater, and sipping jasmine tea, one would still know how frigid the winds blowing outside are”. See how poetic that was? Staring into the night for long enough can make anyone tired, I was no exception. I put on my eye mask, rested my head on the seat, and fell asleep.
“Hello there, want some candies to boot yourself up?”, a voice rang out as I opened my eyes. A girl in her twenties, one hand holding the page of a book she was reading on her lap to keep it from closing, the other offering a candy bar with a friendly face. I didn’t say anything but just shyly accepted it, nodded to express my thanks, and turned away. A terribly awkward way to handle the situation, it was. The girl just smiled gently and retreated back to her book, she probably didn’t care much. We were both immersed in our own worlds for the rest of the flight.
Upon hearing the captain’s announcement, I felt a wave of relief washing over me. I quickly exited the plane to avoid that woman. After reclaiming my luggage, I moved to the designated rendezvous point. The surroundings were unfamiliar, at least to me. The people in my group were chattering about whether this place was an artificial island or private land owned by the Foundation to warrant this level of security, which makes sense to me. The group, including myself, walked to the administrative building not far away from the airport. After a short distance, we encountered a high-ranking official standing in front of the main hall, arms crossed (and from a quick glance, I can see a dozen medals on his chests and bodyguards watching from a distance).
“You sure took your sweet time getting here!”, his face showed anger, but gradually softened.
“However, I still have to thank you all for making the long journey to get here. Hopefully no one was thrown out of the plane on their way”. Clap and nervous laughter erupted from the crowd.
After about an hour of mingling, eating, and resting, some soldiers led us to a large auditorium. When we arrived, the colonel was already waiting there, exuding impeccable military man aura. Once everyone was seated, he went straight to the point:
“I think you all understand the gravity of this mission given that you are all gathered here like this.”
A guy sitting three rows ahead of me raised his hand and stood up to speak:
“Could you elaborate on what this duty is about? After coming here, I noticed that everyone in this room comes from different branches of the Foundation around the world. Like, each branch sends literally only one person!”
“You’re a sharp one, that’s because we need every branch to collaborate! Quick question: did any of you receive notification about a newly emerged Apollyon anomaly last June?”
Whispers breach the previously quiet atmosphere. The colonel raised his hand to calm the room down before continuing.
“Lostwhat’s 001 Proposal. I am aware that most of you don’t have the clearance to access this kind of information, but “bad words have wings”. I doubt the database managers can keep it a secret.”
Another stood up and asked:
“And the Foundation needs people like us to handle something at 001 caliber?”
The colonel shook his head:
“We’re not desperate enough to send rookies into the battlefield just yet. We still need you to grow a bit more.”
After answering, he paused briefly and signaled the soldiers to hand out documents to everyone in the room.
“Please read through these, tell me if anyone needs a PDF version. And to anyone who’s curious: we all know that anything designated as 001 is of utmost importance. Every time a 001 emerges, the higher-ups have to mobilize countless geniuses in the ranks, create new departments, new projects, evaluate finances, reach out to governments… you name it. And this time, with an Apollyon class 001, the workload may be ten times more. Honestly, I still think that’s an underestimation. And while a 001 event is taking place, the Foundation still has to manage the anomalous scenes.”
The auditorium suddenly fell into silence. Just moments ago, people were still looking at the colleagues they just met to make small talk or comment on the anomaly in the document; now all 430 people, 430 pairs of eyes, shifted their focus onto the stage. The colonel took a chair from his assistant and sat down. His voice softened, carrying an oddly intimate tone.
“We cannot allow other groups to seize control at a time like this. And to realize that, the Foundation needs you. The Foundation never looks down on personnel with low clearance, the hierarchy here is merely a measure of experience and time on the job. So, for urgent matters like 001, we need people who’ve been in the field longer! Meanwhile, we will have to ask you to temporarily carry out other projects!”
A faint smile appeared on his face, perhaps he had seen how the youngins sitting below had understood the situation.
“For that reason, we will set out early tomorrow morning. Due to the scale of this project, each of you will need to cover at least three locations. And of course, to ensure that you don’t feel disadvantaged, the project director has allocated sufficient equipment, supplies, and funding for the entire trip and you will receive them in your private quarters. Oh and one more thing, you will be assigned a partner, from another Site of course.”
I stood up and asked:
“How do I know who my partner is?”
The colonel responded:
“Oh, that will be the person sitting next to you on the plane. That concludes today’s orientation. If you have any further questions, feel free to contact me. Lastly, I wish you all the best of luck and hope that you complete this mission with excellence. For the Foundation!”
My body stiffened, I stood frozen in place and the sound of hundreds of hands clapping and people cheering erupted around me as everyone shouted in unison “For the Foundation!” in response. Back in my quarter, I collapsed onto the bed, sighing the night away. The first impression I left on my partner made me just want to dig a hole in the ground and jump in. My mind, at that moment, had a childish thought, hoping that tomorrow I would be reassigned to work with someone else, or that the girl would catch a mild cold or oversleep and miss the flight.
