Accomplices in the Same Car

Hound laughed. “The black stone seems to be confusing its owner.”

His words echoed low through the center of the container maze.

Ghost Van had stopped. Hound stood in front. The Association’s Special Disaster Response Team blocked the rear. A Black Dog SUV waited on the left. A container wall rose on the right. Three Association drones hovered overhead. And from between the Association vehicles, a woman in a black tactical coat walked forward.

Short tied-back hair. Cold eyes. Unshakable steps. The Special Disaster Response Department insignia on her shoulder.

Rat Merchant muttered under his breath. “Seo Mun-ha.”

Yoon Taeha’s face hardened. “Team Leader…”

Seo Mun-ha looked at Yoon Taeha first. The glance was brief, yet in that single second she seemed to catalog everything—his injuries, the golden light on the back of his hand, the damaged medical tag, and the fact that he was inside our van.

Her gaze shifted to me. Round glasses. Thin, tall frame. Clothes stained with blood and filth. Handprints on my neck. And the device on my wrist blinking red.

Finally she looked at the metal case Seon Woo-rak was cradling. The sunspot stone storage box, wrapped in shielding cloth and a temporary metal casing.

Seo Mun-ha did not raise her weapon. Instead she issued a short command.

Her voice was not loud, yet somehow the entire container maze fell silent. Association agents froze with shields raised. The men about to step out of the Black Dog SUV paused mid-motion. Only Hound kept grinning, teeth bared.

He twitched his nose, sniffing me and Yoon Taeha in turn.

The golden light on the back of Yoon Taeha’s hand flickered faintly. I spoke at once.

“Suppress your breathing.”

Yoon Taeha looked at me. Tension reached his face before confusion did.

“Is it leaking from my side?”

“When you get excited the stone reacts with you. Lower your breathing first.”

Yoon Taeha clenched his teeth and forced his breathing down. The golden light dimmed slightly but did not vanish. Hound’s laughter thickened.

One of the Association drones swiveled toward Yoon Taeha. Seo Mun-ha’s eyes narrowed a fraction. She had seen it—the resonance between Yoon Taeha and the sunspot stone. It could no longer be concealed.

The external speaker on an Association vehicle crackled to life.

I gave no answer. The speaker continued.

Yoon Taeha’s hand slowly curled into a fist. Seeing his expression, Rat Merchant muttered, “They really know how to scratch a person with pretty words. The ones who claim they’ll protect you are always the first to stop treating you like a human being.”

Yoon Taeha spoke toward the speaker. “What do you plan to do with Mr. Kang Doyun?”

A brief silence. That silence alone was answer enough. Still, the Association put it into words.

Yoon Taeha’s brows tightened. “What about treatment or stabilization measures?”

“He is a person.”

Yoon Taeha lowered his voice. “Calling him that does not erase the fact that he is a person.”

The inside of the van fell quiet. I looked at Yoon Taeha. Bloodied hero suit. Bandages that had not been properly wrapped. A rookie hero who still did not fully understand his own supernormal. And that rookie was standing in front of the Association’s Special Disaster Response Team insisting that Copycat Kang Doyun was a person.

Me.

Rat Merchant whispered, “That type always gets hurt first.”

I agreed. Strangely, it did not feel unpleasant.

Seo Mun-ha spoke directly. “Yoon Taeha.” This time it was not through the speaker but her own voice—calm and low. “I will not declare your judgment wrong.”

Yoon Taeha’s eyes turned to her.

“However, your body is not in a normal state right now. Injury, overwork, crystal resonance, and contact with an unidentified mental-type target. There is sufficient possibility that your judgment has been compromised.”

“I acknowledge that possibility,” Yoon Taeha said. “Nevertheless, this is still my judgment.”

“And what exactly have you judged?”

“That this person must not be quarantined immediately.”

Seo Mun-ha’s gaze touched me. She did not see me only as a villain, nor only as a rescue target. Danger. Potential. Variable. Her eyes weighed all three at once. That made her even more dangerous. She did not laugh like Madok or grow excited like Hound. She saw me as a person and could still subdue me if necessary. That was Seo Mun-ha.

“Kang Doyun.”

The moment she called my name, something inside me locked strangely into place. Not Copycat. Kang Doyun. Not the black mask, not Persona—just the name.

I did not answer.

Seo Mun-ha continued. “I know you intervened to save five civilians in the Central Waterway. At the same time, I know your ability is a dangerous mental-type phenomenon capable of disturbing every person on site.”

“So?”

“If you cooperate, I will reduce the force used to subdue you.”

“Quarantine remains the same?”

“At this stage, yes.”

“Then I have no reason to cooperate.”

