1998.
The year Oigami learned how fragile silence could be.
A virus had spread across the city like a curse whispered too many times.Hospitals overflowed. Streets emptied. Shops closed their shutters as if they would never open again. People stopped living—only surviving.
At 3:07 a.m., Kim was on his way home from the airport.
The taxi moved through an abandoned road, streetlights flickering like tired eyes struggling to stay open. Kim leaned back, exhaustion weighing down his body, when the car suddenly jerked and slowed.
The engine coughed.
Then died.
The taxi rolled forward and stopped in front of a house.
Kim frowned.The house looked… wrong.
Its windows were sealed with police tape.The gate was rusted shut.A warning sign hung crookedly—SEALED BY ORDER.
And yet—
A sound drifted through the cold air.
A baby crying.
Kim stepped out of the taxi.
The crying grew clearer, sharper, echoing from inside the sealed house. His breath turned visible in the freezing air. A strange unease crept into his chest.
No one lives here, he thought.Everyone knows this place.
Just as fear began tightening his throat, a voice came from behind him.
"Sir. The car is fixed."
Kim turned.
The taxi driver sat calmly in his seat, hands on the steering wheel, eyes facing forward. Too calm.
Without thinking, Kim got back inside.
The door shut.
And immediately—
A rotting stench flooded the car.
Kim gagged, covering his nose.The smell wasn't fuel.It wasn't smoke.
It was… decay.
The taxi started moving.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
The speed climbed past 80 km/h.
"Hey— slow down!" Kim shouted.
The driver didn't respond.
The car crossed 100 km/h.
Suddenly, the driver's head slammed forward into the steering wheel.
Hard.
Once.
Then again.
He went limp.
Unconscious.
But the car didn't stop.
The steering wheel turned on its own.
The taxi swerved violently and crashed into a tree with a deafening roar.
Smoke burst from the hood.
Kim didn't wait.
He kicked the door open and stumbled out, coughing, as flames began licking the metal behind him.
December wind sliced through his clothes.
Shivering, Kim pulled a jacket and scarf from his bag and wrapped himself tightly. His phone had no signal. No network. No help.
That's when he heard it.
Scrrrrk… scrrrrk…
Metal grinding.
Like a knife being sharpened.
From the sealed house.
Then another sound.
Thud. Thud.
Like a hammer striking flesh.
Kim swallowed his fear and moved closer, heart pounding.But when he reached the source—
There was no factory.No tools.
Only the sound.
Thirty minutes later—
Kim opened his eyes.
He was standing somewhere else.
The place felt familiar, yet empty—unnaturally so. No wind. No footsteps. Just silence.
And ticking.
A clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The sound of a blade scraping metal echoed again.
Then—
A shadow emerged before him.
It bowed.
"Greetings," the shadow said softly."Welcome back, Master. Your meal is ready. Please follow me."
Frozen in terror, Kim followed.
Along the corridor, bodies hung upside down from the ceiling.Eyeless sockets stared at nothing.Shadows played marbles with severed eyeballs on the floor, laughing without sound.
They entered a dining room.
Bodies lay across the table.
Eyes missing.Stomachs torn open.Intestines spilling like noodles from a broken bowl.
Something moved in the darkness behind him.
A presence.
And then—