Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The road narrowed the further they drove, curling along the jagged coastline. Mist hugged the edges of the cliffs, and the ocean stretched black and endless on the horizon. Kyungmin leaned his head against the car window, watching waves crash below. A shape shimmered just beneath them, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Alright, this is officially getting creepy,” Minwoo commented from the driver’s seat, squinting through the fogged windscreen.

“I told you we should’ve filled up before we left the last town,” Hyunwoo said, arms crossed from the passenger seat. “Now we’re running on fumes.”

“I need to pee,” Yewang chimed from the back.

“Me too,” Jaeho whispered beside Kyungmin, tugging his hoodie tighter around his shoulders. “But I don’t like it here.”

Kyungmin didn’t either. Something about the road felt wrong—not just remote, but off. There were no birds nor signs of life except for the dull hum of the engine and the distant rhythmic growl of the sea.

“Hey!” Yewang perked up, pointing through the fog. “There’s a sign.”

The wood was old and warped from salt, the white paint nearly peeling clean off. “Welcome to Gijang Shore. Visitors must register at the town hall. No beach access after sunset,” it read.

The road soon gave way to uneven stone, buildings creeping up in narrow clusters. It didn’t look deserted, but it didn’t feel lived-in either. Kyungmin shifted in his seat, noticing the lack of lights in the windows. “Let’s just find somewhere to stop before going to the town hall.”

They pulled into a gas station that looked like it hadn’t seen customers in years, the rusted sign above the mart flickering "open" weakly. Yewang was the first to rush inside as they climbed out of the car. “I swear I’m gonna explode,” he whined, trailing behind Hyunwoo.

The station itself was sun-bleached, with one alley to the side that smelt like fish. It looked ominous, and Kyungmin didn’t move at first. He stayed where he was—half in the car, the open door pressing lightly against his shin. The cool evening breeze curled through his hair as it carried something with it—a whisper of motion just outside his peripheral vision.

He turned his head slowly toward the trees across the road, and there, beyond the last patch of gravel, lay a path he hadn’t noticed. It was narrow and overgrown, surrounded by two crooked cypress trees bowing in toward each other. Their shadows stretched long over the entrance, and a brush rustled gently though there was no wind. Kyungmin squinted, certain for a split second he saw a figure.

“Ready to go?”

Minwoo’s voice broke the quiet as Kyungmin flinched. “Y-Yeah,” he murmured, dragging his eyes away from the trees.

He climbed into the car, and Jaeho flopped beside him with a grumble about cheap toilet paper. Hyunwoo slid in last without a word. Minwoo turned the key in the ignition, and the engine coughed before it died. Everyone didn't think much of it until He tried again and again. The dashboard lights lit up, but the engine refused to catch, like something electrical had given up.
“What the...?” Minwoo was puzzled, smacking the steering wheel. “It was just fine.”

“Is it the battery?” Kyungmin asked, leaning forward.

Hyunwoo climbed out and popped the hood before slamming it shut moments later. “It’s not the battery, and I don’t think it’s the starter either.”

“Great,” Kyungmin sighed. He stared back out the window, towards the forgotten path. "We're stuck here then."

“Stuck here? What do you mean we’re stuck here?” Jaeho’s voice cracked higher than usual as he looked around.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, genius,” Yewang said, spinning in a slow circle outside the car. “No cell reception, no other cars, and that gas station guy looks like he hasn't blinked in the last hundred years.”

“So what now? We just wait here until the car magically fixes itself?”

Kyungmin hugged his arms around himself, shifting his eyes to the station attendant. He sat motionless behind yellowed glass, eyes glued to a static-filled TV, not even glancing at them once. “Maybe we can ask if there’s a mechanic nearby,” he said as Hyunwoo headed back inside the convenience store.

The bell above the door let out a weak jingle, and the place smelt like old newspapers and cigarettes. Rows of dusty cans lined the shelves; an old fan lazily turned in the corner. “Excuse me?” Hyunwoo approached the counter. “Do you know where we can find someone to look at our car?”

The attendant didn’t move.

“Hello?” Hyunwoo tried again.

The man’s eyes finally locked onto him, milky white like sea pearls. “The only mechanic’s out one town over.”

“So… There’s no one else?”

“You won’t get a tow until morning. You’ll have to stay the night,” the man said flatly.

“Is there a place we can stay nearby?”

The man blinked once. “There’s an inn just up the road. Cliffside. Don’t go near the beach.”

“Thanks...” Hyunwoo muttered, backing away from the counter.

The door creaked shut behind him, and the road to the inn wasn’t much of a road at all—more like a winding strip of cracked asphalt. Fog started creeping in fast from the shore as well, spilling across moss and tangled roots. They walked in silence at first, the group too unsettled to make conversation. There was only the crunch of gravel under their sneakers and the occasional distant cry of a gull in the evening air.

Kyungmin walked in the middle, his duffel bag slung tight across his chest. The overgrown hedges that lined the path were frayed, as if the greenery wanted to reach out and hold him in place. “Why does it feel like we’re walking into a horror movie?”

“Because we are,” Yewang replied, voice dry. “All that’s missing is a creepy innkeeper and a room with ghosts.”

“Don’t joke like that. This place is weird enough.” Jaeho said with a shiver.

Minwoo glanced over his shoulder. “You scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Jaeho shot back, a little too fast. “I’m just… telling the truth.”

The group passed a small, hand-carved sign half-buried in vines. “Cliffside Inn,” it read with letters so faded they were nearly illegible. An arrow pointed toward a narrow trail winding upward along the bluff.

“This must be it,” Hyunwoo said, stepping ahead.

The path to the inn climbed slowly, revealing glimpses of the sea between breaks in the trees. The sound of the waves grew louder, crashing faintly below—so faint it could've been mistaken for breathing. A strange tug pulled at Kyungmin just then, like a thread hooked behind his ribs. He stopped at the back of the group, his gaze lingering toward the ocean. He could barely make it out through the trees, but the trail—the one by the station—pointed this way.

“Hyung?” Jaeho’s voice broke through the fog. “Are you okay?”

Kyungmin blinked. “Yeah. Sorry, I spaced out.”

Jaeho gave him a look but didn’t press further.

When the inn came into view, a woman stood on the porch. She didn’t speak yet, only watching the group climb the steps, eyes sharp and strangely calm. She looked to be in her sixties, her clothes ragged like she hadn’t changed them in days. Or years. “You’ll be needing a place to stay,” she said as they approached.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hyunwoo answered, clearing his throat. “Our car broke down, and the station man said it’s not getting fixed until tomorrow.”

The woman nodded slowly, eyes sweeping over each of them. She lingered on Kyungmin a second longer than the others but said nothing to him. “We only have two rooms available,” she began, turning to a small wooden desk just inside the foyer. “Both upstairs. No locks on the doors. You’ll be safe enough.”

No one liked how she phrased that, Yewang leaning in and whispering to Kyungmin, “That’s exactly the kind of thing someone says before they make you disappear forever.”

“Please don’t, Wangie,” Kyungmin murmured back, already feeling on edge.

The woman handed over two tarnished brass keys. “Room 2A, Room 3C. Keep your voices down. The others are sleeping.”

“Others?” Minwoo asked. “You have other guests?”

The woman didn’t answer. She only turned and began walking down the hallway, footsteps soundless on the warped wooden floor.

“I am not sleeping in here.” Jaeho scowled.

Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow. “And where exactly are we supposed to sleep then?”

“The car?”

Hyunwoo snorted. “Yeah? Good luck curling up in that tin can. If you want to wake up with a crick in your neck, be my guest.”

“At least the car doesn’t smell like mould,” Jaeho grumbled, kicking lightly at the baseboard.

“Come on,” Kyungmin sighed, his fingers tightening around the key in his hand. “We’ll argue in the morning.”

The group reluctantly split up. Kyungmin, Jaeho, and Yewang were assigned to Room 2A; Hyunwoo and Minwoo took 3C at the end of the corridor. As they walked to their rooms, every door they came across was firmly shut. All except for one. Room 1B stood ajar, its door creaking gently with the draught. The bed was made, and the lamp was off inside, but a suitcase sat open on the floor, still packed.

“Looks like someone left in a hurry,” Minwoo commented under his breath.

“Or didn’t leave at all,” Kyungmin swallowed.

He didn’t look back, and when they reached their room, he opened the door slowly. The light inside flickered twice before holding steady. There was one bed, one window nailed shut,

Yewang nodded. “Cosy.”

Jaeho dropped his bag onto the floor with a whine and leaned into the hallway, calling after the others. “Hey! Do you guys have one bed too?”

“Yeah, just one,” Minwoo replied from further down.

“Ugh,” Jaeho groaned, stepping back in.

Kyungmin placed his bag carefully by the foot of the bed, watching as Yewang threw himself down right in the middle of it. His hands were tucked behind his head like he owned the place. “Still thinking about the car, Jae-ah?” he teased, glancing at him with a lopsided grin.

“No talking about the car,” Jaeho answered, dragging himself to the bed. He sat heavily on the left side. “I’m pretending we’re already leaving. That’s the only way I’ll sleep tonight.”