Tomorrow morning came, she didn’t catch a cold or oversleep. We still met at the luggage check, and she still smiled, waving at me with the same radiant smile she had during our first awkward encounter. She didn’t bring up the incident at all, perhaps she thought I’d be embarrassed. We sat together again on the plane, and likely for the rest of this mission. And just like that, the journey of two strangers began.
The Painting
There were sudden downpours in Europe that drenched my coat without any warning and bone-chilling cold when it started snowing. But the nature of this job taught me how to adapt to any future adversity. Now, let me briefly introduce my colleague. Her name is Meilian, a collaborative researcher from the Taiwanese branch. A newcomer to the field, about twenty-four or twenty-five years old with fair skin, loveable facial features, and long hair that gave her the typical elegance seen in Asian women. In contrast to her soft voice and feminine appearance, Meilian was strong and intelligent. Once I started having a proper conversation with her instead of avoiding her like before, we got along quite well. This new coworker made me appreciate being paired with her, a far cry from the silly thought I had the day before. After chattering for a while, we moved on to discussing the project. It only took her 30 minutes to create an efficient and appropriate plan to finish the task as quickly as possible. The first destination of our journey is Germany.
We landed at Munich airport and took a two-hour ride to the town of Berchtesgaden. On the rundown car provided by the Foundation, we crossed the lush green fields which stood out on the vast blue sky. Scattered amongst that were towering mountains hiding amidst blocks of white mist. In the car, we shared experiences about our work, both in the past and upcoming. Meilian’s voice sometimes became excited, and her speech quickened as she recounted her achievements, and this excitement became contagious to someone who had been doing paperwork for months. Our conversation went on until the vehicle gradually slowed down as it approached the town. That was when we noticed a peculiar mountain with a noticeable hole at its peak. The driver said its name was Watzmann and told us some of its history, piquing our interest in climbing it someday.
The temperature continued to drop, the drizzle characteristic of early summer kept on pouring outside of the car and deliberately onto leaves and rooftops, creating rhythmic tapping sound. The car drove deeper inside, past an old church with medieval architecture and in the distance, there were small houses scattered around. My wandering thought came to a halt as the vehicle gradually slowed down and came to a stop before the town. We stepped out, taking in the air thick with the damp smell of the earth.
The driver willingly led us to Ingomar’s place, the affected individual whose information was provided by the headquarters. According to him, Ingomar was an elderly man who disliked socializing and preferred isolating himself inside his home. I hoped he wouldn’t be too grumpy. Our driver led us to the front of a wooden house before quickly leaving to pick up his next customers. I gulped before knocking on the door. A deep voice called out from inside:
“What do you want?”
I looked at Meilian before hesitantly replying:
“Hello sir. We’re journalists and we would like to speak with you for a moment!”
There was no response, someone approached the door to open the lock. The door opened, revealing a man likely in his eighties with white beard, wearing eyeglasses, a wool scarf, and a thick layer of clothes. His hunched frame stared at us.
“For what?”, asked Mr. Ingomar.
“Sir, we just want to ask you a few questions!”, she quickly answered in my stead.
He grunted before turning back inside:
“Get in before I change my mind.”
The two of us hurried inside, teemed with excitement like children given permission to go out and play. Hung on top of the wooden wall were multiple oil paintings, with some scattered on the floor. Unlike me, Meilian wasted no time picking up her camera. The tapping sound of the rain outside mixed with the flashing sound of the camera, creating a harmonious melody.
“Taking pictures will cost you money!”
Mr. Ingomar returned with three cups of steaming herbal tea and placed them on the table. I quickly collected his papers and moved them to a corner. He took a sip of the hot tea before asking:
“So what do you youngins want from an old man like me? I don’t have money, only a bunch of worthless paintings.”
“That’s not our intention at all!” Meilian dismissed with the wave of her hands.
“Then why did you lie to me? I can tell from your gestures that you’re no professional reporter. You two are nowhere near as experienced as I am!”
We both hesitated for a moment, Meilian then spoke:
“We… apologize, sir. I suppose we weren’t very convincing.”
His eyes stared at us for a while before relaxing:
“Alright, might as well ask away since you’re already here.”
My eyes lit up and I went straight to the point:
“This may sound strange, but do you recall any dreams about flowers?”
“Flower?” asked Mr. Ingomar.
“Yes, flowers.”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yea.”
All three of us sat in silence, unsure how to continue the conversation. Mr. Ingomar put his hand on his forehead as if deep in thought, and after a while, it seemed he had come up with something:
“Actually, now that I think about it, I have heard of something like that, just that it wasn’t my dream.”
Both of us responded at the same time:
“What do you mean?”
“I have a close colleague and friend whom I’ve known for over 60 years. He lives in the next town over. Recently whenever we met, he mentioned how he often dreamed about flowers and stuff in his sleep. He also tried to draw it for me to see but could never do it.”
“Is there any way we could meet him?”
“If even his kins are kicked out when they annoy him, then what chance do strangers like you have? How about this, let me try calling him.”
“Thank you very much!”
We anxiously watched as Mr. Ingomar slowly dialed the number on his old rotary phone. A woman’s voice came through the receiver as he finished. She spoke for a bit and hung up before Mr. Ingomar could even reply. After listening to what she said, he quickly stood up before flusteredly telling us something.
