Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

WARNING: HIGHLY CLASSIFIED DATA
ACCESS RESTRICTED TO AUTHORIZED BUREAU PERSONNEL ONLY

MEMORANDUM
FROM: Office of the Director – Jesse Faden
TO: All Authorized Personnel – Oldest House and Field Branches
DATE: ██/██/2025
SUBJECT: Establishment of Global Headquarters

In response to the unprecedented global surge in Altered World Events (AWEs) observed over the past 18 months,the Federal Bureau of Control will implement a formal expansion of its operational reach.

Recent field reports confirm an alarming increase in AWE-related incidents worldwide, resulting in the manifestation of a record number of Altered Items. The severity and unpredictability of these phenomena present an escalating threat to both civilian populations and global stability. The current scale of containment operations can no longer be sustained through centralized, U.S.-only command.

Operational Expansion:

• Global Headquarters: Effective immediately, the FBC is establishing international branch headquarters in strategic locations across multiple continents. These facilities will be paranaturally and administratively linked to the Oldest House, ensuring synchronized containment protocols, direct Astral Network access, and centralized oversight from the Director’s Office.
  
  
• Quasi-Directors: Each international branch will appoint a Quasi-Director. A Bureau-sanctioned national leader responsible for managing all FBC operations within their jurisdiction. While Quasi-Directors will have full operational authority in their assigned territories, they will answer directly to the Director of the Bureau.
  
  
• Selection Process: Quasi-Directors will undergo a Board-approved suitability assessment, including controlled Astral Plane trials where appropriate. Only candidates demonstrating exceptional operational capacity, paranatural resilience, and loyalty to Bureau directives will be appointed.
  
  

Statement from Director Jesse Faden:

“The paranatural has never respected borders, and now neither can we. Every new branch will have the tools and leadership it needs to protect its people, but all of us still answer to the same mission, the same House, and the same truth: Control must be maintained.”

CLASSIFIED – DO NOT DISCUSS OUTSIDE CLEARED CHANNELS
Invenio Investigatio Imperium

Jesse leaned back in her chair, fingers drumming against the desk. “Feels like I just handed out pieces of the Bureau to strangers,” she muttered, eyes fixed on the map dotted with fresh red markers. “What if we’ve made it worse? What if splitting us up means losing control instead of keeping it?”

Emily, standing by the door with her arms crossed, shook her head. “It’s the only way we keep up. The House can’t stretch to every corner of the planet, and you can’t be everywhere at once. These Quasi-Directors? They’ll keep their territories stable. It’s the right move.”

Jesse didn’t answer, just stared at the glowing pins as if they might rearrange themselves into something less daunting. After a long silence, she exhaled, slow and resigned. “Yeah. Right move.” Her tone didn’t match the words.

CLASSIFIED – LEVEL 4 CLEARANCE REQUIRED 

INTERNAL MEMORANDUM

FROM: Seoul Regional Headquarters
TO: Department Heads – South Korea FBC Operations
DATE: ██/██/2025
SUBJECT: Situation Report – AWE Designation ████-KR (“HARVEST MOON”)

At 04:30 KST on ██/██/2025, a localized Altered World Event was officially logged under designation HARVEST MOON in the Gapyeong district of Gyeonggi Province. The anomaly manifests as a large, perfectly circular void in the terrain, visible only during nighttime hours. Preliminary dimensional scans confirm that the opening descends beyond measurable depth and defies standard geological formation patterns.

To all Level 3 personnel and below:
Continue observation as instructed. Avoid unnecessary speculation or dissemination of unverified information. Field teams are to report only confirmed deviations in environmental readings to their supervising Control Officers.

To Level 4 personnel and above:
Maintain continuous passive monitoring protocols at all established checkpoints. The anomaly is currently exhibiting low-level fluctuations in ████ and ██████████ spectra, but no surface-level manifestations detectable to untrained observers.

All investigative notes, photographs, and instrument readouts are to be stored in the secure data archive under compartment ORANGE-CELL. Access will require dual authentication from both the Department of Analysis and the Astral Research Division.

While public-facing conditions appear stable, recent transmissions from the Astral Plane regarding HARVEST MOON include the following fragmented phrases:

"THE TIDE DOES NOT WAIT FOR THE SHORE."

“ANCHOR. ANCHOR. ANCHOR.”

Interpretation is ongoing. You will be notified of any change in threat status. Until then, maintain vigilance and keep the site under uninterrupted watch.

Invenio Investigatio Imperium

“North Korea isn’t participating in the unification, apparently.”

“Well. We expected this.”

“Yeah.” The employee chuckles. “Did you see?”

“See what?”

“That internal doc Dr. Kim sent out yesterday.”

“Oh yeah… That was weird. Not Dr. Kim, because he’s RIGHT. What’s weird is how many candidates they’ve ‘found’ this year. How many is it now? Twenty-three? We only need one Quasi-Director.”

“Listen.” The other employee glanced around as if someone could overhear, then leaned in. “The candidates? I heard some of them aren’t even Korean.”

“What? No fucking way.”

“Look, Japan and Taiwan? No more candidates. Gone. The countries are in disarray. Thailand too, more recently. Apparently their own ran away. Scared of the responsibility maybe. Then the candidate just disappeared.”

“What are you trying to say, man?”

He held his hands up. “I don’t know, kid. I’m just saying. One candidate from a country? Incredible. Two? A miracle. Twenty-three? The head of Research and Containment better punch in their lotto tickets because that is just… wow.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Just then, the lights overhead cut to crimson. A deafening alarm swallowed the hallway as every surface bled red. A squad of rangers thundered in, boots pounding the floor, pushing a reinforced chamber between them.

Inside, a girl slammed her palms into the glass. Her breath fogged the surface in quick bursts. The air around her shimmered faintly, like heat mirage on asphalt. She blinked twice — then her feet left the ground. The sound dropped for a heartbeat, as if the world had inhaled.

Then she launched herself forward with impossible force. The impact rang out, a metallic howl that made teeth ache. Hairline cracks of light — wrong, shifting light — crept across the inside of the chamber before vanishing in a blink. The container didn’t so much as tremble.

“Holy shit… that’s the twenty-fourth.”

“The fuck is going on?”

Unfazed, the rangers pressed on, forcing the chamber toward the doors of the research facility. Her muffled screams followed them, sharp and furious, growing smaller and smaller until they were swallowed by the wail of the alarms.

Chapter Text

<You have been compliant/obedient. Your performances have been good/acceptable.>

<A change will be coming/approaching soon. Prepare accordingly.>

What?

The girl woke up with a gasp. She looked at her surroundings. Still the same. She didn’t know if it was her emotions that were suffocating her or the chamber she was in.

The containment hall was dark except for the faint glow of the researchers’ computers lining the control area and the soft illumination coming from the floors beneath each chamber, casting pale light upwards. The low hum of the ventilation filled the quiet air, broken only by the soft shuffle of the researcher’s footsteps.

Inside her clear chamber, she sat cross-legged on the cold floor, eyes drifting over the faintly glowing chambers lining the hall. Some girls curled up, tears streaming down their faces. Others stared blankly ahead, expressionless. A few stood pacing restlessly, jaw clenched tight, fists balled as if holding back words they would never say.

