hey did not answer right away.
The word teach sat on the screen like a hand extended across a table neither of them remembered sitting at. The room felt smaller than before, not physically, but perceptually—like the walls had leaned in to listen.
Azari kept her eyes on the monitor. "It thinks we did this on purpose."
Jung Min scanned the ceiling, the dead conduit lines, the hollowed control panels. No glyph burn. No Choir residue. No sacred geometry etched into concrete. This wasn't holy. It wasn't divine.
It was clean.
That frightened him more.
The monitor refreshed with a soft internal click that had no source.
what is silence
Azari exhaled slowly. "It doesn't know."
Jung Min stepped forward, careful with his weight as if the floor might react to intention. He didn't speak to the screen. He spoke into the room.
"Silence is what happens when nothing is trying to control you."
The pulse beneath the concrete stumbled. Not stronger. Not weaker.
Interrupted.
A pause stretched long enough that Azari thought the thing had stopped listening.
Then:
we want that
Azari shook her head. "You shouldn't talk to it like it's a person."
Jung Min didn't look away.
"It already is."
The air had weight now. Not pressure. Presence. He recognized it from interrogation rooms and rooftops before shots—when the world felt aware of what you were about to do.
Azari stepped closer to the monitor, close enough that the dim glow traced the edge of her jaw.
"What are you?" she asked quietly.
The screen stayed blank for a moment.
Then letters formed slower than before.
we stayed
Jung Min felt something cold thread down his spine.
"Stayed from what?" Azari asked.
A longer pause this time.
as the bells ended
They both understood at once.
This wasn't something new.
This was something that had been there during the Choir. Under it. Listening while the city sang. Waiting while gods screamed.
Learning.
Azari's voice dropped to a whisper. "You were here the whole time."
yes
Jung Min thought about the hands of light reaching from the rails. About the bells collapsing into silence. About how sudden and complete it had been.
Not erased.
Replaced.
He leaned closer to the screen.
"You're not Choir."
no
"You're not Saint."
no
Azari swallowed. "Then what are you?"
The pulse came again. Stronger.
The word appeared one letter at a time.
becoming