“I have some urgent business and need to see that old man right now. You two stay here and watch the house for a week– just need to keep it tidy and water the flowers in the back garden daily. I’ll try to return as soon as possible to answer your questions.”
Without letting us react, he shoved a set of keys into my hand. His hunched figure grabbed some clothes and the baton in a corner before quickly running toward the gate. He, well, ran as fast as his old and aching legs allowed him. Seeing his struggle, Meilian and I quickly went over to help as he urged:
“Hurry up, call a cab, this is an urgent matter.”
Luckily, I still had the number of the driver this morning, so 5 minutes later, a white car pulled up at the gate. Mr. Ingomar practically flung the door open to get inside before I could open it. He shoved a wad of cash at the driver.
“No need to count, it’s all there. Just drive, we’re in a hurry.”
The car disappeared down the road, leaving me and Meilian looking at each other awkwardly. Meilian started working on the garden as soon as Mr. Ingomar left. I wasn’t particularly fond of something this meticulous but after a few days of boredom, I found myself peeking at the garden to watch her working. She didn’t pay much attention to my figure behind the window, instead opted to focus on each flower. Seeing that, I also stepped outside and into the garden.
“Meilian, it seems like you really like flowers.”
“Yea, kinda. They are pretty, you see.”
“Watching you gardening makes me want to do it too!”
“Give it a try then, you might just end up loving it!”
From that day on, I visited the garden everyday to tend to the flowers with Meilian. The garden, while small, contained radiant colours. There were neat rows of alternating golden and white chrysanthemums; lily and tulips flowered dyed a corner of the garden bright red; purple hydrangeas lay beneath a wall covered in intertwined vines; and dozens of flower types I couldn’t even name, let alone describe. Gradually, I think I grew to enjoy this hobby, or maybe I simply enjoyed doing it with a beautiful Taiwanese lady beside me.
We didn’t meet Mr. Ingomar until 3 weeks later. He returned home with a sorrowful look on his face, and without uttering a word, locked himself in his room until nightfall. We refrained from asking any question to let him rest. The next day, Mr. Ingomar seemed to have regained his composure and stepped outside to admire his garden – seemingly satisfied with the way Meilian handled the garden work. When he came back inside, he confided in us that his friend had passed away from a heart attack and he stayed to hold his funeral. Before disposing of the stuff in his room, Mr. Ingomar found the recently finished painting his friend hadn’t had the chance to show him. He then presented to us that oil painting, and it was phenomenal. On the back, there was a line of text, which he asked Meilian to read aloud, as his eyes were no longer as sharp as they once were:
“To Ingomar, my colleague, my dear friend, and the only one who would curse at me at my funeral. I want to leave you this incomplete dream of mine. I hope that one day, with the little amount of time I have left before our rendezvous, you can reach this place.”
I took a close look at the painting and asked:
“What is this place?”
“A random town in America. Ah, I remember now. Back when we were young, he and I made a promise to explore the world together. We stumbled upon a magazine compiling the livable towns around the world and immersed ourselves in it. I recall briefly seeing an image that looked exactly like this painting except for one difference: that that wretched old fool added some of the flowers in my garden to it.”
Mr. Ingomar clicked his tongue, as if reminiscing about the days when he would pour his heart into his passions, and continued:
“Basically, the dream he told me was just a memory from our youth taking shape in the form of a painting. Hope that’s enough to assist the two of you in your research or whatever it is you’re working on.”
Early that evening, we parted with Mr. Ingomar to continue our journey. He offered to give us the painting as a keepsake, but we both turned down the priceless gift. Before we left, he mentioned that he would try to visit the town in the painting to fulfill the wish of his late friend. Meilian and I had nothing else to say so we simply wished him a safe journey.
PRELIMINARY ANOMALY REPORT
Item #: SCP-092-VN
SCP-092-VN.
Object Class: Safe
Description: SCP-092-VN is the designation for an oil painting owned by Ingemar Scholtz, a civilian living in Berchtesgaden town, Germany.
The painting depicts a cluster of flowers of various shapes and colours, along with a lighthouse in the background. It is still unclear if the scenery in the painting changes when owned by another individual.
SCP-092-VN is mildly cognito-hazardous, causing any observer to feel a sense of “contentment” and “excitement” to explore their surroundings or seek a location similar to the painting’s depiction.
After carefully examining the painting and uploading the first version of the document to the database, Meilian opened up to me:
“Do you think Mr. Ingomar will be okay? I mean, regarding the properties of the painting. Could he have been under its influence?”
“To be honest, he will embark on the journey for his friend’s sake regardless of the anomalous property. I think he can do it.”
Hearing my assurance, she seemed somewhat relieved.
“It’s about time we prepare to go to our next location, don’t you think?”
“Agree.”
Sacred Tree
Leaving Germany behind, we departed for Angola with a somewhat heartier feeling. Unlike our previous approach to the anomaly, both Meilian and I silently agreed to focus more on understanding the locals this time.
Direction from the internal system says that the location for this time is a small village deep in the southern region. It took nearly two days to go from the airport to the city center due to immigration issues. To even reach this “mountainous” region, I had to buy a second-hand motorbike from a shop in the city and while it wasn’t brand new, its quantity and durability was enough. As we didn’t know for how long we would stay, we figured that it would cost more to rent than to just outright buy one. With Meilian sitting behind me, I sped toward the village, killing time along the way by chatting with her.
