The black van smelled of stale coffee and fear.
Rain lashed against the tinted windows, blurring the neon lights of Incheon Bridge into long, watery streaks. Inside, the silence was suffocating.
Yoo-jin checked his watch. 6:15 AM.
"There are three police cars tailing us," Olivia said, peering through the rear window. "And a black sedan that looks suspiciously expensive."
"They won't stop us on the bridge," Yoo-jin said, his eyes closed. "Too much traffic. Too many dashcams. They want to corner us at the terminal."
He opened his eyes. The System interface was pulsing with a dull, red rhythm.
[Current Status: High Alert]
[Exit Strategy: The 'Gold' Route]
[Probability of Arrest: 68%]
"Sixty-eight percent," he muttered. "I've won with worse odds."
Beside him, Jung Sae-ri adjusted her sunglasses. Her hand was trembling, just slightly. Yoo-jin reached out and covered her hand with his.
She flinched, then squeezed back hard. Her nails dug into his palm.
"Director Park," Yoo-jin called out to the front seat. "Is the livestream ready?"
"Ready?" Park's voice cracked. "Yoo-jin, we are fugitives. You want to broadcast our location to the entire world?"
"We aren't fugitives," Yoo-jin corrected. "We are global superstars heading to an international award show. If we sneak around, we look guilty. If we walk through the front door, we are untouchable."
He turned to the back of the van.
Sol, Luna, Min-ji, and Eden were huddled together. Eden was wearing a hoodie pulled low, hiding his silver hair.
"Take off the masks," Yoo-jin ordered.
Mina looked up, terrified. "But... the reporters..."
"Exactly," Yoo-jin said. "I want them to see your faces. I want them to see that you aren't afraid. If the Ministry touches a hair on your head while the cameras are rolling, they declare war on the public."
He looked at Eden.
"Especially you. Smile. You're not a weapon today. You're an idol going on vacation."
Eden blinked. "I will attempt a casual expression. Calculating muscle tension..."
"Just look bored," Min-ji advised, lighting a cigarette before realizing she couldn't smoke in the van and tossing it into a cup. "Like you're too cool for this country."
The van slowed down.
"We're here," the driver said.
Terminal 2 was a fortress. But not of soldiers.
It was a fortress of flashbulbs.
Thousands of fans had gathered. They filled the drop-off zone, holding signs. PROTECT EDEN. STARFORCE FOREVER. DON'T GO.
The press was there too. A wall of cameras.
"Showtime," Yoo-jin said.
The van door slid open.
The roar was deafening. It sounded like a physical blow.
Yoo-jin stepped out first. He buttoned his coat, adjusted his collar, and extended a hand.
Sae-ri took it. She stepped out, looking like royalty.
Then the girls. Then Eden.
"Over here! Eden! Is it true you defected?"
"CEO Han! Did the government sabotage the concert?"
"Are you fleeing the investigation?"
Yoo-jin ignored them all. He gestured for the group to move.
They walked in a V-formation. Yoo-jin at the point, the artists flanking him. It wasn't a walk; it was a march.
The flashbulbs were blinding. It was like walking through a lightning storm.
[Public Opinion: Surging]
[Media Narrative: The Exiled Kings]
They reached the automatic doors.
Suddenly, the crowd parted.
A line of men in dark suits blocked the entrance to the departures hall. They didn't look like airport security. They looked like sharks in human skin.
The man in the center stepped forward. He held up a badge.
"Han Yoo-jin," the man said. His voice was flat, carrying over the noise of the crowd. "Ministry of Culture. Audit Team."
The cameras went wild. The fans screamed in protest.
Yoo-jin didn't stop. He walked right up to the man, stopping only inches away.
"You're blocking the entrance, Agent," Yoo-jin said loudly.
"We have a travel ban on your artists," the agent said. "Pending an investigation into the Gocheok Dome incident. Hand over the passports."
The threat was real. If they gave up the passports, it was over. They would be dragged into interrogation rooms and never seen again.
Yoo-jin smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile.
"Investigation?" Yoo-jin asked, turning slightly toward the nearest news camera. "I thought the official statement was that the concert had a 'technical audio malfunction'? Are you saying the Ministry lied?"
The agent's jaw tightened. "This is not a debate. Step aside."
Two burly agents moved to grab Eden.
Eden flinched. His eyes flashed blue for a microsecond.
"Don't touch him," Yoo-jin warned.
"Or what?" the agent sneered. "You'll write a song about me?"
"No," a new voice cut in. "Or you'll explain to the White House why you detained a US protected artist."
The agent froze.
