However, Yoon Tae-sik had already pulled the child into his embrace, using his own body as a shield. The young child was bound in chains and unable to move, and Tae-sik had lunged in on pure instinct to protect them. His eyes were filled with fear, but his arms wrapped around the child without a hint of trembling.
In that instant, the Specter's enormous shadow fell over them. Yoon Tae-sik let out an agonized scream that echoed through the basement.
Tae-sik's body was yanked off the ground by the creature's strength and then hurled aside. He hit the concrete floor with a heavy, dull thud. A choked groan escaped him as he crumpled, and the child sank to the ground as well, wailing in terror.
Hae-jun screamed, "Tae-sik!", the sound tearing from his throat as if his chest were being ripped open. Yoon Tae-sik—his junior officer—lay limp and motionless on the floor. His bulletproof vest had split open, and blood was seeping from a wound in his shoulder. Hae-jun felt a cold horror burrow deep into his heart.
He realized with dawning dread that the Specter had deliberately gone after the one who appeared weakest first—Tae-sik. Hae-jun's hands began to tremble.
No... I can't lose anyone here. Not a single one!
A faint voice murmured, "Hae...jun... hyung...," jolting Hae-jun back to his senses. He saw Yoon Tae-sik open his eyes, his face smeared with blood. As Hae-jun hurried to his side, Tae-sik managed a feeble smile and gasped, "Hyung... the kid... is alive, right...?"
Hae-jun's throat clenched, and no words came out. He simply gave a firm nod. Finally he managed to whisper, "Yes... thanks to you, the kid is safe. Just hold on a little longer, okay? Don't you dare give up." Tears glimmered in Tae-sik's eyes. He let out a faint sigh of relief and then his head slumped forward as he lost consciousness again.
In the brief moments while Hae-jun tended to Tae-sik, the Specter had become even more enraged. Having its captive prey snatched away and even suffering a wound, the creature's fury had peaked.
The monster drew in a long, hissing breath, then suddenly blasted a cloud of crimson mist from its entire body. "Everyone, get back!" Hae-jun shouted, but it was too late—the red fog erupted outward like an explosion, a storm-force shockwave that swept through the basement.
Hae-jun ducked behind a nearby pillar. An instant later, the Specter's fist slammed into the concrete column with a deafening crash. The thick pillar shattered as if it were made of glass, and chunks of debris rained down like shrapnel. The impact sent tremors through the entire basement—cracks spiderwebbed across the ceiling, and pieces of old rebar and concrete began to cascade from above. Dust billowed up and mixed with the crimson fog, shrouding the basement in a dense, choking haze.
A sharp fragment of rubble whipped past Hae-jun's arm, grazing his forearm and drawing a hot line of blood. He hissed in pain through gritted teeth. Staggering back to his feet, he quickly took stock of the situation. Choi Do-yoon was frantically scrambling to retrieve his dropped firearm, and another team member lay unmoving on the ground, apparently struck by debris. The last remaining officer fired a flare at the monster, but it veered off target, exploding uselessly in midair and scattering blinding light to no effect.
By now the Specter was in a full frenzy. It was slamming its body against the walls, ripping out steel pipes and hurling them, destroying everything in its path. Each wild swing of its elongated limbs made the very air howl as if being torn apart. The situation was spiraling out of control, and if this kept up, the entire basement could come crashing down. Worse, everyone still alive—victims and rescuers alike—would undoubtedly be slaughtered.
Hae-jun gritted his teeth. Only one option remained now. He fumbled at his belt pouch and drew out a small device—the spare handheld special siren he'd brought along. It wasn't as powerful as the earlier one, but if he adjusted the frequency, it might just be their last trump card. Hae-jun took a deep breath, then turned the device's dial up to its maximum setting.
The siren sprang to life with a sharp, shrill whine. The noise was so piercing that Hae-jun himself almost screamed; his eardrums felt as if they were about to burst, but he clamped his jaw and endured it.
The effect was immediate. The basement that moments ago had echoed with the creature's howls now rang with the monster's agonized shriek once more. The Specter twisted its entire body as if writhing in pain, the red mist around it churning, and for an instant its form flickered and destabilized. In that moment, Hae-jun caught sight of something: at the center of the monster's chest—exactly where a heart would be—a round red glow was pulsing. It was as if the sonic onslaught had briefly laid the creature's innards bare.
That's its weak point!
Hae-jun dove for the fallen flare gun and snatched it off the floor. His hands shook with tension as he shoved the last flare round from his bandolier into the launcher. Steadying his breathing, he leveled the barrel squarely at the monster. With the siren's wail still drilling into his ears, Hae-jun whispered a silent prayer to himself: Please... let this hit.
He centered the glowing red core in his sights and pulled the trigger. There was a low, heavy thud as the flare round burst from the launcher in a gout of flame. The burning projectile flew true, burying itself squarely in the Specter's chest. The monster let out an ear-splitting screech and convulsed violently. Its red eyes flashed, snapping toward Hae-jun—and in that instant, he saw it clearly: the first and last glimmer of fear ever to appear in those hellish eyes.
Then a massive tremor shook the ground as the flare's brilliant light erupted, overwhelming the darkness. A blinding white flame exploded from the Specter's chest, so bright it seared afterimages into their vision. The monster's scream rose to a bizarre, keening pitch—what began as a metallic scrape warped into an animalistic wail that climbed higher and higher. Hae-jun watched with wide eyes as the Specter's misty form writhed and twisted amid the flood of light, its limbs flailing wildly. Chains and pipes rattled on the walls, clanging in a cacophonous chorus. And finally—with a last explosive flash of light, the monster's body shattered into countless pieces.
At the same time, the crimson mist vanished without a trace. In the aftermath, the basement reeked of charred soot, and ashen dust whirled through the air. Hae-jun was left gasping for breath, one hand raised to shield his eyes. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears, leaving him dizzy, but he could sense it—there was no longer any sign of the Specter.
"We... we did it..." someone mumbled from a corner of the basement. It was Choi Do-yoon. Clutching his chest and struggling to catch his breath, he staggered over toward Hae-jun. Hae-jun managed a weary nod and a faint smile, though a shadow of bitterness passed over it. "It's over..." he murmured. His voice held a mix of relief and hollow exhaustion.
With the siren fallen silent, the basement was draped in stillness and littered only with the gruesome wreckage of the battle. A single beam of moonlight slanted through a crack in a broken wall, illuminating the dust-choked air.
Hae-jun stumbled over to Tae-sik's crumpled form and fell to his knees. "Tae-sik!" he cried. He pressed two fingers to Tae-sik's neck, feeling for a pulse. The seconds he spent searching were a breathless eternity of tension—until he felt it: a faint but unmistakable throb of life. He's alive! Relief flooded him, and Hae-jun let out a long, trembling sigh from deep in his chest.
"Thank you... for holding on," he whispered, resting a hand on Tae-sik's shoulder.
Choi Do-yoon rushed over. "I called for a rescue team. They'll be here soon," he said. Bruises darkened his face, but it seemed he hadn't been seriously injured. Hae-jun nodded. Now the only task left was to get the wounded and the hostages out of here.
Without wasting time, Do-yoon and the remaining officer began freeing the surviving captives from their chains and helping them up one by one. While they tended to the others, Hae-jun moved to the child who had collapsed in shock.
The child was still sobbing in terror. Hae-jun spoke in as gentle a tone as he could manage. "It's all right now," he comforted softly. "I know you're scared, but just hang in there a little longer. We'll get out of here soon." He patted the child's back reassuringly. The child looked up at him with a tear-streaked face and asked in a trembling voice, "Mister... what about the monster...?"
Hae-jun's chest ached at the question. He mustered a small reassuring smile and nodded. "It's gone," he promised quietly. "It can't hurt you anymore. Not ever again." Only then did the child collapse into Hae-jun's arms, sobbing openly. Hae-jun cradled the little one's thin, shaking body against his chest.
Just then, something glinted on the floor near where the Specter had met its end. In the faint glow of the dying flare, a small piece of metal twinkled among the debris. Hae-jun gently passed the child to Do-yoon and got to his feet. Picking his way through the rubble, he carefully retrieved the object from amidst the broken concrete.
It was a pendant necklace—a metal pendant about the size of two knuckles, dangling from a snapped black cord. Strange, intricate symbols were etched across its surface, glinting eerily in the pale moonlight. Hae-jun found himself frowning. It looked like some kind of occult talisman he'd never seen before, yet somehow it felt unsettlingly familiar. He suddenly recalled the star-patterned pendant they'd found at the "abductor demon" crime scene a few days ago. The design on that one had been different, but there was an uncanny resemblance to this pendant.
"Why... why is this here...?" Hae-jun muttered, slowly turning the pendant over in his hand. Did the Specter leave this behind when it was destroyed, or could it be a trace of whoever had been controlling the creature? The very thought sent a heavy chill of foreboding pressing down in his chest.
"Detective Jung, let's get the injured out of here!" Do-yoon's shout snapped Hae-jun out of his thoughts. He quickly shoved the pendant into his pocket and hurried to assist.
The survivors were being helped to their feet, all of them glassy-eyed and stunned. Right now, getting them to safety was the top priority. With Do-yoon's help, Hae-jun hoisted up a wounded officer, while using his other arm to steady the still-shaking child as they began making their way toward the exit.
Just before climbing out of the basement, Hae-jun glanced back into the darkness one last time. The spot where that horrifying creature had stood—the very site of their desperate struggle—now lay in silent ruin, as if nothing had ever happened, filled only with deep, empty darkness. A breath of night wind wafted through a crack in the shattered wall, quietly scattering the last red dust that lingered in the air.
Hae-jun exhaled slowly, trying to steady his racing heart, and asked himself, Is it really over now? He couldn't quite say yes. A weighty unease still gnawed at him—the sense that some unanswered darkness was quietly watching from the shadows.
At that very moment, a low, drawn-out laugh rose from somewhere in the gloom. "Ha... ha... ha...." The first instant Hae-jun heard it, he wondered if it was just the wind—but it wasn't. It was the sound of human laughter, yet warped and distorted. There was something indescribably wrong about it, an eerie crackle as if it came through a corroded speaker. Goosebumps prickled over Hae-jun's entire body.
He swiftly handed the child over to Do-yoon and raised his gun again. "Who's there?! Show yourself!" he shouted into the darkness. No answer came—only that slow, ghastly laughter continued to echo. Within moments, Do-yoon and the other officer had their guns up as well, eyes wide as they scanned the ruins. But the flicker of their flashlights revealed nothing amid the debris. Aside from the jagged shadows of broken walls and pillars, there was nowhere for anyone to hide.
Hae-jun's heart was thundering in his chest. He had never heard a laugh like this, yet it carried a suffocating aura of malice and dread. It felt like someone was out there in the dark, laughing at them—taunting them. His hands curled into fists before he even realized it. "No... it can't be..." he whispered, his words trailing off as his mouth went dry. A nameless fear crept down his spine. He had a gut feeling that whatever lurked behind that laughter was no ordinary monster.
And then, just as abruptly as it began, the laughter cut off. The basement fell as silent as a tomb, as if nothing had ever disturbed it. But Hae-jun could still feel it. He sensed that somewhere, unseen in the darkness above, someone was watching them. The sinister echo of that laughter still rang in his ears.
The malevolent aura hung in the air a moment longer, then slowly dispersed into the darkness, as if it had never been there at all.
"Detective Jung...?" came an uneasy voice from behind him. One of the officers—who had been gently laying Yoon Tae-sik onto a stretcher—was peering over with apprehension. Hae-jun raised a hand in a small wave to signal that he was fine. Inside, however, he was anything but fine.
They had won the battle here tonight, but a chilling premonition had sunk into Hae-jun's bones: this was far from over. The pendant in his pocket felt heavier than ever.
Hae-jun cast one last look around the wrecked basement. A night of crimson mist... And yet, the real monster lurking within it was likely still out there in the darkness, watching and laughing.
It was as if that chilling laughter were whispering in his ear:
It's not over yet. The true nightmare is only beginning...