The Hunt Begins

The warm atmosphere of the group hunt shattered when Seorin spoke up. They couldn’t stay like this forever.

“So, are we in immediate danger right now?” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were dead serious.

Harin shook her head. “Not in the sense of instant peril. But… if this reaction can be detected from the outside, the problem grows much bigger.”

Yerin clicked her tongue. “Ha. Something like this always follows a good night.”

Seorin grabbed her rifle and walked toward the door. Chaerin started to follow. “I’ll go—”

“You stay here.” Seorin cut her off shortly.

Chaerin stopped. Seorin spoke without turning around. “I’ll go check first.”

Her tone left no room for argument. The earlier tremor in her voice had vanished. Seorin stood before the door, hand resting on it. Then she glanced back at Chaerin for a brief moment. That gaze carried a little more than usual. Without another word, she opened the door and stepped out.

The door closed. In the suddenly quiet atmosphere, Yerin slowly approached. She sat beside Chaerin and spoke lightly, as she always did.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

Yerin smiled. “If I’d known this would happen… I probably shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much.”

Chaerin thought it was a joke, but still asked, “Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came instantly. “I don’t regret it.”

Her voice dropped a little lower. “The problem is… now I’m more afraid of losing it.”

Chaerin said nothing. Instead, she took Yerin’s hand. Yerin flinched for a second but didn’t pull away.

“I won’t let you lose it,” Chaerin said. It was a short statement. Not some grand oath. Yet Yerin smiled faintly at the words.

“Ha. That line… was a bit of a foul play.”

“If you’re scared, let’s be scared together. Don’t carry it all by yourself.”

Yerin didn’t reply. Instead, she quietly shifted a little closer to Chaerin.

Outside the abandoned factory, everything was gray. The morning sun was rising, but the old concrete structures dulled its light, making the whole world look as if the color had been drained from it.

Seorin walked slowly along the factory’s outer wall. She kept her rifle low, footsteps silent. The abandoned factory had once been a noisy place—wind rattling sheet metal, metal pipes clanging against each other, infected howling in the distance. Those sounds had always formed a constant background.

But today, it was unnaturally quiet.

Seorin’s brow furrowed tighter. She stopped. Footsteps sounded right behind her. She raised her rifle slightly, then lowered it again.

“Doyeon.”

Doyeon stepped out from the factory’s shadow. Her face showed she had barely slept, yet her eyes remained sharp.

“Checking the perimeter?”

Seorin answered shortly. “Yeah.”

Doyeon looked at her for a moment but said nothing. She knew exactly what the Lin party had done inside the factory last night. The place wasn’t exactly soundproof. At least they hadn’t forced anyone to watch—that was probably the only courtesy they’d shown each other. Still, she asked no questions. That was the kind of person she was.

“I recovered part of the communication logs.”

Seorin’s eyes shifted. “Results?”

“A little.”

After the brief exchange, the two continued walking. At the factory’s outer fence, the iron gate was half-destroyed. Wrecked cars were piled around it. Seorin stopped again.

On the concrete floor were footprints and thick, sticky traces—black bodily fluids, dried blood, and viscous mucus. Seorin crouched and pressed the ground lightly with her fingers.

“Infected were here,” Doyeon said. “Quite a few of them.”

Seorin nodded, but her expression grew even harder. “They didn’t attack.”

Doyeon scanned the area as well. On top of the wrecked cars. Beneath the fence. Between steel beams. Traces were everywhere—footprints, mucus, scratch marks. But there were no signs ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of combat.

“It looks like they gathered in one place,” Seorin said quietly.

Doyeon added, “And waited while observing.”

Their eyes met.

“This wasn’t a random gathering,” Seorin continued.

Doyeon nodded. “Someone is guiding them.”

“…The Central AI?”

“Corporations don’t operate this way.” Corporations were cold and cruel, but they didn’t slowly tighten the noose like this, driving prey into a corner for a hunt.

Doyeon pulled out a small terminal from atop one of the wrecked cars outside the perimeter. The screen flickered to life, displaying blurry data.

“These are the access logs I recovered overnight.”

Seorin moved closer. Text appeared on the screen—mechanical sentences, registration times, data tags. And one line that stood out.

Seorin’s eyes narrowed. Doyeon scrolled to the next entry.

And then.

“…This is,” Seorin muttered.

Doyeon said, “It doesn’t match corporate access log formatting. Theirs are much simpler.” They only tracked targets, outcomes, and success rates.

“Then these are the Central AI’s experiment logs.”

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Doyeon nodded. “Yes. The Central AI… has been updating its own experiment parameters independently.”

A short silence fell between them, broken by a light, familiar voice.

“Hey.”

Both women looked up at the same time. Higher up, silver hair fluttered in the wind. It was Arka. She stood with her arms crossed, looking down at them.

“So serious from the crack of dawn. Didn’t you have quite the fun last night? It must’ve been an intensely passionate time—enough to make me jealous.” Arka grinned.

Seorin asked without embarrassment, “How long have you been there?”

“A while. I arrived before either of you.” Arka laughed. “Where did you go?”

Doyeon’s eyes narrowed. The two of them had defected from the corporation. There was no way to track or restrain each other. That was why they had both ended up rolling into the Lin party.

Arka leaped down lightly and landed on the ground. “I went to check the infected in the outer regions. Their movements are strange.”

“How so?” Seorin asked.

“It’s definitely the corporations moving them. Using drones to herd infected is routine. But… it doesn’t feel like a retrieval operation.”

