The stairwell was a tomb, its silence heavier than the concrete walls. Jin led the way down, the steel pipe gripped tightly in his hands, its weight a steady anchor. The emergency lights flickered, casting jagged shadows that danced across the chipped paint. Each step echoed faintly, the sound swallowed by the oppressive quiet. Echo followed close behind, his breathing steadier now, the glitching hum of his voice softening as he regained control. Seul-ki limped slightly, her ankle still tender despite Ji-hye's healing, her eyes scanning the darkness. Joon brought up the rear, his hands steady, no sparks betraying his Arc Discharge. The air was thick, heavy with the weight of their decision to leave the others behind, to reject the system's call to kill each other.
As they descended from the third floor, Echo cleared his throat, his voice low but clear, no longer glitching. "I've been thinking," he said, his tone thoughtful. "This world—it's not the one we knew. New rules, new… everything." He paused, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "I'm done with Min Jae-Wo. Call me Echo. Fits better now."
Jin glanced back, his expression neutral but approving. "Echo it is." The name felt right, a marker of the man he was becoming in this broken world.
Seul nodded, her voice soft. "New world, new name. I like it."
Joon snorted lightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Guess we're all reinventing ourselves out here."
The moment of levity faded as they reached the second-floor landing. Jin pushed open the stairwell door, the hinges creaking. The office floor stretched before them, a wasteland of overturned desks, scattered papers, and blinking monitors frozen in static. No blood, no bodies—just an eerie emptiness. Jin's gut twisted, a sharp pang of unease. This floor had been bustling hours ago, filled with coworkers. Now, it was a ghost town.
"Where is everyone?" Seul whispered, her arms wrapping around herself.
Joon scanned the room, his voice low. "Evacuated, maybe?"
Echo shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "Feels… wrong. Like we're being watched."
Jin didn't respond, but he felt it too—a prickle on the back of his neck, a sense that the silence was alive, waiting. "Keep moving," he said, his voice steady, leading them toward the stairwell to the first floor.
The lobby was a ruin. Shattered glass crunched underfoot, chairs lay toppled, and blood smeared the walls in dark, drying streaks. A massive dent marred the wall near the front desk, as if something massive had slammed into it. Jin's grip on the pipe tightened, his eyes scanning for threats. Still, no bodies. The absence was more unsettling than corpses would have been.
"This isn't normal," Seul said, her voice trembling slightly. "Where did they go?"
Echo's breath hitched, his Echo skill picking up faint traces of emotion—fear, pain, gone cold. "Let's get out," he said, his voice tight. "Now."
Jin nodded, pushing open the front doors. The city beyond hit them like a slap—silent, dead, broken. Abandoned cars sat with doors ajar, their engines long cold. Shattered windows gaped like wounds, and a traffic light flickered weakly, casting an eerie glow. Blood stained the concrete, but again, no bodies. The wind carried a faint metallic tang, a reminder of the violence that had swept through.
"Where is everyone?" Seul whispered again, her voice barely audible.
Joon's hands clenched at his sides. "We need shelter. Somewhere defensible, before something finds us."
Jin agreed, his eyes scanning the street. Then Joon tensed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "There's someone."
Jin followed his gaze. A figure slumped against a car, motionless, blood pooling beneath them. Jin took a step forward, but Echo grabbed his arm, his grip firm. "Wait."
Jin frowned, meeting Echo's eyes. "What?"
Echo's expression was tight, his voice low. "We don't know what happened here. Could be a trap."
Before Jin could respond, a sound cut through the silence—a whistle, light and playful, like a child skipping through a park. Jin's pulse spiked, his fingers curling tighter around the pipe. The tune was too casual, too carefree for this blood-soaked city. It wove through the air, lilting and melodic, as if the world hadn't ended.
Footsteps followed, slow and measured, approaching from the shadows. Jin's body coiled, ready to move. The others froze, their breaths shallow. A shadow stretched across the pavement, and then she appeared.
A girl, barefoot, her orange prison jumpsuit hanging loosely on her slight frame. Blood splattered her arms and face, stark against her pale skin. She moved with an effortless grace, her steps light, as if strolling through a meadow. Her smile was soft, dreamy, like she'd just woken from a pleasant nap. Her dark hair swayed as she tilted her head, her eyes bright and untroubled.
She stopped, noticing them, and her smile widened, sparkling with a cold, childlike glee. "Oh!" she chirped, her voice light as a bell, chilling in its cheerfulness. "Did you come to help too?"
