Chapter 6 NO SAFE SPACES ANYMORE

The rain came down harder as Minjun and Jiho stumbled through the narrow back alleys of the Grey Zone. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with every heartbeat. Red and blue lights flashed against the wet walls, reflecting off puddles like warning signals.

“Keep moving,” Minjun said, his voice tight. His legs still felt unsteady from the massive stamina drain, but the new neural bridge kept him upright. “We can’t stay on the main paths.”

Jiho glanced over his shoulder, breathing hard. “They’re already sweeping the area. If they catch us with these burns on our clothes…”

“They won’t catch us,” Minjun cut in. “Not tonight.”

He led them through a maze of service corridors and half-hidden stairwells until they reached the familiar faded red cross on the door. Dr. Hyunwoo’s clinic.

Minjun didn’t knock. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, Jiho right behind him.

The doctor was waiting. He stood near the steel table, arms crossed, the cash Minjun had given him earlier still sitting untouched on the counter. His eyes widened slightly when he saw their scorched clothes and the blood on Minjun’s face.

“You again,” Dr. Hyunwoo said, voice low. “I thought I told you to keep the trouble away from my door.”

“Trouble followed us anyway,” Minjun replied. He leaned against the wall, trying to steady his breathing. “We need a place to lie low for a few hours. The task force is tearing the district apart looking for us.”

Dr. Hyunwoo sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course they are. You just broke into their depot and walked out alive. Word travels fast in this city.” He gestured toward the back room. “There’s a hidden cot behind the supply shelves. Use it. But if they knock on that door, I’m not dying for you two.”

Jiho helped Minjun to the back. The small room smelled of antiseptic and old metal. A narrow cot was pushed against the wall, barely wide enough for one person. Minjun dropped onto it without complaint, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion.

The neural bridge hummed quietly in his skull, still overheating. Red warning lines pulsed at the edge of his vision.

[Stamina: 2%]  

[Neural Bridge Temperature: Critical]  

[Recommended: Full rest cycle — minimum 6 hours]

Jiho sat on the floor beside the cot, back against the wall, stun baton resting across his knees. “That core… you almost had it. What even was that thing?”

Minjun closed his eyes for a moment, letting the blue fragment of the Reality-Anchor flicker in his mind. “It was an anchor. Something that keeps the rules of this world locked in place. Chairman Seojun Kang has the real one locked down tight.”

He opened his eyes again, the amber glow softer now. “I only managed to copy a piece before the deletion protocol kicked in. It’s not enough to rewrite everything… but it’s enough to protect us from being rewritten.”

Jiho stared at him. “You talk like the city is just code now. Like none of this is real.”

“Parts of it aren’t,” Minjun said quietly. “Not anymore. Not to me.”

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant wail of sirens and the steady drip of rain leaking through the roof.

Dr. Hyunwoo appeared in the doorway, holding two bottles of water and a couple of pain patches. He tossed them onto the cot.

“You look like death,” he said to Minjun. “The neural bridge is stable for now, but you pushed it way too far. Another stunt like that and even I won’t be able to put you back together.”

Minjun took one of the patches and pressed it to the side of his neck. Cool relief spread slowly through his system.

“I need your help with something else,” he said.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You just cleared my debt and now you want more favors?”

“Not a favor. A trade.” Minjun sat up a little straighter. “You have contacts in the underground clinics. People who move high-end implants. I need information on Chairman Seojun Kang. Where he moves, who protects him, what his weaknesses look like in the System.”

Dr. Hyunwoo let out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re going after the head of the Collective? The man who basically owns half the city?”

Minjun’s amber eyes met the doctor’s without blinking. “Someone has to.”

Jiho shifted uncomfortably. “Minjun… we barely made it out of the depot alive. Maybe we should lay low for a while. Regroup. You’re still burning through your memories every time you use those commands.”

Minjun looked at his friend. For a moment, something almost like the old protective warmth flickered in his chest — then it dulled, buried under layers of cold logic.

“I can’t lay low, Jiho. Every hour we wait, the System tightens its grip. People like us keep getting stepped on while they live forever in their glass towers.” He turned back to the doctor. “Help me, and I’ll make sure no one ever holds a debt over your head again. Not the Collective. Not anyone.”

Dr. Hyunwoo studied him for a long time, then gave a slow nod.

“I’ll make some calls in the morning. Quiet ones. But if this blows back on me…” He pointed a finger at Minjun. “I’ll personally sedate you and hand you over to the task force.”

“Fair enough,” Minjun said.

As the doctor left the room, Jiho leaned closer, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re changing, Minjun. Faster than before. The way you talk… the way you look at people. It’s like you’re already deciding who’s useful and who’s not.”

Minjun didn’t answer right away. He stared at the flickering blue fragment floating in his private buffer — the tiny piece of Reality-Anchor he had stolen.

“I’m not deciding,” he finally said. “I’m just starting to see the mistakes clearly. And I’m the only one who can fix them.”

Outside, the sirens continued to howl through the rain-soaked streets of Seoul. Somewhere high above, in the gleaming towers of Cheongdam, Chairman Seojun Kang had just been notified that a glitch had entered his perfect system.

And the glitch was getting wider.