Rin quietly left her apartment building, the fire exit door making a hollow sound as it closed behind her.
The metal pipe in her hand felt heavy and cold, steadying her as the night air hit her face. It smelled sharp with smoke and something sour, like old, spoiled food.
Seoul was in front of her, a city she used to know well. Now it was changed, twisted into something she didn't recognize, dark under a hazy sky. The bright signs that used to light up the streets were dim and flickering, their buzzing sound lost in a strange quiet that felt heavy.
She held her leather jacket tighter. Her sketchbook, a gift from Hana, felt hard against her side, reminding her of a life that felt far away.
Her boots crunched on broken glass as she walked. The sound was too loud in the quiet. She saw shapes moving in the dark, slow and jerky, at the edge of what she could see. They were too far away to tell what they were, but close enough to make her nervous.
She stayed low, moving quickly past broken food stands that looked like broken teeth along the street. Their wooden frames were splintered, and cooking pans were turned over, spilling greasy liquid onto the ground.
The smell was strong—burnt oil mixed with the sickening smell of decay.
A broken radio hung from one stand, its wire moving slightly, making bursts of static noise—"ECHO… ECHO…"—before stopping with a sharp pop.
Rin stopped, holding her breath. That word again. The same one from her apartment that was bothering her.
She shook her head, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling.
Just static. Just noise.
She kept going, staying in the shadows. Her boots made a scraping sound on broken pieces—torn papers, a child's lost shoe, a cracked phone screen still showing a missed call. The buzzing sound from her apartment was still there, a low vibration she could feel in her chest.
A burnt-out sign hung above a closed shop—Happy Noodle House. Its pink light was now dim and flickering. It made long, uneven shadows on the front of the shop.
She stopped and looked through the cracked window. Inside, an old man was leaning over a table, his head on his arms. A bowl of cold noodles was tipped over next to him.
Dead, she thought. Another person hurt by whatever had happened here.
Then his lips moved slightly. He shivered.
"They're… listening…"
His voice was weak and dry, hard to hear over the buzzing.
Then his head fell to the side, still again. His eyes stared blankly at the wall.
Rin held the pipe tighter. Her heart beat faster, and she felt cold sweat on her skin. She backed away, the glass crunching loudly under her feet. She tried to keep her breathing steady.
The street went on, like a graveyard of what Seoul used to be—scooters were tipped over with flat tires. A K-pop advertisement sign was above her, its screen dark except for one small light that blinked like a dying heartbeat.
She reached for the small radio on her belt—something she had grabbed from her apartment quickly—and turned the dial with shaky fingers.
Static noise came from the speaker. Then—
"Rin… where…"
Hana's voice. Soft. Sad.
Clear for a moment before it broke up.
Rin's stomach felt sick. She almost dropped the radio, her fingers shaking as she held it tighter.
Not real. It couldn't be.
Hana was in Busan. Safe. Far away from this mess—
Unless she wasn't.
Unless ECHO had reached her too.
Her mind raced, her doubt fighting with a small bit of hope.
She put the radio back on her belt, her jaw tight.
"Get it together," she said quietly, her voice rough.
A low groan echoed down the street, bringing her back to the present.
She crouched down quickly, looking around a tipped-over scooter.
One of those things—mimics, she had started calling them—moved closer slowly. Its pale skin shone under the dim streetlamp. Its head twitched from side to side, like a puppet with loose strings. Dark lines moved under its loose skin.
Its mouth was open, showing sharp, uneven teeth that looked wet in the light. Its pale, staring eyes looked at her with a strange stillness.
It didn't scream. Didn't rush at her.
Just watched.
"Rin…"
It made a buzzing sound, her name coming out distorted, like a broken recording.
Her stomach twisted. But she didn't wait.
She swung the pipe hard, hitting its head with a wet, cracking sound.
It fell to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. But its pale eyes stayed looking at her, even though it was dead.
She ran, out of breath. The buzzing sound in her ears got louder, a constant noise that seemed to come from the city itself.
Broken speakers hung from poles along the street, turning on with a crackling sound as she passed—
"ECHO… ECHO…"
—a repeating sound that went into her head, annoying and maddening.
She stumbled into a narrow alley, the walls close around her. The air smelled like rust and something worse.
Someone had written LISTEN on the brick walls in red paint. It was still wet, dripping like blood.
Her chest moved up and down quickly as she leaned against the wall, the pipe slippery with sweat and the mimic's blood. Its weight felt a little steadying in her shaking hands.
Hana's voice stayed in her mind, like a ghost she couldn't get rid of, mixed with the static and the buzzing.
Her fingers touched the sketchbook in her jacket without thinking.
Whatever ECHO was, it wasn't just something from a lab.
It knew her.
It knew Hana.
And it wasn't finished.
She stood up straight, wiping the pipe on her jeans. Her dark eyes looked at the end of the alley.
The mimics weren't moving randomly.
Something was making them do it.
Something connected to that word.
And she was determined to find out what.