She remained composed. Nearly a year in Bureau custody had taught her the futility of losing control. Panic was an uncontrolled variable, and variables had to be minimized. The oppressive atmosphere hung heavy with dread and resignation, but she steadied herself, a quiet center in the shifting chaos.

Without warning, the corridor flooded with harsh red emergency lighting, slicing through the gloom like a warning beacon. The alarm system erupted in a sustained, ear-splitting wail, reverberating through the hallways. A squad of Rangers thundered in, heavy boots striking the floor with precision, pushing a reinforced containment cell on wheels. The scraping of metal against concrete echoed ominously.

Inside the new chamber, a girl screamed, sharp, raw, desperate. Her palms slammed repeatedly against the glass, leaving smudged prints as her breath fogged the surface with ragged gasps. Panic radiated from her like heat from a fire. Fierce.

A soft, bitter murmur escaped the girl watching from her own clear prison. “Jesus.” The sound, that primal scream every time a new candidate arrived, cut deep. She knew she would never get used to it. The screaming and pleading were always the same, and it always tore at something inside her.

The chamber wheels ground to a halt as the rangers locked the new girl’s cell at the far end of the line. The girl watched as the fresh candidate’s screams reverberated down the hall, barely muffled by thick glass and metal.

She glanced over at the chamber beside the new one. The last candidate brought in before this sat curled on the floor, tears streaming freely. Her eyes were wide and raw with fear.

Her chest tightened with a familiar ache of sympathy. The helplessness and loneliness weighed on them all.

Her mind flickered back to that night, sharp and vivid.

She had been walking home from university, the autumn air crisp and cool, earbuds in, her mind on the notes for her next class. Then the sudden weight on her shoulder, strong hands gripping her arms. She barely had time to scream before a cloth pressed to her face, bitter and overwhelming.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

When she woke, cold and shivering, she was stripped bare. The coarse gray fabric of the Bureau’s pajamas felt scratchy against her skin as they forced the uniform onto her — plain gray pants and a shirt marked with a simple code: S5. The “S” stood for South Korea, the “5” marked her as the fifth candidate.

She remembered the humiliating chill of being exposed, the numb terror as everything she knew was ripped away.

A shiver ran down her spine.

Bitter resentment simmered beneath her calm exterior. The Quasi-Director program, the impossible burden they expected these girls to bear, the cold, clinical machinery of control grinding them down one by one. 

Nearby, Ranger voices cut through the oppressive silence, casual and indifferent to the anguish they oversaw.

“Hey, take a break now if you need to. Another candidate to pick up from Gangnam. Higher up’s orders.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Can’t they get a different team to do that for them? I already went through five candidate runs this week alone.”

That’s weird. Five candidate runs, but they only brought back one?

Regardless, the casual tone stung, as if this was just another day at the office and not a nightmare for the girls locked inside those chambers.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed down the hall as the girl in the 14th chamber slammed her fist hard against the glass. Rage and frustration exploded in a single, sharp motion. The sound reverberated painfully, breaking the hollow quiet and sending a tremor through the corridor.

Her voice rang out, sharp and desperate: “HEY! ARE WE THAT INSIGNIFICANT TO YOU? WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT WITH THIS MANY FUCKING CANDIDATES?”

The ranger voices faltered for a moment but then carried on as if nothing had happened.

The contrast was brutal: the clinical, detached efficiency of the rangers and the raw, ragged emotions trapped behind glass.

The hallway fell back into tense silence, broken only by soft sobs and ragged breaths. Then she noticed the two girls at the far end — the last two chambers in the row. The smaller one, eyes wide and trembling, pressed her palms flat against the glass and spoke, “Woah, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

The new girl’s eyes fluttered but didn’t focus. Her breaths came shallow and quick, like a storm about to break. A low murmur started among the others, rising quickly into frantic whispers and sharp gasps.

“What’s happening?” one whispered.

“Something’s wrong,” another muttered.

In the control room beyond the glass, soft voices drifted through the corridor. Researchers speaking in low tones.

“She’s… showing the same signs as candidate nineteen 3 months ago.”

“…Wait. No. Dr. Kim, this isn’t the same. It’s climbing. Much higher.”

The voices sharpened, overlapping now.

“If this keeps going, the chamber’s not going to hold.”

“Oh, god… we’re losing containment. Lock it down. Lock everything down!”

The room buzzed with growing panic. The smaller girl turned toward the rangers standing nearby, her voice cracking as she shouted, “Please! Someone help her! She’s not right!”

One ranger hesitated, then barked, “Hold position, all of you! No sudden moves.”

Another muttered nervously, “This isn’t normal.”

The girl watching from her chamber clenched her fists. The tension was thick, raw and suffocating. Then, without warning, a blinding light from the new girl’s chamber flared, swallowing everything. The girl squeezed her eyes shut, but the brightness pressed in through her eyelids until it became heat, then nothing.

Silence. When it finally broke, the chambers that had held them were empty.

<Your current location/place is designated Central Research.>

<Remain cautious/vigilant. The conditions are non-standard/dangerous.> 

<You must find/seek Dr. Darling’s office>

She sat up slowly, eyes blinking against the strange light.

The place was huge and oddly geometric, all sharp-edged panels and cold, blocky walls. Here and there, tall trees grew out of sunken planters, their leaves scattering shifting shadows across the floor.

Somewhere in the distance, faint voices murmured in English, low and rhythmic, like a chant she couldn’t quite place. She could only make out a few.

You are a worm through time.

Happiness comes.

You’ve always been the new you.

It creeped her out.

Ahead, a broad staircase spiraled upward beside a balcony wrapped in frosted glass. The faint hum of unseen machinery vibrated softly in the air.

She could see multiple corridors branching off — signs for departments, she concluded. Though she wasn’t entirely sure as to what they meant. Luck & Probability, the HRA Lab, and a Dr. Darling's Office was etched onto polished metal plaques.

“Dr. Darling…” the girl muttered under her breath. Then the voice’s words echoed in her mind: Central Research, vigilance, dangerous. She frowned, trying to piece together what it all meant. 

“Where am I this time?” she sighed.

Despite the calm, the place felt alien. As if she’d stepped into the heart of something enormous and unknowable. And yet, it was painfully beautiful. At least it was different from the cold, suffocating containment chambers she’d been trapped in for so long.

The fragile calm shattered with a piercing scream, slicing through the quiet like a blade.

Her heart jolted. Without thinking, she pushed herself up and rushed toward the source of the sound, the strange new corridors blurring around her.

Rounding a corner, she skidded to a stop. There, in a narrow hallway lined with polished walls and flickering lights, the girl from the twenty-third chamber was pinned against the glass. Her face was pale, eyes wide with terror.

Before her, shadowy shapes moved. Twisted, distorted figures flickering with unnatural distortion. They pulsed with a dark, humming energy, their forms fluctuating between solid and vaporous. A terrible hissing sound came from the creature. Layered whispers like multiple voices speaking at once. It looked like… people. Rangers. But there’s something wrong with them. Distorted.

What are those things? 

For a moment, she hesitated, breath caught in her throat. She had never seen anything like these before. But the desperation in the girl’s cry, the raw helplessness, snapped something inside her.

Get a grip. You are still a candidate. Remember what you can do.