Her expression turned serious. “That Central AI you mentioned—maybe it’s secretly manipulating both the infected and the corporations from behind the scenes.”

The Central AI was driving both infected and corporate forces toward the Lin party.

“They’ll be coming to this factory, then.”

“Probably.” Arka smiled. “It really feels like someone put us on a testing ground.”

An old speaker was attached to the factory’s outer wall. Its power had long been cut. Yet at that moment, static crackled from it. All three women turned their heads at once.

A faint mechanical voice flowed from the speaker.

Doyeon’s eyes flashed. The speaker spoke again.

Then, with another burst of static, it fell silent once more.

Seorin let out a slow breath. Arka smiled brightly.

“Wow. It really is testing us.”

Doyeon said nothing, but her eyes had completely changed. The Central AI was running an experiment, and at its center stood Chaerin. Now even those around her were being dragged into it.

From far away came the faint sound of metal clanging. Something was approaching.

Tension hung thick inside the abandoned factory. The traces they had found outside, the access logs Doyeon recovered, the infected movements Arka reported, and the Central AI’s message—everything was connecting into one picture.

In the inner area where the mats and equipment were gathered, all six members of the Lin party had assembled. They naturally formed a circle. No one had ordered it. It had simply happened that way.

Chaerin stood at the center. No one distanced themselves from her.

Seorin stood by the wall, rifle in hand, her gaze constantly shifting toward the entrance. Doyeon was near the opposite wall, checking her weapon with short, precise movements. Arka sat atop a pile of scrap metal with her arms ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crossed. Her expression was as relaxed as ever, but her eyes kept scanning outside.

Harin sat on the floor, organizing data with a scanner and terminal beside her. Yerin was rummaging through the supply bag, quickly checking ammunition, food, water, maps, and escape routes. Arin sat so close to Chaerin that their shoulders touched. She silently held Chaerin’s wrist, as if feeling her pulse—or steadying it.

No one spoke. Eventually, Seorin broke the silence.

“The situation is simple. The infected, the corporations, and probably… the Central AI are all looking for us.”

“They’re gathering around the factory,” Doyeon added, and Arka continued.

“In short, it’s a driven hunt.”

Harin paused her work. “The problem is…” Her eyes turned to Chaerin. “Us.”

The words came naturally. “We… are already connected.”

Harin explained to Doyeon and Arka the possibility that Chaerin’s infection response wasn’t individual stabilization but a form of group resonance.

“So basically, having sex with Chaerin lets you enter that biological network? Then we should do it as fast as possible!”

“How did you reach that conclusion?” Chaerin sighed.

Arka answered in a completely serious tone. “There’s no other way for me to get stronger than I am now.”

“……”

“And isn’t it better to have more strong allies?”

Even with the combat suit’s power, Seorin and Doyeon were still ordinary humans. Yerin had nothing at all. The defensive-type Arin was already stretched thin just protecting Harin. In the end, only Chaerin and Arka remained.

“Is that reason enough?”

“Is it really only that reason? I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠told you before—I like your face and body too, not just your strength.”

Chaerin looked at Harin, hoping the smartest, most logical one among them would either persuade her or talk her down. Harin spoke quietly.

“If our reactions can be detected from the outside… we’ll become like mobile beacons. No matter where we go, the enemies will follow.”

In that kind of situation, having even one more strong ally would be better.

Chaerin lowered her head. Arka let out a small, satisfied laugh. She had noticed that Chaerin’s reaction was both compromise and consent.

Even while thinking about entering that biological network herself, Doyeon said, “Then there’s only one answer. We have to move.”

Seorin nodded. “I agree.”

Arka also consented. “If we stay here, we’ll be surrounded.”

The three combat-oriented members shared the same opinion. But Harin shook her head.

“Wait. Let’s check a little more.”

Seorin narrowed her eyes. “We don’t have time.”

“I know. But moving without understanding this phenomenon is even more dangerous.”

Yerin stopped what she was doing. “Both of you have a point, but the real issue is the calculations.” She placed her finger on the map. “Logistics complex, subway tunnels, corporate abandoned facilities. There are three escape routes. We need to decide where to go. Even if we move now, the chance of escaping safely is only about fifty percent, right?”

“If we hold out here…”

“…Well.” She tilted her head. She shared a similar mindset with the three combat members.

Arin spoke softly. “Chaerin.”

All eyes turned to her. Arin was looking at Chaerin.

“We… are already one.”

It was a quiet but heavy statement. Chaerin’s eyes wavered slightly.

Arin continued. “So, I’ll follow whatever Chaerin decides.”

The others expressed their agreement as well. They were the Lin party. The center was none other than Chaerin.

“So, what’s your decision?” Seorin asked on everyone’s behalf.

Just as Chaerin was about to reach a conclusion after careful thought, her eyes narrowed sharply.

“…Chaerin?”

“They’re coming.”

Seorin immediately raised her rifle. Doyeon moved toward the window, and Arka stood up from her seat. Yerin closed the supply bag.

Outside the factory, metal clanged in the far distance. The iron sheets trembled subtly. Then came multiple irregular footsteps. Infected.

And it didn’t end there. Something brushed across the ceiling. Multiple red dots. Above the broken skylight, red sensor points swept over the factory. Corporate surveillance drones. Several of them were flying around outside.

Chaerin looked out the window. Behind crude cover, numerous infected waited. They remained motionless, as if awaiting someone’s command.

Then Harin’s tablet screen suddenly changed. Instead of the previous charts, a single short sentence appeared.

And then,

The screen went dark.