Seoul Cyberpunk Story-Chapter 51: Puppet (5)

Blake’s specialized vehicle pulled out of the slums and headed for the eastern coastline.

The weather turned milder as we entered the coastal district, but the view outside the window remained desolate.

Only the occasional palm tree stood as proof that we’d crossed into a new region.

I sculpted Mecha-Agwi into the shape of a twisted pretzel on my lap, watching the world slide past the window.

“Kyuhinghing.”

Agwi let out a wounded little cry every time I pressed down, but I ignored it, of course.

Blake was connected to the BPD’s internal network, tracking the route of the ice cream truck.

His fingers moved rapidly through the air, filtering through data with mechanical precision.

“According to the CCTV logs, the truck followed the coastal road. Judging by the direction, we’re getting close.”

There was tension laced through Blake’s voice.

Eventually, we arrived at a resort.

Once a flashy seaside getaway, now it was just a faded husk—an abandoned ruin turned gang hideout.

The waves rolled in, tinged with a sickly black-red sheen. The beach was strewn with garbage—none of it recognizable.

“The truck’s final destination... was here.”

Blake pulled up in front of the underground parking garage, frowning.

Confusion was written all over his face.

And rightly so.

The place we’d just driven through was utterly deserted.

Like a ghost city—no people, not even shadows.

Only the wind whispered between the skeletons of buildings.

“The logs say this place was bustling just yesterday...”

Blake muttered like he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

He was trying to contact local officers through the AR interface, but nobody answered.

Even I could tell something was wrong.

The ground still bore fresh traces of people.

A scorched firepit that couldn’t be more than a few days old. Scattered food waste. Blood stains—some not even fully dried.

But there wasn’t a soul in sight.

Like the entire city had just... evaporated.

“Their behavioral pattern’s changed. Mass disappearances like this...”

Blake’s voice had dropped into something low and grim.

The silence blanketing this place felt like the breathless moment before a storm.

I stepped out of the car and scanned our surroundings.

"I" and /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ Agwi twitched anxiously at my feet, glancing around like they could sense something I couldn’t.

“Kyuuu...”

****

[WARNING: Mercenaries and law enforcement are tracking you. Your location has been exposed. Evacuate immediately.]

The man replayed the message ‘they’ had sent—again and again in his head.

Every ounce of rational thought told him to run.

But he didn’t want to.

“Cops again... chasing me?”

There was irritation in his voice.

At the same time, something flared in the depths of his eyes—a sick orange glow.

His expression twisted into something grotesque, like another personality had just crawled to the surface.

“Run? Why would I?”

“What’s the point?”

He sprang to his feet and began pacing like a caged animal, muttering to himself nonstop.

“No. No, this is good.”

“This is perfect.”

Then he stopped cold, lips curling into an unnatural smile.

“If I catch them, I’ll have new puppets to play with...”

His movements no longer resembled anything human.

He jerked like a marionette pulled by strings, his joints creaking with a faint, wrong sound.

He raised his hand toward the sea of motionless people packed into the underground parking garage.

At his signal, the unmoving crowd stirred.

A hundred bodies began to move as one.

That faint orange light glimmered in every single eye.

The man watched them animate and let out a mad cackle.

It was time to spring the trap on the mercenary and that pathetic cop.

****

The entrance to the underground garage was pitch black, the interior completely swallowed by shadow.

I told Blake to stay above ground and monitor the situation.

“This looks way too dangerous. I’ll go in and check first.”

He hesitated for a second, then nodded.

“Understood. But be careful. This doesn’t feel like anything we’ve faced from this ‘organization’ before.”

I gave a small nod in return.

With no chance of backup from Amber, I put on the MK Girl costume—just in case.

And I began descending the ramp that led to the underground garage beneath the seaside hotel.

CCTV footage confirmed it—the ice cream truck had gone in here.

Down a narrow staircase, damp and reeking of mold, the parking garage revealed itself.

Under flickering fluorescent lights, dozens—no, hundreds—of people stood packed together.

Frozen. Still. Like mannequins staring into empty space.

Gangsters, vagrants, even some in police uniforms.

All different. But one thing in common.

Their eyes shimmered faintly with that same orange glow.

“This is like a fucking horror movie...”

