Just as Shin was about to leave, a faint, agonized cry reached his ears. The sound sent a chill down his spine—it wasn't just any voice. It was familiar.
A sudden realization struck him. He had heard this voice before.
Driven by instinct, he moved toward the source, his steps careful yet urgent. The underground tunnels twisted like a maze, each turn pulling him deeper into the unknown. The air was thick with decay, and the walls oozed with years of neglect.
His foot sank into something unnervingly soft. He glanced down. A wave of nausea hit him—it was melted human flesh.
This place is both disgusting and rotten, he thought, swallowing hard as he pressed forward.
After walking a little further, Shin found the cell where the cries were coming from. He hesitated for a moment before stepping closer.
Peering inside, he saw a familiar figure curled up in the darkness. The cell had no light, but there was no mistaking who it was.
A child.
Shin's breath hitched. He had seen this boy before—very recently. But as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, a chill ran down his spine. It wasn't just recognition that unsettled him. It was the boy's condition.
His mind flashed back to the day he first arrived in the city. He remembered standing near a bakery, watching a boy happily buying Sally Lunn bread with his parents. Back then, the kid radiated dignity, his life worlds apart from Shin's.
Yet now, that same boy sat broken and helpless behind iron bars.
Ricky.
The sight of Ricky's body was enough to stop a heart.
His face was unrecognizable—swollen, covered in bruises and deep wounds. One of his arms was missing, crudely stitched at the shoulder. Bandages wrapped around his frail frame, barely holding him together.
Shin's stomach twisted as he took in the gruesome scene. Ricky sat hunched over, devouring a filthy piece of bread the waiter had given him, his tear-streaked face contorted in pain. His trembling hands—covered in bruises—clutched the rotten food as if it were his last meal.
Then, suddenly, Ricky noticed him.
"Help! PLEASE!! Help! Get me out of here!" he screamed, his voice raw with desperation.
He bolted toward Shin, only to slam his head against the iron bars with a sickening thud. Staggering back for a second, he quickly regained his footing and gripped the bars with both hands, his teeth clenched in sheer terror.
Shin didn't move. He couldn't.
Ricky's expression was one of pure horror—like he had seen Death itself.
"I'm begging you! Please… SAVE ME!!"
His desperate cries echoed through the empty prison, each word slicing through the silence.
Shin's breath hitched. His vision blurred. His chest tightened. His heartbeat pounded erratically as if it were about to give out.
"I… C-can't," he stammered, his voice cracking. Fear gripped him like a vice.
A wave of panic surged through him, drowning out every thought.
"I… I'm sorry…"
And then—he ran.
He sprinted toward the exit, blind to everything around him. The only thing that mattered was escaping. His mind reeled.
What is this place? What's wrong with this city?
From the moment he arrived, something had felt off. And now, standing at the edge of madness, one thought pierced through the chaos—
Mom worked here…? What happened to her?
Then—his sister.
He had to find her. He had to get out of this place.
Lost in frantic thoughts, his foot caught on something. He tripped. Crashed to the ground.
Somewhere behind him, Ricky's screams still rang through the halls.
Desperate. Terrified.
Dying.
And Shin had never been more afraid.