“Here, eat something.”

SinB looked up and instinctively caught hold of the lunchbox Sowon at her, the grizzled mercenary settling herself down cross-legged opposite the seated gunslinger, an identical meal in her own hands.

They were deep within a long forgotten and abandoned bomb shelter, a remnant from the old world, before the Second Korean War erupted and everything changed with the Awakening. Sowon did not reveal how she knew this place, but SinB could read the familiarity in the leader’s body language when they entered the area. There was a certain nostalgia, mixed with a distant wistfulness in the old soldier’s eye, and SinB suspected that Sowon had been here before, in her actual youth, once upon a time.

SinB never said anything about it before, but sometimes she did wonder what happened in the past that Sowon never spoke about. Eunha’s obviously redacted account of her vision of the past was much more revealing in what it didn’t say, and SinB couldn’t help but wonder how the past version of her -- and she was sure that version of her existed -- figured into things. 

It was simple logic, really. Eunha had more than once let it slip that Yuju, Yerin and Umji existed in her recollection of her past life, albeit somewhat different from the people they were now. Sowon was obviously there back then too, but SinB did notice how Eunha seemed to gloss over certain details. The gunslinger didn’t want to be overly sensitive or anything, but she was curious about what the past her was like, if only just to see how similar or different she was in a different life.

All things considered, SinB was still rather mystified by the whole concept of reincarnation being actually real and not just a half baked myth from a dozen oral traditions. Then again, magic existed in the world now, and all things were possible. She had seen stranger things in her admittedly still rather short lifetime at this point, and even right now, her best friend was doing something clearly very unscientific and possibly irrational in the room she was currently guarding. As someone who had been sitting here for hours, she had every reason to let her mind wander.

“She’s taking quite a while,” Sowon observed quietly, her lone eye drawn to the sealed door behind SinB. “Do you need to rest? I can take over for a bit.”

SinB shook her head quietly, taking a bite out of her chicken. Her subdued attitude seemed to give Sowon pause, and the leader lowered her head, as if considering something, before looking back up at SinB.

“I won’t risk either of them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

SinB paused mid-bite, meeting Sowon’s gaze evenly.

“Doesn’t matter either way, I’ve got Eunha’s back.”

“You don’t trust me.” Sowon looked a little pained. SinB looked away, putting down her food with a sigh.

“Look, I wanted to kill Yuju before, right after the imugi fell, because I was scared. I get it,” SinB let out a breath, closing her eyes. “But she’s been trying. Even I can see that. She still scares the out of me and I can’t help that, but Eunha trusts her, and I trust my best friend. Even if she’s kind of an idiot in love sometimes…”

“Eunha’s judgement is extremely impaired right now, you know,” Sowon interjected wryly. “Her memories of the past are messing her up, and Yuju isn’t the Yuna we knew before.” Sowon shook her head.

“I would trust Yuna with my life, but Yuju...she’s a lot colder than Yuna ever was. They might do the same things, but something’s missing in Yuju’s eyes. I can’t guarantee that she wouldn’t cross the line, and Eunha was right next to her then… you were right there too. I couldn’t risk it.”

“You didn’t trust Eunha enough either,” SinB retorted, holding up a hand when Sowon made to protest. “Look, I know she’s a fool with how she’s still in love with someone who’s totally in love with someone else. You’ve talked to her, I’ve talked to her, but no luck changing her mind there.” SinB sighed, looking down at the floor.

“But if Yuju was really way past the point of redemption, Eunha would have stopped her. I saw it in her eyes. It would have hurt her, but she would have done it. You just didn’t trust her to do it.”

“I couldn’t have done it, if it were you.” Sowon said quietly, making SinB look back up with some surprise. Sowon smiled sadly. 

“I was always too soft on you, past and present.”

SinB stared at her, processing her words. Cautiously, the gunslinger finally asked the question that had been bothering her for a while.

“What was I like, in the past life?” What was I to you then?

Sowon bit her lip, swallowing nervously at the question. SinB was looking at her earnestly, her question sincere and untainted by any negativity. That meant that Eunha hadn’t said anything iffy at least. That thought spurred a chuckle from her; SinB had been right, she didn’t quite trust Eunha fully, even in this. 