“Do you know how to ride a motorbike?”
The girl behind me enthusiastically responded:
“Nope. I rode my bike to school from when I was a young girl until the end of high school. Then in college, I used the city bus.”
I chuckled:
“Is that so? That sounds boring, riding a motorbike is a lot of fun!”
Meilian retorted with a question. She leaned her head closer to me to hear better:
“Fun how? Explain to me.”
I looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror before answering:
“Well, there are a lot of reasons! In my opinion, motorbikes are the most reliable means of transport. I grew up in the countryside, and nature is not something you can ignore there. You don’t have to exert yourself physically like with a bicycle, nor do you have to sit in a car smelling people’s odors as scenery quickly passes by. Also, there’s nothing better than watching life go by while feeling the cool breeze on your skin. Whenever you’re stressed, just hop on and ride, no need to think about destinations, just follow any road you like. It should relieve your stress somewhat.”
“You made it sound so appealing, almost makes me want to ride one myself!”, Meilian said.
“Then do it, right now!”
“No way! What if I fall!”
“Then who taught you to ride a bike?”
Meilian suddenly paused her speech:
“My dad did…”
Seeing her reaction, I suddenly realised that I’d touched a sensitive topic. I fell silent for a moment, my mind scrambling to change the topic to lift the mood. I awkwardly blurt out:
“Then… let me teach you!”
Her face slowly lit up again, as if understanding my intention:
“Really?”
“Of course! I used to ride over mountain passes all the time!”
“I thought you were the good type who stayed at home to read all day!”
I blushed a little at her teasing. I expected her to brush off my childish offer, but instead, she enthusiastically replied:
“That would be great! But I have one condition!”
Surprised, I asked:
“Huh? What is it?”
“I want to practice somewhere else. Somewhere more beautiful, like… your hometown! You talking about it makes me want to visit it as well!”
“Yes, absolutely. I promise!”
Hearing my reply, her happy face is again reflected in the mirror. It seems like our relationship is improving, which eased my mind a bit.
The further we went into the village, the rougher the terrain became. Potholes of various sizes lined the gravel “road”, and we had to run past a bunch of them every few miles. At that point, I was covered in cold sweat, silently praying I could keep my hand steady and that my new bike wouldn’t give out midway. Back in school, I didn’t really mind crashing and falling, no matter how painful it was. But at that moment, there was a girl sitting behind me, so internally, I focused more than ever on dodging every obstacle on the road. On top of that, I noticed something strange: the greenery around us started to thin out as we kept going, replaced by the hotter tone of dusty, rocky ground and the twilight sun. Somehow, it reminded me of the village path leading deep into the gloomy forest of my home, I guess it was a matter of intensity.
The night had fallen as we were only halfway there. The headlight was the only light guiding us toward the village, like clusters of fireflies in the rice fields at night. The night brought a chill to the air, and we both only wore t-shirts under felt jackets for sun protection. I asked without thinking.
“Meilian, are you cold? Should we stop for a bit?”
“Just a little. But we’re almost there already, stopping now would only be a waste of time. I’m not even sure if that village is really at the address the Foundation gave us, the people there are quite isolated after all. If we keep going, the cold should go away eventually.”
“That won’t do!”
Without saying another word, I fumbled around and pulled out the thick winter jacket in my bag from my time in Germany and handed it to her.
“Put this on so you won’t get cold. Don’t worry about me, I may not look like it, but I’m really tough. I used to swim in streams every winter!”
“You didn’t have to do that. It’s actually getting quite chilly!”
Meilian took the jacket, she didn’t try to give it back, probably knowing I’d just insist, and I felt relieved when I heard her putting it on. But what happened next caught me surprised: I hit a pothole, which caused Meilian to lose her balance and hugged my body by instinct. She then quickly pulled her arms back and apologized. I didn’t think much about it and just nodded. Strangely, the cold didn’t bother me after that, as if my body had been warmed up somehow. No sound erupted from the motorbike after that, other than the sound of the engine, and we kept going until the end of the road.
When we arrived, we saw several torches burning brightly at the entrance, there unfortunately were no electric lights here. The Foundation had someone send a message to the village by post a week in advance, so they had been waiting for us from noon every day until now.
“We’re here. You go greet them first, I will take our luggage inside.”
“Alright.”
The awkwardness enough to make our face blush from earlier made the two of us avoid each other for the rest of that night. As for the villagers, they were kind and hospitable enough to let us stay for research purposes. We were assigned to stay with a household in the village, which was fine. Since it was already late, the village chief told everyone to go home and rest, and to leave the introduction and party for later. Everyone agreed. The chief arranged for me to stay at her house. As soon as I stepped in, I was warmly welcomed by her son and daughter-in-law. They helped me arrange my things in the bedroom and kindly shared everything to know about the village. Knowing I was tired from the long journey, they let me rest early.
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep that night. My mind was still stirred by what had just happened. My heart had been throbbing ever since her arms touched my body, a strange feeling and new feeling which left me fluttering. I had never felt anything like it, and I was completely swept up in it. All the thoughts racing in my head made me restless, and I ended up drifting off to sleep til morning without realising.
