The grinding halt of the train announced Jonas Lockwood's arrival in Busan. He rose, clutching his solitary bag, and moved toward the exit doors. As he stepped onto the platform, his gaze immediately snagged on a figure emerging from the adjacent carriage—the very same strangely dressed man. The white, blood-inscribed shroud and the brutal antler crown were unmistakable, confirming that the cultist had traveled the entire distance with him.
THE DOUBT AND THE REALITY
A sudden flashback illuminated the train journey moments before.
Jonas was staring at the cultist in their carriage—the intense, silent confrontation. A small child, seated next to his mother, pointed. "Mom, are they ghosts?"
The mother laughed gently, dismissing the query with adult surety. "No, sweetie. They're just people doing cosplay or maybe some kind of street performance drama." The strange man, in that moment, had simply moved silently past their seats, continuing his slow, deliberate passage to the next compartment.
The memory served a chilling dual purpose: validating Jonas's vision while showing the cultist operating perfectly within the visible, mundane world.
Jonas stepped out of the station and stretched his cramped limbs, his movements jerky and stressed. The heat was immediate and oppressive. Seeking immediate refreshment, he moved toward a vending machine. He inserted a coin, but the selected juice failed to drop. In frustration, he inserted a second coin. Both coins now lay visible, stuck in the machine's mechanism.
His exhaustion curdled into an explosive temper. He smashed and shook the heavy machine, but the coins remained stubbornly lodged. Cursing under his breath, his minor rage consuming his attention, Jonas abandoned the machine and strode onto the road, scanning the traffic for a taxi.
A cab approached. Jonas yanked the door open and slumped into the backseat, providing the driver with his mother's address.
Unseen by Jonas, the mysterious man stalking him—the pursuer identified in Chapter 7—emerged from the station crowds, his eyes fixed on the departing taxi's license plate.
THE LINGERING TRANSACTION
When the taxi finally pulled up outside his mother's modest home, Jonas paid the fare with cash. The driver handed him back a stack of small bills. "I don't have change, sir," the driver stated apologetically.
Jonas, already frayed and consumed by his own needs, rubbed his eyes in weary frustration. He snapped rudely, "Just keep the change," effectively tossing the remaining money at the driver and slamming the door shut. He stood before his mother's gate, the prodigal, self-serving son finally returned.
Meanwhile, back at the station, the violence Jonas inflicted on the vending machine had finally loosened the mechanism. The two stuck coins dropped with a faint clink into the collection tray.
The mysterious stalking man, who had watched Jonas's taxi disappear, walked over and, without breaking stride, picked up the fallen coins. His face was partially obscured, but the gesture was one of cold, opportunistic calculation.