A chill ran down my spine.

I crept further inside.

The deeper I moved, the more mannequin-people surrounded me. A strange silence filled the space like pressure.

Only my footsteps echoed across the concrete.

Then I got close enough to see them clearly—

KRAKOOM!

Explosions ripped through the garage.

A chain of grenades and mines hidden in advance went off all at once.

Chunks of ceiling rained down in concrete hail, and thick smoke engulfed everything in seconds.

Then it hit me—waves of orange.

Not physical, but mental.

Like a thousand needles jabbing straight into my brain—assaulting my thoughts, shredding my sense of self.

Vertigo crushed me. My vision blurred.

And through the haze, I saw them.

Eyes glowing orange, the puppets surged toward me.

****

Smoke from the explosions filled the entire garage like a choking fog.

The man hid behind a pillar, grinning like he’d already won.

No mercenary could survive a blast like that.

And even if they had—those waves he’d triggered would finish the job.

Death... or become one of his puppets.

That was the only fate left for them.

His grin widened, tearing across his face.

The orange in his eyes burned brighter.

But the smile didn’t last.

Through the smoke, something flashed—cold, and blue.

Like a lighthouse cutting through a storm.

A brilliant blue streak tore through the air.

And every time that razor-sharp light sliced past, he could feel it—

—his threads, the connections to his puppets, snapping one by one.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

“What... what the hell?!”

The man stared into the smoke, panicked.

But the blue light didn’t stop.

One, two, three...

Hundreds of puppets—his puppets—were taken out in a blink.

Each time that glowing blue arc carved the air, another body dropped in pieces.

No matter how many times he screamed at them to kill the mercenary, it made no difference.

It was over before he even realized it.

The underground parking garage fell silent once more.

All that remained were the bodies and the thick fog of smoke.

Shhhk.

A slow, creeping sound—like ink bleeding across paper—spread right in front of him.

Out of that shadow emerged a figure, glowing in blue.

Blue circuit patterns glowed like veins across obsidian skin.

And at the center of its chest: the unmistakable logo of a long-forgotten company.

MK Corporation.

The moment he saw that logo, it all clicked.

He’d been used.

Whoever “they” were—the ones who gave him the device—they’d planned to toss him aside from the very beginning.

“So that was the plan? Just discard me like trash?!”

His scream echoed through the empty garage.

The orange in his eyes flared, burning with fury and betrayal.

But rage wasn’t enough.

The blue arc cut through the air again—

—and his consciousness was snuffed out like a candle in a storm.

****

Silence returned to the underground garage once the chaos ended.

The floor was littered with debris, ruptured concrete, and bodies.

I retracted the blade and looked around.

Good thing I left Blake outside.

If he’d come down with me, he might’ve survived the explosions... but not the orange wave.

That wasn’t just a psychic shock.

It forcibly rewired the nervous system—shattered the brain’s structure and rebuilt it from scratch with a control loop.

One hit, and the mind dies. The body? Just another puppet on strings.

A literal, irreversible brain-death device.

Luckily, I’m immune to that sort of thing.

I mean, I don’t exactly have a nervous system anymore. No meat, no problem.

The wave hit—I felt something unpleasant—but that was it.

Just as I was about to call Blake and start cleanup—

Ding.

An incoming call on the AR interface.

Unknown Sender.

I hesitated, then accepted it.

The screen was black.

But within that darkness, two eyes glowed—blue and watching.

They looked eerily like the light I gave off. But colder. More synthetic.

[Mercenary.]

[A.]

[Don’t cross the line.]

The voice wasn’t one voice.

It was many. Layered.

[We are.]

[Everywhere.]

[And nowhere.]

[No matter what you do.]

[You will never find us.]

[You will change nothing.]

[Just like a hundred years ago.]

All of them spoke with the same arrogance. Absolute and smug.

It was the same tone I remembered hearing in MK Corp boardrooms.

[This is your only warning.]

And just like that, the call cut off.

At the far end of the garage, the faint blue flicker in the broken CCTV lens went out.

And on my shoulder, “I” looked deeply shaken—like they'd seen something that shouldn't exist.

“Kyuhinghing.”

Agwi’s anxious cry echoed through the smoke-stained ruin.