Rin led Jisoo and Jihoon through the alley's end, her boots crunching on broken glass.
Every step was a risk in Seoul's quiet.
The mimics' clicking faded behind them, but it was never truly gone.
Rin felt it like a prickle on her neck, a sign they were being followed.
The humming sound vibrated beneath the ground, a living pulse that seemed to wrap around her bones, hunting them as surely as the mimics did.
The air smelled strongly of burnt rubber and decay, a sickening smell that clung to her throat.
It felt heavier now as the neon lights dimmed, blocked by thick clouds rolling across the sky.
Jihoon held his broken mop stick tightly, its splintered end shaking in his grip.
His steps were unsteady, and his wide eyes darted to every shadow, as if his sister might appear—or something worse.
Jisoo stayed close, her chipped butcher's knife gleaming faintly.
Her bandaged arm was stiff but unyielding, and blood stained her torn apron a darker red with each movement.
Rin gripped her lead pipe.
It felt warm and sticky in her palm, and her jaw was tight.
She felt the weight of having to protect two others.
They reached a shattered plaza.
Its centerpiece, a dry fountain, was cracked and stained, its stone basin filled with ash and torn flyers.
Rusted poles lined the edges, their posters fluttering slightly.
The faces of smiling idols were torn into grimaces under the flickering neon.
Rin scanned the open space, her heart beating faster.
It was too open, too quiet.
Jihoon's breath hitched beside her, a small, broken sound.
Rin glanced at him.
His face was pale, and his eyes were wet with unshed grief.
He held the stick like a child's toy against the darkness.
Something in Rin's chest stirred, a brief image of Hana's face she couldn't forget.
She hated it—hated how his fear mirrored her own, how it made running solo feel like a lie.
She pushed the thought down, her grip tightening on the pipe.
A screech tore through the dark—not the mimics' low buzz but a piercing wail, like metal being ripped apart.
It was sharp enough to hurt Rin's ears and shake her bones.
She froze, her heart pounding.
The air vibrated with the sound's raw power.
"Screamer," she muttered, the word sounding bitter.
She'd heard rumors about them in her hacking days—mimics that didn't just whisper names but shattered silence, drawing others of their kind like moths to a flame.
This was no rumor.
Jisoo cursed quietly, stepping in front of Jihoon, her knife raised.
Her weathered face was set in grim determination.
"Stay back," she growled, her stubbornness a shield against the chaos.
The screamer lunged from a shop's wreckage across the plaza.
It was much larger than the mimics they'd fought—taller, leaner, its pale skin stretched tight over jagged scars.
Veins pulsed red beneath, like embers under ice.
Its mouth split wide, a gaping maw of teeth like broken glass, glistening wetly as it wailed again—a sound that burrowed into Rin's skull, blurring her vision and rattling her teeth.
Jihoon dropped his stick with a clatter, clamping his hands over his ears.
His face drained to a sickly white, and his knees buckled.
Jisoo shoved him behind her, her wounded arm trembling as she braced herself, knife flashing in the flickering neon.
Rin swung her pipe, aiming for the screamer's head, but it dodged, faster than the others.
Its body twisted with an unnatural grace that made her stomach churn.
Its wail spiked higher, like a needle through her nerves, and another mimic answered, its buzz weaving "Jihoon…" through the screamer's cry.
The voice was too close to a girl's, high and pleading, layered with static—too real.
Rin's heart skipped a beat.
Hana's voice flashed in her mind, "Rin… where… " from the radio, appearing suddenly, a wound she couldn't heal.
She gritted her teeth, swinging again.
The pipe cracked the screamer's arm with a snap that sprayed black blood across the fountain's rim.
It didn't flinch.
Its claws raked Rin's jacket, tearing the leather but missing her skin.
Jisoo drove her knife into its side, the blade sinking deep with a wet crunch.
Blood sprayed her apron as she twisted the knife, her wounded arm shaking but relentless.
The screamer staggered, its wail faltering, but it lashed out, hitting Jisoo's shoulder with a glancing blow that sent her stumbling.
Jihoon scrambled for his stick, his hands shaking as he swung it uselessly at a second mimic crawling from the shop's shadow.
Its pale flesh split as it lunged.
Its pale eyes locked on him, buzzing "Jihoon…" in that same girl's voice, and he froze, his breath catching.
Tears spilled down his cheeks as if the sound broke something inside him.
Rin tackled the mimic, her pipe slamming into its chest with a force that cracked ribs—or whatever passed for them.
Its buzzing sound choked into silence as it collapsed.
She grabbed Jihoon's arm, hauling him back.
His stick clattered uselessly again.
"Get it together!" she snapped, sharper than she meant.
Her own fear was showing through her tough exterior.
The screamer fell, its wail dying into a gurgle, Jisoo's knife still buried in its side.
But the plaza vibrated.
More mimics answered, their clicking rising like a tide from every corner.
Rin's gaze darted to a subway entrance across the plaza.
Its stairs gaped like a throat into darkness, the only cover in sight.
"Run!" she barked, dragging Jihoon toward it.
His arm was thin and trembling under her grip.
Jisoo yanked her knife free, sprinting beside them.
Her breath was ragged, and blood was dripping from her shoulder now too.
They stumbled down the steps.
The air turned cold and damp, and the neon lights were replaced by a faint, flickering bulb that barely lit the tunnel.
Graffiti was scrawled across the subway walls—"LISTEN" in red, "AMPLIFY US" in black.
The paint was still wet, dripping like blood onto the cracked tiles.
Jihoon's breath hitched, a small, broken sound, as he leaned against a pillar.
His eyes were wet but fixed ahead, and he clutched his useless stick tightly.
Jisoo slumped beside him, her knife dripping black blood.
Her face was grim, and her good hand briefly touched his shoulder—a fleeting gesture, protective and steadying.
Rin's hand went to her sketchbook, a reflex to draw, to anchor herself against the humming sound that pulsed louder here, vibrating through the walls.
She stopped, her fingers hovering.
She saw Jihoon's tears, Jisoo's quiet strength, and felt Hana's absence like a weight.
Drawing wouldn't fix this, not now.
A buzz echoed deeper in the tunnel—"Rin…"—faint but growing, weaving her name into the darkness.
She tightened her grip on the pipe, her cynicism hardening.
They weren't safe—not here, not anywhere.