The morning after the last supply run, Seo-jin sat in the makeshift training yard, tossing a broken fragment shard between his hands.
The courtyard buzzed with low chatter — tired fighters patching armor, sharpening knives, trying to pretend everything was normal.
But Seo-jin felt anything but normal.
The shard in his hand vibrated faintly.
Not from the wind.
From him.
His fragment energy — the same force that had saved them again and again — pulsed unevenly now.
Wild.
Unpredictable.
He clenched his fists around the shard until his knuckles whitened.
Not here.
Not now.
**
Min-ji dropped onto the bench beside him without warning, making him jump slightly.
She smirked.
"Nervous?"
Seo-jin forced a laugh.
"Just tired."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"You've been 'tired' for a week."
He shrugged, trying for casual.
"Comes with the job."
She studied him a second longer — longer than he liked — but finally let it go, stretching her arms above her head.
"You ready for today's mess?"
He arched an eyebrow.
"What mess?"
She grinned mischievously.
"Ko wants us to clear the old subway tunnels. Some Crimson Shield stragglers hiding out, apparently."
Seo-jin suppressed a groan.
Subways.
Enclosed spaces.
Nowhere to fracture safely without bringing the ceiling down.
Perfect.
**
Jae-hwan trotted over, flipping a throwing knife lazily between his fingers.
"Subway adventure, huh?" he said, grinning. "Maybe we'll find mutant rats."
"Maybe they'll like you better than we do," Min-ji shot back.
Jae-hwan clutched his chest dramatically.
"Wounded."
Seo-jin chuckled despite himself.
The normalcy of it —
the banter, the light insults —
felt fragile. Precious.
And he knew deep down it couldn't last.
Not if he kept losing control.
Not if he became a danger to them.
He pushed the thought away.
One mission at a time.
**
The entrance to the subway tunnels yawned open before them like the mouth of some long-dead beast.
Dark.
Stale.
Reeking of rust and stagnant water.
Seo-jin adjusted the straps on his vest, feeling sweat bead between his shoulder blades despite the cold.
Min-ji clicked on her flashlight, the beam slicing through the gloom.
"After you, fearless leader," she said, smirking.
Jae-hwan bowed theatrically.
"Your grave awaits."
Seo-jin snorted and led the way down.
The stairs groaned under their weight.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air became.
The pressure behind Seo-jin's eyes grew with every step, the fragment energy in his veins whispering, twitching.
He gritted his teeth.
Focus.
**
The tunnels stretched in every direction —
a maze of broken tracks, flooded passages, and collapsed ceilings.
Their footsteps echoed eerily.
They moved cautiously, guns ready, senses straining.
"How big is this place?" Jae-hwan muttered.
"Big enough to get lost forever," Min-ji answered grimly.
Seo-jin stopped suddenly, holding up a hand.
Voices.
Ahead.
Low. Angry. Armed.
He signaled silently —
three enemies, maybe more.
They advanced carefully, sticking to the shadows.
Seo-jin felt the fragment energy clawing at him, eager to be unleashed.
Not yet.
Not unless he had to.
They rounded a bend — and there they were.
Crimson Shield survivors — half a dozen — huddled around a jury-rigged barricade, weapons resting within easy reach.
Min-ji pointed two fingers, then a fist.
Jae-hwan nodded.
Seo-jin breathed in.
On Min-ji's signal, they moved.
Fast. Precise.
Min-ji launched a compressed blast that knocked two men sprawling.
Jae-hwan darted forward, knives flashing.
Seo-jin fractured the ground lightly under the barricade, sending it crashing down and sowing chaos.
They struck hard and clean, overwhelming the enemy before they could regroup.
It should have been easy.
It almost was.
Until the fragment pulsed inside Seo-jin —
a violent surge, hotter than anything he'd felt before.
He staggered, vision blurring.
The fracture he aimed misfired —
splitting the ground too wide, too deep.
The ceiling overhead groaned ominously.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward.
Min-ji's head snapped around, eyes wide.
"Seo-jin—!"
The ceiling collapsed in a thunderous roar.
Dust filled the air, thick and choking.
Seo-jin coughed violently, struggling to see through the swirling debris.
He heard Min-ji shouting —
sharp, urgent.