Kyungmin chuckled at the two, wandering over to the small window across the room. The pane was icy under his fingertips, condensation beading against the glass like sweat. Beyond it, the view outside was completely blurred in fog. He tilted his head slightly, leaning in closer to a faint sound. Waves? That couldn’t be right. This side of the inn didn’t face the ocean. Did it? Kyungmin’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. Behind him, Jaeho peeled off his jacket, and Yewang already sunk into the mattress, dozing with one leg dangling lazily off the side.

Then a knock.

The sound echoed through the room, the three of them motionless. Another knock followed, and Kyungmin stepped back instinctively, his pulse thudding in his ears. Jaeho sat upright; Yewang blinked groggily, then pushed himself to his feet.

“Who is it?” he sang, approaching the door cautiously.

No response.

He hesitated before turning the handle, and once he did, there was nothing outside the door. The hallway was still, bathed in the weak amber glow of a flickering wall sconce. He lingered a second longer, peering out, then pulled the door shut with a dull click. “That was weird.”

“Can we please just go to sleep?” Jaeho groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “I’m so done with this place.”

“I agree,” Kyungmin added, but his gaze lingered on the door.

“Okay, well... I’m taking the middle,” Yewang declared as he slid to his previous spot. “You two can fight over who gets to cuddle me.”

“No one is cuddling anyone,” Jaeho declined, already pulling the blanket up to his chest.

Kyungmin crawled in last, careful not to touch either of them too much.

“You can get closer. I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that.” Yewang said with a grin, nudging him playfully.

Kyungmin gave a startled blink. “I—what?”

“Oh my god,” Jaeho grumbled from the other side, turning away.

Yewang chuckled and settled in, his voice low. “If we’re gonna die here, I might as well enjoy my time.”

Kyungmin flushed, rolling on his side. “Goodnight, Wangie.”

“Night,” Yewang replied a little too sweetly.

Jaeho sighed dramatically.

Despite the tension, fatigue inevitably won. The lights dimmed a little more, and the room settled into silence until the sun rose. However, it didn’t feel like morning once it did. The sky outside the thin curtains was still pale grey, Jaeho stirring first.
His eyes cracked open to find the room still cloaked in the hazy chill. It stiffened his limbs and turned the tip of his nose red.

“I can’t wait to leave,” he mumbled, brushing hair from his face while staring at his roommates.

Kyungmin was curled tightly against Yewang, one arm across his chest, face pressed to the curve of his shoulder. Their legs tangled under the blanket, but Yewang was already awake. He met Jaeho’s look with raised brows and mouthed, “Look at this!” in exaggerated disbelief.

Jaeho shook his head. “You're ridiculous,” he whispered, reaching over to smack Yewang’s foot. “Move.”

Yewang responded by adjusting slightly, one arm lazily draping around Kyungmin. Though he stirred a moment later. His brows drew together, lashes fluttering before his eyes finally opened. For a second, Kyungmin didn’t register where he was or who he was curled up against. His eyes widened once he did and quickly sat up, pushing away from Yewang with flustered breath.

“I'm sorry,” he apologised, cheeks blooming with colour. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You were dreaming about me, weren’t you?” Yewang teased, stretching his arms above his head with a dramatic yawn. “Don’t worry; you’re not the first.”

“Enough already!” Jaeho rolled his eyes, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Kyungmin didn’t respond. He sat still, blanket pooled around his waist, shoulders hunched. There was a look in his eyes—distracted.

“You okay, Hyung?” Jaeho asked, glancing back at him.

Kyungmin gave a small nod. “Mhm. I just had a weird dream.” He didn’t mention the pressure. Or the feeling of cold water closing over his chest.
“Me too... Also, why is it still so dark out?”

“It’s brighter than last night,” Yewang yawned, blinking sleep from his eyes. There was a knock at the door again, and he shuffled to it. "And that better not be another ghost," he added, opening the door to Hyunwoo.

He was already dressed, hair hastily combed with his fingers rather than a brush. “You guys decent?”

Jaeho snorted. “Define decent.”

“Did you have a weird night too, Hyeonu?” Kyungmin asked.

Hyunwoo nodded, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. “Yeah. Minwoo didn’t sleep at all. He said someone was whispering his name outside the window.”

Yewang furrowed his brows. “Outside? On the second floor?”

“That’s what he said. He was pale as hell when I woke up.”

Jaeho stood straight, more alert. “Was it like... talking-talking or just… noises?”

“Uh... talking-talking.”

“Yup, that sounds about right for this place,” Yewang commented.

“Minwoo's already downstairs,” Hyunwoo continued, pushing off the door frame. “You guys should get ready too. Let's meet in the lobby, then get the hell out of here.”

“Okay. We’ll be down in a minute,” Kyungmin rasped, voice still tired.

Hyunwoo gave a nod and turned, his footsteps fading down the creaky hallway.

Yewang was already pulling a hoodie over his head, yawning into the sleeve. “I don’t care how nice the beds are. I’m not staying another night.”

“Way ahead of you.” Jaeho knelt by his backpack, shoving wrinkled clothes into it with more force than necessary.

“Do you think we’re cursed already, though?”

Kyungmin zipped up his duffel, sliding his glasses on. He glanced toward Jaeho, who scowled at the floor. “We’re not. Stop trying to scare Jaeho.”

“I’m not scared,” Jaeho snapped.

“Sure you’re not,” Yewang teased under his breath.

By the time they made their way down to the lobby and stepped outside, the air was heavy with mist. The morning light hadn’t broken through the clouds—if there was any sun at all, completely smothered. Everything looked damp and grey, like the town never dried from the day before.

“Where’s Min-hyung?”  Jaeho asked, arms shivering in the wind.

“He went ahead,” Hyunwoo answered, appearing beside them with a tired frown. “He said he was going to look for breakfast.”

“Alone?”

“He didn’t want to wait.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” Yewang blurted out.

They all exchanged a glance before stepping off the porch. Hyunwoo led while the rest trailed in tense silence, their shoes crunching over gravel slick with dew.  As they followed the path toward the town centre and returned to the gas station, they halted. The lot was empty, Minwoo standing in the middle of it with his arms crossed.

“Where’s the car?” Jaeho asked, voice rising with disbelief.

They all stared at the same spot, blinking as if the car might suddenly reappear. But there was only a dark oil stain where the tyres had been and the faint outline of where the dust settled.

Minwoo took a shaky step forward. “It was here,” he rasped, voice tight. “I swear it was right here. I saw it through the window this morning—just sitting here.”

“Did someone tow it?” Hyunwoo asked, already scanning the boarded-up shopfront of the gas station. The neon sign was off, and there was no attendant inside.

“There’s no way. A tow truck would’ve woken us up. We weren't that far away.”

“Maybe we were robbed?” Kyungmin said, though it came out more like a question.

“Robbed?” Yewang scoffed, eyes narrowing. “They stole the whole damn car and left the gas station untouched? Come on.”

“Stop,” Jaeho snapped. “We need help. Real help. Like the police.”

“In this town?” Minwoo gave him a flat look. “Where exactly do you think they'd be hiding? There’s no phone service. We’d have to hike half the coastline.”

“There was a payphone back near the inn. I saw it when we were checking in.” Kyungmin offered, voice low.

“Let’s go together then. No splitting up.” Hyunwoo said.

The others nodded. No one wanted to be alone any more. Not after this. They turned back, heading toward the inn as the sea wind picked up, tugging at their clothes. The fog was heavier now, curling around rooftops and tree branches like fingers. They passed the trail to the beach, and Kyungmin’s steps slowed. It looked closer than yesterday, like it moved with the tide. His fingers clenched in his sleeves, and he continued to walk.

At the inn, the payphone leaned crookedly against the side. It was half-swallowed by climbing ivy, and the receiver dangled from its cord, swinging ever so slightly in the breeze. Hyunwoo stepped forward and brought it to his ear before slamming it back down. “Dead,” he sighed. “Of course.”

Minwoo tried next. “No dial tone,” he confirmed, pressing the receiver to his ear as if it would come back to life. “Nothing.”

Yewang kicked a loose rock across the gravel, arms folded tight over his chest. “This place is cursed.”

“Don’t start,” Jaeho panicked, pacing nearby. “There has to be someone—anyone—with a working phone.”

“We already tried the gas station,” Hyunwoo said, his voice clipped. “The only other spot mentioned was the town hall on that sign from yesterday.”

“Then let’s go there,” Minwoo suggested. “It’s got to be staffed, right? Someone has to keep this place running.”

Jaeho hesitated, eyes drifting toward the ocean beside them. “I want to try the beach.”

Yewang turned, blinking. “The beach? Seriously? That’s the one place everyone warned us not to go.”

“I know,” Jaeho said. “But maybe there’s someone who can help, and I really want to get away from this town right now.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kyungmin offered.

“Are you sure?” Hyunwoo frowned.

Kyungmin nodded once. “Mhm. We’ll be careful. Yewang can come too, if he wants.”

Yewang raised an eyebrow but sighed. “Fine. I’m not letting you two get eaten by sea ghosts without me.”