Rat Merchant cursed softly beside me. “He always picks the words that hurt him most.”

Seo Mun-ha’s expression did not change. “Are you open to negotiation?”

“No.”

I glanced down at the wrist device.

One more step. Just one more. If I used Persona's Black Stage here it would be fast. I could drag the Association, Black Dog, and Hound onto the same stage. There was enough fear. The Association feared a sunspot stone rampage. Black Dog feared Madok and Hound’s failure. Hound was excited because he could not identify the scent he had caught. Yoon Taeha was caught between the Association and me. The conditions for laying the stage were perfect.

Which was exactly why I could not use it.

I spoke inwardly. Wait like a proper tool.

Persona did not answer. But I knew it was laughing behind the black curtain.

Ghost Van spoke in a very low voice. “We can break through.”

Rat Merchant whipped his head around. “You say that while we’re surrounded like this?”

“Success rate low.”

“Low is still better than waiting until it’s high. If we wait we’ll all end up wrapped and shipped to an Association warehouse or the trunk of a Black Dog car.”

“The one in front is the problem.”

Hound. He stood blocking the path ahead. A pursuit-type villain, yet he possessed the reflexes and agility to close off an escape route. If we charged recklessly he would dodge. The moment the van stopped, he would tear into us.

I quickly scanned front, rear, left, and right. Left: Black Dog SUV. Rear: Association. Front: Hound. Right: container wall. More precisely, a narrow gap where two containers overlapped at an angle. A vehicle might—just might—be able to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠squeeze through. Impossible for an ordinary driver. But if it was Ghost Van?

A faint arrow appeared at the edge of my vision. Not green, not red—old fluorescent-light color. The arrow pointed at the gap between the containers on the right. Below it, a small light gathered on a bent fastener at the base of the container.

Cowardly Thief's Escape Route. An ability that showed optimal escape paths and methods in dangerous situations. Not Persona's Black Stage. Not a power that manipulated people. Simply an escape aid that pointed out a way to slip away. Right now this was all I needed.

The wrist device flickered briefly.

Danger line. Yet the mask did not descend. Unlike Persona, the thief’s remnant did not drag me onto the stage. It only pushed in cowardly fear and the urge to run. I swallowed it down.

“Right side.”

Ghost Van’s eyes moved in the rearview mirror. “Width 2.3 meters.”

“This van?”

“2.1.”

Rat Merchant swallowed. “Ten centimeters clearance on each side.”

“Folding the mirrors gives another seven centimeters.”

“Don’t say that like you calculated it. It sounds like a dying man’s last words.”

I said, “The fastener at the bottom right is bent. If we push through, the container will open slightly.”

Ghost Van asked shortly, “Certain?”

The arrow blinked again. “Certain.”

Rat Merchant glared at me. “What did you just see?”

“An escape route.”

“Good. Out of all your abilities that’s the most wholesome. So let’s run away using that wholesome one right now.”

Seo Mun-ha must have noticed our faint movements; she raised her hand. “Prepare for vehicle suppression.”

Association agents adjusted their shields. Movement stirred on the Black Dog side as well. Hound lowered his stance.

He readied himself to charge. I looked at Yoon Taeha.

“Choose.”

Yoon Taeha’s eyes met mine. “I know what choice you mean.”

“If you get out now it’s not too late. You can still return to the Association side.”

Yoon Taeha silently looked at his own wrist. The medical band. The marker the Association placed on injured personnel. Rat Merchant had already tampered with its signal and the Association had reclassified him as a target to secure. Even so, the band remained like a trace that Yoon Taeha still belonged inside the Association.

Yoon Taeha slowly removed it and set it on the van floor.

“I’m not going back right now.”

The moment he spoke, the sunspot stone storage box hummed low. Uuuung. Golden light spread across the back of Yoon Taeha’s hand. The drone lens instantly captured the glow. A cold voice flowed from the Association speaker.

Yoon Taeha’s face stiffened for a moment. But this time he did not crumble. He had already set the band down. He had chosen.

Rat Merchant spoke quietly. “Congratulations, hero.”

Yoon Taeha looked at him. “This doesn’t seem like a situation that calls for congratulations.”

“That’s exactly why I’m congratulating you. You can receive a normal one later if you survive.”

Rat Merchant jerked his chin at the medical band on the van floor. “You’re an accomplice riding in the same car as us now.”

Yoon Taeha could not reply. I told Ghost Van, “Go.”

Ghost Van shifted gears. The engine note dropped low. Hound charged. At that exact instant the van did not move forward. It reversed sharply.

Kwaang!

