Rin walked out of the narrow alley. Her boots made a scraping sound on the wet, dirty ground. A low, constant buzzing sound was everywhere in the broken city of Seoul.
The market area was in front of her, a mess of ruined stalls. Metal and wood were twisted and broken, and cloth coverings were ripped apart. The air smelled bad, like old fish mixed with sour soy sauce and burnt cloth.
She held her metal pipe tightly. It felt cold and sticky with fake blood and her sweat.
She looked around at the shadows, seeing quick, strange movements. The mimics, the things that weren't quite human, were close.
She could hear their faint clicking sounds, a fast rhythm that made her nervous. She needed to find a safe place to think and breathe.
Suddenly, a real human scream cut through the noise. It wasn't the weird, buzzing sounds the mimics made.
Rin quickly hid behind a tipped-over cart. Its wooden frame was cracked, and a puddle of greasy liquid was underneath it. She looked over the edge. A woman was standing in the ruins of a fish stand.
She was strong and was hitting a mimic with a broken broom handle. The mimic moved towards her. Its pale skin split open where the broom hit its shoulder, and dark lines like worms moved under its skin. Its head twitched strangely, and its pale, staring eyes shone in the light of a flickering lamp.
"Mine..." it croaked, the word unclear, coming from a mouth with sharp, uneven teeth that didn't look right on its human-like face.
The woman made a grunt and hit the mimic in the chest with the broom. It barely moved. Its claws snapped close to her arm.
Rin cursed quietly. She didn't owe anyone anything in this ruined world.
Her first thought was to keep going and leave the woman. Survival was something you did alone.
But something about the woman's strong, unmoving stance caught her attention.
It felt wrong to just let her die. Rin wasn't ready to give up like that. Not yet.
She ran from her hiding place, raised her pipe, and brought it down hard on the mimic's head. There was a wet, cracking sound, and the impact shook her arm.
The mimic fell, its arms and legs bent at strange angles, like a broken toy. Its pale eyes stayed fixed on her, not blinking, as if accusing her. It made her feel uneasy.
The woman stumbled backward, holding her bleeding arm. Rin saw it was a cut, not a bite, and felt a small bit of relief that surprised her. Blood stained her apron and dripped onto the ground, but she stood up straight and wiped her hand on her jeans.
"You're not one of them," she said. Her voice was rough but steady, even though pain was on her face. She stood tall, her simple clothes dirty and covered in fish scales. One arm trembled, but she held it firm.
"Jisoo. I used to run this stall—before everything went bad."
"Rin," she replied, her voice short. Her eyes darted to the shadows where the clicking sound was getting louder.
"We're not safe here. More will come."
She didn't trust easily, not since something bad happened with someone named Hana. This woman's steady look didn't change that.
But Jisoo's strong way of standing, even with a hurt arm, showed a toughness Rin couldn't ignore. In this broken world, that was important.
Jisoo nodded, threw the broken broom aside, and grabbed a knife from the ruined stall. It was a short, sharp knife with a handle worn smooth. She quickly tested its weight and pressed her lips into a thin line.
"Lead the way, then. I'm not dying in my own market."
Her words were stubborn, like a seller refusing to give up. Rin almost smiled. Respect wasn't trust, but it was a start.
They moved together through the destroyed market. They passed broken jars of kimchi, the red paste spilling out onto the ground, and a flickering lamp that made strange shadows on the cracked walls. The air was thick with the smell of rot and salt.
Another mimic shrieked, its voice sounding like a child crying—high, sad, too real. Rin's stomach tightened. She looked at Jisoo, who gripped her knife harder, her jaw tight.
"Heard rumors," Jisoo muttered as they ducked under a hanging piece of cloth that was damp and smelled bad.
"ECHO—some lab thing. They said it would steal voices, make us louder. Guess it did."
Rin thought of the radio in her apartment—Hana's faint "Rin… where…," the repeating "ECHO" from the streets.
Her fingers twitched, wanting to check the radio on her belt, but she kept her hand on the pipe.
"Yeah," she said, her voice flat, hiding her feelings. She didn't want to talk about it with a stranger, not when Hana's voice still echoed in her head.
The buzzing sound got sharper, vibrating through the ground into her boots. She pushed Jisoo towards a narrow opening between stalls, their shoulders brushing against the rusty metal.
"Move."
The mimic jumped out of the darkness, faster than the others. Its pale skin tore as it reached for them with long, thin fingers. Rin swung her pipe, hitting its arm with a crack that sounded like bone breaking. At the same time, Jisoo stabbed her knife into its chest.
It shrieked, a distorted "Jisoo…" buzzing from its throat, mixed with static and sounding threatening.
It fell in a twitching heap, black blood spreading beneath it. They stood there, breathing hard. The air smelled terrible. Rin wiped her pipe on her jeans, a steadying action.
Jisoo cleaned her knife on her apron and looked at Rin with a thoughtful expression.
"You're good with that pipe. What's your story?"
"Tech," Rin said quickly, avoiding the real answer—hacker, survivor, whatever. She saw the corner of her sketchbook sticking out of her jacket, smudged with blood, and pushed it in deeper without thinking.
Jisoo smiled slightly—the first sign of warmth—and muttered, "Reel, huh? Suits you."
"Don't call me that," Rin snapped, sharper than she meant. Only Hana called her that, and hearing it from Jisoo hurt.
Jisoo raised an eyebrow, her smile fading, but she didn't ask more questions. She just nodded once.
The buzzing sound pulsed again, louder, shaking the debris around them. Rin nodded towards the edge of the market where the shadows were thick.
"We stick together—for now. Deal?"
"Deal," Jisoo agreed, her voice reluctant but firm. The knife was steady in her grip, even with blood dripping down her arm.
They moved on. The mimics' clicking faded into the distance, a temporary break that Rin knew wouldn't last.
Whatever ECHO was, it wasn't just taking voices—it was twisting them into something wrong. And she wasn't going to let it take her too.