⚠️ Content Advisory
This series is rated 16+
It contains themes and scenes that may not be suitable for younger audiences, including:
Mild violence and psychological tension
Mentions of crime, corruption, and moral conflict
Occasional strong language
Emotional and mature themes related to loss, identity, and humanity
[ Viewer and reader discretion is advised ]
Chapter 4 — The Unknown Signal
The rain had not let up. A thin, persistent drizzle blurred the city lights into smeared streaks, and the night smelled of wet asphalt and static. Kye hunched over the motionless girl, water beading along his hairline. He checked her pulse once more, then pushed himself to his feet.
"I guess you're a goner—forget it, I have to go. The police will get you to a hospital," he muttered, already reaching for his phone. He didn't have time to sit and wait.
The girl's eyelids fluttered. Her voice was a rasp—half question, half plea as she pushed herself up just enough to look at him.
"Who are you? Are you—are you Ren?" she asked, voice trembling.
Kye blinked. The name struck him like a small bell. He stared at her for a long beat before answering.
"No." He kept his tone flat, wary. "I'm not Ren. But you're alive, so it looks like I'll have to take you myself. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
She strained to sit straighter, trembling. "Please—help me. I saw everything with my own eyes." Her breath hitched; words tumbled out frantic and half-formed.
"What did you see? Tell me—now," Kye demanded, crouching closer as the rain tapped a steady rhythm on the pavement.
Her lips parted, but the world folded inward on her once again. She slid back into unconsciousness, her body going slack in his arms.
"Shit," Kye cursed under his breath. "She's out cold again. Fine—figure this out later."
He moved to lift her, but a cold unease had settled over him. There was something wrong here—more than the bruises, more than the fear in her voice. A thread of static seemed to hum in the air, faint and wrong, like a radio between stations.
A world away, behind locked doors and thick glass, a room smelled of antiseptic and ozone. Rows of clear chambers blinked with soft blue lights; vials and specimens lay beneath sterile covers. The hum of machines was a slow, mechanical heartbeat.
Two figures stood before a bank of monitors. One wore a tailored business suit—hands folded, expression unreadable. The other, in a stained lab coat, leaned close to a display, eyes bright with feverish satisfaction.
"Just a little more time," the man in the lab coat said, voice low and certain. "After that, everything will fall into place. This will succeed."
The man in the suit nodded once. Outside, the city kept turning, unaware that a different kind of storm was gathering—one made of glass, circuits, and questions that would not stay buried.
Outside the hospital window, the world looked washed clean—puddles glimmering under faint morning light, clouds drifting apart like curtains after a long performance.
Inside, the air smelled of disinfectant and rain-damp clothes. The steady beep of machines filled the silence.
Kye sat beside the bed, arms crossed, watching the girl stir beneath the sheets. When she finally opened her eyes, he broke the silence.
"You alright… girl?"
Her lips curved faintly, her voice still weak.
"Thank you. And stop calling me girl, please. My name's Arisa Vale."
Kye raised an eyebrow.
"You haven't even fully woken up, and you're already making demands? Fine, fine—consider it done."
He leaned forward slightly. "Now tell me, Arisa, what did you see that night?"
Arisa hesitated, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"I saw…"
"Yeah?" Kye urged. "What did you see?"
She blinked, looked at him, and said flatly,
"I saw that I'm starving."
Kye stared, deadpan.
"You serious right now? Is your brain still functioning, Mrs. Vale? Because if not, I can fix that for you."
Arisa smiled faintly through exhaustion.
"I just need food. And… I don't think it's safe to talk about what I saw here. Can you take me home? Please?"
Kye exhaled, defeated.
"So that's it, huh? Alright then. Tell me where you live."
Her eyes narrowed teasingly.
"Wow. Straight to asking my address? Most people start with a phone number first."
Kye gave her a sharp look.
"Suck it up, girl. Just tell me. Don't waste my time."
A short while later, Kye carried her on his back down the quiet street outside the hospital.
The air was heavy but calm—no traffic, no voices, only the soft echo of his footsteps against the wet pavement.
For a while, neither spoke. Then Kye felt something—her arms tightening around his shoulders, her forehead pressing against his back.
At first, he thought she was just cold.
Then he felt the faint, warm dampness seeping through his shirt.
He didn't need to look to know—she was crying.
Pretending to be strong, pretending to joke, but deep down… something had shattered inside her.
Kye said nothing. He just kept walking, the road stretching endlessly ahead under flickering streetlights.
After nearly four kilometers, they reached an old apartment block, dimly lit and almost too quiet.
Kye glanced up.
"Huh. That's oddly close to my new place."
Arisa tilted her head weakly.
"Wait—so you've been following me all this time?"
Kye sighed.
"Just tell me which one's yours."
"So rude," she murmured. "First floor."
They walked inside. The air was still—no voices, no movement, no warmth of another soul.