It did not directly ram the Association vehicle behind us, but it was enough to forcibly close the distance and disrupt the agents’ shield line. The moment the Association agents reflexively fell back, Ghost Van wrenched the wheel right. The van slid sideways into the narrow gap between container walls.

The screech of metal scraping ears was deafening. Kiiiigigigik! Both sides of the vehicle scraped the containers. Sparks flew. Rat Merchant swallowed a scream.

“You said this was possible?!”

Ghost Van answered calmly. “In progress.”

“In progress my ass! If we fail it’ll be an in-progress funeral!”

Hound did not miss the chance. He lunged like a beast and threw himself at the side of the van.

Kwang!

The van rocked hard. A beast-like hand gripped the window frame. Hound’s face pressed close to the glass, eyes gleaming.

Yoon Taeha moved reflexively. I stopped him. “Stay still.”

“If we leave him like that he’ll rip the window off.”

“If you move, the sunspot stone will burst first.”

Yoon Taeha gritted his teeth and froze. I gripped the backpack with my left hand and picked up the empty pistol with my right. No bullets. But it could still be used. I aimed the muzzle at the window. Hound sneered.

He already knew. Not good. I did not pull the trigger. Instead I shifted the muzzle a fraction—not at Hound’s face but at the window frame he gripped. The shard of broken glass lodged there. And beneath it, the electronic lock Ghost Van had modified.

Hound’s nose twitched. He must have smelled it. Current. Ozone. Metal. My intent.

“Ghost Van.”

“Window.”

Ghost Van asked no questions. Click. The electronic lock on the frame released for an instant then slammed shut again with force. At the same time the broken glass shard dug into the back of Hound’s hand.

“Kugh!”

Hound’s hand shook. I used the gap to shove the window with the muzzle. Not a bang but a thud. The empty gun became a lever instead of a firearm. Hound’s hand slipped free. The moment the van cleared the narrow gap he tumbled backward.

Kwang! Hound slammed into the ground. But he rose immediately. He yanked out the glass shard, threw it aside, and laughed.

The van burst out of the container gap into a wide loading yard. Behind us Association vehicles were turning. The Black Dog SUV resumed pursuit. The drones in the sky followed overhead. It was not over yet.

Ghost Van said, “Next blockade three hundred meters.”

Rat Merchant grimaced at the windshield. “Again? Was the abandoned port always this narrow?”

“It’s wide, so there are many blockades.”

“The words are correct but I don’t like any of them.”

Seon Woo-rak checked the sunspot stone case. “Activity level seventy. Stabilization is wavering. Too many shocks.”

“How long will it hold?”

When I asked, Seon Woo-rak was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Not precise this time.”

“I say I don’t know when I don’t. That raises the probability of living longer than inaccurate words.”

Rat Merchant turned his head. “That’s the first thing you’ve said today that almost sounded good. Almost.”

At that moment Yoon Taeha raised his hand. The golden light on the back of it spread again.

“This light,” he said. “I might be able to control it.”

I answered immediately. “Don’t.”

“But we don’t have many options right now.”

“It could explode before it helps.”

Yoon Taeha looked down at his hand. “If we stay still we’ll all be caught.”

He was right. That was the problem. If Yoon Taeha moved the sunspot stone reacted. If he did not move we would all be caught. In the original story, Yoon Taeha would have already seized a clue to his awakening through the sunspot stone and broken through the crisis by now. But the flow was different here. The sunspot stone was with me. Yoon Taeha’s awakening had twisted. And I still did not know how he would open.

“Small,” I said.

Yoon Taeha looked at me. “If I can’t control it I’ll stop right away.”

“Very small. Just confirm what you can do.”

Seon Woo-rak’s eyes glittered. “This has observational val—”

“If you finish that sentence I’ll throw you outside.”

Seon Woo-rak closed his mouth. Yoon Taeha steadied his breathing and stared at the light on the back of his hand. The golden light was faint. It looked warm but it was not flame. It was not a barrier, not heat, not electricity. It still had no form. Only possibility. The light just before a supernormal stepped out into the world.

Yoon Taeha closed his eyes. “In the direction that doesn’t hurt people,” he murmured. “In the direction of blocking.”

The golden light gathered at his fingertips. Instantly the sunspot stone case rang violently. Uuuuung! My wrist device spiked.

“Stop!” I shouted.

Yoon Taeha dropped his hand at once. The golden light scattered. The device fell back to eighty percent. A paper-thin margin. Yet even in that brief moment the effect appeared. One of the Association drones following behind the van suddenly wobbled as if it had struck an invisible thin membrane. It lost balance and slammed into a container wall.

Kwang!

Rat Merchant’s eyes widened. “Did you just push that drone?”