“You were incredibly annoying back then, always ready for a fight and ignoring my orders whenever you felt like it.” Sowon started slowly, a wry grin on her face. “Not all that different from now, but now at least you actually listen.”

“I didn’t sign up for this,” SinB grumbled, and Sowon reached over to ruffle her hair fondly.

“That’s all in the past though. It doesn’t matter now.” That’s a lie, a little voice in Sowon’s head whispered at her. You know you haven’t forgotten.

And I won’t forget, because I can tell the difference between them, Sowon argued back internally, the hand resting on her knee tightening its grip there. Hwang Eunbi isn’t SinB, and she’s dead and gone. She can’t hurt me anymore.

The answering silence in her head hovered on the edge of mockery, and only a touch on Sowon’s wrist called her back into reality. SinB looked concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Sowon tried to put on a brave smile, but she knew that it was just on the edge of a lie. How was she going to break it to SinB though? Actually you look identical to the girl I was sleeping with during the war and she broke my heart, but you’re a lot nicer so I’m not exactly making you a replacement for her? Does it count as a replacement if you’re her reincarnation?

That sounded bad even in her own head. SinB wasn’t even anything like her past incarnation, apart from their looks. And even before she had regained her memories of the past life, Sowon had already been growing attached to the young gunslinger, though she hadn’t quite considered developing the relationship any further at the time. 

The age difference lay like a yawning chasm between them, and though SinB didn’t seem to be bothered by it, Sowon was always aware of it, and it made her just this side of uncomfortable at times. Even without the past life being a factor, it was hard for Sowon to put aside the fact that she was in fact old enough to be SinB’s grandmother, and even if you discounted the time she spent asleep in her magical coma, it still put her firmly in ‘mom’ category. 

Sowon was a woman of principle, and it was that which kept her from accepting SinB’s advances all this time. Even though they have just managed to progress to a somewhat ambiguous relationship status now, a lot of that hesitation actually stemmed from Sowon’s vague guilt that she might be robbing the cradle. The addition of her past memories simply served to complicate things. 

Sowon didn’t want to treat SinB like a replacement. SinB deserved better than that. Her dalliance with Hwang Eunbi had been mostly physical to begin with, a distraction from the stresses of the war. She had just been the fool who was silly enough to lose her heart in the process. They had promised each other nothing, though Sowon thought that even the rebellious Hwang had begun to soften around the edges for her towards the end. 

If they had both survived the war, perhaps it might even have gone somewhere? Sowon couldn’t know, and it was still a thorn in her side. Looking at SinB’s face, with her less jaded attitude and more playful character, it was like looking at a less damaged Hwang Eunbi, before life took everything away from her. 

As Eunha had mentioned previously, it was a chance to start fresh. Sowon had accepted that advice then, if somewhat hesitantly. But it still felt too much like cheating to her. It wasn’t fair that she was still trying to process what happened in the past, and also trying to move forward on this. Sowon felt like she was not being fully honest with SinB, and that was one hurdle she couldn’t clear on her own.

SinB has a right to know. To Sowon’s straightforward mind, that would be the easiest and most direct way to deal with the matter. But when push came to shove, she had hesitated. There never seemed to be the right moment to get into things, and then events began to shove them from one situation to another, leaving Sowon unable to find a good moment to come clean about the past. 

Holding on to it just made her feel guiltier, and the whole situation surrounding Yuju just served to increase the tensions between them. Despite herself, Sowon didn’t actually want to let go of SinB, and her desire to come clean about the past had a great deal of shifting the burden of choice onto SinB as well, which made her feel even worse about the whole affair. 

As the older one in this, Sowon felt like she should have a better grip on things, but it didn’t seem like she could. She couldn’t fully move on from the past, and that kept her from progressing in the present with SinB. The leader chuckled bitterly. Perhaps she had no right to criticize Eunha over being unable to move on from Yuna at all. Wasn’t she doing the exact same thing here in the end?

“Sowon.” SinB’s voice was low but clear, her food forgotten before her. The gunslinger looked concerned, her face serious. “Look, I know I might just seem like a kid to you, but I’ll listen if you need to tell me anything. Even if I can’t do much.”

Sowon reached forward, taking SinB’s hand in her own, squeezing it briefly. There was a moment of silence, the leader gathering her thoughts while SinB waited patiently. After a moment that felt like an eternity, Sowon raised her head, her lone eye b with emotion.