Hyunwoo glanced at Minwoo before giving a grim nod. “Alright, we meet back here before the sun sets. Don’t be late.”
“We won’t,” Kyungmin said.

They split from the inn—Hyunwoo and Minwoo heading toward the town hall. Kyungmin, Jaeho, and Yewang moved in the opposite direction, past the gas station and down the dark path that led to the beach. The wind picked up as they walked, cold and sharp, smelling of brine and something faintly metallic. The trail sloped downward, trees giving way to large dunes and thick reeds.

“You sure about this, Jae-ah?” Yewang asked, glancing behind them.

“No,” Jaeho admitted, brushing his hand against a dry stalk of grass.

The ocean came into view, vast and churning against a rocky shore. There was nothing helpful in sight, not even boats. Their shoes just sank slightly with a soft crunch. Jaeho veered off first, muttering something about needing a moment. Kyungmin followed Yewang along the shoreline, the two of them walking in silence for a stretch. The low tide churned sluggishly beside them, washing up driftwood and long streaks of dark seaweed.

“This is definitely not what I pictured when we planned a summer road trip,” Yewang started, toeing a smooth stone and sending it skipping once before it disappeared into the tide. “I was expecting ice cream stands and karaoke motels. Not… foggy cult beaches.”

Kyungmin giggled. “Yeah, I think we missed the exit for fun about two towns back.”

“You’re taking this better than I thought.”

Kyungmin shrugged, pushing his glasses higher. “I think I’m still in the denial stage. You know—pretending we’ll get the car back, laughing about all this later.”

“Classic coping,” Yewang grinned. “You always bottle it up first.”

Kyungmin raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t?”

“I explode, remember?” Yewang said proudly, thumbing at himself. “I start whining immediately and never stop. You? You go quiet, folding into yourself like a hermit crab.”

Kyungmin shook his head but smiled. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” Yewang corrected, nudging his shoulder. “You also get that look in your eyes when you’re overwhelmed. Like right now.”

Kyungmin went quiet.

“Sorry,” Yewang apologised. “That was a lot. You okay?”

“I think so. I’m just… trying not to be scared.”

Yewang’s gaze lingered on him. “You don’t have to be brave around me.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. If you want to scream at the ocean, I’ll scream with you.” Yewang nudged him again, lighter this time, and Kyungmin laughed.

Behind them, the fog rolled thicker across the sand, curling unnatural spirals near the dunes.
Jaeho was still somewhere up ahead, out of view now behind the black rocks. They kept walking to catch up, the sound of the sea becoming muted. In the distance, gulls wheeled and cried, the town feeling far away.

Kyungmin bent to pick up a small shell, pale blue and spiralled like a tiny horn. “This one’s pretty.”

Yewang leaned close, peering at it. “Are you gonna keep it? Start a cursed souvenir collection?”

Kyungmin smiled faintly and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “I might.”

They stopped at a spot where the sand dipped into a small tide pool. Seaweed floated like long fingers in the shallow water, and tiny silver fish darted beneath the surface, disappearing into shadow. Yewang crouched down and tapped the water with two fingers, watching the ripples spread. “It’s weird… everything here looks normal. But it doesn’t feel normal. You know?”

Kyungmin didn’t answer right away. He stood behind Yewang, watching him more than the pool. “I don't know. It feels like we’re being watched.”

Yewang looked up, face serious for the first time that morning. “Yeah,” he said. “It does.”

There was a pause between them, and Yewang stood slowly. “Hey,” he said, voice quieter now. “Whatever’s happening… whatever this place is… We’ll get out of it.”

“I know,” Kyungmin whispered.

His voice was barely there, but something in the way he said it made Yewang hesitate. Then he reached out and brushed Kyungmin’s hair behind his ear, fingers lingering for a beat too long.

“Is it crazy I've wanted to kiss you since the third night of the trip?” Yewang asked.

“No... Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to.”

Kyungmin’s breath hitched, and before he could second-guess it, he stepped forward. Their foreheads touched first as Yewang tilted his chin up. The kiss was gentle, a single moment of calm in a situation that felt like it was unravelling. Yewang’s hand cupped the side of Kyungmin’s neck, and Kyungmin leaned into him, forgetting for just a second where they were.

When they pulled apart, the wind was different. The tide had risen, and the fog was thick, rolling in fast across the beach.

“Wait... where's Jaeho?” Kyungmin asked suddenly, eyes scanning up ahead.

Yewang turned around, squinting. The rocks where Jaeho had been were gone from view—swallowed by white. “Jaeho!” he shouted, cupping his hands to his mouth.

No answer.

Kyungmin wandered closer to the waterline to look, his gaze following the retreating foam. His thoughts drifted for a second as a hum came from the fog. It was deep and melodic, vibrating behind his eyes like a memory. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted when he heard his name echo from every direction.

“Kyungmin?” Yewang called, but his voice was distant, muffled, like shouting through water.

Kyungmin didn’t turn. He couldn’t. Every muscle in his body slackened all at once, as if something removed him from himself. His legs were rooted in the sand, heavy as stone, while his arms floated uselessly at his sides. The world spun in a slow circular drift around him, his vision blurring at the edges. Something wet curled around his ankle and
The sound in his head grew louder, rising in pitch as he tried to say Yewang’s name, but darkness overtook him first.

When he opened his eyes, the beach was unrecognisable. The sky above him had turned a bruised shade of violet, soaked in the light of an unnatural sunset. He sat up slowly, disoriented, as the sand beneath him scraped against his hands. His clothes were soaked with seaweed wrapped around his arms and legs, twisted and draped like it'd been placed there on purpose. It clung to him in long, slimy ribbons—looped behind his knees, knotted around his wrists like soft restraints.

The beach was empty. The fog was gone. Kyungmin pushed himself to his feet, legs trembling beneath him. A strange warmth bloomed just beneath his right ear—hot and pulsing like a fever. His fingers brushed the skin, and it stung faintly under his touch.  “Jaeho… Yewang…?” he called, voice strained. “Hello?”

Silence.

Kyungmin’s breath started to quicken, and his shoes slipped on the wet shore. He turned in place, trying to find anything familiar, but there was nothing nearby. His heart began to pound with a new kind of urgency, and his limbs finally listened. He started running. The sand pulled at his ankles, slowing him down with every step. The seaweed clung stubbornly to his shoes, and he tripped once, then caught himself, moving faster, not looking back. The sky was darkening too fast, bleeding into a stormy plum hue, and every instinct screamed at him to go until the town came into view.

He rushed through it, looking over his shoulder every few seconds, half-expecting Jaeho or Yewang to show up, brushing it all off like some prank. But there was no sign of them.  Once he stumbled into the inn’s lobby, every breath came in sharp bursts. There were too many thoughts racing, too fast to catch, too loud to think. He barely registered the low creak of floorboards as someone approached him.

“There you are!” Hyunwoo’s voice rang out, breathless with relief. He crossed the room in a few steps, eyes wide. “Where the hell have you been?”

Kyungmin looked up, dazed. Minwoo sat perched on the armrest of an old chair, and Hyunwoo’s gaze darted past Kyungmin toward the door.

“Wait—where’s Jaeho?”

“He was with us—he was just up ahead—I turned around and—” Kyungmin swallowed hard, eyes welling up. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “He was gone.”

“Huh? What do you mean, gone? ” Hyunwoo asked, stepping closer. “Did he say anything? Did he go off somewhere?”

“I don’t know!” Kyungmin snapped, voice cracking. “We were on the beach talking—and then this fog rolled in, and I… I blacked out or something! I woke up alone. Yewang left me.”

“You blacked out?” Yewang stood at the top of the stairs, one hand braced on the wall. His face was pale. “When the fog came in, you disappeared.”

Kyungmin’s breath caught as he stared up at Yewang. “No... You were right there with me.”

“I swear that’s what happened,” Yewang shook his head, coming down the steps. “I saw you in the fog, and then you weren’t there. I called and looked for you for hours.”

“No, you left me,” Kyungmin repeated, quieter this time. “You left me alone.”

“No one left anyone,” Minwoo said, moving in to break the tension. “We’re all freaked out, okay? Let’s just go upstairs and figure this out.”

Hyunwoo nodded in agreement. “Right. It’s dark again.”

They went back upstairs as a group, crowding into the room Hyunwoo and Minwoo had stayed in the night before. No one suggested splitting up this time. The sun was long gone, and the inn felt colder than yesterday.

“We’ll keep the lights on. No one’s sleeping in the dark tonight.” Minwoo spoke.

Kyungmin dropped his duffel with a quiet thud, fingers still shaking as he unzipped it. “I’m gonna shower,” he said, moving toward the bathroom.

Inside, he peeled off his clothes slowly, flinching as he saw the seaweed still clinging to his wrist. It took more effort than expected to tug it free. Once the steam slowly fogged the room, the water helped ground him a little. Kyungmin stood under the water until his fingers pruned, and the heat made his legs ache. When he stepped out and dried off, he reached for his spare clothes, glancing up at the mirror to fix his hair.

That's when he saw it.