No one answered. Seul's eyes flicked to the jumpsuit, her voice barely a whisper. "That's… from a prison."
Echo's fingers twitched, his Echo skill catching a faint hum of emotion—calm, serene, wrong. "She's not hurt," he murmured.
Jin said nothing, his stomach churning. The girl's ease, her lack of fear—it wasn't human. Not in this world.
Joon swallowed, his voice hesitant. "What do you mean, 'help'?"
The girl giggled, a sound like wind chimes, cold and sharp. "Oh, silly! Helping people who are suffering, of course!" Her tone was bright, as if explaining a game. She clasped her hands together, her bloodstained fingers glistening. "So many people are hurting now. I'm making it better."
The figure against the car stirred, a weak, gasping breath escaping them. "P-Please… help…" Their hand twitched, reaching out, blood dripping from their fingers.
Jin's chest tightened. They were alive. The girl didn't flinch, her smile unwavering. "Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, her voice dripping with false warmth. She knelt beside the person, pulling them into a gentle hug, her bloodied hands stroking their hair. "Shhh, it's okay now."
Seul stiffened, her breath hitching. "What is she—"
Jin started to move, but Echo grabbed his arm again, his voice urgent. "Wait."
The girl's fist tapped the person's temple, a light, playful gesture, like a child bopping a friend. The person flinched, then relaxed, their breathing easing, as if soothed. Joon frowned, confused. "What's she—"
"Goodbye," the girl said, her voice a sparkling whisper.
A second passed. Then another. Then—a sickening crunch. The person's skull caved inward, blood spraying across the girl's face, bone fragments scattering. The body slumped, lifeless, the delayed impact hitting like a thunderclap. Seul gasped, stumbling back. Joon froze, his eyes wide. Echo didn't move, his face pale but unsurprised.
The girl blinked slowly, her smile unchanged. She swiped a finger across her cheek, smearing the blood, then wiped it on her jumpsuit, as if cleaning a smudge. Her eyes locked onto Jin's, bright and friendly, like she'd just greeted a neighbor. "All better now," she said, her voice light, chilling.
Seul's breath hitched. "She… she killed them."
The girl tilted her head, her smile faltering, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Her voice was small, almost hurt, like a child scolded for no reason. "He was suffering. You saw, didn't you? It was kind."
Jin's jaw locked, his fingers fusing to the pipe. Her calm, her cheer—it was psychotic, a twisted mockery of compassion. "You killed him," Seul said, her voice trembling with horror.
The girl blinked, her expression blank for a moment. Then she giggled, the sound cold and melodic. "Of course I did!" She clapped her hands, as if delighted by the realization. "That's how I help!"
Echo's voice cut through, low and strained. "I remember her," he said, catching fragments of memory. "Months ago, on the news. A teenager killed her entire family. One by one. Sat in their house, smiling, when the police came."
Jin's spine chilled, the pieces clicking into place. The girl's smile stretched, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, you know me!" she chirped, her voice bright but hollow. "My family was suffering, you see. No money, no food. My little brother cried every night, so hungry. Mommy was sick, coughing all the time. Daddy drank until he forgot us." She sighed, her tone light, as if recounting a fun day out. "So I fixed it. No more pain, no more tears. Just peace."
Her words were heavy, tragic, but her delivery was wrong—cheerful, almost playful, like she was sharing a happy memory. Jin's stomach churned, his grip on the pipe tightening. This wasn't just madness. It was something darker, something the system had twisted further.
Seul's voice shook. "You killed them."
The girl's smile didn't waver. "I helped them," she corrected, her voice sparkling with conviction. "And now, so many people need help. Like you!" Her eyes swept over them, bright and eager. "You're all suffering, aren't you?"
Jin stepped forward, his voice low, flat. "You're a monster."
The air shifted, a suffocating tension crashing down. The girl's smile froze, her body twitching as if struck. Her hands trembled, her breathing hitching. Then—CRACK. She slammed her fist into her own head, once, twice, her nails digging into her scalp, her face contorting. "Don't call me that," she hissed, her voice raw, jagged.
Jin stiffened, his pulse spiking. Her eyes were wild, her smile gone, replaced by a snarl. Then, as quickly as it came, her expression smoothed. She wiped her cheek, smearing blood, and smiled again, soft and dreamy. "You seem strong," she said, her voice cold but sparkling, like ice catching light. "That's good. But you're hurting, aren't you?"
She took a step closer, her fingers tensing. "Don't worry," she whispered, her smile stretching. "I'll make it stop."
She lunged, her movements fluid, her bloodstained hands reaching out.