Those Who Are Left Behind

The arrows came faster now, relentless streaks of death cutting through the air from every direction. Each one carried the promise of an end. My breath caught with every step, my body stiff and uncooperative, as though the freezing air had turned my joints to stone.

The formation we started with? Broken. Scattered like leaves in the wind. I couldn't think. I couldn't plan. I could only move, stumbling forward as Da-on clung to my back. Her tiny hands fisted in my shirt, her face buried between my shoulder blades. She didn't cry—why didn't she cry? Why was she always so calm?

Another arrow struck the ice near my foot, cracking it slightly. My breath hitched as I darted to the side, my legs nearly giving out beneath me. Turning back, I saw Jae-hyun trip over a spike trap, its jagged edges catching the fabric of his shirt. He froze, his wide eyes locked on the ice elves above, their golden gazes gleaming as they drew back their bows.

"MOVE!" I shouted, my voice hoarse.

Eun-jin grabbed Jae-hyun by the arm and yanked him away, the arrow that would have skewered him instead embedding itself in the spot where he had just stood.

We kept moving.

Through sheer will—or dumb luck—I reached the end of the tundra. Collapsing onto the landing on the other side of the twentyth floor, I gasped for air. My body screamed at me, my muscles twitching from the effort, my lungs raw from the icy air.

Turning, I scanned the floor behind me.

Eun-jin and Jae-hyun were running side by side, slipping and sliding but alive. My chest tightened at the sight of them, but relief was fleeting. My eyes drifted—against my will—to the other side of the icy battlefield.

Min-seok's body lay there. Pale. Bloodless. Motionless.

The cracks in my mind started spreading again, branching out like the cracks in the ice. My vision blurred, the edges of the world darkening. I couldn't pull my eyes away.

He was still there.

Why was he still there?

Shouldn't I have—shouldn't I have done something?

The darkness crept in, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. My chest felt heavy, as though something was crushing me from the inside. My breath came in shallow gasps, barely enough to keep me standing.

How could I let him die?

The thought came unbidden, sharp and cold.

But it wasn't my voice.

It was foreign—echoing inside me like a whisper from somewhere far away.

No, it was my voice.

Wasn't it?

I squeezed my eyes shut, but the darkness didn't go away. It deepened. Thickened. I was falling—no, sinking—into something cold and viscous, like drowning in tar. My limbs felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish and tangled.

The world around me twisted, turning black.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't on the skyscraper anymore.

I was… somewhere else.

An endless expanse of shifting black ink stretched out before me, rippling and moving like a living thing. The air was frigid, colder than the tundra we had just left, but it didn't sting. It was almost… comforting.

"The quill must never stop."

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, a deep resonance that vibrated through my bones.

"WHY DID I LET HIM DIE!?"

The sudden scream tore through the silence, the sound sharp and grating like nails on a chalkboard. My hands flew to my ears, but it didn't help.

Other voices joined in, layering over each other, each one distinct but blending into a cacophony.

"Life is funny."

"How could I let him—"

"Was I a good leader?"

"Never listen to the shadows."

"DIE DIE DIE. WE ARE ALL GONNA—"

"We are but broken characters."

"Who are we?"

"HELP!"

The voices swirled around me, overlapping and twisting, each word sinking into my skin like needles.

What was this?

I stumbled forward, the ink beneath me rippling with every step. The voices grew louder, more frantic, until they stopped—all at once.

Silence.

And then a new voice.

It wasn't like the others. It was calm, almost melodic, singing in a low, haunting tone:

"The night angels sing, in mi-se-ry,

They pity the soul of those lost.

Yet never intervene,

For life is too—"

The voice cut off abruptly.

Footsteps followed, heavy and deliberate, echoing in the inky void. They grew louder, closer, faster, until they stopped directly in front of me.

"You…"

The voice rasped, harsh and guttural, as though it hadn't spoken in centuries.

"You shouldn't be here."

A gust of freezing wind slammed into me, knocking me back. My feet skidded against the ink, but it held firm beneath me.

"It's too early."

The voice paused, its presence pressing down on me like a weight.

"Return, Jin Ha-rin. Return to the world of no end."

And just like that, the ink dissolved into a flurry of black butterflies, their wings brushing against my skin as they scattered into the void.

The blue and white of the tundra filled my vision once more. The icy battlefield reassembled itself around me, as if I had never left.

Eun-jin and Jae-hyun were still running. Min-seok's body was still lying in the distance.

No time had passed.

But everything felt… different.

I turned away, my eyes burning. I couldn't watch anymore. I couldn't see someone else die. If I did, I'd break.

And if I broke, the team would fall apart.

"Oppa," Da-on's small, trembling voice broke through the chaos. "Where are you going?"

I froze, turning to look at her. Her face was as blank as ever, but her voice—her voice was scared.

I forced a smile. "Just scouting the next floor, kiddo. Send the others up when they get here, okay?"

She didn't respond right away. Her small hand tightened on the bunny, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something. But then she nodded.

Good. I wasn't in any state to answer questions.

Moving to the twenty-first floor, the air grew warmer. My breath stopped fogging, and the ice disappeared, replaced by dull, cracked tiles.

I rubbed my hands together, trying to warm them, but they wouldn't stop shaking.

Can I let go now? Is it okay to break down?

The thought hit me like a blow, and suddenly, I couldn't stop it.

The tears came fast and hot, spilling down my face as my shoulders heaved. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the floor, my sobs loud and unrestrained.

Min-seok's bloodied face burned into my mind. His outstretched hand. His wife's picture. The way he had looked at me in those final moments, as if I had the answers.

"Why?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "Why him? Why now?"

I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, but it didn't stop the pain.

I was the leader. This was my fault.

Wasn't it?

I tried to console myself. Tried to tell myself there was nothing I could have done.

But the guilt didn't let go.

"Quite a lively scene, isn't it?"

The voice startled me, low and mocking, dripping with malice.

"The early bird seems to be struggling a lot now, ain't she? Kekeke"