Just below his right ear, wrapping slightly toward the crook of his neck, was a faint mark. It wasn’t there before. Kyungmin leaned in, breath catching. It wasn’t bruised or inflamed, shimmering faintly under the light like an iridescent tattoo. The shape pulsed faintly with the beat of his heart, too delicate to be a wound.

“Kyungmin?” Minwoo's voice called from the room. “Are you still alive in there?”

Kyungmin opened the door, forcing his expression into something neutral. “Yeah. I am.”

The room had grown quiet again, everyone tucked into their corners of exhaustion. Hyunwoo rested on the couch with Minwoo beside him, eyes dark and wary. Yewang lay stretched on the bed, one arm over his face, and Kyungmin sat on the floor near the edge of the bed. His eyes were distant, hollow with tiredness that didn’t come from lack of sleep.

“Come here.” Yewang shifted beside him, patting his lap.

Kyungmin hesitated only a moment before joining him on the bed. His cheek rested against Yewang’s thigh, warmth blooming in the stillness. It was something steady to hold.

“You missed a bit of chaos,” Yewang murmured, voice low and close. “Hyunwoo and Minwoo made it to the town hall.”

“And?”

“It was locked up. Empty like everything else in this town.”

“So no help.”

“No help,” Yewang confirmed.

Kyungmin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “We shouldn’t have gone to the beach.”

“We didn't know what would happen.” Yewang’s fingers threaded gently through Kyungmin’s hair, the other hand resting on his waist. “I thought you were gone too, you know. But you're here, and Jaeho will be as well.”

They sat like that for a while before Yewang’s voice dipped into something quieter. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Kyungmin shifted slightly and shivered. “Mhm.”

“Then just rest. I’ve got you.”

Kyungmin let him and the room follow. The only sounds were the soft ticking of a wall clock and the wind tapping against the glass. Under him, Yewang’s breathing was calm, and at some point, they shifted—Kyungmin drifting up, his head resting against Yewang’s chest. On the couch, Hyunwoo snored quietly, sprawled in an awkward angle. Minwoo curled beside him, unmoving.

That is, until a scream—a human cry—echoed through the inn.

Yewang jolted upright. “Was that—?”

“Minwoo!” Hyunwoo gasped, already scrambling to his feet. He turned sharply, scanning the space beside him. “He’s not here—he’s not in the room!”

Kyungmin sat up fast, still groggy. “Wait—what? Who’s not here?”

“Minwoo. He said he was hungry, but he should’ve stayed put.” Hyunwoo’s jaw was tight as he grabbed his phone from his bag. “Yewang, let's go.”

“Coming.”

Hyunwoo paused at the threshold, turning back to Kyungmin. “Are you okay staying here alone?”

Kyungmin nodded, throat tight. He stood motionless as the door clicked shut behind them, the sound of his breathing far too loud. Somewhere in the walls, a pipe groaned. Floorboards settled with faint pops like footsteps just out of rhythm. He sat back on the edge of the bed, hands resting on his knees. His fingers tapped repeatedly, twitching every time the thunder roared outside.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. There was no sound from the hallway, and anxiety got the better of him. Kyungmin walked to the door and pressed his ear against the cool wood. There were still no sounds as he turned the handle, peeking out. “Hyeonu?” he whispered. “Yewang?”

The silence was abruptly shattered once rapid footsteps reached the room. Hyunwoo came running around the corner, one sleeve torn and hand dripping red. “We need to go!” he panicked, grabbing Kyungmin by the wrist.

“W-What happened? Where’s Yewang?”

Hyunwoo yanked the door open wider. “We’re not safe here—they—”

A loud crash cut him off, and glass shattered. Cold air surged into the hallway as the window at the end of the corridor exploded inward. Shards rained across the floor as a shadow climbed through. It was a man completely drenched, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

He pointed directly at them. “You belong to the sea.”

"Run!" Hyunwoo pulled Kyungmin by the arm, nearly dragging him as they bolted down the hallway.

The lights above flickered violently with the thunder, and Kyungmin’s breath caught in his throat, lungs burning. “What’s happening?!” he cried. Behind them, footsteps pounded—not just one pair but dozens.

“I don’t know—just keep moving!” Hyunwoo shouted, glancing over his shoulder.

They rounded a sharp corner with a crash, another window exploding inward. From the jagged frame in front of them, a woman crawled. Her soaked dress dragged behind her like sea foam, and her long black hair clung to her face in ribbons.

“Give him up,” she sang. “Give him to the tide.”

Kyungmin stumbled backward in fear. The floor beneath him groaned, then snapped. Hyunwoo barely had time to shout “Wait!” before it was too late. The boards beneath them splintered like ice, and the world dropped out from under their feet. They fell fast, but not all at once. For a second, Kyungmin floated weightless in the air, arms flailing through the space. Hyunwoo’s hand slipped from his wrist, and for the briefest moment, he could see Hyunwoo in midair too. Above them, the hallway shrank, twisting unnaturally as it vanished once gravity returned.

As they landed, Kyungmin hit something wet. It caught him like a sponge, and he sank through it like jelly. It was too dark to see. His limbs kicked, reaching for Hyunwoo as his head breached the surface, gasping for breath. “Hyeonu!” he choked out, voice echoing off the stone walls.

“Over here!” Hyunwoo was gasping too, dragging himself to the edge of the flooded cellar. “There's—there's something in here—”

The water sloshed unnaturally around them, carrying the scent of acid and decay. Just feet away, something floated closer. Kyungmin’s breath caught as it turned with the ripples, its swollen limbs twisting. It was a body whose skin was stretched too tight in places and peeling in others. One eye, milky and half-sunken, stared straight upward from the surface, glassy and unblinking.

“Oh my god…” Kyungmin recoiled, holding onto Hyunwoo.

“We need to get out of here,” Hyunwoo panted, pulling him closer. “Before they—”

A loud thud rang out from the far side of the cellar, and figures emerged at the edge of the water. One held a single swinging light overhead while the woman from the hallway crouched, her smile cutting across her cheeks like a wound.

“You should’ve stayed in your room,” she whispered like a lullaby.

Kyungmin backed up instinctively, hands gripping Hyunwoo’s sleeve hard. They didn’t stand a chance. One of the ropes looped Hyunwoo’s arm, and suddenly three men were in the water—splashing, grabbing, pulling.

“Let go of me!” Hyunwoo shouted, but it was no use. His voice was lost in the chaos. They dragged him toward the ledge, fingernails clawing at the slippery walls, face twisted in fury and fear.

“Get off of him!” Kyungmin screamed.

He tried to follow, pushing through the water when something gripped his ankle. Kyungmin slipped, crashing into the water with a panicked cry. His arms flailed, but a second hand grabbed him from behind, yanking him under. His scream bubbled uselessly to the surface as the world turned murky. When he came to, his head throbbed, and his hands were bound at the wrists with salt-worn rope. Kyungmin blinked, trying to adjust. He wasn't really in a room—it was more like a chamber, carved beneath the inn. Old support beams stretched overhead, half swallowed by black mould. Moonlight streamed through a broken grate above, and lying in front of them was Minwoo's torn flannel.
Kyungmin could also hear breathing nearby.  “Hyeonu?” he whispered.

“I'm here.” Hyunwoo's voice came from across the room. He was staring at the flannel, teeth clenched. “But they took Minwoo.”

The ropes bit into Kyungmin’s wrists as he shifted, heart hammering. “What happened?”

Hyunwoo didn’t answer. His head hung low, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Blood stained the front of his shirt.

“Is that your blood?”

“No. It’s… It’s Minwoo's. I found him cornered in the lobby,” Hyunwoo sighed. “I fought them off, but he was injured.”

“So you left him?”

“I didn’t want to!” Hyunwoo snapped. He shut his eyes, forcing himself to lower his voice. “Yewang and I tried to help, but there were people everywhere. Like they’d been waiting for us.”

Kyungmin slumped back against the wall, eyes stinging with tears. “I just want to go home,” he cried, wrists throbbing where the ropes dug in. His chest heaved with each shaky inhale, and his eyes desperately swept the chamber until they landed on a square shape near Hyunwoo.

“Wait,” he gasped. “There’s a way out!” Hyunwoo followed Kyungmin’s gaze, and with enough force, Kyungmin managed to roll to his side. He scraped his wrists harder against the rusted edge of the support beam—the rope eventually giving way. He let out a sharp breath and scrambled to Hyunwoo’s side, working quickly to loosen the knots.

“Okay—okay, hold on.”

“You’re doing good,” Hyunwoo whispered, watching the door.

Kyungmin’s fingers shook, but the knots came undone. They stood in unison, and Hyunwoo wasted no time moving to the vent. He drove his heel into the cover twice until a sharp clang echoed through the chamber. Metal bent and shrieked before it popped loose to freedom.

However, that sound was also a mistake. The door burst open in the same breath. Wood cracked against the wall as three men from the cellar stormed in. One held a gun, and another dragged a rusted meat hook behind him. The third pointed directly at them, eyes wild.

“They’re loose!”

“Move!” Hyunwoo shouted.

Kyungmin scrambled, his knees scraping stone as he hauled himself inside the vent. But fingers were quick to grab at his ankles, pulling him back inside. “Hyeonu—!”