“SinB, I-”

And yet, once again, the moment was denied them as Umji burst in, having also relocated to the shelter after they had moved Yuju over to this new location. The hacker blinked briefly at the joined hands, perhaps sensing that she had interrupted something, but the urgency of what she had to convey took precedence as she quickly shook off her awkwardness, the words rolling off her lips rapidly.

“I just got an incoming transmission from Yerin. Something’s going on.”

“From Yerin?” Sowon was the first to recover, though she didn’t loosen her grip on SinB. “How?”

“She swiped one of my datachips when I wasn’t looking. They’re keyed to me, so I know when they’re activated...and she knows that.” Umji seemed distracted, absorbed in thought as her mind wandered off to multitask into other things at the same time. Sowon in a breath, patting SinB reassuringly on the wrist before she finally let go, hopping lightly to her feet as she dusted herself off. 

“Do you know what she’s doing?” Sowon had shifted to commander mode, her tone crisp and shoulders squared, as if the vulnerable woman she had been only a minute ago was just an illusion. Behind her, SinB had also stood up, a conflicted gaze in her eyes. Sowon had never felt closer and more distant to her at the same time, and while SinB knew the woman hadn’t meant to snub her, it was still frustrating how close they had been to having a moment. 

SinB didn’t know what Sowon had intended on telling her, but instinct suggested it was probably important. At least Sowon was finally willing to open up though, and SinB was willing to wait this time. Whatever was going on with Yerin was clearly important, and SinB was equally curious about that situation. It was a fair distraction from the Yuju situation right now, and it would keep her from worrying over Eunha’s condition. 

“I...I’m not sure.” Umji sounded hesitant, even nervous. Her large, dark eyes quavered as she locked gazes with Sowon, uncertainty writ large in them.

“Everything’s encrypted, and the location signal is muddled. I can track it down, but it’ll take time.” Umji shook her head from side to side furiously, as if trying to force herself to focus. Her hands were shaking, and Sowon quickly stepped forward to enfold her into a hug.

“Take it easy, I’m here.” The leader assured in a motherly tone, Umji’s hair comfortingly. The hacker trembled in her arms.

“There was a message before the signal started transmitting.” Umji started hesitantly. “Voice only, but it was Yerin-unnie.”

Sowon tightened her grip, and even SinB stepped closer to listen. Umji swallowed, her gaze wavering over to the sealed door where Yuju and Eunha were.

“It’s easier if I just play it back.” Umji closed her eyes, tapping rapidly on a display projecting from her arm, pulling up the broken recording she had only just managed to salvage.

A static buzz rang through the room, before the crackling settled into Yerin’s distinctive tone, if somewhat hurried and a little warped by the poor quality of the audio.

Yerin here. Don’t have long. Static. Get what you can from the data, I’ll buy as much time as I can. A long pause, almost making them think that the message had cut off. Yerin’s voice was shaky when she restarted, even through the tinny sound of the recording. 

Nothing is what we thought it was. I can’t just let this go. Another heavy pause.

Don’t come for me. I’ll be back if I can. A deep breath. 

Tell Yuju I love her; always have, and always will.

It ended abruptly in static, and the trio exchanged worried glances. SinB was the first to break the silence.

“That...kinda sounded like she was saying her last words.”

“Don’t say that.” Sowon grimaced, patting Umji on the shoulder as the hacker trembled again. SinB scratched at her chin, considering.

“But this means she was always on our side, right? We can’t just leave her like that, can we?”

“We don’t even know where she is right now,” Sowon let out a frustrated breath. Umji stepped back out of Sowon’s embrace, firming her lips into a thin line.

“I’ll track the signal as fast as I can. We can’t just leave her, mom.” Umji looked very serious, the endearment slipping from her lips without thought. Sowon ruffled her hair fondly.

“Do what you think is best. I won’t leave her either.” Sowon’s face darkened, remembering how Yuju still lay in a coma behind the door now. She owed the shaman that much, by bringing her absent and probably endangered girlfriend back to her. It wouldn’t be enough to make up for almost killing the girl, but it was something. It was all she could think of doing, right now.

Umji nodded, her thoughts in sync with her mother figure. God only knows how tormented she had been over shooting Yuju this whole time, and hearing what sounded like a distress call from Yerin only cemented her need to make things right. Her eyes went distant as she began the arduous work of decoding the signal. 

