Ha Joon woke to white ceiling tiles.
No windows. No clock. Just the hum of ventilation and the knowledge that something had changed in the air pressure.
Morning.
He turned his head.
Eun Byol was already awake on the lower bunk across from him. She sat upright, hands folded in her lap, staring at the wall. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. Unwashed. Limp.
She hadn't moved when he stirred.
Maybe she'd been awake for hours.
The door opened.
Chi-Long stepped inside.
Red tracksuit today. Black gloves. Hair pulled back in that perfect ponytail, so tight it looked painful. Not a strand out of place. The overhead light caught her eyes—dark, wet, reflective. They didn't blink often.
She closed the door behind her with a soft click.
"Stand."
Ha Joon swung his legs off the bunk and stood. His body moved before his mind caught up. Muscle memory from repetition.
Eun Byol stood slower. Her knees locked. Her hands stayed at her sides.
But her eyes stayed down.
Chi-Long walked closer. Three steps. She stopped directly in front of Eun Byol.
Silence.
Eun Byol's breathing quickened.
"Look at me."
The words were quiet. Almost gentle.
Eun Byol's shoulders tensed. Her jaw worked. But her eyes remained fixed on the floor.
Chi-Long didn't repeat herself.
She waited.
Five seconds. Ten.
Ha Joon stood motionless, watching. His eyes tracked the line of Chi-Long's spine, the way her ponytail rested perfectly between her shoulder blades. Black hair so dark it absorbed light. Her lips were painted red today. Not bright. Deep. Like old blood.
She looked like something designed. Constructed for a specific function.
Power radiated from her eyes. Not magic. Not mana. Just absolute certainty. The kind of presence that didn't need to threaten because it already owned the room.
Eun Byol's hands trembled.
Slowly—painfully—she raised her eyes.
It took effort. Visible effort. Like lifting something heavy.
Her gaze climbed from the floor to Chi-Long's chin. Hesitated. Then finally met her eyes.
Hazel-green irises. Still bright. Still hers.
But dimming.
Chi-Long tilted her head slightly, studying her.
"Good."
The word landed soft. Almost approving.
Eun Byol's breath shuddered.
Chi-Long turned away, dismissing her.
"Showers. Two minutes."
---
The shower room was tiled in white ceramic. Eight showerheads along the left wall. No stalls. No curtains. Just open space and drains in the floor.
Communal.
Ha Joon stood at the threshold. Eun Byol stood beside him.
Neither moved.
Chi-Long walked past them and stopped in the center of the room. She turned, arms crossed, and looked at them with those wet, powerful eyes. Eyes that didn't ask. Eyes that commanded.
"Strip."
Eun Byol's face went pale.
Her hands came up instinctively, crossing over her chest. Her mouth opened slightly. No sound came out.
She looked at Ha Joon.
Then at Chi-Long.
Then back to the floor.
"I—"
"Now."
Chi-Long's voice didn't rise. It didn't need to.
Eun Byol's hands shook. She gripped the hem of her shirt, fingers curling into the fabric. Her breathing was shallow. Fast.
Ha Joon could see her mind racing. Calculations. Escape routes that didn't exist.
She glanced at him again.
Heat rushed to his face. His neck. His ears burned.
He turned his head sharply toward the wall. Jaw tight. Shoulders stiff.
Eun Byol pulled her shirt over her head. Slow. Mechanical. Her face burned red. She didn't look at either of them.
Ha Joon's hands moved to his own shirt.
He pulled it off.
---
Sky blue.
Clouds white and shifting like cotton pulled apart.
Grass green under his sneakers—the cheap ones with the torn sole.
His mother sat on a bench behind him. Hair longer then. Black and loose. She was reading something. A book with a yellow cover. The pages rustled in the wind.
The kite—red plastic, cheap string from the convenience store—lifted higher.
Ha Joon held the spool. The string cut into his palm. It didn't hurt. He was smiling.
The kite climbed.
Then the string went slack.
The kite tumbled. Spun. Caught a gust and shot upward—toward storm clouds gathering at the horizon. Gray and purple. Heavy.
The red plastic shrank.
Became a dot.
Vanished.
Ha Joon's chest tightened. His eyes burned.
Footsteps behind him.