Hyunwoo was already there, ripping one of the attackers off and landing a fist into his jaw. Another arm lashed out at him, and he ducked just in time. “Go, Kyungmin!”

Kyungmin crawled frantically, the narrow shaft pressing close on every side. Behind him, the sounds of gunfire, someone grunting, and the scramble of hands reaching again. Hyunwoo dove in after, legs kicking behind him as the vent swallowed them both. They moved fast, knees raw, breath heating the air. The shouting behind them grew quieter before it vanished entirely, swallowed by the thrum of wind and rain.

With a final jolt, the vent spat them out into the cold open night. Rain poured in sheets, soaking them instantly. They ducked behind a storage shed, feet slapping through puddles as the town path came into view.
“If we split up, one of us could get help,” Hyunwoo said between gasps. “Or... or maybe Yewang already—”

He never finished.

Hyunwoo's words cut off mid-sentence, jerking backward as something struck him in the stomach. He shivered, lips moving like he was still trying to speak.

“Oh god!” Kyungmin screamed, panic overtaking reason. His feet slipped from beneath him, and he plunged down the hillside, branches tearing at his arms and legs. Gravity yanked him faster than he could control, the world a blur of rain and shadow. Hyunwoo had gone down just seconds before, crashing through slick underbrush before disappearing altogether.

At the bottom, their bodies collided with a wet thud in a shallow ditch. Kyungmin stumbled up, breath ragged. He crawled through the mud, finding Hyunwoo spread out unnaturally, limbs tangled and soaked. “No... this isn’t happening,” he cried, pressing his hands to Hyunwoo’s chest, rapidly rising and falling. “Stay with me, Hyeonu.”

Hyunwoo groaned faintly, eyes rolling back as more blood seeped down his side. His arms were wrapped over Kyungmin’s shoulders, who started dragging him through the mud, every step a desperate effort. His legs shook, but he kept pulling—hauling them into a narrow alley. However, just as Kyungmin's strength gave out, a light flared ahead.

“Kyungmin?!”

“Wangie? You're alive?!”

Yewang dimmed his phone light, sprinting closer. “What the hell is going on...”

“They shot him,” Kyungmin sobbed. “We... we were escaping from the inn.”

Yewang didn’t hesitate. He slung Hyunwoo’s other arm over his shoulder, and together they staggered toward an abandoned house to hide. Inside, Kyungmin slammed the door shut and bolted it with a piece of broken wood. Yewang lowered Hyunwoo gently onto a torn couch. He was still breathing, but barely.

The storm outside hadn’t let up either. Rain clawed at the windows in thin lines, and the sea wind moaned through the broken floorboards. Occasionally, a dull crash of thunder shook the walls, and Kyungmin slumped against the couch as Hyunwoo lay above him, unconscious.

“You’re alive. You’re really alive…” Kyungmin whispered again.

“I was hiding,” Yewang said, crouched beside him. “I saw them take Minwoo.”

Kyungmin turned to look at him, eyes slow and unfocused. “Is he…?”

“I'm not sure, but Hyunwoo can’t stay like this.”

“What should we do then?”

“I have no idea. We don’t have any supplies,” Yewang went on, voice flat with disbelief. “We don’t even know if he’s bleeding internally or what.”

Kyungmin pressed his palms together, biting hard on the inside of his cheek. “There has to be something we can do.”

“Maybe we can try to keep him warm. Or try to stop the bleeding. All I know is if we stay here too long, they’ll find us for sure.”

They both looked at Hyunwoo, who stirred slightly on the couch, lips moving in a mumble neither of them could understand. Each breath sounded more like a shiver, rattling deep in his chest. The colour had drained from his face entirely, skin paling to a bluish hue that made him look like he was already halfway gone.

“I won’t leave him,” Kyungmin whispered.

Yewang nodded after a long pause, his voice low and unsteady. “I’m not asking you to.”

Kyungmin pressed a hand to Hyunwoo’s arm, feeling the tremble in his muscles. “You’re okay,” he cooed, like saying it out loud might make it real. “You’re going to be okay.”

Hyunwoo’s eyes fluttered open. He looked dazed, eyes struggling to focus as they darted between Kyungmin and Yewang. “Daw—” his lips moved, but the words didn’t come. He only coughed, wincing sharply as a fresh line of blood stained the front of his shirt.

“What is it? Hyeonu, I’m here. We’re here.”

Hyunwoo’s hand twitched, barely lifting off the couch. It hovered for a moment before settling on Kyungmin’s hand with the faintest pressure. His mouth moved again, whispering something that might have been a name—then it stopped. The tension in his hand vanished. His chest didn’t rise again.

Kyungmin gasped. “Hyeonu? Hyeonu, come on—wake up.”

Yewang turned away, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. His shoulders trembled as he blinked, jaw locking with something caught between grief and rage. Behind him, Kyungmin pressed his forehead to Hyunwoo’s chest, sobbing in broken, shallow gasps. “He’s gone, Kyungmin,” Yewang said softly, voice raw.

Kyungmin didn’t look away. “Because of us.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Kyungmin shot to his feet. “This whole thing started because we went to that fucking beach. Jaeho’s missing, Minwoo's taken, and Hyunwoo—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The name stuck in his throat.

Yewang turned, hands shaking as he draped the blanket over Hyunwoo’s body. “None of this is our fault.”

Kyungmin shook his head. “Everyone's gone—it's just us.”

“No. I saw where they took Minwoo. I know he and Jaeho aren't gone.”

“You’re sure?”

“Not really,” Yewang admitted. “But I know we will lose them if we just stay here. If we give up now, then it’s really over.”

Kyungmin nodded slowly. “Okay… then we’ll find th—” The world slipped before Kyungmin finished.

The air in the room changed, suddenly electric. A faint, high-pitched hum pressed against the back of his skull like a parasite. It grew sharper, building into a vibration beneath his skin. Then came the heat, a fever through his chest and limbs. “What—” he breathed, but the word crumbled on his tongue. Kyungmin didn’t feel the floor. Instead, he was somewhere else, drifting between the pulse of static flashes.

A silhouette moved beyond the sea in front of him, rising tall, inhuman. Its shoulders crested the tide, and its eyes glowed like the full moon. Familiar, though it shouldn’t be. Blood in the tide, bleached bone, all curling into his mind like an everlasting melody.

“Return to the tide.”

Kyungmin gasped once the vision ended, his whole body seizing for a split second. He choked. His throat spasmed, lungs convulsing. Yewang gripped his shoulders, but he fell forward on his hands and vomited seawater on the floor.

“Oh my god—what the fuck—” Yewang staggered back for a split second, panic in his voice.

Kyungmin heaved again, a second rush of water splashing over his shaking fingers. He collapsed sideways into Yewang’s arms, trembling violently. He couldn’t answer right away. His heart just thudded against his rib, everything smelling like fish. The room went still, and Yewang looked down at him with a shocked expression. He saw it. Yewang saw the mark beneath his left ear, pulsing faintly as if it were alive.

“Did you always have that?”

“No… but it burns.”

“What is it, though? Did they hurt you?”

Kyungmin slowly shook his head. “It appeared at the beach. I think I saw something—someone just now.”

Yewang’s expression darkened. “Who?”

"I don't know. I don't know what's happening to me."

Yewang stared for a long moment before sighing. “We definitely don’t have time. We'll save Minwoo, Jaeho, and leave.”

Chapter Text

Jaeho woke up choking on seawater. Cold stone scraped his arms as he pushed himself upright, lungs seizing against the burn in his throat.

Where were Kyungmin and Yewang?

Where was he?

It was too dim to see clearly, but enough to tell that he was in an underwater cavern. His head throbbed as he remembered the beach. The fog. A shadow. It rose from the waves like it had always been there, and only Jaeho saw it. It looked straight at him, and the next thing he remembered was screaming.

Jaeho's hands scrambled for a grip along the slick wall. He didn’t find a door but a half-rusted grate shut, water dripping steadily through the cracks. He pulled the bars, and his arms shook. It didn’t budge. “Hello?” He called out, voice echoing dully. “Anyone?”

Just then, something large shifted in the dark beyond the edge of the grate. A large ripple of water. Jaeho backed away quickly, heart hammering in his chest. He crouched down, hiding behind a jagged rock, forcing himself to breathe quietly. Whatever it was didn’t come closer, but it was there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Jaeho peeked over the edge, and by the pulsing moss was a silhouette. Too many limbs to count. Each time they shifted, the water rippled strangely as though it warped around them.

His breath hitched.

He dropped low and crawled one hand at a time, keeping the rock between himself and the limbs. Ahead, a crack in the cave wall trickled into a pool with seawater. An escape. He inched closer, and when he dove for the pool, the silhouette lunged.

A large tentacle slammed into the floor where Jaeho had just been, shattering the rock. Shards cut his shoulder as he scrambled forward, slipping into the water just as another limb whipped past. It was freezing. The pool led into a narrow channel, and Jaeho kicked furiously, lungs screaming. He swam deeper through the crushing dark. Luckily, bioluminescent algae lit his way in faint streaks. Behind him, the creature shrieked—a sound so high it made his teeth ache, but it didn’t follow.