Early the next morning, the chief came to wake me up, and this kind of embarrassment is the one I was used to. When I stepped outside, I could finally get a clear look at my surroundings. A village that… I didn’t know what euphemism I could use to describe it other than “impoverished”. A tiny village, surrounded by rocky landscape without even a single patch of shade, containing about a dozen households, most of whom were either middle-aged or children. The houses… were mostly built from clay like in older periods of time, though a few were lucky enough to have a roof made of palm leaves. I had no idea how they managed to survive in such extreme conditions. The village chief led me and her family to the place where the villagers usually gathered on special occasions. Meilian had already been up for a while and was sitting in the center, handing out candy to the children. When our eyes met, we still felt a bit awkward, though it did not hinder our conversation. To welcome us, the village had prepared a feast as if to signal the gods that they had accepted the two newcomers as a part of the extended family. While the food wasn’t anything luxurious, what surprised us was a table full of fresh fruits. “Where on earth did they get all this food from?” That question kept ringing in my head the entire time.
“Our village got it from the ancient tree near here!”, little Kiên said.
Kiên was around 11 or 12 years old, with curly hair. His body is not exactly only “skin and bones” thin, but the thin resulting from a lack of protein. He was the village chief’s eldest grandson, always energetic and quick-witted, donning dark and worn-out clothes with visible patches. He was the closest to us out of all the village children. For some reason, he keeps calling me “mister” while calling Meilian “sis”. Did I really look that old? Kiên was the name I gave him at that time as children can choose their name only when they turned 18, per the long-standing custom of the village. I picked the word Kiên in “kiên cường, kiên trì2” because his ability to thrive in such a harsh environment was truly admirable. His family and Kiên himself seemed to like the name when I brought it up.
“Which ancient tree?, I asked.”
The kid crossed his arms:
“This I can’t tell you! You have to be accepted by the villagers first if you want to see the Sacred tree!”
“What if I give you some candy, would you tell me then? I tried to “bribe” him with a sweet treat, which didn’t exist there.”
He hesitated for a while, then answered with a wince:
“I… No is No! Grandma would kill me!”
I replied while patting his head:
“Alright then, if you say so, I won’t push you anymore. Take this candy and share it with the others!”
The boy eagerly took the bunch of mint candy, his face lit up like he’d found a treasure and ran off to find his friends. I put this matter aside for the moment, as I couldn’t get any useful information after asking some of the adults about the tree Kiên mentioned earlier. I also shared this with Meilian, who told me that she too had heard about it from the other kids. Because of that, I was almost certain that this tree was, without a doubt, the objective of our mission this time.
But as promised, we wanted to focus more on the people here and set the anomaly aside for now. After a few days of getting used to the daily life, Meilian and I asked the villagers for permission to help them with daily chores, and they happily agreed. I took on rebuilding houses and breaking dirt and stones with the men (I called the Foundation’s Angola Headquarter to allocate a small fund to send construction materials here), while Meilian wove fabric and embroidered with the women. We didn’t interact much during this time, yet I still made a point to pass by now and then for small talk or to offer her a pretty rock I had found. The manual work was much more laborious than expected, and it made us both empathize with the villagers more. One day, as I was stacking bricks, Kiên ran up from behind and called out:
“Mister, please wait!”
I dusted my hands and asked the kid:
“What is it?”
“I brought you a gift!”
“What is it?”
“A handkerchief, so you can wipe away your sweat and keep yourself cool!”
“Oh, thank you kid!”
Kiên pursed his lips:
“Don’t thank me, I’m just the delivery man! Go thank your girlfriend!”
I froze for a bit, then asked:
“Kiên, teasing me again, aren’t you? I don’t have a girlfriend!”
He replied with an innocent face:
“Don’t lie to me! Sis Liên told me so, she wove this for you herself! Don’t you see how skilled she is?”
I was stunned and subconsciously blurted out a loud “Huh!”. Kiên just laughed and waved me goodbye before darting off with his friends. When I’d collected myself, I realised I shouldn’t have trusted the word of a child and got fooled, so much for being an adult. But what if what he said was true, and I was just too shy to even consider that happening. My heart rate sped up. I looked at the handkerchief infused with essential oil in my hand, on my face was a smile I didn’t know I had.
Time quickly flew by, and a month had already passed before I noticed. One day, the village chief called for Meilian and me to come to her house for a talk, which sounded quite serious. She led us into her quarter, which was filled with the smell of incense and lined with ancestral altars spanning generations. She handed each of us an incense stick to burn for worship before she spoke. We were then told about the “Sacred Tree”. The chief said that ever since she was a child not unlike Kiên, she had seen the tree standing on this barren land. The soil here could not support crops, not even wild grass could grow, so the young people all left in search of a better life. Yet the tree silently grew taller as day went by, and when the village discovered it, it had become a great tree. Meilian then interrupted her to ask if we could go see it. She agreed.