Focusing all her will, she reached deep within, drawing on a strength she barely understood. The air around her thickened, energy coalescing like a storm. With a sudden motion, she ripped a huge chunk of concrete from the nearby wall. It trembled and cracked as it levitated before her, heavy and solid.

“HEY!”

With all her might, she hurled it at the nearest creature. It shattered on impact, collapsing into a scattering mist that dissipated into nothingness. Relief surged, but there was no time to celebrate. Four more creatures lunged forward, their forms rippling with malevolence.

Instinctively, she grabbed whatever she could — a plant pot, chunks of plaster, even a metal bench. One after another, she hurled them, each strike forcing a scream or wail from the invaders. But with every use, her energy drained. The raw power of her attacks left her trembling, breath coming in short gasps.

She remembered her lighter experiments. Making coffee pots float in her chamber, practicing gentle telekinesis. But nothing prepared her for this brutal exertion. Still, she summoned the last reserves she could muster. She threw another heavy chunk toward the last creature, but missed by inches.

“Shit.”

She tried again, but the rubble barely lifted off the floor, wobbling weakly in front of her. The final creature surged forward, seizing her with a brutal grip on her neck. It raised a jagged bat-like limb to strike.

“Get off of me!” She struggled, fighting with every ounce of strength, but her energy faltered.

Just as the blow was about to land, a scream erupted from behind her — a fierce, guttural cry filled with raw power.

The girl from the twenty-third chamber burst forward, hands glowing with a searing light. With a sudden burst, she unleashed a wave of energy that slammed into the creature, tearing it away and dissolving it into mist.

She felt the force ripple through her bones. That power was wild, untamed, and overwhelming. Unlike anything she’d ever witnessed.

“You okay?” the older girl asked quietly, still sitting on the floor, breath uneven.

“Yeah… you?”

“I’m fine,” she said, though her eyes flicked away for a moment.

“Thank you.” The younger girl hesitated, looked at her shirt, then blurted, “Uh… S5?”

“Oh, please, don’t call me that. Just… Yooyeon.”

There was a small pause before the girl murmured, “Thank you, Yooyeon… unnie? I’m Haerin.”

Yooyeon gave a faint smile. “And thank you for saving me, Haerin.”

They stayed there for a while, catching their breath. Yooyeon propped herself up and leaned back against the wall, trying to steady the pounding in her head.

“H-How old are you?” she asked, glancing at the girl.

“Fifteen.” Haerin replied quietly.

Yooyeon froze, staring at her. “God.” The word came out like it had weight. This kid was supposed to be worrying about exams, not trying to survive whatever this is.

Anger burned hot in her chest. The system had put her here. Deliberately. It was just one more reason to keep moving.

Once they were as ready as they could be, they followed the signs up several flights of stairs. The climb had been mercifully free of those creatures, but the silence in their absence felt almost heavier. Finally, the two reach a door with a sign above it that said “Dr. Darling’s Office.” With cautious hands, the older girl slowly pushed it open.

The office looked like it had been hit by a hurricane. Papers were scattered across every surface, desk drawers left half open, whiteboards smudged with half-erased notes. Considering how strange today had been, Yooyeon didn’t entirely dismiss the idea that an actual mini storm might have blown through here.

She picked up a folder stamped in bold red: CLASSIFIED. Inside were photographs of humanoid figures twisted into unnatural poses, their faces obscured by static-like distortion. Pages of typed reports followed, some with entire lines blacked out. 

Chapter Text

<Your compliance/obedience has been noted.> 

<The black rock resonates/punishes with the unworthy. If you falter/hesitate, it will claim you.> 

It felt like somebody, something, seared those words into her eyes and ears.

She had already been running for minutes. She knew how to use her powers, and she’d thrown everything she could at it. The thing chasing her couldn’t be destroyed. Fragments ripped free, scattered, only to pull back into orbit around the unseen core. Always reforming. Always chasing.

Her lungs burned. Her arms hung like lead. Each step was a fight to keep her legs from giving out. And still the sound followed. That clattering.

Metal against stone, sharp and ceaseless, hammering into her skull until she thought she would split apart with it. The closer it came, the faster it struck, like a hundred blades clashing all at once right behind her.

Her vision blurred. Dust coated her mouth, her throat, choking her. She stumbled, and for a breath her balance tipped forward. Just enough that she thought this was it, that she would feel those jagged edges tear through her spine.

The generator lamp cut into the dark ahead of her, faint, flickering, the only source of light. She staggered toward it, half collapsing beneath its circle of glow. The hum of it was thin, almost swallowed by the clattering roar closing in behind.

The mass loomed at the edge of the light, a storm of jagged stone drawn tight around its unseen heart. She could hear it grinding itself into shape, the whole quarry trembling with the weight of it.

Too close. She had nothing left. Her legs buckled, and she braced for the impact she couldn’t block.

Then a woman’s hand caught her arm, wrenching her upright with brutal force, then a shockwave tore past her shoulder.

She flinched, eyes squeezing shut against the sudden blast. A rush of energy struck the thing head-on. The stones screamed against each other as they blew outward, fragments spiraling like shrapnel into the dark.

For one impossible second, the core was exposed. Cold, alien, and pulsing with life. Then the shards began to pull themselves back. Not destroyed. Not slowed for long. But it bought her a heartbeat more.

“It’s reforming! We need to go now!” another voice shouted from the dark.

She blinked and realized there were more. Two shapes waiting just beyond the lamp’s reach, tense, ready to move.

“Get up.” The woman's eyes flicked to the number on her shirt. “Eleven. We need to run.”

The voice was sharp, commanding. The grip on her arm didn’t loosen.

Her legs answered before her mind did, staggering into motion. Every muscle screamed, every breath came ragged, but she moved, dragged forward by the stranger’s strength. Behind them, the clattering rose again, louder than before, as the stones found their way back to the core.

They didn’t stop until the clattering had faded into the distance. Minutes passed, the sound swallowed by the dark, until only the crunch of footsteps on the rocky ground and the rasp of their breathing remained. This place felt endless.

Above them is a vast sky choked with dust, yet still fractured by streaks of starlight. The stars seemed sharper here, cutting through the haze like scattered glass, their light warped against the jagged silhouettes of black stone jutting up all around. The air shimmered faintly, heavy with drifting particles that turned every breath into a battle. 

She dragged herself forward, eyes catching on the numbers stamped across their shirts. Three. Eight. Then the girl who’d saved her — Thirteen.

Her stomach turned as it clicked. Those numbers weren’t random. She’d seen them before, in that damned containment room. These girls had been there with her. Other candidates trapped in the same cold, suffocating place she thought she’d never escape.

Her voice cracked from the dryness in her throat. “Thank you, by the way, miss…” She faltered, realizing she didn’t know the girl’s name. “Do you guys want me to call you by your number, or…?”

Thirteen glanced over, her grip still steady. “Oh. My name is Nien.” She then looked at the other two, who exchanged quick looks, as if they’d already rehearsed this. 

“I’m Jiwoo,” said the taller one.

“And I’m Yubin,” added the other.

Nien’s eyes lingered on her. “And you?”

“Kotone,” she managed between breaths, forcing the words out past the tightness in her chest. “Any idea where we are?”

Nien shook her head. “No idea. I remember the girl from the last chamber, then the overwhelming light… and all of a sudden, we were here. I found these two huddled together behind a rock shortly after I woke up, and we agreed to stick together.”