Olivia Ray stepped forward. She chewed her gum loudly, looking the agent up and down with utter disdain.
"I'm an American citizen," Olivia drawled in English, then switched to perfect, sassy Korean. "And these guys are my collaborators. We have a scheduled performance at the AMAs. You block them, you block me."
She pulled out her phone.
"I have the US Ambassador on speed dial. He loves my remix. Wanna say hi?"
It was a bluff. Olivia didn't have the Ambassador's number. She was holding her phone upside down.
But the agent didn't know that.
The crowd began to chant. "LET THEM GO! LET THEM GO!"
The agent looked at the cameras. He looked at the screaming fans. He looked at the live feed monitors on the wall, showing the news crawling with headlines: GOVERNMENT BLOCKS HEROES.
The optics were a disaster.
His earpiece buzzed. A command from higher up.
The agent grimaced. He looked like he had swallowed a lemon.
"This isn't over, Han," he hissed.
He stepped aside.
"Have a safe flight."
Yoo-jin didn't blink. "We will."
He signaled the team. They pushed past the blockade, moving toward the security checkpoint.
As soon as they were out of sight of the cameras, Yoo-jin stumbled.
The world tilted sideways.
[System Warning: Adrenaline Crash]
[Hardware Integrity: 89%]
"Yoo-jin!" Sae-ri caught him before he hit the floor.
He gasped, clutching his chest. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The noise of the airport sounded like it was underwater.
"I'm... okay," he wheezed.
"You're not," Sae-ri whispered fiercely. She dragged him toward the VIP priority lane. "Just keep walking. Don't let them see you weak."
Eden walked up on his other side. Without a word, the boy took Yoo-jin's heavy carry-on bag.
"Your cortisol levels are spiking," Eden noted softly. "Shall I hum the calming frequency?"
"No," Yoo-jin gritted his teeth. "Save the batteries. We aren't safe yet."
They cleared security. Then immigration.
Every stamp of the passport felt like a victory. Every gate they passed felt like shedding a layer of skin.
Finally, they reached the boarding gate.
It was a private charter. The TK Group Chairman had come through with the favor, arranging a jet usually reserved for transporting semiconductor executives.
They walked onto the tarmac. The rain had stopped. The sky was gray and heavy.
Yoo-jin paused at the top of the stairs. He looked back at Seoul.
From here, the city looked small. Just a cluster of concrete and wires. Somewhere in that maze, the Ministry was regrouping. They were rewriting the code. They were planning the next attack.
"We can't come back," Mina said, standing beside him. Her voice was small. "Can we?"
"Not as we are," Yoo-jin answered honestly. "When we come back... we'll be the ones holding the leash."
He ushered them inside.
The cabin was luxurious. Cream leather seats, champagne on ice. It felt absurdly normal after the chaos outside.
Yoo-jin collapsed into the nearest seat. He didn't even take off his coat.
The engines whined to life. The plane began to taxi.
Sae-ri sat across from him. She poured a glass of water and handed it to him. Her hands were steady now.
"You bluffed the entire government," she said, shaking her head. "You're insane."
"It wasn't just a bluff," Yoo-jin said, taking the water. "The Ministry is afraid of the light. As long as we stay in the spotlight, they can't simply erase us."
"And what happens when the lights go out?"
Yoo-jin tapped the data drive in his pocket. The drive he had taken from Version 1's dying hand.
"Then we strike in the dark."
The plane accelerated. The G-force pushed them back into their seats.
Yoo-jin looked out the window as the ground fell away. The cars became ants. The buildings became toys.
[Region Change Detected]
[Leaving Server: South Korea]
[Connecting to Server: North America...]
[Warning: Unknown System Architecture Detected]
Yoo-jin frowned. Unknown Architecture?
Before he could process it, a message popped up. Not on his phone, but on the blue System window floating in front of his face.
[Incoming Message]
[Sender: Unknown]
He opened it.
"Welcome to the wild west, Version 2. Try not to die before you reach the coordinates. - D"
Yoo-jin froze.
"D"?
Who was D?
He looked at Eden. The boy was staring out the window, mesmerized by the clouds.
"It is white," Eden whispered. "Everything is blank."
"It's a clean slate," Olivia said, reclining her seat all the way back. "America, baby. Land of the free, home of the brave, and the place where I can legally buy a flamethrower."
"Please do not buy a flamethrower," Director Park moaned from the back.
Yoo-jin closed the message window.
The headache was fading, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.
They had escaped the cage. But they had flown straight into a new game. And this map... he hadn't memorized this map.
He closed his eyes.
"Get some sleep," he told the team. "We land in twelve hours."
And then, he thought, the real war begins.