Clang!
The stone sphere that had voraciously engulfed Lime’s figure burst through the blocked wall with a loud crash.
As the wall collapsed, the floor where the humans stood couldn’t remain intact either, shaking violently as if an earthquake had struck.
They were pinned to the ground, feeling the immense, heavy sound vibrations of what felt like the building falling apart.
Anxiety gripped them as they feared a large brick would fall right on their heads, yet they could do nothing about it. It was almost impossible to get up and move.
Of course, Park Jin-soo and Lee Sang-yong were in the same situation, while Lee Yoo-jin had been tossed through the air and crashed to the ground, unable to regain her balance from the shock of being thrown by Lime.
Fortunately, no rocks actually fell on their heads.
Perhaps the singularity that had engulfed them had shown some mercy.
However, their minds focused less on the singularity’s potential kindness and more on the caprice that had caused Lime, the singularity, to disappear.
…And that was only natural.
After all, their original purpose was to find Lime, the lost singularity.
Consequently, as soon as the earthquake-like tremor ceased, Park Jin-soo and Lee Sang-yong sprang up and hurriedly approached the spot where Lime had last been seen.
It was natural to think this way since they already knew Lime wasn’t human. Judging from what they had seen so far, that small jelly mass might have survived.
Hoping it had, the two men cautiously stepped forward, brushing away the thick dust with their arms and inspecting the ground.
“Damn, really.”
“Cough… Cough!”
But was the lack of visibility due to the dense dust?
Or had Lime been swept away by the stone sphere?
Or maybe he had been squished beyond recognition, leaving no trace?
No matter how they swiped the air, the blue jelly wouldn’t appear, and Lee Sang-yong’s frustration turned toward Yoo-jin, who sat there, stunned and not moving.
“What the hell are you sitting there doing?! This is all your fault, ruining everything!”
“…”
Lee Sang-yong unloaded on Yoo-jin, uttering every nasty thing he had in mind. But she remained unresponsive, vacant-eyed, staring beyond the broken wall as if her soul had wandered away.
Seeing this, an irate Lee Sang-yong approached her, possibly intending to physically confront her, but Park Jin-soo stepped in and quietly intervened.
“That’s enough. If we end up stepping outside, we’re going to need as many allies as we can get. …Whether they can pull their weight or not is a different matter, but we’re the ones who need manpower.”
“Hmph… Women.”
Park Jin-soo’s consideration for Yoo-jin didn’t seem genuinely empathetic. That’s why Lee Sang-yong spat beside her and moved on, agitated, to inspect the collapsed wall.
‘…Shit. Should’ve known.’
As Lee Sang-yong walked, his mind was preoccupied with memories of Lime shielding Lee Yoo-jin’s hand with his own—something he found incomprehensible. The way Lime looked—so fierce, almost as if he saw garbage—left an even deeper impression.
What kind of mute creature could look so ferociously intimidating?
Rubbing his head, Lee Sang-yong’s hand hovered over the damaged wall, then hesitated. He dreaded the possibility that it might collapse further, causing him to fall into the pitch-black abyss below.
Indeed, beyond the collapsed wall, the darkness was complete, as if nothing existed on the other side.
Given there was surely a light source nearby, this unnatural darkness was clear evidence of something else.
What had happened to the stone sphere that had disappeared beyond that wall? Or maybe stepping beyond would lead to another new space? Is it possible that the singularity was over there?
As such thoughts clouded his mind, Lee Sang-yong was startled to see Park Jin-soo approaching quietly beside him.
Ignoring his reaction, Park Jin-soo, stroking his chin, muttered.
“Looks like this way is not the path.”
“…Agreed.”
Behind Park Jin-soo, through the dust that had finally settled, the passage became visible, but there was still no sign of Lime anywhere—neither even a speck of jelly.
Realizing this, Lee Sang-yong frowned deeply and asked.
“What do we do now? We didn’t just sit here waiting for nothing, did we?”
“…No.”
Lee Sang-yong’s stomach churned as Park Jin-soo’s was already scorched black with frustration. The plans they had to accomplish with Lime remained vivid in their minds, and the sudden disappearance of their very goal made them feel utterly defeated.
Everything they had assumed had collapsed, after all.
Certainly, those waiting outside wouldn’t be sitting idle either.
Up to this point, his plan to invite Lime inside had gone according to plan, but everything beyond that had been contingent on Lime’s cooperation.