Jiwoo continued. “Then we found you running from that rock thing. Felt like we needed to help, so…” Her shrug finished the sentence.

Kotone let the words settle. It matched what she remembered, too. A blinding light, swallowing everything. But there had been something else for her. A sound. A voice tangled and jumbled, like static forced into shape, and yet it had made sense. 

Her chest tightened again, though not from running. She shook it off and glanced at the three girls walking beside her. “…I have to say, you guys are really good at Japanese.”

Yubin gave her a puzzled look. “Japanese? We’re speaking Korean.”

Kotone blinked. “What? You’re clearly speaking Japanese. You just did.”

“Ah.” Nien chuckled softly, the sound carrying through the darkness. “That’s the collar.”

Kotone frowned, about to ask what she meant when Nien reached over and unclasped the slim band at her neck. Its faint hum died instantly.

She spoke again, calm and fluid, but Kotone couldn’t understand a single syllable. The words hit her ears like static, noise without meaning. Panic prickled at her chest. “What are you —” The band clicked back into place.

“— see?” Nien’s voice returned, clear, seamless, as though nothing had changed. “I found out about it earlier. When you talk, I hear Chinese. I’m guessing when we talk, you hear Japanese.”

“And we hear Korean,” Yubin added, blunt and matter-of-fact.

Nien tugged lightly at her own band. “That’s what these collars are for. They put them on us the day we were captured. Makes sure we all understand each other.”

Kotone’s hand drifted to her throat. The collar sat flush against her skin, humming faintly again. 

“That thing chasing you,” Jiwoo cut in, her voice rough with fatigue. “They gave it a name.” She dug into the pocket of her shirt, pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper and shoved it toward Kotone. The edges were smudged with dust, the ink half-faded as though it had been crumpled and smoothed a dozen times.

Kotone unfolded it with trembling fingers. At the top, in bold type blurred by wear, the words stared back at her. "An astral spike, huh."

“We also found a map, picked it up near one of the broken lamps. Looked like someone dropped it.” Jiwoo said, reaching back into her pocket. This time she unfolded a ragged scrap, lines etched in ink across its surface. “This place is called the Black Rock Quarry, apparently.”

The words jolted Kotone. They burned fresh in her memory, seared into her mind when she first woke here.

<The black rock resonates/punishes with the unworthy. If you falter/hesitate, it will claim you.>

Jiwoo tapped the paper. “We were actually about to find our way to this elevator when we saw you getting chased. It should be located on the far north of the quarry.”

Kotone blinked, her voice dry. “And what way is north?”

“We don’t know,” Yubin said flatly. “It only marks the boundaries, completely flat. No terrain, no landmarks that can help us pinpoint which way to go…”

Kotone’s hands tightened on the map. “Then how are we supposed to find it?”

Jiwoo answered without hesitation. “We check every direction.”

Kotone let out a humorless breath, the exhaustion in her bones weighing every word. “And how long will that take us?”

Nien only shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how much time it takes. As long as we get out of here.”

“Do we even know where this elevator leads?” Kotone pressed.

Jiwoo gave a half-smile, half-grimace. “Nope. It only shows the locations on this… area? Floor? I don’t even know anymore.”

Kotone stopped walking. The crunch of gravel under her boots cut off, forcing the others to glance back.

Her voice snapped out, raw and cracking. “You guys have got to be kidding. Then what are we even doing? We have no clue where north is, we don’t know if this dust will choke us dead before we even get there, and for all we know there’s a dozen more of those spike things waiting on the other side of that elevator!”

Nien’s gaze hardened. “Then would you rather stay here, let your lungs fill with dust, and die slow? Or at least try to do something about it?”

Kotone bristled. “Trying doesn’t mean running blind until we collapse! There has to be some way —”

“You think we haven’t thought of other options?” Nien’s voice rose to meet hers, sharp as broken glass. “We’ve been staring at this damn thing for hours. We know exactly how hopeless it looks.”

“Guys…” Jiwoo’s voice wavered, caught between weariness and desperation. “Maybe now isn’t the time to be arguing? We need to keep moving, not…” Her words trailed off, uncertain, swallowed by the dust.

Then Yubin’s voice cut through, steady but urgent. “Hey. Look.” 

All of them turned.

Far ahead, past the uneven slopes and choking haze, a faint glow shimmered through the dust. 

“Light.”

The crunch of their boots carried over the rocky ground, each step sinking into loose grit. The glow sharpened with every breath until the haze peeled back enough to reveal its source.

Floodlights. A crooked row of them, half-choked in dust, their beams stabbing outward into the dark. Some flickered in erratic bursts, others buzzed with a constant hum, too steady for a place that felt long abandoned.

Beyond the lights, pillars. Vast, jagged towers of black stone, rising out of the quarry floor like the roots of some colossal tree turned to stone. Their surfaces shimmered under the floodlights, bending shadows in ways that didn’t make sense.

Rusting scaffolds clung desperately to their sides, half-collapsed, eaten by dust and time. Platforms dangled from snapped cables, swaying as if moved by a breeze none of them could feel. The ground around them was scattered with shattered drills, broken carts, and fragments of the very same black rock.

But beneath it all, there was a sound. A faint hum, low and constant, like the pillars themselves were alive. Not loud enough to hear clearly, but felt in the teeth, the ribs, the spaces behind the eyes.

Jiwoo’s voice came out as a whisper. “A mining site… for this stuff.”

Kotone’s gaze stayed fixed on the nearest pillar. The longer she looked, the more it seemed to pulse faintly, like a heartbeat buried deep inside the stone. Further into the clearing, stood —

“A person?” Yubin squinted through the haze. There, just at the edge of the floodlights, stood a lone figure in an FBC uniform, head bowed as if frozen in place.

Nien cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey! Can you hear us?”

No response. The figure didn’t even twitch.

“…Probably didn’t hear us. Let’s get closer,” Nien murmured. They started forward cautiously, boots crunching against gravel. 

Kotone slowed, her steps tugged sideways without reason. Near the generator, half-buried in the dust, lay a pouch. It wasn’t remarkable at first glance, just fabric worn thin, its seams eaten away. But inside, three fragments pulsed faintly, their glow wrong in a way light shouldn’t be. 

She should’ve walked past. She knew she should. But the longer her eyes stayed on them, the louder the hum became, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts, coaxing her hand to move. Her fingers brushed one before her mind caught up.

It stabbed into her palm like lightning.

She cried out. The sound tore raw from her throat as she collapsed against the generator. The shard melted into her skin, embedding deep, leaving only a faint, unnatural gleam under her flesh.

Yubin’s voice caught sharply with worry. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

Kotone’s scream still echoed against the rock walls, her body shuddering as she clutched her palm. The shard’s glow pulsed faintly beneath her skin.

The figure by the floodlights finally moved. Its head snapped toward them in a single, jarring motion, as if yanked by a string.

Nien’s hand went up, instinctively shielding the others. Her voice dropped, taut and cold. “I think something’s up with that guy.”

The man lifted his face. Eyes burning. Mouth moving, but not speaking — hissing. The sound crawled over their skin like static, and the quarry itself seemed to listen.

