Chapter 203: Chapter 203: Marrow LinesThe path downward felt endless
Each step carried Lin and the others further from the familiar remnants of Seoul and deeper into a world that no longer belonged to humans. The tunnels had once been subway lines, storm drains, and utility shafts. Now, they were something else entirely—arteries and veins carved out of the city’s corpse, pulsing faintly with a rhythm too slow and heavy to belong to any machine.
The floor under Lin’s boots gave slightly with each step, like damp muscle. The walls shimmered with a wet sheen, streaked with black veins that pulsed faint red, carrying some form of ichor deeper into the abyss. The faint hum of fluorescent lights had long since been replaced with the muffled beat of something alive.
Keller spat into the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was a low growl.
"Christ. It’s like walking through the inside of a lung. I swear, if I see it breathe, I’m torching this whole place."
Lin didn’t answer. He was listening—half to the tunnel, half to the thing gnawing at the edges of his mind. The whispers were louder here, clearer, cutting through like threads of silk. They called his name softly. They laughed. And somewhere between the madness, Jin’s voice lingered, just out of reach.
"Lin."
He froze. The sound was so sharp, so unmistakably real, that Min-joon bumped into his back before realizing he’d stopped.
"You heard it again, didn’t you?" Min-joon whispered. His eyes searched Lin’s face, desperate. "Was it Jin? Tell me it was Jin."
Lin’s jaw clenched. "It was something." He started forward again, unwilling to give the abyss more power by naming it.
Behind them, Hwan walked with an unsettling calm, hands folded loosely behind his back, like a man touring a museum. "The marrow lines," he murmured. "You can hear them too, can’t you? The hum, the rhythm. Seoul has a second heart now. A stronger one."
Keller spun on him, the safety on his rifle clicking off. "One more word out of you and I’ll put a hole in that smug face of yours. You knew this was here. You let it grow."
Hwan only tilted his head, amused. "You’re standing inside a cathedral built from your own city’s bones. Do you really think a bullet matters anymore?"
The tension between them was a taut wire ready to snap. Lin raised a hand, cutting Keller off. "Save it. Whatever this is, it’s not done with us yet. Keep moving."
The tunnels narrowed as they descended further. Subway tracks curved like ribs, wrapped in layers of black sinew. Old advertisements peeled off the walls, now covered by thin, translucent film. Behind the film, faces pressed faintly—like people trapped inside, mouthing words too distorted to understand.
Min-joon gagged, covering his mouth. "God, they look like... like they’re still alive."
"They’re not," Lin said firmly, though he wasn’t sure if he was lying.
They came at last to a station platform. Or what remained of it. The tiled walls were cracked, half of them replaced with the same fleshy growths. Benches sagged under the weight of pulsing cocoons, each one glowing faintly with the same crimson light Lin had come to dread. Old signs still hung above the tracks, but the names of the stops had been overwritten by streaks of dark ichor that writhed as though alive.
And then they saw them.
Figures crouched in the shadows—half-human, half something else. Their skin was mottled with black veins, their limbs elongated, but their faces... their faces were still almost human. Their eyes glowed faintly red, and when the group stepped into the station, every head turned at once.
Min-joon stumbled back. "No... no, those are people. Those are people."
Keller’s gun was up instantly. "Not anymore they’re not."
But the creatures didn’t attack. They only whispered—softly, urgently. The sound filled the cavern, overlapping voices speaking in dozens of tongues yet forming a single word.
"Heir."
The sound reverberated through Lin’s skull. His breath hitched, his chains stirring around him without command, shifting in agitation.
One of the creatures—more intact than the others, with patches of skin still uncorrupted—stepped forward. Its movements were slow, reverent. It sank to its knees before Lin, bowing its head.
"Heir," it whispered again. "We have waited. The marrow sings your name."
Lin froze. His throat went dry. "I’m not your heir."
The creature raised its head, and for the briefest moment, Lin saw a face he recognized—one of the missing civilians from weeks ago, plastered across news reports as another unexplained disappearance. Their eyes burned red now, their voice layered with something inhuman.
"You already are."
The others moved then—not in attack, but in submission. One by one, they dropped to their knees, whispering the word again and again until it became a chorus:
"Heir. Heir. Heir."
The sound echoed through the marrow lines, vibrating in Lin’s bones. He staggered back, clutching his head. The chains around his arms writhed like snakes, lashing at the air.
Min-joon’s voice cracked, panicked. "Lin—don’t listen! It’s a trick. It’s trying to claim you."
But then the whispers inside Lin’s mind aligned with the voices outside, and Jin’s voice cut through, sharp and cruelly gentle:
"Don’t deny what you are."
The chorus grew louder. Keller’s rifle swept across the kneeling figures, his finger trembling on the trigger. "Say the word, Lin. Say it, and I’ll end them."
Lin’s vision swam. The world tilted between two realities—the subway station and something deeper, a vast cathedral of bone and chains stretching into infinity. In that place, he was not Lin. He was something else, something crowned.
"No..." Lin rasped, shaking his head. "No, I won’t..."
But his chains hissed in defiance, as if disagreeing.
Hwan’s voice came from behind, low and amused. "And yet, they see you clearly. More clearly than you see yourself."
The creatures remained kneeling, their eyes never leaving him. The air stank of ichor and rot, but beneath it was something else—expectation, worship.
Lin’s heart pounded. He didn’t know if he was afraid... or if some part of him was tempted.
Because for the first time since this nightmare began, he wasn’t being hunted. He was being recognized.
And that terrified him more than anything.