Jae-hwan cursing somewhere to his left.
Pain throbbed in his ribs where a chunk of debris had clipped him.
But worse than the pain was the guilt twisting in his chest.
He had caused this.
He had almost killed them.
Again.
He forced himself up, staggering toward Min-ji's voice.
Shapes loomed in the dust — friendly, enemy, he couldn't tell.
He fractured instinctively, sending a pulse through the ground that tripped an enemy charging toward Min-ji.
She spun, cracked the man across the jaw with the butt of her weapon, and caught Seo-jin's arm.
"You're hurt," she said, scanning him quickly.
"I'm fine," he lied.
Her mouth tightened, but she said nothing.
Not here.
Not now.
Together, they regrouped with Jae-hwan behind a half-collapsed pillar.
"Plan?" Jae-hwan asked, panting.
"Get out," Seo-jin rasped.
They didn't argue.
They fought their way back through the ruined tunnels, using every trick they knew.
Min-ji covered the rear, launching precise blasts to keep enemies pinned.
Jae-hwan moved ahead, scouting a clear path.
Seo-jin stayed in the center, using fractures sparingly — terrified of another surge.
Every fracture felt harder to control.
Hotter.
Heavier.
Like holding a live wire inside his chest.
They stumbled into the open at last, gasping for air.
The night sky never looked so good.
**
They didn't talk much on the way back to Lotus.
Min-ji walked stiffly beside Seo-jin, close enough to catch him if he fell.
Jae-hwan whistled tunelessly, but his hands kept flexing around his weapons.
The silence between them wasn't comfortable this time.
It was brittle.
Tense.
Seo-jin kept his gaze on the broken road ahead.
What would happen if he lost control again?
Next time, would it just be enemies crushed under falling debris?
Or would it be Min-ji?
Or Jae-hwan?
Or everyone?
**
At the gates, Ko was waiting.
He didn't say anything —
just looked them over, noted the bruises, the blood.
Seo-jin dropped the salvaged supplies at his feet without a word.
Ko nodded once.
"Get patched up," he said gruffly.
Seo-jin turned away immediately, heading for the medic station.
He didn't want to see Ko's eyes.
Didn't want to see the disappointment he was sure was there.
Min-ji hesitated behind him —
then followed without a word.
Inside the medic station, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright, too harsh.
Seo-jin sat on the edge of a cot, peeling off his battered jacket with stiff fingers.
Min-ji stood across from him, arms crossed, watching him in silence.
Ha-eun approached with a medical kit, but Seo-jin waved her off.
"I'm fine."
His voice was sharper than he meant.
Ha-eun's eyebrows lifted slightly, but she said nothing, backing off.
Min-ji didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Just stared at him.
Seo-jin sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.
"Say it," he muttered.
Min-ji's voice was low and tight.
"You lost control."
He dropped his hands and met her gaze.
"I handled it."
"Bullshit," she snapped, stepping closer.
"You almost buried us alive!"
Her voice cracked on the last word —
not from anger.
From fear.
Seo-jin flinched.
"I didn't mean to," he said, softer now.
Min-ji shook her head, biting her lip.
"You're hiding something."
It wasn't a question.
Seo-jin looked away.
"I'm… not right," he admitted quietly.
Min-ji exhaled shakily, the fight draining out of her.
"You think I don't see it?" she said, voice rough.
"You think I haven't noticed the way you're different lately?"
Seo-jin closed his eyes briefly.
"It's the fragment," he said.
"It's changing. Or I'm changing."
He didn't know which was worse.
Min-ji moved closer, until her knee bumped his.
"You should've told me."
Seo-jin looked up at her, and for a moment, the weight in his chest loosened just a little.
"I didn't want to scare you," he said hoarsely.
She barked a short, humorless laugh.
"Too late."
But she didn't step back.
Didn't leave.
She just stood there, close enough that Seo-jin could feel her breathing.
Finally, she said, "Next time… don't do this alone, okay?"
Seo-jin nodded once.
Slow.
Serious.
"I won't."
She held his gaze a second longer —
then squeezed his shoulder, hard enough to hurt, before turning away.
"You owe me ramen after this," she tossed over her shoulder.
Seo-jin smiled, a real one this time.
"Deal."