Song Dohyun gets the first call reporting what had happened at 9:47 AM.
But there's something unusual... the Mapo site is cold and there's no stone signature, no formation residue, nothing left behind except impressions in the floor where the equipment used to be.
"M-Mr. Song... one of our sites..."
As he listens to the report from a cowardly voice, he ends the call firmly.
Then he gets the second call saying the same thing at 10:03.
The Eastern waterfront. With the same damn result.
He sits in his office with the aquarium and the drifting jellyfish and the particular silence of someone who has understood what's happening before the third call with the same news arrives.
When it does, now about the chamber, at 10:21 in the same morning — he simply sets the phone face down on the desk.
"Hah..." Song Dohyun leans back against his seat, tightly gripping his own skin as the sound coming from his phone grates his nerves like his brain is being fried.
