They walked for hours through the corpse of the city.
Gimpo — if that was what this place had once been — had turned into a labyrinth of silence and ruin.
Every street was filled with the ghosts of what had been ordinary once: overturned cars, shattered billboards, and stores that looked as if time itself had given up on them.
At last, they came upon a large structure at the end of a wide boulevard. Its sign, half torn and burned, still read faintly in the dusted glass: Gimpo Central Mall.
Han Yul exhaled softly. "A mall… maybe we'll find something useful."
Raon didn't answer. He pushed the glass door aside — it cracked under his hand, brittle and cold — and stepped into the darkened interior.
The air smelled of mold and stale perfume. Somewhere, water dripped steadily, echoing through the empty halls.
They walked past stores that looked like open wounds — walls torn, mannequins toppled, shelves ransacked. The sound of their footsteps was the only thing that made the place feel real.
"Clothes section's upstairs," Han said, nodding toward the escalator. The metal steps groaned under their weight as they climbed.
Upstairs, the rows of abandoned clothing hung like the remnants of lost lives.
Raon moved quietly between racks, his hand brushing the fabric as if feeling the memory of the people who once wore them.
He stopped at a set of suits hanging near the back — still mostly clean.
A black shirt, gray pants, and a gray coat. Minimal. Functional. Familiar.
He changed in silence.
When he looked at his reflection in the cracked mirror, a stranger looked back — clean, composed, but with eyes that had seen too much.
It was strange, he thought. How easily a person could look normal again when everything inside had already broken.
Han found a dark blue jacket and jeans. "Not bad," he muttered, while checking some clothes with a tired grin. "Almost makes me forget we're walking through hell."
Raon's lips twitched faintly. "Almost."
They went next to the food court, where the stench of rot clung to the air. Yet in the ruins, a few sealed items remained: instant noodles, bottled water, and cans that hadn't expired. They gathered what they could — stuffing the supplies into backpacks taken from a nearby store.
Han tore open a chocolate bar and chewed slowly, looking out at the cracked glass façade of the mall. "You know… this really does feel like a story."
Raon glanced up. "A story?"
"Yeah." Han gave a faint laugh. "A destroyed city, monsters, some kind of 'system' giving us windows and quests. It's absurd — like one of those web novels. I used to read a few on my commute."
Raon stayed silent.
Han continued, his voice softer now. "If this really is a story, then what does that make us? The heroes? Or just background characters who got caught in the wrong chapter?"
For a long moment, Raon said nothing. He stared at the gray skyline beyond the broken glass — the light reflecting faintly off his coat like the shimmer of a dying screen.
Finally, he spoke. "If this is a story, then it isn't the kind anyone would want to read."
Han looked at him, puzzled, but Raon didn't elaborate.
They walked again, leaving the mall behind. The road stretched ahead, littered with abandoned buses and flickering signs.
A faint wind stirred the dust, carrying the faint smell of rain.
Han spoke again after a while. "You ever feel like you've… seen this before?"
Raon stopped walking.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know," Han said, frowning slightly. "The train, the bridge, even the way the sky looked before it all collapsed — it feels familiar somehow. Like déjà vu."
Raon's heartbeat slowed.
Familiar.
He didn't answer right away, because something deep inside him stirred at the words. A faint whisper at the edge of memory, like a page being turned in a book he'd already read once before.
He finally said, "Maybe it's just how stories work. Everything feels familiar when it starts to repeat."
Han looked at him strangely. "Repeat?"
Raon didn't respond. He only looked toward the horizon — where Seoul waited somewhere beyond the storm.
The walk toward Seoul was silent at first. The Han River carried a dull metallic smell, its surface reflecting the bruised sky overhead.
Raon kept his hood low, his steps steady, while Han walked beside him—still limping slightly from the previous day's wounds.
The ruined city around them groaned in the wind.
"…There it is," Han finally said.
Raon lifted his gaze.
The Han River Bridge—one of the major routes toward Seoul—loomed ahead like a spine cracked in half.
The entire middle section had collapsed into the river, steel beams twisted like broken ribs. Cars hung at impossible angles, half-
submerged. Concrete slabs floated like corpses drifting away from a battlefield.
There was no way across.
Han exhaled heavily. "Damn. I was hoping this one would be intact."
Raon didn't respond. He only stepped forward, testing the ground, scanning the distance. The air felt strangely still here—too still.
Han scratched his neck, then looked at Raon.
"So… what now? We try another bridge? It'll take hours to circle around."
"No," Raon said. "The monsters hit everything along the river. The other bridges will look the same."
Han clicked his tongue. "Yeah… I figured."
They stood there for a moment, as the wind whistled through the skeletal remains of the collapsed structure.
Raon's eyes narrowed—lines of the broken steel tugged at something in his memory. A faint sense of déjà vu. A forgotten scene. A story.
Why does this feel… familiar?
Han suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Wait. There's another way."
Raon turned. "What way?"
Han pointed to the right side of the bridge.
"Underground."
Raon raised a brow. "The subway?"
"Yeah," Han said. "The Line 9 underground maintenance route. I used to hang around here with friends before all this happened.
There's an old restricted-access path near the embankment. If the collapse didn't destroy the lower tunnels, we can move under the river instead of crossing above it."
Raon considered it. The plan wasn't bad.
"Is it safe?" he asked.
Han gave a humorless laugh. "Safe?
Nothing's safe anymore. But it's better than climbing through that deathtrap." He pointed toward the fractured bridge.
Raon stared at the broken road again—the ripped metal, the scattered debris, the monstrous claw marks embedded into the concrete.
"…Fine," Raon said. "Lead the way."
Han smiled faintly, relieved.
"Alright. It should be a fifteen-minute walk from here. But stay alert. This whole area was hit during the first scenario. We don't know what's hiding underground."
The two of them turned away from the bridge and began walking down the riverside road, heading toward the lower access area.
Raon's mind drifted again as the roar of the river faded behind them.
Underground…A broken bridge…A path beneath the river…
Why does this feel like a chapter I've already read?
Or… something I've already lived?
No matter how hard he tried, the memory refused to surface—slipping back into the darkness of his mind like something afraid to be seen.
He clenched his fists.