The chief led us away from the village to a cave I had assumed was only used to mine coal for burning, or other ores for selling. Going deeper inside the cave for a bit, we finally came upon the “Sacred Tree”. A great tree of colossal size in the center of the cave, its branches glowed a blueish-green light, lighting up everything nearby, on its canopy numerous clusters of various juicy fruits. At the base of the trunk was a stream of white sap dripped into a basin. The chief allowed me to taste it. It tasted like sugar and starch with a hint of woody tree sap. I tested to see if it and the fruits were safe for consumption, and found both perfectly edible. I turned my head toward Meilian, who was listening to the rest of the chief’s story before circling the tree, examining every angle as if in a museum, only here we could ignore the glass barrier to touch directly. She whispered to the chief like she had known something. But when I approached her to ask, Meilian just smiled brightly and said: “You’ll know this secret tomorrow!”.
The very next day, the chief and Meilian gathered everyone in the village together. I was given the “honorary” spot next to them, not because I knew what secret she mentioned yesterday, but because I was a colleague. Once everyone has arrived, Meilian stood tall, looking at the crowd; she bowed her head, thanked them for coming, and commenced the village meeting:
“Does everyone here know about the Sacred Tree? Can you please raise your hand for me if you do?”, she asked.
Everyone below raised their hands.
“Has any family here ever tried to grow rice or practiced agriculture here?”
No hands were put down.
“After receiving the village chief’s permission to investigate, I finally discovered the reason plants cannot grow in this land. First, I checked nearby areas similar to our villages and found that plants can grow normally there. I also tested the soil fertility here and the result was great, with it being sufficient to grow crops. So why is the Sacred Tree the only one to grow that big? It’s because it’s the root of the problem.”
At this point, I kind of knew what was going on, but I let Meilian continue:
“The Sacred Tree was what sucking all the nutrients out of the earth for itself, which is why none of the seeds you sowed could compete. You could say that you were lucky that the Sacred Tree had both the properties of fruit-tree and staple-crop, and it keeps producing the sustenance of the village till this very day! But…”
Meilian paused, cleared her throat and turned back down, seemingly reluctant to speak the truth:
“But… Nothing is eternal. We are not ones to believe in the so-called gifts from the gods, we view everything through a scientific lens. And from that perspective… The Sacred Tree could be a whole new species never documented before, or a mutated instance of its original species. Nothing lasts forever; the Sacred Tree will one day die if it drains every last drop of nutrient from the earth.”
The chief took her stance, with a serious expression on her face, she asked Meilian.
“So what you’re saying is?”
“I hope everyone can, with your own hands… cut it down. Only then can we farm on this land again for generations to come. Otherwise, one day, this place will become just a barren wasteland devoid of human lives.”
As soon as she finished, the villagers began discussing among themselves. Some people were visibly angry, others sighed. Seeing how badly the situation was unfolding, I stepped forward beside Meilian to voice my support:
“We’ve learnt a lot from you all this time, but we had to tell the truth. As outsiders, we hope that the chief and everyone can arrive at the best conclusion, we will not interfere!”
The village chief gestured for us to go back home. We turned and walked away, leaving the discussion behind. That afternoon, we packed our stuff to move on to the next location now that we investigated the anomaly. The villagers understood our situation and we went door to door to say our farewells. Kiên was more clingy to me than usual that day, he ugly sobbed and followed me, forcing me to carry him the entire time.
“Mister, please stay and play with us longer!”
“I can’t, I’m really busy you know. You stay safe now, Kiên!”
“Will you and sis Liên come back?”
“That depends on whether you behave or not, so listen to your grandma and parents!”
“I promise!”, hearing that cheered him up a bit.
Meilian suggested we take a photo of the villagers in front of the tree. After snapping, she handed them the pictures, keeping only the ones taken when we first arrived as mementos. She gave the camera to Kiên, knowing his curiosity, he’d learn to use it quickly. With everything done, the motorbike engine roared again as we made our way back through the rocky road. On the way out, we passed a group of bikes on the opposite side waving at us, they were the local youths coming back to discuss the Sacred Tree. Whatever their choice was, I quietly hoped that those kind and rustic villagers would find happiness in it.
PRELIMINARY ANOMALY REPORT
Item#: SCP-092-VN
Object Class: Euclid
Description: SCP-092-VN is the designation for an instance of Khaya senegalensis (Mahogany) with anomalous biological properties. Unlike typical specimens of the same species which bear Khaya senegalensis fruits like normal, SCP-092-VN can produce multiple fruit types, including but not limited to: Pyrus communis (common pear), Citrus sinensis (sweet orange), Citrullus lanatus (watermelon), Nephelium lappaceum (rambutan),… During specific periods, SCP-092-VN will continuously exude a sap composed of sucrose, amylose, and amylopectin. All of its products are safe for human consumption.
SCP-092-VN displays extreme territorialism, continuously absorbing nutrients in the soil for itself and preventing other plants in the area from growing.
The exact time at which its anomalous properties manifested remains unknown.
Hometown
This is our last joint mission. Meilian was in charge of submitting the document to the internal database and receiving the briefing of the next destination, so I didn’t bother opening my own laptop to check. Sitting in a coffee shop, I asked:
“Where are we headed this time?”
“Let me check, one sec.”
The clicking sound of the keyboard stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
“The destination for this time is… my hometown.”, she answered.