As his hand broke the surface, Jaeho gasped, hauling himself out of the water with every ounce of strength. His knees hit sand and he collapsed, retching seawater. He rolled onto his back, blinking at the strange ceiling above him—arched stone. In the room, ancient pillars lined the walls, their bases covered in sea barnacles. In between them, carvings lit by fire.

This place had been built.

Intrigued, Jaeho stood and walked toward the carvings worn with time, yet still visible. The first panel showed dozens of people carrying baskets, farming fields, and tending to fire. A settlement, no doubt.

He moved to the next one.

Famine. The crops had withered in the fields, and the faces of the settlers were etched with sunken eyes and open mouths. Illness spread through the town, bodies stacked in huts, children clinging to skeletal mothers. Jaeho’s throat went dry as he traced the edge of the stone, his fingers hovering over the next panel.

A man knelt at a dark shrine carved from coral and rock, facing a great whirlpool beneath a crescent moon. The water curled upward like a spiral, and something looked back from its depths. Too inhuman to understand. However, the panel beside it showed the town healed. Crops flourished again. The villagers celebrated.

Further down, a new figure was shown, marked with a shape just beneath the ear. The villagers surrounded him. He was smiling. Jaeho’s heart almost stopped. The marked man was thrown into the whirlpool. His bound hands were lifted to the sky, and the lines blurred with time. Behind him, the god emerged in full.

An elegant tail.

Shimmering pearls.

Teeth and nothing but hunger.

The carving in front of him was polished to a mirror’s sheen, and in its centre a reflection stared back. His own. Beneath his left ear, etched in glowing iridescence, was the same mark on the sacrificed man.

“No…” Jaeho whispered, staggering back from the reflection, his hands clutching his neck. He turned away and started down the corridor, speed walking through shallow water that coated the floor. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to get away.

The corridor opened into a wide space, and it looked like a holding chamber. Stone steps descended into a pool like a ceremonial bath. The water glowed faintly with that same sickly bioluminescence. He barely registered any of it because someone was standing in the water ahead.

“...Min-Hyung?”

The person turned slowly, and it was Minwoo. His hair was soaked, hanging past his eyes.

“Jaeho,” he whispered. “You came.”

“What… why are you in here?”

“I got lost, but I waited. I knew someone would find me eventually.”

Jaeho stepped closer, squinting at the water rippling around Minwoo's ankles. “Is there a way out? Did you find anything?”

“There’s a path, I think. Further down. It curves up toward the surface. We can go together.”

“Okay.”

They began to walk side by side through the cavern. The deeper they went, the more the tunnel curved ahead, arching into a higher passage. Jaeho kept his gaze forward, but every so often he glanced at Minwoo. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to see—reassurance, maybe? Minwoo’s face just seemed to remain unreadable.

“How long have you been down here?” Jaeho asked.

Minwoo gave a small shrug. “Not long. A few hours, maybe. I woke up in here before sunset.”

Jaeho’s steps slowed. His brow furrowed, and a chill began to rise in his hands. “That can’t be right...”

Minwoo kept walking, but Jaeho already stopped.

“You went to the town hall,” he said louder now, voice tightening. “You went with Hyunwoo before sunset.”

Minwoo stilled.

“…Didn’t you?” Jaeho added.

Minwoo didn’t turn around at first. His shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. The shift after was unmistakable.

“You don’t have to run, Jaeho.”

“Huh?”

Minwoo finally turned. His voice had a strange pull to it, soft like a lullaby. “Stay here. You’ve already been chosen anyway.”

Jaeho shook his head and ran. He ducked under a collapsed column; a rush of water followed.

Minwoo’s footsteps were disturbingly light. “Don’t fight it!” he yelled from behind.

Jaeho just kept running. A tunnel opened ahead, one side barred with a rusted gate off its hinges. He squeezed through, then shoved the collapsed part back into place, jamming it with a stone.

Minwoo reached through the bars a second later, slamming against them with inhuman force. “He wants you, Jaeho! Return to the tide!”

Jaeho backed away, moving through the cave exit. It spat him out onto wet sand, and he tripped forward, retching more seawater. His eyes burned from the sudden exposure to the moonlight. His heartbeat refused to slow.

“Jaeho?!”

Kyungmin’s voice.

Jaeho looked up fast. Kyungmin and Yewang were running toward him, Kyungmin dropping beside him first, grabbing his shoulders. “We thought—”

“Don’t touch me!” He cried out, jerking back so hard he fell into the sand again.

Kyungmin froze. “What?—”

“How do I know it’s really you?!” Jaeho's voice cracked, eyes wide. “How do I know you’re not like Min-hyung?!”

Yewang crouched slowly, hands raised. “Jae-ah… It’s us. It's really us.”

“Is it?” Jaeho scoffed, backing away like a feral animal. His arms were scraped and bleeding, clothes soaked and clinging to his shaking body. “He said everything like it was fine, and then—and then he chased me.”

“Minwoo?” Kyungmin asked.

Jaeho nodded wildly. “He’s not himself. He said something wanted me.”

Kyungmin and Yewang exchanged a glance but didn’t move closer.

“I need to know you're real. I need—say something only you’d know. Anything. Please.” Jaeho pleaded, his breaths coming in short bursts.

“Okay... you cried during that dumb horror movie last summer. The one with the ghost cat.” Yewang replied.

“You complain about my music, but you stole my playlist. The one you renamed ‘Jeff's Vibe’, like I wouldn’t notice,” Kyungmin added.

Jaeho sighed in relief as he buried his face in his hands. A sob tore from his chest, raw and gutting. “I—I thought I was going to die down there.”

Kyungmin pulled him into a tight hug without hesitation. “You're safe now,” he whispered. “You found your way back. That’s all that matters.”

Yewang stood beside them, eyes scanning the shoreline and then the shadows beyond. “We need to go. Before they find us.”

The group didn’t speak as they walked, huddled together. When they slipped inside the abandoned house, Jaeho sank to the floor against a crate, wrapping his arms around his knees. Kyungmin eased down beside him, while Yewang dragged an old tarp over to act as a blanket.

“What happened to everyone? Where’s Hyeonu-hyung?” Jaeho asked, teeth chattering from the cold.

Yewang exhaled. “Well... there was nothing at the town hall. And when you disappeared, so did Kyungmin. Then he showed up again, and we decided to wait until morning, but…”

Kyungmin looked down, hands limp in his lap. “They took Minwoo. The townspeople... they shot Hyunwoo when we were running away.”

Yewang stood slowly, stepping toward the couch. “His body is right here if you want to say something.” He swallowed. “We couldn't save him.”

Silence dropped.

Kyungmin didn’t look up.

Jaeho’s mouth opened, but no sound came. He scooted to lean against Kyungmin, and that’s when he saw it. The moonlight caught the side of Kyungmin’s neck just beneath the ear. The skin shimmered like Minwoo’s. Fish scales shifting in the dark.

“What is that?”

Kyungmin’s hand instinctively moved to cover it.

“No—don’t,” Jaeho said quickly. “Let me see.”

Kyungmin hesitated before moving his fingers away. The mark pulsed faintly, Jaeho slowly lifting his hand, brushing the same spot on his neck.

“You have one too?” Kyungmin asked, glancing up.

Jaeho nodded.

Yewang turned fast, eyes locking on them both.

“I don't know how we got it, but I do know we're in big trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw it,” Jaeho whispered, finally resting his head on Kyungmin’s shoulder. “The shine. It was built like a temple. Covered in carvings. I saw stories that belonged to the first settlers here.”

Yewang crouched in front of them, watching carefully. “What kind of stories?”

“There was a disease. People were dying.” Jaeho stared at the cracked wood of the floor like he was seeing the past. “One of them found something. An altar to a god in the sea. They begged it for help.”

“And it listened,” Kyungmin whispered.

Jaeho nodded. “The disease ended, but there was a price. It asked for a human offering. The settlers would bring them to the whirlpool and… and throw them in.”

Yewang stood up suddenly, pacing. “That's what this is about? We’re being sacrificed?”

“No,” Jaeho murmured. “Just the ones with the mark.”

“But why? Why you? Why Kyungmin?” Yewang asked. “What makes you—?”

“I don’t know!” Jaeho snapped. “I don’t know what it wants.”

Kyungmin swallowed.

Yewang swore under his breath and rubbed a hand down his face. “So you think that thing they worship is real?”

“I know it is,” Jaeho said. “It spoke to me.”

“Me too,” Kyungmin added. “It’s been doing that since the beach.”

They all looked at one another again, and this time the panic wasn’t subtle. They were being hunted by something older than time itself. Jaeho stood up, swaying slightly from exhaustion. “We need to get out of this town. Now.”

Yewang crossed his arms, jaw tight. “There's no cars around, though.”

“So? We can walk,” Jaeho snapped again. “We’ve done worse. I don’t care if it’s ten miles to safety—we need to leave, or we'll all die here.”

Kyungmin looked up again. “Without Minwoo?”

Jaeho faltered, lips parting. “He’s… not the same. I already told you that.”

