Chapter 21: Echoes of the Forgotten
Eunha paced the length of her apartment, phone clutched tightly in her hand. Ji-hoon's message replayed in her mind: "Found something. Meet me at the station rooftop, 10 PM. Come alone."
Outside, the rain lashed against the windows like an omen. She hadn't told anyone where she was going. Something about the tone in Ji-hoon's voice made her wary—but also made her trust him.
She arrived just past ten. The rooftop of the old broadcast station loomed quiet and soaked, its flickering neon sign buzzing faintly in the storm. Ji-hoon stood near the edge, hood up, hands deep in his coat pockets.
"You're late," he said, his voice half-swallowed by the wind.
"You're cryptic," she replied, stepping into the halo of light cast by a broken floodlight.
He handed her a flash drive. "Watch it. Not here. Not now. But it changes everything."
"What is it?"
"Security footage. From the night Sae-jin disappeared. It was buried in Luma's internal servers. Someone didn't want it seen."
Eunha's breath hitched. "How did you get it?"
"Someone owed me. An old friend in IT." He hesitated. "There's more. Baek Do-jin was there. And someone else. A woman. Covered in a black hoodie. I think she's alive."
Eunha froze. "What are you saying?"
"I don't know yet. But this woman—her mannerisms, her build—it looked like Sae-jin. It could've been her. Or someone made to look like her."
Eunha's mind raced. If Sae-jin was alive, then everything—the scandal, the suicide, the media frenzy—had been a lie. Or worse, a cover-up.
She looked at Ji-hoon, her voice barely audible. "Why would they fake her death?"
"Maybe she knew too much. Maybe she tried to run. And maybe someone helped her disappear."
Lightning cracked across the sky.
Eunha closed her fingers around the flash drive. "Then we're not chasing a ghost. We're chasing the one who created it."
Ji-hoon nodded. "And they're watching us now. Every step."
Suddenly, Eunha's phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: Stop digging or you'll be next.
She showed Ji-hoon the screen. Neither spoke. The message was clear.
War had begun.
---
In a silent room across town, a figure watched the rooftop footage on multiple screens. Fingers steepled beneath their chin, they spoke to someone in the shadows.
"They've found the footage. Prepare contingency plan C. Ji-hoon and Eunha can't be allowed to trace it back to the Foundation."
A nod. Then silence.
Rain continued to fall over Seoul, washing the bloodless sins of the city down storm drains, but not away.
Not yet.