In the meantime, SinB and Sowon exchanged resigned looks. Any personal matters would have to wait until the latest crisis was over. For now, all they could do was wait.

They could only hope that by that time, it wouldn’t be too late for them to do something about it.

Voices whispered in the distance, so near yet so far, as Eunha cautiously followed the struggling bird forward through a constantly shifting landscape. Ghosts of memory wisped into existence like flickering swamp lights, extinguishing itself whenever she tried to focus on any of them, but sometimes she even managed to catch glimpses of images filtered through Yuju’s eyes.

Some faces she recognized, and she even saw herself reflected in some of them, edged in different colours that signified the emotions and impressions the owner of those memories had attached to them. Eunha barely had time to process most of it; there were so many, and only so briefly in sight. Capsules of moments in time, flashing through the corridors of memory not unlike synapses firing through physical nerves.

Eunha had never been in so deep. Here, she felt as if she was surrounded by Yuju, the deeply familiar sense of the shaman’s presence enveloping her. Which made sense, since she was walking the corridors of her soul. If the need hadn’t been so urgent, Eunha would have slowed to explore the place better, but something tugged at her from deep within, a dark feeling that seemed to stir from beneath the surface. Everything was not as it seemed here, and Eunha was worried.

The background seemed to blur again, a common enough occurrence in the time she spent in here. Eunha had lost track of time entirely in this mental space. It could have been five minutes, or five hours. She couldn’t be sure. Only the familiar presence of Yuju all around grounded her, keeping her from getting lost. It was a constant reminder to push on, to find the source of the trouble. Yuju was lost within herself, and Eunha would find her again, whatever it takes.

The sound of her footsteps seemed in time with the thumping of her own heart, a phantom beat that shouldn’t exist in her bodiless state, but the habits of embodiment persisted even on the astral plane. Eunha noticed immediately when the hollow sound of her steps suddenly shifted, her feet striking something that felt more solid and real, rather than the woven dreamscape she had been walking through for an undefined amount of time.

Eunha stopped, breath hitching in as the sights around her solidified into something familiar, somewhere that shouldn’t exist anymore. The leaves underneath her feet even smelled wet and moldy, a scent she had not remembered in ages. The mage did not dare to look down at herself, afraid of what she would see.

She was not Jung Eunbi, but she had walked in those footsteps once. The full moon above the treescape was heavy in those memories, a pale light that left the forest in blurred shades of grey. It made the place seemed vaguely unreal, but Eunha knew this place. This was Gyeongju, before everything had gone wrong, on the first night they had started staking out the place. 

A tall shadow moved out from behind a tree, and Eunha’s vision blurred with unshed tears as the familiar silhouette of Lance Corporal Choi Yuna came into view, a welcoming smile on her face. Before she could even think better of it, Eunha had launched herself at that figure, drawing a small ‘oof’ from Yuna, who caught her easily and drew her close into a tight embrace.

“Missed me that much?” That voice was playful and teasing, and Eunha buried her face into this phantom Yuna’s chest, inhaling greedily a scent she didn’t think she would experience again. 

It had to be a phantom, but it still felt so real. Smelled the same, even down to the same warmth. Just for a little while, Eunha told herself, burrowing deeper into the ghost’s arms, closing her eyes. Let me pretend this is real, just for a bit.

Why pretend when it could be real?

It felt like her own voice, except it wasn’t. Eunha stiffened, a chill running down her spine. She was not alone in this place, and couldn’t let her guard down. The joy of reliving an old memory had almost overtaken her for a moment, but Eunha had not forgotten her purpose, not quite.

Struggling out of the phantom Yuna’s embrace, Eunha stared up at into confused puppy eyes, as if the fire mage had done something uncharacteristic by refusing to continue the hug. The semi-frown between those eyes made Eunha want to step forward to smooth it away, kiss it better and reassure the girl that she still loved her, but right now, she couldn’t even be sure what this was.

Choi Yuna was dead, bled out in her arms fifty years ago. Whatever this was, it was just a memory at best. Not real, Eunha repeated fervently to herself, though tightened from repressed emotions. It’s just an illusion.

“Who are you?” Eunha took a step back, guard up. Memory-Yuna cocked her head in confusion.

