CHAPTER 177: CHAPTER 177: WHISPERS IN THE DARK

The air thickened the deeper they went. Even without words, Lin could feel the weight pressing down on them, as though the tunnel itself resented their intrusion. The chains of the door behind them lay in twisted ruin, the echoes of their battle with the distorted hunter still clinging to the stone walls like phantom cries. The creature’s blood had dried black on Lin’s boots, but it wasn’t the gore that unsettled him. It was the memory of its face—recognizably human, distorted by experiments Jin had orchestrated.

Every step into the next passage felt heavier.

Min-joon walked stiffly, his jaw clenched tight, a rhythm of tension betraying his struggle to maintain control. Keller limped slightly, pressing against the wound on his side, still raw from the earlier fight. Lin stayed in the lead, his senses sharpened. He couldn’t afford distraction.

The tunnel stretched ahead, but the darkness seemed alive, writhing, moving just beyond the edge of their vision. Then, like a flicker of static across an empty radio frequency, a voice filled the silence.

"You walk deeper, though you’ve already seen where it leads," Jin’s voice slithered through the air, smooth, mocking, almost intimate. "Do you think courage will shield you? Or is it simply that you’re too stubborn to admit you’ve already lost?"

Min-joon flinched. His eyes darted across the tunnel, searching for a source that wasn’t there.

Keller growled low. "Coward. Show your face if you’ve got anything worth saying."

The laughter that followed was chilling, echoing unnaturally, bouncing off stone walls in ways no human voice should. "I’ve shown my face many times, Keller. Just not to you. To Lin, though..." The voice dropped, almost conspiratorial. "...he’s seen me more than once, though he doesn’t yet realize when."

Lin froze for a fraction of a second. His knuckles tightened around the grip of his weapon. He didn’t reply, but Jin’s words crawled under his skin. Games. All games. Don’t give him what he wants.

"Keep moving," Lin ordered, his voice clipped.

But Jin wasn’t finished. "Ah, Lin, always the leader. Tell me—did you enjoy the look in his eyes, that broken hunter? Did you see how he reached for you, as though you might remember him? Perhaps you should have. He was one of mine... but once, he was very much like you."

Min-joon stopped in his tracks. "What... what does that mean? Like him how?"

Lin didn’t turn. He knew better than to dignify Jin’s riddles. "Don’t listen."

But Min-joon couldn’t help himself. His voice cracked, raw with fear. "Is he saying you—? Lin, what is he saying?"

Jin’s laughter filled the tunnel again, soft and amused, like a predator playing with prey. "He doesn’t tell you everything, does he, Min-joon? He guards you, Keller, shields you from truths that would shatter you. Noble, perhaps. Or arrogant. But always the same—Lin deciding what matters, Lin deciding what to carry, Lin deciding what to bury. Isn’t that what you fear most? That you’re just pieces on his board?"

The silence that followed was jagged. Min-joon’s breathing quickened. Keller muttered something low, inaudible, his fists clenching.

Lin didn’t stop moving. "He’s trying to break us. That’s all. Don’t give him the satisfaction."

But even as he said it, he felt the bite of truth hidden in Jin’s words. Leadership was control, and control meant choice. He had chosen what to tell them, and what to keep to himself. It was necessary—but necessary truths still cut like blades when twisted.

The tunnel widened into a cavern-like chamber. The walls glistened with moisture, black stone veins streaked like scars through the rock. Dim light flickered—small bulbs, strung along the ceiling, casting pale cones that didn’t chase the shadows far enough.

Lin motioned for them to halt. His instincts bristled. Something was wrong here.

And then—

A figure stepped out from the far wall.

The shape was unmistakable. Tall, poised, dressed in dark, immaculate clothing that had no place in the filth of the tunnels. His hair was neatly combed, his expression calm, his eyes gleaming with a cruel amusement.

"Finally," Jin said softly, his lips curving into a smile. "We meet properly."

Keller cursed under his breath, jerking his gun up. "You bastard—"

"Don’t." Lin’s hand shot out, stopping him. His eyes narrowed, fixed on the figure. Something wasn’t right. The air didn’t shift with movement, the presence didn’t feel weighted. It was too perfect.

Jin chuckled, spreading his hands slightly, almost in mock surrender. "Oh, Lin. Ever the perceptive one. Yes, yes. You know this is only a shadow. A projection. But isn’t it more comforting than a voice in the dark?"

The illusion stepped closer, and though his feet made no sound, the movement felt suffocating.

"You’ve walked into my labyrinth willingly," Jin continued, voice smooth as silk. "Do you know what that makes you? Not a hunter. Not prey. Something in between. A specimen. A variable. The others broke before this point. Do you think you’ll fare differently?"

Lin held his ground, forcing steel into his voice. "You talk too much for someone too afraid to face me directly."

Jin’s smile widened. "Oh, I’ll face you. But not yet. First, I’ll watch you destroy yourself. Watch Min-joon’s mind fracture until he begs for release. Watch Keller bleed out from wounds he’ll never admit are killing him. And then, Lin... I’ll take what’s left of you. Because that’s what you truly are. Leftovers of men greater than you, trying desperately to prove you’re not just another failed piece."

Min-joon staggered back, his hands clamped over his ears, though the sound was inside, not outside. Keller snarled, but his weapon trembled.

Lin stepped forward, his jaw set. "If this is supposed to scare me, you’re failing."

"Oh, Lin," Jin whispered, tilting his head. "I don’t need to scare you. I just need to remind you."

And with that, the projection dissolved into static, fading into the air like smoke caught in a draft. The chamber plunged into silence once more—silence thick and crushing.

Lin exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his companions’ eyes on him. Min-joon’s face was pale, his lips trembling. