PROLOGUE – INT. Kairi's War Room — Candlelit — Silence
Kairi sits in a pew of a decaying church.
She wears black robes.
Not religious.
Funeral.
An old voice recorder plays Katarina's voice, warped and warbled by time:
"Kairi… I don't know if you're still out there.
But I hope… somewhere in that storm…
there's still a woman who loved her kids."
Kairi laughs.
Dry. Unstable.
Around her: maps of Seoul. Newspaper clippings. Surgical tools. Photographs of missing girls pinned in a spiral like constellations.
She pulls a blade from her sleeve.
Carves a word into the pulpit:
"WITNESS."
EXT. SEOUL — MORNING — 10 LOCATIONS
A school building.
A daycare.
A government office.
A nightclub basement.
A TV broadcast station.
Each one. Hit.
Gas attacks.
Blood bombs.
Civilians screaming. Static blasting through loudspeakers. All of them hit within 5 minutes.
A synchronized, citywide sermon.
And at every scene:
A single message painted on the wall.
"The lambs disobeyed. The wolves will feast.
– K"
INT. SEOUL POLICE HQ – WAR ROOM
The department has gone DEFCON.
Sirens echo outside. Helicopters circle above. Children are being evacuated.
Ryouma is shaking with fury. Blood under his fingernails.
Souta says nothing. Her mind is already 12 steps ahead—calculating Kairi's pattern.
She circles a date on the board:
"Ten years since Kamikawa's last known disappearance.
She's recreating the past. City-scale."
Then a report slides across her desk.
Fingerprint match.
Not Kairi's.
Huáilán.
SOUTA & HUÁILÁN ENCOUNTER – PARKING GARAGE – NIGHT
Souta walks alone. Knows she's being watched.
She stops near her car.
"Why now?" she says.
From behind a pillar:
Huáilán steps out. Mask in hand. Unmasked.
We see her face for the first time:
Delicate. Scarred. Beautiful in a way only broken things are.
She says:
"Because you were finally strong enough to understand."
Souta draws a small knife.
"You're hunting her?"
"No."
Huáilán walks forward.
"I'm ending all of you. Her. You. Your brother. Your ghosts."
Souta doesn't move.
"But I'll let you pick who dies first."
A long silence.
Souta puts away the knife.
"…She's afraid of you."
Huáilán smiles faintly.
"Everyone is afraid of the silence between breaths. Because that's when the truth speaks."
Then she vanishes.
INT. Kairi's Church — Night
Kairi is alone.
Bleeding from a fresh wound. Self-inflicted. Just to feel real.
She hears a voice:
"They're not yours anymore."
She whips around. Nothing.
Only mirrors.
She screams.
Breaks them.
Every reflection—warped.
Her younger self. Her mother. Katarina. Ryouma. Souta. All looking back with judgment.
And one of them—Huáilán's reflection—smiles.
INT. SAFEHOUSE – THAT SAME NIGHT
Ryouma preps weapons. Old revolver. Hidden camera glasses. Smoke pellets.
Souta paces.
"She's cornered," Ryouma says.
"No," Souta says. "She's inviting us."
They both receive a text at the same time.
Unknown Number.
A video attachment.
Kairi's face.
Pre-recorded.
"Children of ash. I'm waiting at the altar. Come see what mercy dies like."
The location: the old Kamikawa church.
Time: Midnight.
Ryouma, Souta, and a SWAT team en route to Kamikawa.
Huáilán, already there, standing among candles in the woods—waiting. Mask back on.
Kairi, inside the church. Alone at the altar. A dead girl beside her. Waiting.
A storm rolls in.
Thunder cracks.
The clock strikes 11:59 p.m.
And we fade to black just before the first door creaks open.