The silence in the underground chamber had weight. The kind that pressed against the lungs, stealing air with every breath. Lin stood perfectly still in the glow of their flickering flashlight, his gaze locked on the photograph in his hand. It was unmistakably him—his younger self, standing on a rain-slick street in Seoul, years before this nightmare had ever begun. The background blurred with neon signs and umbrellas, but the sharpness of his face cut through the image like a blade. It was not something pulled from public records, not a surveillance still. No—this was intimate. Personal. Someone had been watching him long before this game began.
"Lin…" Min-joon's voice was a trembling whisper, as if speaking louder might invite the tunnels themselves to close in. "That photo—how is that even possible? You were… you were in Korea then. You hadn't even—"
