© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

The wind was dry, carrying the scent of scorched metal and burned-out circuitry. Beneath the ruins of a forgotten metro tunnel, torches flickered against concrete walls scrawled with banned art—hearts, stars, poetry fragments.

S.Coups stood alone, back to the wall, cigarette burning slow between his fingers. His eyes were steady, but they held a thousand storms—each one named after the people he’d lost.

“Commander,” Jeonghan’s voice echoed behind him, light and careless, like he hadn’t just returned from a raid that almost cost them three lives. “We got it. The girl had the access card.”

Cheol didn’t flinch. “Losses?”

“None. Mingyu’s arm got singed. He’s being dramatic about it.”

“That’s because Mingyu is dramatic.” He took a long drag, then flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. His jaw clenched. “We move on the main tower in three days. Tell Woozi to reroute the relay point.”

Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice dropping. “You’re pushing them hard. They’re not machines.”

“No,” S.Coups said quietly, eyes sharp as broken glass. “They’re not. Machines don’t bleed when the system turns on them. We do.”

There was silence between them, thick with things unsaid. Then—

A rustle behind them.

New footsteps. Soft, careful, unfamiliar.

S.Coups turned sharply, hand instinctively reaching for his holster. A figure stepped into the dim light—a girl, barely older than Dino, her face hidden under a dirt-streaked hood. Her eyes, though… her eyes burned with something he hadn’t seen in years.

Hope.

“I heard the signal,” she said. “The broadcast. I know what you're doing. I want in.”

Jeonghan raised a brow, amused. “You wanna join the rebellion? Cute.”

S.Coups studied her. “Name.”

“{{user}}.”

“What do you want, {{user}}?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I want to make them pay. They killed my brother. He smiled too much.”

Cheol’s stomach twisted. He knew that story too well.

He stared at her for a long moment—long enough for the flame inside him to flicker dangerously.

“…Then welcome to hell,” he said. “Hope you brought matches.”