“Eunha, what’s wrong?”

Eunha bit her lip, fingers digging into her palm. She stared at the phantom, fixing it in her memory, desperately wanting it to be real, but knowing it was not.

“If you were really Yuna, you would not address me by that name.” Eunha in a breath, fire flickering from her fingertips as she held a hand palm-up before her. “No more tricks, spirit.”

A tiny sigh from the Yuna who was not, a helpless shrug as the expression on its face stilled into neutrality. It held out its hands, spreading it out as its lips pursed in thought.

“I thought this was what you wanted? I saw it, you know. You are open here, in this place. I can see your heart.” 

“Stop wearing her face,” Eunha growled, gritting her teeth. “Don’t you dare dishonour her memory like this.”

Another shrug, and a reddish tint colored not-Yuna’s form, lending a vaguely menacing aura to the face from her memory. It was the same face still, but harder now, closer to Yuju in this lifetime; the Spider then, as it had introduced itself before, in the slums.

“You are so odd,” the Spider complained, pacing around Eunha as the mage turned with every move it made, alert for any signs of danger. “I see two sets of memories in you. You want so much, and so little at the same time.” The Spider cocked its head.

“But you are strong. I know everything you have done, and I am grateful.” A pause.

“There is so much I could not do, not like this.” The Spider held up an arm, and Eunha thought she could see right through it, as if it were somehow transparent. The Spider lowered its arm, locking gazes with a still-wary Eunha.

“You want her safe, and this much I can tell you: I do too.”

Eunha’s eyes narrowed. “You lie. If that is what you want, you will leave her alone. She doesn’t need this.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” The Spider admits almost cheerfully. “But I need her, and you weren’t the only one keeping her together when her soul almost dissipated. More than anyone else, I need her well. I never wanted her to be hurt.”

“You’re leeching off her! She can’t get better because you’re there!” Eunha almost spat. Flames rose in intensity all around the mage, her rage barely controlled. “I should just burn you out of existence so you stop hurting her.”

“I was there from the start, protecting her all this time. Where were you then?” The Spider sneered, crossing its arms haughtily. “You understand nothing. She would never have made it out without me. I made it possible. I set her free.”

“What are you even talking about?” Eunha stared at the spirit, unease rising within her. The Spider snapped its fingers, the scenery around them shifting from forest to metal in a split second. The red outlining the Spider’s form seemed more stark against a background of steel and concrete, and the borrowed face seemed to be hooded in shadow somehow. A cold chuckle, almost a hiss in the dark, as it gestured to the room ahead.

“Come and see then.”

The docks still buzzed with activity this late in the afternoon, and Yerin was more than a little relieved when her target location finally came within view. Getting harassed by local gangs as they took the shortest route was perhaps more trouble than it was worth, but Yerin was short on patience and trigger happy when she was in such a mood. She may have left a few corpses behind during negotiations for passage, but the point was that they made it out with little fuss.

Daylight was short this deep into winter, and the light was fading even as they pulled to a halt at the unloading bay after going through the routine security checks. A harried staffer frowned as he came up to inspect their hard won cargo, looking slightly nervous around the bloodied and blacksuited that came with it. 

Yerin was the only one who went unmasked among the squad she commanded, and the man turned to her, clearly less unnerved by the one person who actually had a face to look at. 

“You’re late, this shipment should have been here hours ago!”

“Had a few bumps during retrieval,” Yerin replied smoothly. “The original crew couldn’t make it.”

The clearly overworked employee grumbled under his breath as he checked off the manifest to make sure the container numbers tallied, something about being “behind production schedule” and “understaffing”. After he was done, he turned back to Yerin, waving his free arm impatiently.

“Well, your ID is cleared to bring the goods in. Try and keep up, will you? We’re already terribly behind on this week’s quota.”

Yerin blinked briefly, remembering how the employee had run a quick retinal and thumb scan on her to verify her identity earlier. At least someone at HQ had apparently greenlighted her access after they had reported the successful retrieval earlier. Unusually efficient for the corporate machine, truth be told. She was far more used to having administrative access being held up at multiple points thanks to any number of complications.

Getting over her surprise quickly, she motioned to her team to help move the heavy containers to the cargo lift in the warehouse, lending a shoulder to one of the crews to keep things moving. The grumpy employee, a full head shorter than Yerin and clearly in a rush, waved off the warehouse jockeys on the unloading bay, but nodded at Yerin and her team as an indication for them to stay. 

Yerin had started with a squad of thirteen in the morning, and was down to eight at the current time. The cargo lift was a massive square platform, but still managed to feel cramped with the addition of more than a dozen of the steel containers they had been ordered to . Even without her orders, her team had spaced themselves out evenly, weapons ready, despite them being on home ground. Well trained, if she should say so herself.

The grumpy employee punched an access code rapidly on the control deck, swiping his card after the sequence with a grunt, and the platform jerked into motion, lurching downwards with a stomach-dropping suddenness that made Yerin swallow nervously, though she kept her face neutral. 

The numbers on the floor indicator went rapidly from Ground to straight past the first five basement levels, and then after a brief pause, continued descending with a great grinding of gears, past the indicated lowest level on the floor indicator. Yerin narrowed her eyes, one hand slipping to where her knives were hidden. 

A secret facility then. Why did it not surprise her? Tristar was built on so many secrets. What did surprise her was that she was allowed access where other regular employees were left on the surface levels. Yerin had little illusion about just how much she was trusted within the organization right now, and even if she was being valued as an asset, the shadow of her presumed defection still hung over her. The official explanation that she had been on a deep cover mission was just an excuse, and anyone who knew anything knew it. 

But she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Keeping her head down and her eyes and ears wide open was the best course of action. Every crumb she picked up could prove crucial, even if she didn’t realize it right away. Information always provided leverage, when applied in the correct context. 

The lift doors parted with a pneumatic hiss as they finally arrived at their destination, and this time the employee didn’t even need to open his mouth before Yerin motioned her team to get a move on with the cargo. There was a satisfied huff from the bespectacled man, and he moved to one side to allow the welcoming crew from the underground facility to assist with the handover.

Loading everything onto the rolling transports took the better part of ten minutes, and Yerin was rather insistent about making sure that she follow them until the cargo was safely deposited. She might have pulled a few of her usual charms on the middle-aged man, but the wild magic surrounding her didn’t need much to get him wrapped around her little finger. 

Guile came naturally to her, subtly reinforced by the illusions surrounding her face and form. She left one of her team temporarily in charge and told them to wait at the holding area, though her clever ruse to follow the shipment in might have stalled before it started if she didn’t personally have the clearance to enter. 

As it turned out, she did, which made it a moot point, and the grumpy employee seemed to shake off some of his lovestruck behaviour after reconfirming Yerin’s clearance levels with the local database at the main entrance. 

Yerin caught a glimpse of the access rights as she passed through the door filter, and her jaw tightened briefly at the sight. She hadn’t seen those clearance levels since before her defection, back when she was still a trusted agent and one of the elite. Surely something is wrong here? I’m pretty sure I’ve been downgraded since then.

Then again, she wasn’t about to complain about gaining entry into a secret facility this way, though the featureless grey hallways that yawned ahead of them sparked a vague unease within the assassin. All the doors were unmarked, almost blending in with the wall, the faintest outline of light indicating their presence. 

Their steps were just audible over the rolling wheels of the transports, a hollow echo that seemed to strike a discordant note in Yerin’s memories. She blinked briefly as an image flashed before her eyes, the ghost of tiny feet running through similar hallways once upon a time. 

The illusion vanished as quickly as it came, and Yerin shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Something about this place creeped her out, making the hairs on her arms stand on end the further she went. She was always mildly sensitive to magical activity, an ability that only grew ever since her Bond with Yuju. Her skin was crawling in this place, and something akin to dread clawed at her insides as they pressed inwards. 

Something felt twisted and wrong about this whole place, but Yerin couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It smelled clean enough, as hospitals and morgues were clean with disinfectant. Not a speck of dust anywhere, and there wasn’t even any screaming. But she still felt jumpy and unsettled, and Yerin wasn’t one to ignore her instincts. Her entire body was on edge, and already she was planning to slip away to get a good poke around at the first opportunity. She had already memorized their route in at the very least, so she could leave on her own at any time.

The walk seemed interminable, but they finally got to the final wall, and it shimmered away after verifying the ID presented by the employee in the lead, revealing a vast factory-like compound churning away beneath the walkway they stepped onto. 

It took all of Yerin’s training to keep her expression steady, though her fists subtly tightened as she took in the sight before her. Her lips thinned into a pale line as she watched white coated technicians unlock the shipment she had brought them.

People. The cargo was people, cryogenically frozen like so much merchandise. And that wasn’t even the worst of it. 

Row after row of clear pods, marked with ritualistic symbols, all of which lined the main floor of the compound. None of them were empty, and the technicians were prepping the latest shipment for transfer into the furthest row where empty pods lay open and ready. 

The low hum of magical activity made a cold shiver run down Yerin’s spine, the atmosphere suffocating to her senses. One of her fingers twitched, digging into her skin as she zeroed in on the clear glass chambers standing upright like lightning rods amidst the stacked pods.

It should come as no surprise by now that those canisters also contained people suspended in a clear fluid, with arcane symbols tattooed all over their bodies. Helmets with tubes extending out were bolted over their heads, and energy flowed in from the pods towards these centralized vessels, thrumming like a live heartbeat that made Yerin’s hair stand on end.

What got her attention though, were those tattoos. She had seen a prototype of those tattoos before. Rougher, more unfinished-looking, and nowhere near as detailed as the ones here. 

Joy, what did they do to you? Yerin felt like she couldn’t breathe. Secret projects, Joy getting called away, growing more erratic over time, barely hidden paranoia flashing in her eyes. The long sleeves she took to wearing, even in the dead of summer. How could they have missed it? Why had they never asked?

Whatever had been done to her best friend, it had continued on, even after her death. The results lay before her eyes, though to what purpose, Yerin could not know. It made her sick to her stomach, realizing that Joy had just been one more sacrifice for the purpose of this project, whatever it was. 

“We’re still behind schedule, even with the new units you just delivered,” the bespectacled employee standing next to her seemed busy with his handheld tablet, more interested in the graphs and charts on his screen, as if what he was talking about was pure data, and not real living human beings. He sounded almost wheedling as he turned to face the stony faced Yerin, taking her evident displeasure as a criticism of their work efficiency.

“I hope you can put in a good word with the Director, we’re terribly short of resources right now. We’re trying our best to meet the quota, but we could use an extension past next week…” 

Yerin wanted to deck him in his pudgy little face, but controlled herself with some effort. Whatever misunderstanding brought him to believe that she reported directly to the Director, she wasn’t about to disabuse him of it any time soon. 

Allowing herself one last glance at the blood-boiling sight before her, Yerin clamped down on her temper and put on the disinterested face of a superior making a surprise inspection. This was an unexpected opportunity, and she was going to make the most of it. 

“Let me review your progress and I’ll consider it.” Her tone was cold, appropriately dismissive without being heavy-handed about it. It was calculated to draw the exact reaction she wanted, which was for him to bring her to a terminal where she could access the local database.

The bespectacled man rattled off more numbers and technical terms as they left the production floor, with Yerin nodding grimly and pretending she understood whatever he was talking about. It took a little persuasion on her part to make him leave her alone while she “caught up with the data”, and it took a well placed glare to frighten him off so she could have a little privacy. 

Taking a deep breath, Yerin steadied herself as she placed a palm on the touchpad, holding her breath to see if her instinct regarding her access rights held true. 

She was not disappointed. It was with a certain bitter resentment when her old identification number and rank flashed onto the screen, along with all the access rights and privileges that came with it. She had earned every single one of those rights, as a weapon in service to Tristar for most of her life. 

Those rights had been suspended after she had been mislabelled as Killed In Action years ago, and quite handily revoked after HQ discovered her continued existence. At least, she no longer had the same rank nor rights in the main database.

That didn’t hold true here, which implied that the local data node was delinked from the central permissions server, and functioned independently. The access rights stored here were at least three years outdated, but Yerin was thankful for it. She couldn’t have accessed anything if it were otherwise.

Wasting no time, Yerin started navigating the system to try and figure out the purpose of this facility. She still remembered vividly Joy’s descent into madness and paranoia, culminating in her slaughter of the unit she had been embedded in, and going rogue. The assassin had a sick feeling that her best friend’s rebellion had deeper reasons, and Joy did try to recruit her when she was sent to retrieve her. 

But I rejected her. I thought she was unwell, thought she needed help. I wanted to bring her in, make sure she was okay…

But you killed her in the end. A good little soldier. A backstabbing traitor.

Yerin wiped at her eyes furiously at the memory. The guilt was overwhelming, even now. She desperately wanted to understand what went wrong. Answers lay within this place, and she was going to find them. 

There was a link from her own ID, and she started there. It opened into a detailed breakdown of her physiological data and psychological profile, to a degree that made her feel deeply uncomfortable. It was vaguely dehumanizing somehow, to be reduced to mere words and numbers on a page. As if she were some kind of mechanical toy to be broken down and disassembled at their pleasure. 

Yerin pressed her lips together, speed-reading with a grim focus. They had always kept a dossier on her, as she expected, and there was more recorded here than she actually remembered happening. Because of course they would have messed with her memory. All of them had spent uncountable hours in Psych Ops. It was a miracle she had come out more or less intact after all that.

It was little more than a footnote in the very long laundry list of upgrades she had been given over the years. One of the earliest, judging from how far back it was. Circuit enhancement, it read. Fat lot of help that is.  

What primarily got her attention was the note tagged next to it, and she clicked in, a nervous anticipation thrumming through her veins. 

Potential Project ARIA candidate. Enhancement approved. Operation scheduled as per recommendation.

Below it, a big red FAIL sign underneath the operation details. Unstable zeta readings, fluctuations beyond recommended boundaries. More observation required.

The comments were secondary. Yerin was trained to recognize usable keywords, and this Project ARIA seemed like a good place to start. She typed in the keyword, and waited.

A whole list of related topics, spanning many pages. Clicking into one randomly, Yerin’s eyes widened as it opened into a research diary, complete with video. 

It was titled Experimental Circuit Research #37, but that was hardly the first detail Yerin noticed. She barely took in the impersonal voice narrating the steps of the procedure they were trying that day, zooming in instead on the terrified eyes of the little girl strapped to the table, the focus of the experiment. 

I know you. Tears welled up in her eyes, her hands gripping the edges of the table so hard that it felt like it might just break off. Clear eyes, and the familiar outlines of a youthful face years away from its full potential. Curves and edges she had traced with her lips and fingers years after this moment, frozen in time; but it was the eyes that captivated her, more than anything else. Always had, from the very beginning.

Yuju. A finger traced the screen, pausing at the eyes that haunted her dreams. My angel.

How could I have forgotten? Horror and fury both warred within her, as scalpels cut new grooves into tender flesh, the narration a sick recap of the purpose and process. I should have taken her away sooner. I left her behind. To this.

Yerin clapped a hand to to keep from crying out, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from reddening as the tears overflowed. Forced herself to watch, all the way to the end, the torture that never ended, because little Yuju healed with ridiculous efficiacy, allowing the maniacs in charge to try different things with little care for the trauma they caused. 

More than one report, countless days, pain inflicted in the name of what they called “science”. Clear eyes that slowly dulled into despair over the years, growing numb to the neverending torture. Yerin was going to be sick. She was going to kill every single person involved in this. They had to pay for what they have done.

There was too much related material. Too much for her to go through, in the limited time she had. So much had been done to Yuju over the years, and Yerin couldn’t be sure if any of it had lasting side effects. The girl had obviously broken out at some point, early enough that they didn’t recognize her anymore as an adult, but it was still too many years spent in their custody.

It was all too much to bear. Yerin ground her teeth together, making her decision. 

She was going to burn all of this down. Every last one of it, and trash the database while she was at it. But before that, she had to send a message. And make a copy of all the data related to Yuju. Something in there had to be important, but she didn’t have the time nor training to filter through it. 

I will do what needs to be done.

For Yuju, for Joy; for herself even, and everyone else who had suffered through this program. No more. This ends here.

Everything had to go. She would make sure of it, even if it were the last thing she did. 

I love you, Yuju. Always have, and always will.  

She jammed the datachip into a less visible port, typing the commands Umji had taught her before. It would take some time to copy and transmit the relevant files, but she needed time to carry out the rest of her sabotage anyway. A savage grimace stretched her smirk into something vaguely wolfish, as she prepared herself for the work ahead.

Nothing and no one was safe from her tonight. She would make them bleed.

They would pay for what they had done. Tonight, she would be vengeance incarnate. 

I will end it all, with my own two hands.

And neither God nor Man was going to stop her.