The city had long gone silent behind them — only the moan of distant undead and the rustle of wind through broken glass followed the group as they approached the looming shape ahead. The government research facility rose from the ruins like a black scar on the landscape, surrounded by barbed fences and the flicker of dead warning lights.
Cheong-san crouched first, his eyes scanning the perimeter through the dim fog. "No guards," he whispered, voice low. "That's what scares me."
Nam-ra tilted her head slightly, her half-zombie senses twitching. "There are… movements. Inside. But not human."
The protagonist — Jun-ho — narrowed his red-tinged eyes. Ever since the infection had changed him, his world had been sharper, crueler, alive with heartbeats and hunger. He could feel the faint pulse of something wrong within those walls. A rhythm that wasn't human — or dead. Something in between.
On-jo gripped her iron pipe tighter. "We need to go in before sunrise. If this is where they made the virus, maybe there's a cure."
Cheong-san looked at her — tired, protective. "If we're lucky."
They cut through a hole in the fence, each step muffled in ash and dust. The air smelled faintly metallic — like blood dried long ago. Inside the fence, the facility loomed like a tomb. Broken floodlights cast fractured shadows across cracked pavement. A faded logo still clung to the wall:
KCDC Bio-Containment Division — Project Hamra.
Jun-ho felt the word vibrate in his skull. Hamra. He'd heard it once before — whispered by a dying soldier on the road. "They're making hybrids," the man had said. "Stronger than ghouls. They want control."
Inside the first corridor, the silence pressed down heavy. Their flashlights flickered over glass panels and blood-smeared walls. Behind one pane, a body twitched — still strapped to a gurney. But its eyes were open. Watching.
Su-hyeok clenched his fists. "They experimented on people."
Nam-ra's voice was cold. "Not people. Us."
They moved deeper, boots silent over the tile. The air grew thick with rot and chemical fumes. Every few steps, the emergency lights flickered — showing fragments of what had happened here. Claw marks gouged into steel. Half-eaten documents. A message written in blood:
"THEY WANTED GODS, BUT MADE MONSTERS."
Jun-ho's kagune stirred unconsciously, four crimson tendrils shifting beneath his jacket like restless serpents. He forced them back with a breath — control had become harder lately. The hunger gnawed at him, whispering to devour, to evolve. But he couldn't let the others see. Not yet.
Then — a metallic clang echoed down the hallway.
"Movement!" Cheong-san hissed. They ducked behind overturned lab tables. Through the flickering lights, three figures staggered into view — soldiers, but wrong. Their flesh shimmered with gray veins, eyes glowing faintly red. They carried rifles, but their movements were… predatory.
"Hybrid soldiers," Nam-ra whispered. "Half like me… half like him."
Jun-ho's jaw tightened. "No choice."
The first guard turned his head sharply — sniffing. Then it screamed, a bone-rattling shriek, and charged. Bullets shattered glass as the group scattered. Cheong-san tackled On-jo behind a pillar, while Jun-ho let the hunger loose.
His kagune burst outward — four scarlet tentacles slicing through the air. The nearest hybrid's chest exploded as the appendages impaled it, lifting the body before slamming it into the wall. Another tried to flank him, but Nam-ra moved like lightning — claws raking across its throat.
In seconds, silence returned. Only the echo of dripping blood remained.
On-jo trembled slightly. "We can't fight them all."
Cheong-san nodded. "We move fast. Find whatever the government was hiding, and get out."
They reached the main lab — a vast, circular chamber filled with shattered glass tubes and frozen screens. In the center stood a containment pod — cracked open from the inside. On its console blinked a single message:
SUBJECT ALPHA: STATUS — UNACCOUNTED.
Nam-ra approached it slowly. "This is where they made you," she said quietly to Jun-ho.
He didn't answer. The pod walls still reeked faintly of his scent — or something close. A previous subject, maybe. A failed version. Or the first success.
On the walls, security footage still looped on backup power — brief glimpses of chaos. Scientists screaming. Soldiers turning on each other. And at the heart of it — a figure, eyes glowing white, kagune lashing like fire.
Cheong-san froze. "Who the hell is that?"
Jun-ho stepped closer. The figure on the screen turned slightly — and for a heartbeat, it looked exactly like him.
Static swallowed the feed.
Behind them, the sirens blared suddenly to life. Red lights strobed. Automated speakers crackled overhead:
"Containment breach detected. Subject Alpha protocol engaged."
Cheong-san shouted over the noise. "We need to move!"
But Jun-ho didn't move. His mind was spinning, fragmented memories clawing their way back — needles, screaming scientists, his own voice begging them to stop. You said you'd cure me!
And another voice, calm, scientific: We will, Jun-ho. You'll become the key.
A heavy door began to unlock in the far end of the room.
Nam-ra hissed. "Something's coming."
The others drew weapons, but Jun-ho stood still — kagune rippling in the red light. For the first time, he wasn't sure if the monster about to step through that door was an enemy… or another version of himself.