“But how do you know? You don’t know that,” Kyungmin said quietly. “You just left him.”

“He chased me!” Jaeho shouted, eyes wide with frustration. “He told me I was chosen! He said not to fight whatever is after us!”

Yewang stepped between them, eyes flashing. “That's enough! We don’t have time for this—fighting doesn’t help anyone.”

“Then what the hell do you want me to do?” Jaeho spat. “Pretend Min-hyung is normal and Hyunwoo isn't dead? Pretend we’re not being hunted by a town of lunatics who worship a sea god?!”

“I want just us to stay alive,” Yewang said through gritted teeth. “All of us. Minwoo included.”

Jaeho scoffed, but before he could say another word—

A loud bang jolted all three of them.

Then another.

The windows rattled.

Yewang reached for a rusted pipe on the floor. “What was that?” He asked, peeking through the boarded slats.

Kyungmin's breath caught. "They found us.”

Outside was the sound of footsteps. Movement all around the house. Shadows passed over the boarded windows while voices murmured low before one rose above the rest.

It was the woman from the inn.

“Come out now,” she crooned.

Yewang yanked the door open, pipe raised.

“No—wait—” Jaeho hissed, but it was too late.

They spilt into the rain-soaked street and froze. The townspeople stood in a wide circle, many barefoot or dressed in simple clothes that clung to them like a second skin. Their faces were blank. Empty. Like puppets held up by strings. In the centre of the group was Minwoo—bound and held in place by two men.

Kyungmin took a shaky step forward. “Minwoo!”

“Don’t,” Yewang warned, stepping in front of him.

The innkeeper exited from the crowd. “You shouldn’t have run. The sea is generous. It provides. But it does not forget.”

Kyungmin’s hand tightened at his side. “Let him go!”

“We only take what is promised. Your friend there carries the mark. And so do you.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Jaeho shouted.

“You misunderstand, child.” Her eyes glowed faintly beneath the brim of her soaked hat. “You’re not being taken. You’re being returned.”

Behind her, more villagers appeared—from alleys, from doorways, from the forest line.

Jaeho’s breath hitched. “We’re surrounded.”

“We have to fight,” Yewang said, teeth clenched. “We run if we can. No one else dies tonight.”

The rain fell again as the circle began to close in. The innkeeper raised her hand, and the crowd parted. Minwoo stepped forward, no longer bound.

He walked with them now. The look in his eyes was all-knowing, like he was seeing something beyond any of them. Something deep beneath the waves.

Kyungmin’s voice cracked. “Minwoo?”

Minwoo smiled gently. “Come with us. Face your fate.”

Kyungmin flinched.

Jaeho took a step back, eyes wide. “I told you he’s gone.”

The woman from the inn lifted her arms again. “Give us what we require, and the rest of you may go.”

“Fuck that!” Yewang snarled. “You’ll kill them.”

“It's for the greater good,” she said softly.

Minwoo’s expression didn’t change. “I promise you’ll understand soon,” he added, moving quickly to grab Kyungmin’s wrist.

Yewang swung the pipe, striking Minwoo in the ribs and knocking him to the ground.

Chaos exploded.

The crowd surged.

Screaming.

Running.

Yewang guided Kyungmin and Jaeho through the chaos, leading them toward the edge of the street, down the forest path that ended at the town’s border. Branches tore at their faces, mud slicked beneath their feet. Minwoo stumbled after them, blood on his lip, still smiling.

Once they made it to the old road just beyond the welcome sign, the fog rolled in, and that’s when it began. Minwoo lunged for Jaeho, fingers barely brushing his jacket. Kyungmin dropped. He hit the ground with a strangled gasp, holding his stomach like something tore through him. His body convulsed then went stiff, mouth open, struggling for air.

“Kyungmin!” Yewang shouted, spinning around just as Jaeho screamed.

He fell next, buckling to his knees with a choking cry. He rolled onto the cracked asphalt, veins rising beneath his skin. “It hurts—I can't!”

Even Minwoo faltered. He clutched his chest, breath catching mid-lunge. For a moment, his expression shifted, reaching desperately for Jaeho's ankle.

Yewang panicked. “What the fuck is going on?!”

Kyungmin’s lips were turning blue, his whole body shaking violently. “I… I can’t—breathe—” he rasped.

Minwoo collapsed entirely. A sick gurgle escaped his throat as blood and seawater burst from his mouth. His body seized violently, then slackened. With the last twitch of his limbs, he reached forward and finally grabbed Jaeho, dragging him backward across the threshold.

Like a switch being flipped, the pain cut off. Jaeho gasped, jolting upward. “Yewang, bring Kyungmin back!” he yelled, voice raw. “Now!”

However, Kyungmin wasn’t moving anymore.

Yewang was caught between the line of safety and loss. Minwoo’s body lay motionless at the threshold. Behind him, freedom awaited. Before him, the townspeople lurked in the shadows. Watching.

“Wangie, please!” Jaeho’s voice cracked. “He’ll die!”

Yewang gritted his teeth and hauled Kyungmin’s limp body across the threshold, arms shaking. Kyungmin gasped the moment his body crossed back into town. A full-body jolt wracked him as air returned to his lungs like a punch. He curled inward, wheezing and retching onto the ground.

Yewang dropped beside him, chest heaving. “You’re okay—you’re okay; I’ve got you.”

But the moment didn’t last. From the trees, they emerged. One by one, the townspeople stepped forward. They didn’t rush, but their intent was clear.

“Get away from them!” Yewang screamed, staggering to his feet. He darted forward, trying to grab Kyungmin again, yet the second his foot crossed the wet gravel outside the town border, something slammed into him. An invisible force. It was solid like ice, throwing him backward. He hit the road hard, landing flat on his back, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Dazed, he sat up, watching the crowd moving in. Arms curling around Kyungmin and Jaeho. “Don’t you touch them!” he cried out, voice breaking. He slammed his fists against the invisible barrier, pain blooming in his palms. “Let them go!”

He tried again.

And again.

Each attempt hurled him back harder, until his arms bled, and his knuckles went raw. But the townspeople didn’t even look at him. Not once.

They just took Kyungmin and Jaeho away, back into the heart of the town. Yewang was left kneeling alone in the middle of the road, surrounded by rain and footsteps retreating into the fog.

Jaeho’s feet dragged over uneven stone as hands gripped his arms, forcing him forward. The air grew colder with every step, thick with salt and damp rot. Torchlight flickered along the walls—etched with the same symbols he’d seen in the shrine—marks of the sea god.

Behind him, Kyungmin stumbled. They hadn’t spoken since the mob closed in, since the ropes cut into their wrists and someone whispered a prayer over their heads in a language neither of them knew. His breathing was shallow, but he was still upright.

Jaeho’s voice trembled. “Where are you taking us?”

No one answered.

The woman from the inn only walked ahead. She held a lantern of pale flame, the mark on Jaeho's neck burning just like it. Kyungmin let out a low sound behind them, knees buckling slightly.

“Hyung?” Jaeho turned his head.

“I feel sick,” Kyungmin rasped, eyes glazed. “It’s calling again…”

Jaeho jerked against the hands holding him, but they were too strong.

The walls opened to reveal smooth stone shaped like a hollowed shell, filled with shimmering water. At the far end stood the altar, and the townspeople began to chant.

“Wait! Wait! Please—don’t do this! You don’t have to do this!”

“You were chosen. This is the way it has always been.” The old woman said.

Jaeho screamed and fought as they tried to separate him from Kyungmin. His wrists were torn from behind his back, held down against a slab of wet stone. Cloaked figures crowded around him, their faces hidden beneath barnacle-dusted hoods. Grimy hands touched his face, his legs, his body—too many hands.

Kyungmin was just across from him, slumped between two men. His arms were limp at his sides, knees buckling every few seconds as they dragged him toward the altar. His head hung low, wet hair plastered to the stone, chest rising and falling in shaking breaths. They forced him to stand upright. Hands gripped his arms, prying at his shirt.

Kyungmin whimpered, voice breaking into a sob. “Please… Don’t…” But didn’t stop. They undressed him in silence, stripping him to the skin. He cried harder, squeezing his eyes shut as they spread his legs.

Jaeho thrashed. “Get off me!” His legs kicked, heel catching one of the cloaked figures in the thigh. The man grunted but held fast. Another stepped backward, and the old woman struck him. A hard slap across the cheek that cracked through the chamber like thunder.

Jaeho reeled from the blow, his ears ringing as the old woman moved into view. “Be still,” she hissed. “The offering must be pure.”

They yanked at his clothes next, rough fingers dragging against his skin. Jaeho screamed again, louder this time. His shirt was torn from his shoulders. His pants dropped. He stood trembling, naked and humiliated, beneath the firelight as hands held him down.

A clay bowl was brought forward—carried like a sacred vessel. It shimmered with something thick and red. It could only be blood. The coppery tang filled Jaeho's nose before the bowl even tilted. Before they poured it over his head in a single wave. When they did, it ran into his eyes and mouth. Jaeho coughed violently, sputtering as it dripped down his face and chest, matting to his skin.

