Dream World
The world around Ming Soo felt cold and sluggish, as though time itself were dragging its feet. The air didn't move—it held its breath, waiting for something inevitable. Ming Soo's body refused to listen to him, frozen, trembling. And it was getting closer.
He was out of breath, lungs screaming, legs burning. He didn't need to look back—he knew what chased him.
It wore the face of his dead mother.
How long had he been running? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? The concept of time slipped away from him like water through his fingers. All he knew was instinct—raw, primal, gut-twisting instinct screaming: Don't let it catch you.
He sprinted through a narrow alley, heart hammering, feet pounding the pavement. The alley stretched on like a looped nightmare, never-ending. Then—finally—he saw it.
A door.
He pushed harder, legs nearly buckling beneath him. But just before he could reach it, the alley darkened. Shadows oozed like spilled ink, and from them, it emerged.
Standing there, grinning too wide to be human. A mockery. A predator.
"Where are you going?" it asked, its voice slithering down the walls, echoing with malice.
Ming didn't stop. He couldn't. He slammed into the door, kicked it open, and flung himself inside.
The room stank of disinfectant—sharp, sterile. Familiar.
A hospital room.
His breath caught. It was the same hospital where his mother's body had been treated.
The bed sat in the center like a forgotten monument, a white sheet pulled over something beneath. He didn't want to go near it. He couldn't go back either. What if the alley swallowed him whole again?
Panic clawed at his chest.
Then the bed twitched.
Electric fear shot through him like lightning. He froze.
The sheet slid down.
His mother lay there. Peaceful. Beautiful. Dead.
Tears streamed down his face.
Then—the door creaked behind him.
He didn't move. Couldn't breathe. A silhouette stepped into view, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"This is all your fault," it said.
White tears streamed from its eyes, glowing faintly in the dark.
The lights snapped off.
From the woman's mouth—still lying on the bed—something burst forth. First a hand. Then a whole body, writhing and stretching, crawling from the mouth like a nightmare come alive.
It stood before him, wobbling, smiling with twisted glee.
Behind him: judgment and blame.
In front: a monster wearing his mother's skin.
He had to move.
But first—he had to make his body listen to him again.
Human World – Seoul
Crimson Veil Captive Facility
Yumi stepped through the hallway of death.
Bodies littered the floor, claw marks carved into their flesh like savage calligraphy. Some had their eyes gouged out. Some looked like they'd seen the devil walk into the room and couldn't even scream.
She dragged the last two remaining soldiers behind her like trash bags. Their arms had been severed, their eyes hollowed out, yet their faces still twisted in expressions of pure horror.
Blood covered her from head to toe. Her expression?
Bored.
"I should've sent Lornad," she muttered, crushing one soldier's skull into the floor with a dull crack. "Why'd you humans piss me off, huh?"
She yanked the other soldier's face close, nose to nose. Her voice dropped to a sinister whisper. "Who told you we were Sung? Hm? We're not. But today... maybe we are—since you stole my dear Ming Soo."
She tossed the mangled body like a ragdoll. It slammed into the steel door at the end of the hall, denting it before crumpling like paper.
"You better give me something worth killing for in there," she snarled, voice rising. "Or I'll turn your little organization into my personal boredom snack!"
She kicked the door open.
Inside stood S2, S3, and S6—faces grim, backs straight. S2 sat in a chair, Ming Soo's limp body cradled in her arms, bruises scattered across his skin. She gently caressed his hair like a mother rocking a sick child.
Yumi stalked past S3 and S6 without a glance. She stopped in front of S2, eyes narrowing at the sight of Ming Soo.
"Mom…" Ming Soo mumbled faintly.
Then the air changed.
It grew sharp. Heavy. Like breathing in a thousand invisible needles.
Yumi's face contorted. Her eyes locked onto Klara's. Her gaze turned predatory, veins rising beneath her skin like snakes.
"You bitch," she hissed, teeth grinding.
Click.
S3 and S6 raised their rifles in unison.
"Back off," S3 warned, voice tight. "We don't want trouble. Just don't—don't do anything stupid."
Yumi tilted her head slowly. Her voice was a quiet mockery.
"How can ants like you threaten me? How dare you touch my Ming Soo?" Her voice cracked with fury. "Do you even understand the pain he's in?"
Her eyes gleamed crimson.
In the blink of an eye, she vanished.
A heartbeat later—shatter.
Rifles exploded into metal shards. Heads followed. Then bodies burst in showers of gore, painting the walls red.
S2 screamed, clinging to Ming Soo's body tighter, trembling like a child.
Yumi didn't stop.
She walked over, fingers still dripping blood. She dragged a chair across the floor, sat in front of S2, and pried Ming Soo gently into her own arms.
"I don't care how you found us," she said, voice now disturbingly calm. "Eventually… everything bends to my favor."
Klara could barely breathe, tears streaming down her face.
"You're Crimson Veil, right?" Yumi asked, caressing Ming Soo's cheek. "Your leader goes by Haven?"
Klara nodded, shaking.
"You trust a man who hides behind a mask? He's not Zero. Trust me."
She grinned.
"Poor things. I'm tingling just thinking about ripping you all apart."
Klara flinched so hard she nearly fell over.
Yumi leaned in, whispering with venom-laced sweetness.
"But you… you'll be my souvenir. My snack for later. My message to your cute little org: don't play adult games with monsters."
The vein on her temple twitched violently.
Klara nodded again, afraid even to blink.
Yumi stood, still holding Ming Soo like a broken doll. "Now I'm taking him out of this cesspool. And if I'm lucky… I'll never see you again."
Klara swallowed. "M-miss… you're not with Sung?"
Yumi turned, eyes glinting.
"You really want me to answer that? It might cost you."
Klara nodded once more.
Yumi chuckled.
"I'm liking you more and more." She gave a cruel smile. "First—no, I'm not with Sung. Don't lump me with those amateurs. We're... acquaintances. Second—my identity?" Her eyes lit up with sadistic delight. "You're way too low on the pyramid to even dream of knowing who I am."
Her voice dropped.
"Now, raise your arm. It's time for your atonement."
Klara bit her lip until it bled. Tears streaked down her cheeks. But she raised her arm.
Yumi's nails extended—black, jagged, like obsidian blades. With one smooth slash, she severed the arm clean.
Klara screamed, agony convulsing through her body. She rolled on the floor, soaked in her own blood, clutching the stump.
Yumi stared down at her.
"Pathetic."
And without another word, she walked away.