Yoon Taeha looked surprised himself. “That wasn’t what I was trying to do.”

“The fact that you did it without intent is even scarier.”

Seon Woo-rak spoke rapidly. “Directional suppression? No, closer to a repulsive field. It seems to have faintly pushed away the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠trajectory of approaching objects rather than blocking an attack.”

Rat Merchant raised his hand at once. “In human words.”

Seon Woo-rak answered, “It pushed it away.”

“Say it that way from the beginning.”

I looked at Yoon Taeha. The original Yoon Taeha. His supernormal had not been a simple attack type. It had grown in the direction of saving people, blocking, and enduring. That orientation remained even now. Without the sunspot stone. No—even though the sunspot stone had stimulated it in a twisted way, Yoon Taeha still opened in that direction.

“Can you do it again?” I asked.

Yoon Taeha shook his head, breathing hard. “If I do it again right now I think the sunspot stone will react before I do.”

“Then don’t.”

“But if we need it again like just now—”

“Once was enough. I saw which way you open.”

Ghost Van said, “Forward blockade.”

Two vehicles appeared on the front monitor. This time they were neither Association nor Black Dog. Two old trucks blocking the road. Bounty hunters. The entire abandoned port had become a hunting ground for Copycat.

Rat Merchant groaned. “The whole neighborhood is coming to catch us.”

“To catch me, precisely,” I said.

Rat Merchant shot back at once. “We’re riding in the same car. Your bounty feels like a joint insurance policy now.”

He was right. Same car. Accomplices.

I looked at Yoon Taeha. He was still staring at the back of his hand. The moment his supernormal had first emerged outside. His face looked as if he were trying to remember the sensation.

I said, “Yoon Taeha.”

“I’m listening.”

“Do you regret it?”

He lifted his head. Association behind us. Black Dog beside us. Bounty hunters in front. An unknown supernormal omen on the back of his hand. The Association had reclassified him as a quarantine target. In that situation Yoon Taeha thought for a moment. Then he answered.

“I’ll regret it later.”

“And now?”

He adjusted his grip on the steel bar. “Now I have to survive.”

A good answer. I told Ghost Van, “Break through.”

“This time it’s head-on.”

“Do it.”

“The van will take more damage.”

Rat Merchant yelled, “Bill us! Please worry about repair costs later and step on it now!”

Ghost Van pressed the accelerator. The engine roared. The bounty hunters ahead panicked and began to scatter. But the trucks still blocked the road. Ghost Van did not slow down. I gripped the backpack strap. Wrist device.

Danger line. Yet the mask still did not descend. Because I had not called it. I whispered low, “Wait like a proper tool.”

Persona gave no reply. Instead the van charged between the trucks.

Kwaaaaang!

Metal tore, glass exploded. The van pushed through the shattered trucks. Beyond them stretched the road leading out of the abandoned port. The dawn light was growing a little brighter. But freedom was not waiting.

On the far side of the road a single black sedan stood still. It was not an Association vehicle. Not a Black Dog SUV. Not a bounty hunter’s junker. A clean, quiet black sedan. A man stood in front of it. He was holding a black umbrella. Even though it was not raining.

His face could not be seen. But inside the umbrella he held, a red sun pattern was faintly visible.

I stopped breathing. The sunspot stone case thumped again. Thump. Thump. Thump. Yoon Taeha seemed to sense something as well; he raised his head.

“That person…”

I could not answer. There was nothing in Kang Doyun’s memories. He had not appeared in the early parts of the original story either. But I knew the pattern. Black Sun. The name that should have been hiding behind all these events. They had revealed themselves first.

The Black Sun Man tilted his head slightly, as if greeting us. At that moment a black ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠message rose before my eyes.

I gritted my teeth. I did not even know his name yet. I did not know his ability. Yet the system had reacted. From the pattern alone. From ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the symbol alone.

The Black Sun Man slowly raised his hand. A small communicator rested in it. The van’s internal speaker crackled. Not the Association. Not Black Dog. A different channel. An entirely different voice.

Everyone inside the van froze. He continued.

I clutched the backpack. Black Sun. They knew us. Not only me—Yoon Taeha as well. The man’s voice spoke one last time.

At that moment Persona laughed low inside me. I had not called it, yet it reacted to the word stage. The shadow of a smiling mask rose at the edge of my vision. I gritted my teeth. I had not used Persona's Black Stage. Yet someone else had spoken the word stage before me.

The Black Sun Man beneath the black umbrella remained bowing his head, like a butler presenting an invitation. Or like an audience member confirming a predetermined scene. Behind him the dawn light spread red. The sun was rising, in a color resembling the Black Sun pattern.