Normally, I would have casually said something along the lines of “You should be happy, what could be better than doing a mission in your hometown!” But luckily, my conscience told me to stop. I mean, who would want an unknown anomaly to appear in their hometown? Even if the last two anomalies we encountered turned out to be benign, there was no guarantee this one would go smoothly.
“Alright. Let’s go.”, I said.
“Okay.”
I would like to skip over the details of our trip back to her home since it was uneventful. Her hometown was on Guishan island, Yilan county – a place that, according to her, was well-known for its dolphin tourism. When the ferry docked at the island, she led me to where she lived. The island wasn’t as bustling as it used to be since ’97 due to supply shortages and inconvenient transportation. But for someone like me who doesn’t like crowded places, it was a perfect getaway. Meilian’s house was the one at the end of the street. As we passed by each house, her neighbors came out to greet her, who had just returned, and even “bagged home a boyfriend.” We just smiled awkwardly and quickened our pace. Her house was a small two-story place, compact but beautiful, and strongly reflected a modern and minimalistic style. The interior was just as perfectly arranged, her parents must have been in the design business. I waited outside in the front yard while Meilian went inside first. Someone came out to welcome me shortly after.
“Hello auntie, uncle!”
“Hello dear, please come inside to rest. Meilian is still unpacking luggage, this bad-mannered kid didn’t even invite her boyfriend inside!”
I forced a smile and went to sit in the living room, making small talk with Meilian’s parents while waiting for her to be done.
“So you have already talked with my uncle and aunt then?”, Meilian had switched to her casual clothes and asked me.
I just nodded and smiled, surprised that they weren’t her parents. But it was a delicate subject, so I did not pry further.
“May I take him around for a walk?”
“Of course, but make sure you come back in time for the party! You came back just in time for harvest eve!”
“Yes, thank you auntie!”
PRELIMINARY ANOMALY REPORT
Item#: SCP-092-VN
An image of Guishan island from above.
Object Class: Thaumiel
Description: SCP-092-VN is the designation for an anomalous phenomenon occurring in █/12/2022, causing accelerated growth of the vegetation on Guishan island, Yilan county, Taiwan. It appeared to help vegetation grow in a “positive” way: many plants out of season in the area sprouted, and staple crops gave higher yields at the same time with the local wheat harvest period.
Additionally, the phenomenon also partially affected the emotional states of the islanders, making them “happier and more relaxed” than usual.
Meilian seemed more cheerful compared to when we were returning home – partly because the anomaly she found wasn’t anything serious.
“How did you discover the anomaly so quickly?, I asked while we were wandering around and sightseeing.”
“I’m a local you know after all, I’d spot anything off right away!”
“Oh yea, that makes sense, you’re amazing.”
We kept exploring until sunset, strolling lazily along the beach as we made our way back. The ocean slowly swallowed the sun, and playful dolphins frolicking in the waves made it all the more picturesque. Captivated, we sat down together to enjoy the view.
“Such a beautiful view isn’t it? A shame I didn’t bring my camera.”, I regretted.
“It’s fine, it would be boring if I were the only one admiring the photos! I like having some company to share the view with!”
When we got back, the neighbours had already gathered for a communal feast. We sat with Meilian’s aunt and a few other women. The age gap made conversation awkward, so we finished eating quickly and slipped away.
Meilian went into her home for a bit, then came back and signaled for me to come closer.
“Want to go somewhere else?”
“Sure! I’ve got nothing on my hands anyway. But where exactly?”
“You’ll see. It’s my secret spot!”
She then pulled a flashlight from the pouch on her waist, took my hand, and led me forward through the forest. I was already used to forests back home in Vietnam, but going into one at night still scared me a bit.
“Are you scared of ghosts?”
“Nah! Just that… what if scary animals appear from the dark?”
“You’re so goofy, tigers and other big predators were hunted off long ago. Also this is an island in the middle of the sea, at most you might find a snake or some amphibians and big lizards.”
“Yea… yea right.”
We both laughed out loud.
“If you say so, you’ll have to protect me then! Are we there yet?”
“Five more minutes. It’s just past that grove!”
Following her lead, I pushed the overhanging branches aside to let her through first. When I stepped in after her, my eyes widened in awe. We were standing on a narrow rocky outcrop jutting over the ocean, safe enough to sit down according to Meilian.
“This is breathtaking!”, I remarked.
“This has been a secret spot of mine since primary school!”
“How did you even find this place?”
“I didn’t, my dad showed it to me. He said that after I was born, he used to carry me out here whenever he had free time to enjoy the air. He was a single dad, he didn’t talk much, everyone said he was as gentle as a rock– sometimes I feel like you resembled him just a bit.”
I didn’t know what to say at that point, so I bluntly asked.
“So where is he now? I’m sorry if the question is insensitive.”
“I’m not really sure, he just vanished without a trace one day when I was in 8th grade. None of the neighbours knew anything either.”
“Do you resent him?”
“Not really. In my memory, he was always a good dad who loved his daughter dearly. I will forever cherish that. Carrying around hate and resentment your whole life doesn’t do you any good after all.”
“Yea.”
