A day had passed since the incident, and a fragile calm had returned to the shelter.
The cold, damp air bore witness to curious, wandering gazes.
Ta'hin, nearly recovered, roamed the corners like a child on a quest, leaving no crack unnoticed—his eyes devoured every detail.
Yet what he longed for went beyond exploration.
He yearned for connection, for conversation with the others.
But they avoided him, their words laced with caution.
"Ugh... Why are they acting like this? What's wrong with me?"
Determined to confront it head-on, Tahin sought clarity instead of self-doubt.
Among them all, Aylin was the one he felt closest to.
He looked for her—and found her polishing a sword.
Its blade shimmered with delicate engravings, as if it had emerged from night itself, carrying secrets too heavy for daylight.
With hesitant steps, Ta'hin approached.
His fingers played nervously as he searched for the right words.
Aylin noticed him. "Oh… hey, you're here. Something bothering you?"
Ta'hin, a touch defeated, said softly,
"Umm… do you think there's something wrong with me?
Why does everyone avoid me… could it be because of yesterday?"
All he remembered was Zach's interrogation. Then—blackness.
When he awoke, his body was torn with deadly wounds.
He didn't know how he got them.
Had he done something... unimaginable?
Since that day, silence had shrouded the event.
No one spoke of it. As though it were taboo.
Or maybe they each clung to beliefs that kept their reality from unraveling—beliefs about themselves and each other.
Aylin gestured for him to sit beside her, her gaze heavy.
"You really don't remember anything?"
"Nothing," Tahin replied without hesitation.
Aylin sighed, eyes brimming with things unsaid.
What she was about to share wasn't hidden—everyone in the city knew it well.
"This is Black City—the gateway to a cursed world.
Honestly, I don't know where to start.
But everyone who sets foot here… awakens their darkest, even faintest memories.
And those memories devour you like sleeping fears, stirred awake."
She paused, remembering something unpleasant, then continued.
"If you survive the darkness… a gray symbol marks your hand—like a venomous serpent wrapping your wrist.
It's a sign of life and power. Through missions and hunts, you gather vitality.
The gray fades into black… and only then can you use the abilities you've earned."
She hesitated again before continuing.
"You… you don't have the mark. And you've lost your memories…
Only the dead are without both.
But you're alive… I'm sorry to say this.
You must realize now why the others keep their distance… right?"
Ta'hin trembled at her words, whispering to himself,
"Then how am I still alive… That plain—was it a test?
If not… then what was it?"
Aylin leaned closer. "Hmm? Did you say something? I didn't catch it."
Flustered, Tahin replied,
"Oh, no… I was just thinking about everything you said."
Her explanation gave him a glimpse into this world.
It was more intricate than he'd imagined.
He knew now: he needed to dig deeper.
He smiled faintly and thanked her.
"I understand… Thank you."
---
Elsewhere, Zach and Billy stood guard at the entrance.
A soft wind blew. Muted creaks echoed from twitching appendages clashing unseen.
A gray mist crawled across the ground—not thick enough to blind, but thick enough to warn.
Zach reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette pack—empty.
"Damn it… When did that run out?"
Billy, quiet and observant, stood nearby.
He was searching for truth.
No one had spoken about yesterday. Silence gripped them all.
And he feared it.
It reminded him of betrayal—of the day the group was torn apart.
Perhaps Zach's fury stemmed from that memory.
But Billy was certain Zach wasn't reckless.
Otherwise, he'd have killed the traitor with his own hands that day.
With a bit of tension in his voice, Billy asked:
"Zach… Yesterday… what really happened?"
Zach gave a bitter smile, eyes drifting toward the endless horizon.
"What do you think this world wants from us?
It's cold… bleak… suffocating.
Darkness wraps around us like a nightmare, squeezing the heart.
But maybe it's not our hearts it's after. Maybe it wants something deeper.
Ah… whatever.
I just wish I had a smoke."
Billy was left confused. Zach had no intention of revealing anything.
He repeated the words in his mind, trying to unravel them:
"Darkness… part of our heart…"
Suddenly, a strange sound broke the silence.
Raspy. Genderless. Unnatural.
Like a broken radio struggling for signal, its voice distorted.
Billy turned, trying to locate it.
But the sound came from everywhere and nowhere.
His heart began to tick faster. Anxiety took hold.
He reached for Zach's arm.
Zach seemed unfazed, calm—almost amused by fear.
With shaky voice, Billy stammered:
"Z-Zach… What's going on… What should we do?"
Zach felt it too—that ominous vibration.
Something was wrong.
Something that shouldn't be opened… had been.
He turned coldly to Billy.
"Go. Warn the others.
Take only what's necessary.
Leave everything else. Got it?
Hurry."
Without a word, Billy rushed underground to raise the alarm.
The sounds grew louder—repulsive and thunderous—slithering through the air.
The stench of rot bloomed like roots, spreading fast…
Ready to welcome the unknown.