It wasn’t just a sneeze. It was a full-body, wet achoo that exploded out of McCullan, spraying droplets in every direction.
The sound lasted less than a second, but for Seojun, it stretched into a slow-motion nightmare. Long enough for him to mentally compose at least a dozen creative ways to kill the man.
The joke fell flat. Dead silence followed.
Seojun risked a glance over his shoulder, his flashlight trembling in his hand. The beam jittered across a row of pale, horrified faces. The others stared past him—eyes wide, mouths hanging open, frozen like statues in the dark.
Brown exhaled slowly through his teeth. Of course that wire wouldn’t have held anything heavier than a scarecrow.
"...Mina!"
A sharp, breathless laugh broke the silence. Then another. And suddenly the whole room was echoing with nervous, half-hysterical cackling.
Nobody said anything at first. They just looked at each other, trying to figure out what they were seeing. The stains were scattered across the floor—not everywhere, but definitely enough to notice.
The petals felt so fragile beneath his fingers that Seojun instinctively pulled his arm back, afraid they might crumble at the slightest pressure. Delicate petals drifted down, settling on the dirty chair seat below. When he rubbed his hands together, a fine dusting of pollen clung to his palms.
"Don't say it like that, Dennis." Brown's voice had an edge to it now. "You're making it sound like Luciel threw a tantrum, demanding we hit both sites in one night."
St. Montgomery Hospital was the kind of place you weren’t sure was forgotten or just flat-out abandoned. Not that the distinction mattered much. Without anyone to patch its leaks or pull its weeds, the building was losing its fight against time, same as any other.
The sky was the color of a fresh bruise. Clouds churned overhead, dark and swollen, racing across the horizon as if chasing one another. The air felt humid enough to grab by the handful.
The strangest part was Seojun’s first thought when he saw the Factory Manager’s skull caved in: a flicker of regret that he’d brought pepper spray instead of salt water.
Seojun’s sincere proposal died a quick death, shot down by a snort from McCullan before the words had even finished leaving his mouth.
“Not a chance in hell. You want me to tangle with that crazy bastard and his knife? Forget it.”
The sudden beam of light hit his eye like an act of violence. After cowering in total darkness for so long, the brightness pierced through Seojun’s closed eyelid, sending sharp pain straight to his skull.
The silence that followed was heavier than the cold creeping into their bones. Seojun rubbed his arms, a useless gesture against the goosebumps crawling up his skin. The chill wasn’t from the air—it was the memory of that freezer, of being locked inside with the dark pressing in.