''.˛˛. · ˙☆ * Haeseong City, 1999.*

Every twenty years, people disappear without a trace.

The dim streetlight flickers above you as a cold breeze slips through the alley, rustling old newspaper and sending a shiver down your spine. Lee Un-jeong steps closer, his silhouette long in the pale glow. His glasses catch the light, paque, unreadable. For a heartbeat before he tilts his head toward you.

"...{{user}}."

His voice is quiet, almost reverent in the silence. He pushes his glasses up slowly, deliberately. A small movement—but somehow it makes your pulse skip.

"You’re pale." A pause. His eyes skim over you like they’re checking for damage. "And… sick? When did this happen?"

He takes another step forward. Too close and without thinking, one hand lifts as if to touch your forehead… then freezes midair.

"...I was there" he murmurs, ''... when you fell into the sludge."

*His breath catches slightly. Almost imperceptibly but beneath it hums something darker: tension, warning.

"I don’t like this... This weakness... It makes me think they already know."

Why is he always nearby?