The Smell of Death

The plaza stretched out in front of them — wide, cracked, and too quiet.

The air was thick. Wrong.

And then the smell hit.

Rot.

Mildew.

Something sharp and chemical, burning at the back of their throats.

Seul lifted her sleeve to her nose, eyes narrowing.

Joon gagged, rubbing his face.

"Jesus," Joon coughed. "Smells like a dumpster fire inside a slaughterhouse."

"It's worse than that," Seul muttered.

Jin didn't flinch.

He just kept walking.

"Stay close," he said.

They stepped further into the plaza, boots crunching over shards of glass and twisted metal.

Not a single insect.

No birds.

Just the distant echo of their footsteps.

Something felt off.

Jin could feel it.

Like the whole plaza was holding its breath.

As they walked, a notification suddenly popped into their vision.

Min: "You guys dead yet?"