The world tilted dangerously as Seo-jin stumbled through the battered streets of the Lower City.
Every step felt like dragging a mountain.
His body screamed at him to stop, to collapse and let the darkness take him.
But he clenched his jaw and forced one foot in front of the other.
He had to reach Lotus.
He had to get home.
Not because he was sure it would make everything better.
But because he needed somewhere—anywhere—to fall apart safely.
**
The familiar outline of the Lotus safehouse emerged through the haze.
Broken windows, patched walls, a crude emblem spray-painted on the battered door.
Home.
A broken home.
But his.
Seo-jin's legs buckled as he reached the door.
He barely managed to lift a trembling hand and knock—three sharp taps, the old signal.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
The door flew open.
Ha-eun stood there, her eyes wide with shock.
"Seo-jin?"
Her voice cracked.
He opened his mouth to answer.
Nothing came out.
Then the world tilted again, harder this time.
And he collapsed forward.
**
Hands caught him.
Not strong enough to stop his fall entirely, but enough to slow it.
He crumpled to the ground, half in, half out of the doorway.
"Get Ko!" Ha-eun shouted, panic sharpening her voice.
Footsteps thundered inside.
Seo-jin tried to lift his head.
Tried to say something.
Anything.
Instead, he coughed—harsh, wet, tearing at his lungs.
Blood splattered the floor.
"Stay with me, idiot!" Ha-eun dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering helplessly. "Don't you dare pass out yet!"
Seo-jin forced his eyes open.
Focused on her face.
The worry there.
The fear.
For him.
Somehow, that hurt more than the broken ribs or the bleeding fragment wound burning in his chest.
"I'm…" His voice was a croak. "Fine."
Ha-eun barked a short, humorless laugh.
"You look like hell."
A shadow loomed over them.
Ko.
His massive frame filled the doorway.
For once, his usual scowl was replaced by something almost like concern.
"Move," he ordered.
Ha-eun shifted aside immediately.
Ko crouched, inspecting Seo-jin with the efficiency of someone who had seen too many broken bodies.
"Broken ribs. Maybe internal bleeding. Fragment instability." His voice was grim. "You're lucky you're breathing."
Seo-jin managed a weak grin.
"Lucky… yeah… that's me."
Ko didn't smile.
"Get him inside."
**
Together, they half-carried, half-dragged Seo-jin into the common room.
The familiar smells of damp concrete and cheap antiseptic wrapped around him like a blanket.
Home.
Broken, ugly, loud.
But still home.
They laid him on the battered couch.
Seo-jin sagged into it, every muscle going limp.
Ha-eun hovered nearby, wringing her hands.
Ko stood over him, arms crossed.
"Talk," Ko said.
Seo-jin closed his eyes for a moment.
He could lie.
He could tell them it was a simple scouting mission gone wrong.
An ambush. A collapse. Anything.
But as he opened his mouth—
Something inside him whispered.
"Tell them, and you'll put them in danger."
"Tell them, and they'll fear you."
"Tell them… and you'll lose them."
He swallowed the truth.
"I got too close to a corrupted zone," he said hoarsely. "Got caught in a surge. Had to fight my way out."
Half-true.
Enough to pass.
Ko's eyes narrowed.
Not fooled.
But he said nothing.
Just grunted and turned away.
**
Ha-eun leaned closer, her voice low.
"You're stupid, Seo-jin."
He smiled faintly.
"Yeah. I know."
Tears glistened in her eyes.
She wiped them away angrily.
"Bastard."
He laughed—a broken, breathless sound.
But real.
Alive.
Ha-eun punched his shoulder lightly, careful not to hit anything important.
"Don't scare me like that again."
"I'll try," he said, though they both knew he couldn't promise anything.
Not in this world.
**
Hours blurred together after that.
Ko patched him up with rough but competent hands.
Ha-eun stayed close, pretending to tidy the room but never straying far.
Others came and went, glancing at him with a mix of curiosity and unease.
Seo-jin drifted in and out of sleep.
Haunted by dreams of the core.
Of the power now coiled inside him.
Of futures he couldn't escape.
Sometimes he woke with a start, heart racing.
Sometimes he whispered things he couldn't remember.
Always, the fragment inside him pulsed.
Waiting.
**
Late into the night, when the others had gone and Ha-eun dozed in a chair nearby, Seo-jin stared at the cracked ceiling.
And spoke aloud, voice barely a whisper.
"I'm still me."
The fragment pulsed once, slow and deep, as if considering.
"I have to be," Seo-jin said.
Because if he wasn't—
If he became something else—
Then everything he had fought for would be meaningless.
He turned his head slightly, looking at Ha-eun sleeping awkwardly in the chair.
He smiled.
Small.
Real.
As long as he had something worth protecting, he could fight.
Even against himself.
Especially against himself.
**
Outside, the city groaned under the weight of broken dreams and bleeding skies.
Inside, Seo-jin slept.
And somewhere deep within him, the shadows stirred.
But for tonight—
For tonight, he was still Seo-jin.
And that was enough.