The air ruptured red. The floodlights bled into crimson haze. Dust swirled like smoke, staining everything scarlet. All around the pillars, more shadows tore themselves free, stepping into the light with jerking, broken movements. Each one whispering the same hiss, their voices joining in a chorus that filled the quarry.

Kotone’s voice dissolved into ragged gasps, the pain blotting out thought. She collapsed against the generator, unable to move, vision swimming in red. Through the haze she still saw them fight.

Nien moved first. She threw her hand out and a barrier made of rubble snapped into place. Some of the creatures collided with it, jagged limbs rebounding off the barrier with a series of sharp, grinding cracks. She countered, shoving her palm forward, and the barrier folded into a concussive blast, sending three of them skidding backward into the stone. Clean, efficient, controlled. But already sweat dripped down her temple.

Jiwoo wasn’t as steady. She lifted both arms and raw force pulsed outward in waves, the air itself buckling under the release. Shadows shattered into dust, but the recoil sent her stumbling, her breath already ragged. Every blast was too wide, too desperate. She was scattering enemies, but it was draining her faster than she realized.

Yubin tried to follow Nien’s lead. She lifted a chunk of black rock from the ground with both hands, straining as it tore free. It hovered, then wobbled, unstable, before she flung it clumsily at an enemy. It hit, smashing it to dust, but the motion left her gasping. Another jagged figure lunged, and her second throw missed completely. They closed in mercilessly.

She could only watch, teeth clenched against the scream ripping through her throat. She tried to rise, even just lift a hand, but the shard pulsed again, and the pain was too much. The world thinned at the edges. The red haze smeared, swallowing her into black.

Then light. Blinding, pure, and endless. Just like the chamber. But this time, it didn’t swallow her. It pulled her into its center, weightless. 

Incorrect.

The voice was not a voice. It scraped like metal dragged across stone, layered and distorted, each word staggering out of sync with itself. Yet Kotone understood every single word clearly.

The shard rejects. You are not the vessel sought.

Its echo fractured, repeating in a chorus that crawled beneath her skin.

However… your current situation is… inadequate.

A pause, as if weighing her, dissecting her.

Very well. We will lend a hand. A temporary correction. But first…
 

The last word hammered against her ribs.

WAKE. UP.

Her eyes snapped open.

The quarry rushed back, red and hissing, dust and stone and screaming shadows. But her hand was not empty.

Something cold and weighty settled in her palm. A  weapon, half-solid, shifting like liquid metal under her grip. For now, it fixed into the sharp, clean lines of a pistol.

Her body moved before her mind caught up. The first shot cracked through the haze, shattering one of the shadows into fragments that scattered like glass. The others turned at once, their attention snapping to her.

They rushed. The pistol melted mid-breath, lengthening into the shaft of a naginata. Kotone spun it in her hands and cut a swath through the swarm, steel whispering through the air. Too close. The weapon collapsed again, reforming as twin sai that punched and twisted through another creature’s chest.

Her breath hitched. Heat surged down her arm, spilling past the weapon entirely. The air buckled, and a force came rippling out from her like a wave. Three shadows were flung back at once, crushed into the quarry walls with a sound like snapping bone. She hadn’t meant to. She didn’t even know how she’d done it.

Her grip faltered, sweat slicking the hilt. Her arms trembled violently, muscles screaming, the weapon jittering in her hands as if it might slip free. Her vision swam, edges of the quarry blurring. Still, the weapon shifted again, petals of steel unfurling into a fan of blades. She flicked it open, slashing across another face in one smooth, desperate motion.

But every strike bled more strength from her, the weapon’s forms stuttering as though it, too, was breaking under the strain. Kotone staggered, chest heaving, the glow in her palm pulsing in time with her ragged heartbeat.

“Yubin, look out!” Jiwoo’s scream cut through the chaos. Kotone’s head snapped toward the voice, instincts flaring. She raised her arm, willing the weapon to shift. Yet, her vision blurred. Her muscles gave out. The weapon flickered uselessly in her grip, stuttering between forms.

Too late. The creature leveled its jagged weapon — not stone, not flesh, something in between — and fired.

The shot cracked through the quarry.

Yubin screamed, collapsing as blood poured from her ruined eye.

Time froze. Jiwoo’s breath hitched into a sob, her face twisted with something raw, desperate, unrecognizable. The hissing creature swarmed toward her, sensing the weakness.

“NOOO!”

The word wasn’t a shout. It was an eruption. Jiwoo’s power tore out of her like the earth itself had split. The air imploded, then exploded, a shockwave shredding everything in its reach.

Their enemies disintegrated, ripped apart into nothing.

Kotone’s body lifted from her feet, flung backward like a rag doll. The world spun. Dust and rock and blood blurred together.

Then silence.

The quarry lay in ruins around them, and all that remained was the sound of Jiwoo’s ragged, broken breathing.

Kotone forced her arms beneath her, every muscle trembling. Her palm burned like it was still on fire. She turned it over, breath catching.

The shard tumbled free.

It clattered once against her skin, heavy and solid, no longer melted into her. Just a jagged piece of black stone again, faintly glowing in the seams. She curled her fingers around it on instinct, clutching it as though it might vanish if she let go.

She staggered forward. Jiwoo was kneeling in the dust, her body hunched protectively over Yubin. Blood streaked down Yubin’s cheek, her hand clamped desperately against the ruined socket where her left eye had been. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, each inhale a fight.

"I'm sorry, I could've..." Kotone’s throat tightened. “Yubin, are you —”

“I’m alive.” Yubin’s voice was strained, almost a hiss through her teeth. Her lips trembled as another surge of pain forced her to clench her jaw.

"You don’t need to apologize. If anything, it’s me.” Jiwoo’s voice wavered. Her hands wouldn’t stay still. Hovering uselessly near Yubin’s face, trembling, as if the wrong touch might shatter her. “I-I lost it back there.” Her breath caught, breaking into a sob. “It shot her in the head. For a second I thought…” The words crumbled, leaving only the raw, shaking edge of her fear. “I thought she was gone.”

Yubin’s fingers twitched, weak and bloodied, brushing against Jiwoo’s sleeve in a broken attempt at reassurance. “Not… not gone.” Her voice faltered, thin as paper.

Jiwoo’s breath hitched, but she forced her trembling arms tighter around her friend, pulling her closer, as if holding Yubin there could anchor her to life.

Nien’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp and steady despite the tremor underneath. “We need to move. Quickly.” Her eyes scanned the quarry walls, tense, as if expecting enemies to crawl out of the shadows again. Then her gaze snapped to Kotone. “What were those things? And you… how the hell did you fight like that?”

Kotone froze. Her hand still burned, the shard pulsing faintly under her skin. She lifted the rock slowly, showing the others the strange glow. “I think… it was this.”

Nien’s eyes widened. “That stone did that to you? Can you do it again?”

Kotone swallowed, her voice dropping. “I… don’t think so. It said I was incorrect.”

Silence pressed between them, the weight of her words heavier than the dust in their lungs.

Jiwoo finally blinked, forcing herself to focus. She turned to Yubin. “Think you can walk?”

Yubin exhaled, shaky but firm. “As long as you help me.”

Before Jiwoo moved, her gaze flicked to the blood running down Yubin’s cheek, the empty socket clumsily covered by her hand.