His father knelt. Hand on his shoulder. Warm. Calloused.
Ha Joon pointed at the sky. The kite was gone. Swallowed.
His father looked up. Watched the storm clouds roll closer.
The wind picked up.
His father's hand squeezed his shoulder once.
Then let go.
---
Ha Joon blinked.
White tile. Cold air. Fluorescent light buzzing overhead.
His clothes were on the floor.
He pulled off his pants.
Eun Byol stood naked three feet away, arms covering herself, face turned to the wall. Her shoulders were rigid. Her breathing shallow.
Ha Joon stepped toward the showers.
Chi-Long pointed.
"Wash."
---
The water was cold.
Ha Joon stepped under the stream and let it hit his scalp. It ran down his face, his neck, his shoulders. He didn't move. Just stood there.
Three showerheads away, Eun Byol stood frozen under her own stream.
Her hands covered herself. Her head was bowed. Her hair darkened under the water. Brown to black. It stuck to her skull.
She didn't cry.
---
A woman in bed.
White sheets. Thin hands resting on top. Folded.
Smiling.
Weak but smiling.
The light from the window was soft. Yellow. Afternoon.
---
Eun Byol blinked.
The water ran colder.
She picked up the soap. Her hands shook.
---
Ha Joon reached for the bar of soap on the ledge. Generic. Odorless. He lathered his hands and ran them over his arms, his chest, his neck.
The movements were automatic.
Functional.
---
A chair.
Green fabric. Torn armrest. Faded from years of sun through the window.
Empty.
Then not.
Ash sat in it.
Small. Impossibly still.
The room felt heavier. Like the air had thickened.
Ash's eyes were open. Dark. Endless.
He looked at Ha Joon.
Didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Just looked.
And Ha Joon felt it.
Something shifting.
Something awakening.
---
Ha Joon turned off the water.
Stepped back.
Water dripped from his body onto the tile. Each drop echoed.
Eun Byol scrubbed her arms. Quickly. Desperately. Like she was trying to wash something off that wouldn't come off.
Thirty seconds later, she turned off her stream.
They stood there.
Dripping.
Naked.
Silent.
The only sound was water circling the drains.
Chi-Long walked to a metal shelf near the exit and pulled out two black towels.
She tossed them.
Ha Joon caught his. Eun Byol fumbled hers. Nearly dropped it. Caught it against her chest.
"Dry. Dress. One minute."
Chi-Long walked out.
---
The towels were rough. Institutional. They didn't absorb well.
Ha Joon dried himself mechanically. Eun Byol turned her back to him, drying quickly, her movements jerky and ashamed.
On the bench near the door sat two sets of clothes.
Black tracksuits. Identical.
Black rubber shoes. Slip-on. No laces.
Ha Joon pulled on the pants first. They fit perfectly. Too perfectly. Like they'd been measured while he slept.
The jacket zipped up the front. Lightweight. Breathable. It moved with him but didn't feel like his.
It felt like a uniform.
He slipped on the shoes. They were silent against the tile. Designed not to squeak.
Eun Byol dressed behind him. He heard the rustle of fabric. The hitch in her breathing.
When he turned, she was fully clothed.
The tracksuit swallowed her frame. Made her look even smaller. Her wet hair hung limp against the black fabric. Water dripped onto her shoulders. Dark spots spreading.
She looked like everyone else now.
Interchangeable.
Chi-Long re-entered.
She looked them over once. Nodded.
"Follow."
---
They walked in a line.
Chi-Long at the front, ponytail swaying with each step.
Ha Joon three paces behind.
Eun Byol three paces behind him.
The hallway stretched long and gray. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Their footsteps made no sound on the polished concrete.
Ha Joon's eyes stayed on Chi-Long's back.
The red tracksuit was vivid against the dull surroundings. It moved like liquid. Her posture was perfect. Shoulders back. Spine straight.
She walked like someone who had never hesitated in her life.
Her ponytail was immaculate. A single black rope of hair pulled so tight it looked weaponized. It rested between her shoulder blades, bouncing slightly with each step.
They reached the elevator.
Chi-Long pressed the button.
The doors opened immediately.
She stepped inside.
Ha Joon followed.
Eun Byol followed.
The doors closed.