The corridors of Lotus felt heavier these days.
Not broken — not yet — but stretched thin like old wires ready to snap.
Seo-jin moved through the base quietly, boots scuffing lightly against the cracked floors. Every now and then, he caught the hushed conversations between other members: worries about supplies, about the factions tightening their grip, about the growing feeling that their time was running out.
He headed toward the rooftop. He needed air. Space to think.
When he pushed open the door, the breeze hit him immediately — cool, sharp, carrying the distant scent of burning metal.
The city stretched before him, jagged and silent under a bruised evening sky.
Min-ji was already there, sitting cross-legged on the ledge, chewing absently on a strip of dried meat.
She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.
"No ambushes tonight, promise."
Seo-jin cracked a faint smile and sat down beside her.
"Not ruling anything out anymore," he muttered.
Min-ji chuckled, then offered him a piece of the meat. He took it, more out of habit than hunger.
For a while, they just sat there, chewing, not needing to say anything.
The quiet between them wasn't awkward anymore.
It had settled into something familiar. Solid.
**
After a long moment, Min-ji spoke, her voice low.
"You ever wonder if we're making a difference?"
Seo-jin glanced at her, studying the set of her shoulders, the tension she couldn't quite hide.
"All the time," he admitted.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them.
"It feels like… every time we win, it just pisses them off more. Makes them push harder."
He leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the darkening sky.
"That's the point, isn't it?" he said. "We're still here. Still pissing them off."
Min-ji let out a small, humorless laugh. "Some victory."
Seo-jin didn't argue.
He knew better than anyone how thin their victories really were.
Still, they were victories. And in this world, that had to count for something.
**
Later that night, Ko called a meeting in the smaller strategy room.
Only the core members were there: Ko, Ha-eun, Myung-soo, Seo-jin, Min-ji.
The atmosphere was tense.
Maps were spread out on the battered table, marked with hastily drawn lines and circles.
Ko pointed at one sector in particular — Sector Fourteen.
"Crimson Shield's been consolidating here," he said. "They're pushing civilians out. Turning the whole zone into a fortress."
Seo-jin frowned. "Why there?"
Ha-eun leaned forward.
"There's an underground fragment cache. Old world tech. Buried under the sector."
Min-ji whistled softly. "That's a serious prize."
Ko nodded grimly.
"If they get their hands on it, we're done."
Myung-soo shifted nervously. "So what do we do? We can't take them head-on."
Ko's mouth twisted into a grim smile.
"No. But we can make it harder for them."
He outlined a plan — simple, brutal, risky.
They wouldn't try to take Sector Fourteen. That would be suicide.
Instead, they'd strike the supply lines feeding into it. Starve Crimson Shield of resources. Force them to stretch themselves thin.
Min-ji leaned back in her chair, grinning.
"I like it. Death by a thousand cuts."
Seo-jin said nothing, studying the map carefully.
It was dangerous.
They'd have to move fast, strike hard, vanish before reinforcements arrived.
But it was better than sitting and waiting to die.
Ko looked around the room.
"Questions?"
No one spoke.
"Good. We move tomorrow."
**
That night, Seo-jin couldn't sleep.
He lay on his cot, staring up at the cracked ceiling, listening to the faint hum of fragment generators somewhere below.
His body ached — old bruises, new scars — but it was his mind that refused to rest.
He thought about Sector Fourteen.
About Crimson Shield.
About the civilians caught in the crossfire.
About Min-ji.
He rolled onto his side, closing his eyes.
For a long time, he listened to the city breathing — the distant rumble of collapsing buildings, the occasional crack of gunfire far off.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged him under.
**
Morning came gray and cold.
Seo-jin met Min-ji by the main gate, both of them wrapped in patched jackets against the chill.
She offered him a lopsided smile.
"Ready for another death-defying mission?"
He snorted.
"Wouldn't miss it."
Ko handed them a battered map, marked with their target points.
"Small teams. Hit fast, get out faster. Don't engage unless you have to."
Seo-jin and Min-ji nodded, slipping into the shadows as Lotus stirred awake behind them.
They moved quickly through the deserted streets, keeping low, avoiding patrols.
The first supply convoy was easy.
A few quick fractures from Seo-jin sent the lead vehicle crashing into a crumbling wall.
Min-ji took out the rear guard with ruthless efficiency.
They grabbed what they could — food, ammunition, medical supplies — and vanished before Crimson Shield could respond.
The second target was harder.
More guards.
More guns.
More desperation.
They fought, swift and brutal, fragments flashing in the gloom.
Seo-jin fractured a soldier's rifle in half mid-shot.
Min-ji disabled two more with a whirlwind strike that sent them sprawling.
They escaped with blood on their hands and smoke rising behind them.
**
By the time they returned to Lotus, they were exhausted, battered, exhilarated.
Ko met them at the gates, nodding grimly.
"Good work."
Seo-jin just nodded, too tired to speak.
Min-ji dropped heavily onto a nearby crate, pulling off her battered gloves.
She looked over at Seo-jin, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Still alive."
He managed a tired smile.
"Barely."
She laughed quietly, the sound rough but genuine.
**
Later, they found themselves back on the rooftop again, watching the city smolder in the distance.
Seo-jin leaned his head back against the concrete, closing his eyes.
Min-ji sat beside him, picking at the frayed hem of her jacket.
"Think they'll back off now?" she asked after a while.
Seo-jin opened one eye, looking at her.
"No."
She nodded like she'd expected it.
They lapsed into silence, the wind tugging at their clothes, carrying the distant sound of sirens and crumbling stone