The fire outside Ji-hoon's tent had burned down. The camp slept. The wind whispered between the tents, cool and dry, with the faint scent of smoke and old gunpowder. A guard muttered something in the dark over a radio. Then nothing again.
Ji-hoon was awake in his bunk, looking up at the fabric ceiling.
His muscles ached. His eyes were heavy. But his mind refused to sleep.
That thing he'd witnessed in the woods—the sky glitch, the whisper, the warning in his UI—kept echoing in his mind. Something in this world was not right. Or perhaps, not not right. Perhaps something else had gotten inside.
He rolled over and shut his eyes.
Then he heard it.
A quiet metal clinking.
Off-beat. Faint. Not from the blacksmith's corner. Not natural.
He sat up. The sound repeated.
Clink. Clink. Pause. Clink.
He reached into his belt and pulled out the tiny knife from its sheath. It wasn't much, but it was something. Ji-hoon stood up, not wanting to rustle the tent flap too loudly. He went out into the night.
The camp was quiet. Not lifeless—merely quiet. There were still some lanterns burning, hanging on wooden poles or nailed to beams. They swung in the breeze.
He moved toward the noise, staying low.
Clink. Clink.
Close to the north fence.
A length of wooden palisade, pointed at the tops. Behind that, the woods started. He walked through empty stalls and crates of supplies. No one else appeared to be up. The guards on the west were still making their patrol. But on the north wall…
One of them stood motionless.
Too motionless.
Ji-hoon hid behind a pile of empty barrels. From there, he had a good view.
The guard was standing in front of the fence. Not leaning, not pointing a weapon. Just… standing. His back straight. His arms at his sides.
Ji-hoon squinted.
Something hung from the guard's hand—a chain. Thin, rusty. Likely for a lantern. It tapped gently against his leg.
Clink. Clink.
Ji-hoon listened intently.
That's when the whisper happened.
Faint. So faint he wasn't even certain he heard it.
"Open the gate…"
Ji-hoon's heart accelerated.
"It's waiting…"
He crouched lower.
No one else listened. No other guards responded. No one called out or cried questions. Just this one figure on the fringes of the light, mumbling to something outside the wall.
Ji-hoon crept back one slow step.
The guard convulsed.
Just a little.
Like his shoulder twitched at a surprise coldness.
Then the lantern next to him flared.
Flared once, then burst into black.
Darkness consumed the corner of the camp. Ji-hoon froze.
When the light from the lantern flickered back—just a few seconds later—the guard was nowhere to be seen.
Nowhere.
No footfalls. No clank of armor. No voice.
Just a dangling chain loose on a nail.
Ji-hoon's eyes widened in the darkness. His knife was gripped hard in his hand. A bead of sweat began its slow crawl down his neck.
He shifted and walked quickly—but quietly—toward the middle of the camp.
The farther he moved from the wall, the more ordinary everything seemed. A sleeping dog, curled by a fire. A trader napping with a hat over his eyes. Neatly stacked crates by the depot.
But the atmosphere was still off.
Off.
He returned to his tent, entered, and sat at the end of his cot.
What did he just witness?
It wasn't an event for a game. It wasn't a mission. He understood this game. He'd played it since he was a kid. There were no ghost events. No hallucinations. No NPCs who whispered like that.
He brought up his system menu once more. Consulted the map. No alerts. No anomalies. His stat sheet was normal.
But in the bottom corner of his screen…
A flicker.
Just for an instant.
[Zone Instability – Undocumented Entity Present]
It disappeared.
Ji-hoon looked at where the note used to be. His hands were cold now. Tight in his chest.
He settled back, eyes awake, knife still clutched in his hand.
Outside, the wind stirred up again.
And just as he was dozing off fitfully, he could have sworn he heard the chain again.
Clink.