If Lime had changed his mind, escaping from there would have been as easy as eating cake while lying down.
That’s why they had tried to frame the organization, portraying those who associated with Lime as undesirables and turning them into outcasts.
Since Lime seemed capable of understanding speech, Park Jin-soo had believed everything was proceeding according to his plan until the current disaster struck—like a bolt from the blue.
This left even their backup plans useless.
Without their goal, what was everything else even for?
But they couldn’t stay rooted here forever.
Their supplies were depleted, and in the place they were standing now, there was no sign of any food.
If they didn’t want to die immediately, they had to find a way out.
At least escaping this immediate area was urgent—even if thoroughly contemplating leaving this place entirely would require further thought.
“Let’s go back for now. The exit is likely the way the stone sphere came from.”
Lee Sang-yong nodded silently. Yet his eyes kept glancing toward the fallen darkness.
His gaze, heavy with regret, didn’t escape Park Jin-soo’s notice, silently shaking his head before starting to walk. And as Park Jin-soo began moving, Lee Sang-yong, full of regret, had no choice but to follow suit.
Yoo-jin, sitting on the floor, finally gathered herself and slowly stood up.
As she straightened her creaking body, she suddenly felt something brushing against her foot and reached down.
It seemed to be debris from the doll that Lime had held tightly when he threw her—it was a small, adorable ribbon, probably from its chest or head.
Seeing the ribbon, now covered in dirt and torn, Yoo-jin felt her heart sink.
Could it really be gone?
They had said that singularities could tear each other apart and walk away unaffected.
Could this little stone sphere have really… killed it?
…Maybe.
Maybe…
Standing up, Yoo-jin looked beyond the darkened wall with a suddenly determined gaze. Watching her, Lee Sang-yong, perhaps regretting something late, bellowed from afar.
“Are you just sitting there?! Hoping I’ll carry you or something?”
“…Shut up.”
“What? What did you just say?!”
There was something stinging about the truth.
Even though Lee Sang-yong didn’t think of himself as a pervert, he couldn’t tolerate being called one. So, he rolled up his sleeves, huffed in anger, and approached Yoo-jin.
Park Jin-soo sighed, pinching his forehead. He didn’t seem to intend to stop Lee Sang-yong either. After all, if Lee Yoo-jin was talking carelessly in this confined space, perhaps her getting roughed up was justifiable.
Still, he figured there were limits—surely no one would go as far as killing her.
Thus, he watched quietly with hazy eyes, hoping Lee Sang-yong wouldn’t go overboard.
However.
The situation started to get out of hand. After shouting, Lee Yoo-jin suddenly turned on her heel and started heading toward the darkened wall, as if resigned to life.
With her movements looking like those of someone giving up on everything, Lee Sang-yong, who’d intended to give her “proper discipline,” was completely taken aback.
“Are you… trying to commit suicide or something?”
“Leave me alone.”
Her voice wasn’t one of resignation. Her face didn’t radiate self-abandonment but instead was brimming with determination.
Finally reaching the collapsed wall, Lee Yoo-jin pulled the ribbon she had placed in her pocket back into her hand and glanced back.
She saw an image of Lee Sang-yong running toward her—not sure if he was genuinely worried, or if Park Jin-soo had signaled him to put up an act.
Whatever.
That didn’t matter anymore.
If she fell beyond this wall and perished,
…or not.
Yoo-jin was ready either way.
After all, she had already achieved vengeance in some form. Her regrets had disappeared. Dying might even turn out fine. But if her guess was right—if her wish was fulfilled—
She would have to thank that being one day.
Human males treated her like trash, but it, the singularity, had treated her like a real person.
…Singularities were better than humans.
“Hey!”
“…You’re hopeless.”
Lee Yoo-jin smirked briefly, then plunged into the dark void beyond the wall. Lee Sang-yong, rushing forward in a last-ditch effort to catch her, only swung his hand through empty air, staring blankly at the darkness beyond.
Even if he wanted to, Park Jin-soo, who caught up late, didn’t have the courage to follow her into that inky blackness.
Sighing deeply, the two men justified to themselves that Yoo-jin was only useful for numbers anyway, then moved toward the stone doorway where the sphere had rolled out.
Ultimately, as they had guessed, a new stage awaited them beyond.
But what had started as four—no, five—people had now dwindled to two.
It was hardly a triumphant outcome.