“Wait.” She yanked at the hem of her own shirt, tearing a strip free with desperate, uneven tugs. Her hands shook as she pressed the cloth against Yubin’s wound, knotting it behind her head as gently as she could.

Yubin hissed through her teeth, but didn’t pull away.

Jiwoo’s eyes burned. “I can’t let you bleed like this.” She swallowed hard, forcing herself steady, then slipped her arm under Yubin’s. “Okay. Now lean on me.”

Yubin groaned but rose, her weight pressing into Jiwoo as they steadied each other.

Nien pointed ahead, toward the far end of the quarry. On a raised pillar of rock, half-hidden in shadow, stood an elevator. Its doors gleamed metallic under the flickering floodlights. An office elevator, complete with polished chrome panels and a glowing button.

“I don’t want to see if those things come back,” Nien muttered, jaw tight. “That’s our way out.”

Kotone stared at it, breath catching. Her voice slipped out before she could stop it. “I expected… I don’t know, something you’d find in a mining rig. Chains, a reinforced cage. Not that.”

Nien nods, “Let’s go.”

After several minutes of staggering through the dust-choked quarry, the girls finally reached the elevator. Their legs burned with each step, and every breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Jiwoo’s arms trembled under Yubin’s weight, and Yubin’s movements were sluggish, every step an effort.

The elevator stood in stark, impossible contrast to the quarry around it, humming softly as if it had always belonged. Its chrome doors reflected the floodlights, clean and untouched by the dust choking everything else.

Kotone didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, slammed the call button. The light above it flickered once, then steadied. A mechanical chime rang out, painfully ordinary, before the doors slid open with a whisper.

The four of them shuffled inside, Jiwoo bracing Yubin against her shoulder. The interior was polished steel, spotless, its overhead lamp humming with a sterile white glow. And in the center of the panel, just one button. No floor numbers, no key slot, just a single glowing square.

Nien pressed it. The doors sealed shut.

A faint, tinny tune filled the cabin. Elevator music. Soft, cheerful, almost playful — the kind of looping melody meant to distract office workers from silence. 

Kotone’s lip twitched. “Is this a joke?”

Nien didn’t answer, arms crossed, jaw set as the floor vibrated gently. But after a moment, she turned her head to look at them. “Something’s been on my mind, actually. Do you guys remember anything before the containment chamber?”

Kotone blinked at her. “Before?”

“Yeah. Like your life before it.” Nien’s voice was low, cautious. “I mean, there has to be something. I’ve been trying to think back. But… nothing. It’s blank. Maybe the bureau had something to do with it.”

“I remember.” Jiwoo’s voice broke the quiet, raw but steady, as if forcing strength back into herself. She adjusted her grip on Yubin, holding her close. Her eyes softened, distant. “We went to school together. We were close. Back then, we’d message each other nonstop on our pagers.”

Kotone blinked, her brow knitting. “Pagers…?”

The elevator shuddered to a stop. A soft chime rang, absurdly polite. The doors slid open.

Cold fluorescent light spilled in, sterile and humming. Too bright, too steady. Kotone blinked hard, her eyes watering before shapes resolved. The smell of ink replaced the dry sting of the quarry. Ahead stretched row after row of desks. Some are neat, most are drowning under avalanches of paper. Stacks leaned precariously, spilling across the floor in drifts. Typewriters sat abandoned, keys still raised as if frozen mid-stroke.

Nien blinked hard, her jaw tightening as the scene settled in. “What the fuck.”

“Is this…” Jiwoo’s voice faltered, disbelief bleeding into her tone. “An office?”

Yubin winced as she lifted her head, her voice rasping with both pain and incredulity. “There’s so much... paper.”

Kotone stepped forward, eyes darting across the endless rows, the walls lined with corkboards, notices, memos layered over memos. The air buzzed faintly, like a thousand phones waiting to ring at once.

Bolted above the double doors at the far end. A metal plaque, clean despite the dust, its letters sharp under the fluorescent glare: COMMUNICATIONS DEPARTMENT.

"What is going on here?"

Chapter Text

<Your heart/purity draws the gaze.>

<To save/protect is to bleed/break.>

<Will you endure/sacrifice, or be consumed/undone?>

She lay sprawled on cold steel, her cheek pressed against the grated floor. For a long moment, she didn’t move, her thoughts scattered, her body heavy. The buzzing of fluorescent lights overhead gnawed at her ears, sharp and constant, until it forced her eyes open.

The sight made her stomach lurch. This place stretched upward forever. 

Floor after floor spiraled above her, a tower of cells stacked with mechanical precision. They curved along the inside of a vast cylindrical chamber, each level ringed with numbers, walkways, and railings. Lights cut through the haze in sterile cones, casting everything in hard contrast.

The higher she tried to look, the less she saw. A heavy fog clung to the upper levels, swallowing light, reducing the cells above to faint silhouettes. Somewhere past the mist, the structure vanished entirely. She couldn’t tell if it had an end at all, or if it simply kept climbing forever.

Out of some foolish instinct, she tilted her head downward. Terrible idea.

While whatever was above vanished into mist, below collapsed into nothingness. The floors dropped into an endless pit of black so deep it felt like it was pulling her in. A wave of vertigo crashed through her. Her vision tilted. Her breath caught. She almost froze completely.

She’d always hated heights and admitted it was ridiculous. With her long frame, she should’ve felt steady, unshakable. Yet here she was, flat on her belly, clutching the metal grating like it might slip from beneath her, paralyzed by the dizzying drop below. The fear was absurd, but it locked her in place all the same.

Slowly, painfully, she crawled. Each movement scraped her palms raw until, finally, she reached the solid part of the platform where the railing ended. Only then, heart hammering, did she dare push herself onto her knees. 

She stayed there for a while, chest heaving, before whispering under her breath. 

“Zhou Xinyu, you are a coward.”

The scale of the Panopticon pressed down on her chest, suffocating. This wasn’t a building. It was a prison. A world hollowed out and lined with glass. And in every direction, cells waited in silence.

She forced her legs to move, step by step, her boots ringing dully against the steel. Her surroundings swallowed every sound, amplifying her footsteps until they echoed like hammers through the hollow chamber. As she walked, the first cells stopped her in her tracks. 

Inside one stood a battered stop sign, its red paint faded and surface dented as though it had been torn straight from the ground. A little farther along, a pair of sneakers rested neatly on the floor, their laces tied into careful bows. Another cell held a child’s rocking horse, its chipped paint revealing faded blue beneath the wear, while the next contained an unplugged microwave with its door hanging slightly open, its cavity yawning like a dark mouth.

She slowed, staring. None of it made sense. No movement, no people, nothing here was alive. These are objects. Ordinary things. Mundane things. Why lock them away behind reinforced glass?

The silence pressed harder the more she walked. The air itself seemed to lean in, waiting. Then she saw it. Probably the most absurd item she’s seen so far.

A rubber duck, sitting alone on a pedestal. Bright yellow, perfectly round, its molded beak fixed in a cheerful smile under the sterile fluorescent light. She even thought it was cute.

Her lips twitched, a startled laugh slipping free before she could stop it. The absurdity cracked through the tension like glass. A duck? Locked up like this?

A terminal sat bolted to the wall beside the cell, its screen dead, a reel of tape already loaded into the player. She figured there wasn’t really anything better to do, so she pressed play.