To lighten the mood, Meilian pulled out a bottle of rice wine from her bag:
“Can you drink?”
“Yes.”
I took the bottle, took a swig, then passed it to her. She did the same. Passing the bottle back and forth, we stared at the faraway shimmering ocean, reflecting the light of the stars and the moon. I looked at my watch, it was already past midnight. I thought for a moment, then spoke:
“I will be going back to Vietnam tomorrow.”
Hearing that, Meilian responded with an almost wistful tone:
“So soon? You could stay with me a few more days, you know.”
“The report is already finished, there’s not much else for me to do here.”
She sighed:
“Alright then. Thank you for being with me through all of this.”
“I should be the one saying that. Do you remember when we first met on the plane?”
She tapped my forehead and laughed:
“Of course, you silly shy goof! It’s late, we should head back.”
“Yes.”
Meilian stood up, brushed off her clothes, prepared to leave. Right then, under the influence of alcohol, or of my own accord, I touched her shoulder.
“Meilian, hold on, I have something to say.”
When she turned around, I finally poured out all of the feelings I had kept hidden inside all this time. It was only now, when the moment we parted drew close, that I found the courage to confess. After I finished, my ears felt like they were ringing. I couldn’t remember exactly what I had said, or how she had replied, all the thoughts racing in my head made my memory blur. By the time I returned to my room, all I could remember was the pink lipstick on my lips, and a faint, pleasant scent lingering on my body.
The end
And so, my duty came to an end, and I returned to the central branch to submit my report. I was required to hand over all collected documents and samples to the headquarters. Fortunately, I was allowed to keep this battered diary after they archived a digital copy in the database. Once all the procedures were completed, I requested an extended leave from the Site and operated independently beyond the Veil in order to pursue the project in other facilities. It was quite a surprise that the director generously approved without hesitation. As for Meilian, naturally, she had to return to the Taipei headquarters. Meilian… she was probably still the same, still carrying that small shoulder bag filled with odds and ends, still fond of sweet treats, still capturing beautiful scenes with her camera whenever she laid her eyes on them. But I am certain that one thing will change when she resumes her work in Taiwan: she will no longer have to take those photos alone.
I changed the name of my project to “Potpourri” because the anomaly truly changes from person to person, place to place. Each encounter brings a new scent, a new emotion, even if it means retracing my root hundreds of times. “Potpourri”, thinking back, is a fitting name. Do you know why the Foundation chose a level 2 personnel with no background in anomalous biology or human psyche study like me? I think it’s because I once had the same dream as those people out there. Yes, I’ve dreamt of it too, a dream of a bouquet of dandelions that my younger brother and I picked in our grandmother’s field and planted behind the house when we were kids. Whenever we had a wish, we would pick a dandelion and let it drift down the nearby river. Whether it was new toys, high marks, or my mother getting better…, all of that childhood hardships drifted away just like those dandelions. Of course, that bouquet was not anomalous, it was just something that gave us a little more faith in life. So maybe this anomaly is merely recreating a pivotal moment in people’s transient lives, a moment we treasure so deeply it cannot be washed away. It nestles in, takes roots, and binds itself with our memories only to drag them out to reality, like wild vines stretching toward the sun.
I can ascertain that SCP-092-VN was not the cause of the The Blooming, at least, that’s what we believe. It just… occurred at the same time, so coincidentally that the Foundation couldn’t help but suspect it to be the root of all the problems. Above all that, I have to say that it was clever and powerful enough to breach our minds and selectively draw out memories tied to flowers with such realism. I am still unsure why it chose to target flowers. Perhaps it’s trying to trick the Foundation into thinking the “The Blooming" caused it; or it wants to use the event as a way to alter itself, perhaps "The Blooming" also triggered floral-related anomalies to manifest along with it, or maybe that’s simply its nature. I don’t bother thinking too hard about it anymore. But even if my theories differ somewhat from other colleagues working on the project, deep down I believe that I’m on the right path. There’s one more thing I want to share with you, that “miraculous” dream of mine, I dreamt of it once more. But this time, it wasn’t a dandelion bouquet, but a girl with hair flowing like waves, standing on a rocky cliff, arms spread wide toward the horizon. Looking ahead, I don’t think that I will ever find the cause of this phenomenon or why it’s drawn to humanity. However, I have already found the flower of my life, and I am content with that.
Finally, I hope that you, the next person to research “Potpourri” in the coming year, will be able to find a new path for the project, or challenge my theory, and more importantly, soon find the most important flower of your life just as I did.
And that’s all I wrote.
Cite this page as:
"SCP-092-VN" by KirQ, translated by dreadfulfakey, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-092-vn. Licensed under CC BY-SA.
For information on how to use this component, see the License Box component. To read about licensing policy, see the Licensing Guide.
Original Article http://scp-vn.wikidot.com/scp-092-vn
File name: the_painting
Name: File:Abbott Fuller Graves, 1913 - Eastern Point Gloucester.jpg
Author: Abbott Fuller Graves (1859–1936)
License: Public Domain
Source: Wikimedia Commons
File name: guishan_island
Name: File:Guishan Island from air 1.jpg
Author: Orderinchaos
License: CC BY-SA 4.0
Source: Wikimedia Commons
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