Kye set her down gently on the couch, scanning the silent room.
"There's no one here…" he said quietly.
Arisa sat upright on the bed, the faint light from the window tracing soft lines across her face.
The room still carried the silence of abandonment—too clean, too quiet, as if the air itself hesitated to move.
Kye leaned against the wall, arms folded, scanning the room.
"Why do you look so confused?" Arisa asked, her voice breaking the silence. "Did something happen?"
Kye turned his eyes toward her.
"This place… do you live here alone?"
Arisa shook her head gently.
"No, not exactly."
"I see," Kye said flatly. "You live with your brother—Ren, right?"
Her eyes widened.
"How… how do you know that?"
Kye gave a small, knowing smirk.
"Just a guess. And I was right."
Arisa exhaled softly, lowering her gaze.
"Yeah… that's true. Our parents divorced a few years ago. Neither of them wanted to take us in. So Ren and I decided to live here—just the two of us."
Kye's expression softened for the first time that night.
"I get it. You don't need to explain. I've seen that kind of loneliness before."
He paused. "By the way, how old are you?"
Arisa blinked at him, tilting her head.
"Why? You suddenly so interested in me?" she teased lightly. "I'm twenty."
Kye rolled his eyes.
"Good. Now start talking. You've wasted enough of my time already."
Arisa gave him a disbelieving look.
"Seriously? That's how you talk to girls?"
She sighed, crossing her arms. "Fine, listen then."
Scene Shift – Arisa's Memory
The world blurred, colors fading into the shadows of the past.
A dimly lit street appeared—quiet, lined with shuttered shops.
A younger Ren, around sixteen, tied his shoelaces and smiled.
"Didi, I'll go grab a few things from the corner store," he said cheerfully.
"Wait, Ren," Arisa called out, picking up her jacket. "I'll come with you. It's already late."
They walked together through the narrow lane, their footsteps echoing softly.
But when they reached the store, its shutters were down—locked and dark.
"Looks like it's closed," Ren said, scratching his head.
"Let's check the one near the market," Arisa suggested.
They turned down another street—smaller, dimmer, emptier.
The kind of road where even the streetlights seemed afraid to shine.
Suddenly, Arisa's phone buzzed.
"Hello?" she answered, stopping mid-step. "Who's this? Hello?"
No response. Only static.
And then—a scream.
A sharp, distant cry ripped through the silence.
Arisa froze, her heart racing.
"What was that? Ren?"
She turned—he was gone.
"Ren! Where are you?!" she shouted, running down the street. "I just stopped for two minutes!"
Her voice echoed through the dark alley.
And then—she saw them.
A group of four or five men, all dressed in white suits, wearing masks and gloves, loading someone into a van.
Ren.
"REN!!"
Her voice cracked, panic flooding her veins. She ran forward—
—but before she could reach him, she felt a presence behind her.
She barely turned when something struck her head.
Pain exploded in her skull, and the world spun.
The masked men stood over her. One of them spoke coldly, his voice muffled behind the mask.
"That's enough. Leave her. In this cold, she won't last long out here. No one's brave enough to step outside these days."
They laughed softly, cruelly, as they dragged Ren into the van.
The door slammed shut with a metallic thud, and the vehicle vanished down the deserted street—leaving Arisa broken and bleeding on the empty road.
And above, the night sky flickered once—
a faint, unnatural signal pulsing through the clouds.
"After that—after I woke up—you were there. Btw Mr. What's your name?"
"Kye Kurasaki," he answered, simple and steady. "And… thanks for telling me everything. I think I understand a little more now."
He shifted, ready to leave. "Take care of yourself, Arisa. I've got to go."
Her eyes widened , she touched his lap. "Can't you stay a little? The outside isn't safe—at least not tonight. Please, just until morning."
Kye's face softened into a small, reluctant smile. "Don't worry about me. Look after yourself. I'll come back tomorrow evening — I've got something else to do today. We'll meet again."
He walked to the door and paused on the threshold, thoughts already pulling him outward into the night's chill. As he moved down the hallway, his mind replayed her story like a recording on repeat.
Who would kidnap children? he wondered. If it were for money, they'd demand ransom from parents — but no ransom yet. There has to be another reason. I need to find out, and fast.
---
Somewhere else, behind a wall of glass and the buzz of machines, a cold chamber hummed with life-support rhythms. Ren lay motionless inside a transparent pod, pale and breathing shallowly. Rows upon rows of similar chambers filled the room; little bodies curled in suspended sleep like strange, clinical dolls.
A bank of monitors flickered with images: cameras focused on each pod, readouts scrolling across the screens. A shadowed figure watched the feeds, expression unreadable as the machines kept their steady vigil.
The screen reflected a pulse of light — faint, like a signal.
And in that light, the city's unanswered questions seemed to grow teeth.
This is how - Ch 4 ends....