A burst of static rattled through the speakers, echoing into the hollow chamber. Then a calm, clinical voice:

“Uhh, Altered Item number 52-AE analysis, session two…? I will begin by introducing various stimuli to the item. First, I will introduce a low-voltage electric shock.”

A sharp crackle, faint even through the recording.

“No response. Next, applying heat with a standard Bunsen burner.”

The soft whoosh of a flame catching.

“No response. Proceeding with solutions across the pH scale, zero through fourteen.”

The splashing of liquid poured, one after another, into something unseen.

“No response to any value. Attempting direct communication. Can you understand me? Can you understand my words? Quack if you can understand my words.”

Silence.

Her hand flew to her mouth as a laugh slipped out anyway. The voice was so steady, so deliberate, but the words were ridiculous. “Quack if you can understand me,” she muttered, shaking her head. Whoever this was, they had to be joking.

The tape hissed for a moment, then ended with the flat click of the stop mechanism. She stood there for a while, staring at the rubber duck through the glass. It hadn’t moved. It hadn’t done anything. 

She then noticed a folder lying on the floor, pages smudged and crumpled. Flipping it open, she skimmed a passage: a child complaining of being followed by her rubber duck, her father dismissing it as imagination until he began hearing quacking at night. The toy was later found hiding in her closet.

Her eyes caught the final note, stark in black ink:

It was discovered that Agent ████████ was bringing known paranatural materials into his home, illegally taking them outside the Oldest House. How this may have affected the creation of an Altered Item is being investigated. Agent ████████  has been terminated.

Terminated. The words sat heavy in her chest. She flipped to the next page — containment procedures. 

Her fingers trembled against the page. The words left a chill crawling down her spine, every sentence heavier than the last..

Inside the cell, the girl’s voice wavered. “My eyes… they’re so dry. They hurt so much. I’ve screamed until I couldn’t anymore, but no one came.”

Her words cracked, a hoarse edge cutting through, but her tone stayed clear enough to carry the fear. “Whoever you are… please,” her breath hitched, “I need your help. Please help me. I don’t want to die.”

Xinyu pressed her hand against the intercom, forcing her voice steady. “Okay, okay. I’ll find something, alright? Just… keep your eyes open for me. Focus.”

A beat of silence. Then the girl muttered to herself, barely more than a rasp. “Yeah, alright. Focus. Park Sohyun. Keep your eyes open. Open. Open.”

The name caught Xinyu’s ears. “Is that your name? Sohyun?”

“…Yes.”

Xinyu swallowed hard, glancing at the crayon-covered fridge looming in the cell. “I’ll be back, Sohyun. Just hang in there.”

Through the glass, she thought she saw the faintest dip of the girl’s head, a nod that looked more like it might topple her from the chair.

Xinyu drew in a shaky breath. “Good. Just… keep breathing. I’ll get you out. I promise.”

Her eyes flicked toward the red fridge, the childish crayon drawings taped across its humming surface. If it was the act of looking that trapped Sohyun, then maybe — just maybe — the answer was to blind it. Cover it. Smother its gaze.

A tarp, a sheet, anything large enough to drape over it. If she couldn’t see the fridge, maybe the fridge couldn’t see her? It might not work that way. God, it probably didn’t. But it was all she had, the only thread of sense she could cling to in this nightmare.

She scanned the walkways around her, eyes darting from level to level. There had to be something she could use. Every cell was sealed, every corridor bare, just metal and glass stretching into the dark.

Then her gaze snagged on the floor below. A crate sat tucked against the railing on the walkway, shrouded in a heavy gray canvas. Her pulse kicked. Finally. Exactly what she needed.

She’d found her solution, but getting there… was the problem.

She tried the elevator first, only to find its doors jammed open over a shaft swallowed in darkness. The nearest ladder was no better, its frame warped and half the rungs sheared away. Risky, considering that if it were to break, she’d be a victim of the endless abyss below. When she reached the stairs, her stomach sank. They’d already collapsed, nothing left but a pile of twisted debris. Every path ended in failure.

Her chest tightened. She didn’t have time for this. She scanned the surrounding cells, desperate for anything she could use. That’s when she saw it: a faint glow, small but unwavering, coming from a pedestal inside one of the nearby enclosures.

An old, dented flashlight sat upright, waiting. Beside it, a folder had been left open, edges curled and stained. She moved closer, hope and caution tangled in equal measure, and skimmed the printed page. 

AI97-LE. Emits coherent, solid light beams when activated. Function observed: creates walkable surfaces. Containment breach during testing resulted in █████████.

She didn’t even want to know what was blocked out. Of course, it would be dangerous. But desperation won over caution. She reached for the reinforced door and, with a jolt of effort, pushed it open. The hinges groaned, metal scraping against metal, but it gave way just enough for her to slip inside. The air was stale, tinged with the faint hum of fluorescent lights.

She stepped forward, heart hammering, and lifted the flashlight from its pedestal. Cold metal pressed into her palms, heavier than it looked. Every instinct screamed at her to drop it, to leave it where it was, but she couldn’t. Not when somebody was counting on her.

For a moment, she hesitated, staring at the flashlight. The beam was unremarkable, just like any other flashlight would produce. Warm, pale light, nothing flashy or exaggerated. She bent down and picked up a loose chunk of concrete from the cell floor. Dust flaked from its edges, catching in the harsh light of the cell, but it was solid enough to test.

Her hands shook as she set it onto the beam. For a heartbeat, her mind refused to comprehend it. Gravity should have claimed it. The concrete should have fallen. Yet it balanced perfectly, resting on nothing but a strip of ordinary-looking light.

Her pulse hammered. The beam wasn’t glowing glass or metal. It was just light. And somehow, impossibly, it was solid.

“Holy shit…” she whispered, voice barely audible. “It actually works.”

Her relief lasted all of five seconds. She aimed the flashlight down toward the floor below, toward the crate with the canvas. The beam reached halfway, then sputtered into empty air. Too short. She leaned over the railing, stretched her arm as far as she could, and the beam finally touched the walkway. However, if she wanted the bridge to hold, she’d have to keep it propped there.

Not with her hands. Her chest tightened. She’d have to float the flashlight steady herself, hold it locked into place while she walked the impossible path.

Her eyes flicked back to the abyss below. Endless black swallowed the levels, a fall with no bottom. Just looking made her vision tilt, her stomach twist.

She clenched her jaw. If only I could just float myself across… she thought, watching the void. She’d seen the other girls in the containment chamber do it, levitating as if the air itself obeyed them. But not her. Or at least not yet. She had no choice. The flashlight had to hold.

“No big deal,” she muttered under her breath. “I just gotta stay focused… keep this flashlight floating. I lose my focus, I fall. My demise. No big deal.”

Her palms slicked with sweat, knees locked. She forced herself to breathe. She’d tested it. She knew it worked. And yet the thought of stepping onto that glowing strip over the void still made her bones feel hollow. 

She had no choice.

She held the flashlight out in front of her, heart hammering, and focused. Slowly, carefully, she let go. The beam hovered steadily in the air, perfectly aligned over the gap. 

Taking a deep breath, she swung one leg onto the railing, then balanced herself, every movement deliberate. Finally, she planted a boot on the hovering strip. The beam held. Her pulse raced as she inched forward, one careful step at a time.