Kyungmin received the same treatment before the garments came—a ceremonial cloth. The fabric was woven from kelp and bleached cotton, embroidered with patterns like fish scales. Shells and teeth were sewn into the seams, clinking against one another with every movement. They were both dressed up like dolls, giftings you'd get on christmas. Jaeho’s jaw clenched as he saw Kyungmin, completely limp and quietly sobbing. The ritual was beginning, and there was no way to stop it now.

“Bring them,” the old woman commanded.

They were led in silence. Jaeho’s bare feet scraped against the rocky floor, getting heavier with every step. The mark on his neck throbbed. Beside him, Kyungmin walked silently. Neither of them were bound. They didn’t have to be. Though Jaeho thought about running. He could grab Kyungmin and bolt back up the stairs, but there were too many people.

The chamber was vast—pillars rose from the water’s edge, bent and uneven, like they were melting. Jaeho’s stomach turned. The altar stood just before the pit—a shallow pedestal draped in long strands of fish guts and bone charms. Around it, the cloaked villagers stood in a perfect ring. A low hum began to vibrate through the room, rising from the whirlpool.

The townspeople began to chant.

It wasn’t in a language Jaeho recognised, but he strangely understood it.

Then the whirlpool widened, and from within it, something stirred.

As the chanting grew louder, the whirlpool churned violently, water roaring below. Wind howled through the chamber, the townspeople's voices layered and stretched. Jaeho and Kyungmin were led to the edge of the stone platform.

No struggle.

No cries for help.

Jaeho took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

Kyungmin just reached for his hand.

When the floor beneath them gave way, they were falling—pulled violently into the vortex. Jaeho screamed as his body was dragged down, flipping end over end, the current clawing at his limbs. Salt filled his nose, his throat. His ears burst with pressure. He couldn’t breathe, and Kyungmin’s hand slipped from his grasp.

Silence.

Jaeho blinked, gasping as he floated. The world turned blue and endless, a vast expanse with no ceiling. Strange lights pulsed above him like stars, moving too fluidly. Shapes circled in the distance, and massive silhouettes bent when he tried to focus on them.

Ahead was a throne of coral.

Seated there, of course, wasn't a man. It was the sea god. His hair floated like strands of ink in the current. Gills flared faintly at his neck. His eyes held the entire ocean behind them—bottomless and crushing. He wore no crown, and he didn’t need one, it seemed.

“Welcome.”

Jaeho panicked as a current carried him forward. He spotted Kyungmin nearby, drifting beside him. His eyes fluttered open, breath catching as he twisted in the weightlessness. For a brief moment, awe filled his face—then dread. His gaze landed on the throne, and instinct took over.

“Jaeho,” Kyungmin rasped, grabbing his arm to drag him back. The two tumbled together in the water. Kyungmin’s arms wrapping protectively around Jaeho, shielding him.

The god rose.

His movement was fluid in a way that mocked human form. His tail turned into feet that never touched the still floor. He drifted forward, robes of translucent film fluttering around him like fins of fish. Where he passed, the water shimmered with bioluminescent threads.

“You’re frightened,” he said, but there was no pity. If anything, he sounded amused.

Kyungmin’s chest heaved. “What do you want from us?!”

The god smiled, drifting closer. His gaze locked so intently, it felt like the water pulsed around them. “Devotion”. He reached out, brushing the air just shy of Kyungmin’s face. His fingers curved like he meant to touch.

Kyungmin recoiled, shaking in fear. “Don’t—don't touch me.”

“I won’t,” the god said. When he turned, his eyes settled on Jaeho. “But you were the one who called to me.”

Jaeho froze. “What…?” he whispered.

The god tilted his head. He raised a hand, and the space between all of them rippled. Kyungmin was ripped away from Jaeho, struggling to get back, while Jaeho was frozen, eyes unfocused.

“You don't remember?”

Jaeho blinked.

The fog.

The beach was quiet, save for the rhythmic lap of waves against the shore. The sky had darkened just slightly, the fog still distant but creeping. Kyungmin and Yewang were behind him, but Jaeho wandered ahead to catch his breath.

The black rocks he saw were jutted, slick with algae and old barnacles.

He climbed them slowly, one hand bracing against the cold surface, the other holding his phone up for a signal. He stopped when he reached the top. From here, the sea stretched endlessly. The horizon had vanished, swallowed by the incoming fog. Jaeho didn’t know why he whispered. “Can someone please just help?” he huffed in frustration. “I'd do anything to make this stop.”

Jaeho exhaled, ashamed at how desperate he sounded. Alone, talking to clouds. He shook his head and turned to climb back down until he stopped.

The ocean moved.

Not in the way it always did. This movement was deliberate. A ripple pulsed outward like a drumbeat under the water. Something massive shifted just beneath the surface. Jaeho’s breath caught. The fog thickened suddenly, blurring the edges of the sea and sky until it felt like the world narrowed to that one spot.

A shape began to rise.

Impossible to see fully, yet Jaeho knew what he was looking at. Something heard him. He stumbled backward, falling hard on the sand as his phone skidded away. He told himself it wasn’t real. But then he felt the curl of the tide around his ankles, lifting him gently. Fingers without form. The soft hum in the base of his skull and a name. Dawit.

The sea whispered.

And he whispered back.

Jaeho’s chest tightened. “No,” he cried. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to do that.”

“You did,” Dawit said gently, voice diffusing through the water. “Not with words, but I heard you.”

“Jaeho! Don’t listen to him!” Kyungmin yelled, still struggling behind the current. "There's one sacrifice in the story, right? Then take me! Just let him go... he didn't know what he was doing."

Jaeho shook his head, eyes glassy. “Hyung, don't. Don’t try to protect me.”

“No, I—”

“Stop it!” Jaeho snapped, voice trembling now. “None of this would've happened if I didn't bring you and Yewang to the beach. I dragged you both down there. I got you marked; I got Minwoo and Hyunwoo killed. Don't try to deny it. I know you feel the same way inside.”

Kyungmin fell quiet, lips trembling. His breath hitched and hitched again, and finally he said, “I want at least one of us to make it home.”

“It has to be you.” Jaeho nodded, and the current pulled him back toward Dawit, as if the sea itself had accepted his answer. “If there’s even the smallest chance that you can leave… then let me be the one who stays. It's all my fault anyway.”

“No,” Kyungmin whispered, voice breaking completely. “Jaeho, please…”.

“Wangie is waiting up there. I know how much he likes you.”

“No—Jaeho, don’t—”

But it was already too late. Dawit reached for Jaeho. “You'd offer yourself for his survival?” he asked.

Jaeho looked him in the eyes. “If it spares all my friends? Yes.”

Dawit smiled again. “Then come.”

Kyungmin was finally able to swim forward, locking eyes with Dawit. “Wait—there has to be another way—he doesn’t have to die.”

“He won’t.”

“What?”

“I never said I wanted to kill him.”

Jaeho’s brows furrowed. “Really? That's not what I saw.”

“You’ll only stay beside me. Will you take back your plea now?”

Jaeho hesitated. His gaze flicked to Kyungmin, and his heart broke a little more. “No,” he replied. “If that still means no one else dies... I don’t regret it.”

Dawit extended his hand, and Jaeho took it as the surrounding water changed. Jaeho gasped as a rush of warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading to his fingertips. His legs weakened, body floating limp in Dawit’s arms. He was pulled close with a gentleness that didn’t match the power the god held, and he whispered something only Jaeho could hear before kissing him slowly.

Kyungmin surged forward, tears suspended in the water like drifting pearls. A current wrapped around his waist, yanking him back away from Jaeho. He was dragged upward, voice lost in the roar of the current. His hand reached blindly through it, trying to hold on. Trying to stop it.

However, Jaeho never reached back.

He was already somewhere else as Kyungmin was thrust violently through the ocean’s surface. He coughed and crawled on hands and knees while the surf receded. Behind him, the waves were still as if nothing happened at all, the sky beginning to lighten. Kyungmin knew it before he even touched his neck. The dull throb that lived beneath his neck was gone. He sat at the edge of the surf for a long time, crying to himself.

When he finally stood, he walked away injured and shivering. Through the trees. Past the path. Back toward the town. Except it wasn’t the same place anymore. Doors were open. Lights were on. A kettle whistled faintly from a window above the inn. No one looked at him. No one said anything. The town was awake. Ordinary.

Kyungmin kept walking, not sure what he was searching for until he saw Yewang. He was still slumped near the town’s border, crouched beside a still form. His fingers were curled around Minwoo’s limp body, and he looked up once he heard footsteps.

“You're back?” he whispered.

Kyungmin nodded numbly, stumbling the last few steps before collapsing beside him in the grass. His hands trembled where they curled into the dirt.

Yewang reached for him without thinking, wiping the sand from his face with the back of his hand.

Kyungmin's haunted eyes stared past Yewang. He leaned against him before whispering, “I tried.”

Yewang’s brow furrowed. “Tried to what? Where’s Jaeho?”

“He stayed behind.”

“What do you mean he stayed? What happened?”

Kyungmin didn’t answer. He just sat there, eyes fixed on the sunny sky.

Yewang didn’t ask again, and beside Minwoo’s body, neither of them said another word.