For a heartbeat, it went perfectly. Then her foot slipped.

She yelped, the sound sharp in the empty chamber, echoing off the walls. Her heart leapt into her throat as she flailed, barely catching herself with one hand while the other kept the flashlight steady.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus. Fingers dug into the impossibly solid beam as she inched downward, every movement deliberate, every muscle screaming. Below her, the abyss yawned, black and infinite, daring her to lose her grip.

A bead of sweat ran into her eye. She immediately blinked it away. Every nerve screamed at her to stop, but she couldn’t. The girl was waiting. She couldn’t afford to hesitate.

Slowly, she lowered herself. The light hummed faintly, or maybe it was just her imagination, but she treated it like a lifeline. Every second felt like an eternity.

Finally, her boots touched the edge of the walkway below. She exhaled sharply, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She lowered herself the rest of the way, still gripping the beam until her weight was fully on the solid floor. The flashlight hovered steadily above the gap, obedient to her focus.

Her knees bent, muscles quivering, as she straightened up. For the first time since she’d stepped onto the beam, she allowed herself a shaky breath of relief.

She pulled the flashlight toward her, turning it off. For a moment, things felt a little calmer. She went to the crate and grabbed the canvas on top. “Finally.”

At the corner of the walkway, she set the flashlight down, turned it on again, and the solid light stretched across the void. One last climb. She’d done it once; she could do it again.

Then it cut through the chamber. A sound. Rough and sharp, making her wince. Red light shot across the walkways behind her, and creatures appeared, hissing and moving fast. They didn’t sound normal. The noise was grating, like metal scraping metal.

What are those things?

The creatures lunged at her. Instinct took over. She ran across the beam, no careful steps, no thinking. She was almost at the railing when one hit her hand holding the canvas.

The canvas slipped.

“NO!” she yelled, but there was no time. She lunged forward on the beam, yanking the flashlight back toward her with both hands to keep it from sliding away. She could do nothing but watch the canvas tumbling into the endless darkness below.

Her hand throbbed violently. The gunshot had left a gaping hole in her palm, blood slick and warm, dripping onto the metal below. Every pulse of pain screamed at her to stop, to drop everything. Her hand throbbed so sharply that tears welled up and slid down her cheeks, hot and unbidden. But she had to keep moving.

She scoured the walkways, every cell, every corner. No sheets, tarps, or even pieces of cloth. Nothing big enough, nothing that wouldn’t tear the moment she touched it. Her boots rang hollow against the steel floors, each echo mocking her, counting down her failures. Her chest felt tight, heavy with a sinking, self-directed frustration that made her want to scream at herself. How could she have come all this way and found nothing?

Her jaw ached from clenching it so hard. She could almost hear herself berating every step: worthless, useless, failure. The Panopticon pressed down on her from all sides, dark and infinite, indifferent to her struggle. She forced herself forward anyway, shoulders stiff, throat raw, knowing she had to face the girl with the truth — that she had come back empty-handed, that she had nothing to give.

“Is that you? Do you… do you have something?”

“Well,” Xinyu started, swallowing hard. Her gaze swept the floor as she stepped closer, hopelessness already weighing her down. And then she saw it. A cloth. White. Unbelievably clean. In a place layered with dust and forgotten debris, it shouldn’t have been this pure. But she didn’t have time to think. Her relief overrode her disbelief.

She bent down and picked up the cloth, feeling its smooth texture. “Y-Yes! I have something. I’m coming in now, alright?”

She slid the door open and stepped into the cell, moving slowly. Sohyun’s eyes didn’t leave the fridge. For the first time, she saw them. Red, bloodshot, wide and unblinking, they were fixed on the humming, ominous appliance, as if looking away could tear her apart.

Slowly, carefully, she draped the cloth over the fridge. Her fingers trembled against the fabric. A dark smear ran along the edge of the white cloth. Her blood from the gunshot, still fresh. 

Sohyun’s voice was soft, trembling. “What… what happened to it?”

Xinyu glanced at her palm, the wound throbbing painfully. “There were… weird creatures. Appeared out of nowhere.” She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “One of them had a gun. Shot my hand.”

Every second, she half-expected the fridge to hum louder, to react. Sweat stung her eyes, but she pressed it down, smoothing the edges where it sagged.

“Alright, try looking away,” Xinyu whispered, her voice low and steady.

For a moment, Sohyun didn’t move, frozen in the weight of her own terror. Then, slowly, her gaze flicked toward Xinyu. Trembling, fragile, she took a step forward, then another, until she crossed the small space between them. She wrapped her arms around Xinyu in a desperate, trembling embrace.

“Thank you…” Sohyun murmured, her voice raw and broken, clinging to her tightly. “Thank you so much.”

Xinyu let herself exhale, finally allowing the tension in her shoulders to drop slightly. Relief washed over her, fragile and fleeting, but enough. For now, the worst was held at bay.

As Xinyu guided Sohyun out of the cell and into the corridor, her gaze drifted down the walkway and froze. At the far end stood a door. Her stomach tightened.

Had that door… always been there?

She wasn’t sure anymore. She could’ve sworn the end of the walkway had been a blank wall, but maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. After the weird hissing creatures, it was probably just her going insane, and she simply didn’t notice it before. But the sight of it still made her uneasy. Heavy steel, reinforced frame, hinges sunk deep into the wall. Above it, a faded sign read: Firebreak.

Xinyu clenched her jaw, forcing herself to keep guiding Sohyun forward. Wherever that door led, it was away from the cell, away from the fridge. Real or not, imagined or not, it was a way out. And right now, anywhere else was better. She squeezed Sohyun’s shoulders gently, guiding her toward the door. “Okay. For now, close your eyes,” she murmured. “Just rest them for a while.” 

Sohyun nodded shakily, her eyelids drooping as she leaned into Xinyu’s support. Step by step, Xinyu helped her out of the cell, careful to keep her steady on the uneven walkway.

Once they reached a small landing away from the oppressive hum of the fridge, Xinyu finally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her eyes flicked toward Sohyun. “Tell me… why were you in there anyway?”

Sohyun hesitated, her fingers clutching at Xinyu’s arm. “That’s where I woke up,” she whispered. “I'm sure you saw it too.…” 

Her voice faltered, unsure, and Xinyu prompted softly, “The light from the girl?”

Sohyun’s eyes closed tighter, a shiver running through her. “Mhm. And when I woke up, I was face-to-face with that fridge. I felt like I had to look at it. When I tried to look somewhere else… it felt like my head was going to explode.”

Xinyu swallowed hard, her chest tightening at the image. The thought of anyone trapped like that — helpless and forced to endure that pain — made the cold, hollow weight of the Panopticon press down on her even more. 

Her boot nudged something on the floor. She glanced down. Another page.

For a moment, she almost ignored it. She’d picked up so many today. Files scattered like litter, all saying the same things in different words: containment procedures, redacted incident reports, vague warnings that only made her stomach twist tighter. She was sick of them. Sick of reading things that only told her how little control she had here.

And yet something about this one stopped her. It wasn’t crumpled like the others, wasn’t stained or torn. It lay flat, almost waiting for her. Against her better judgment, she stooped and picked it up.

The paper was cold between her fingers.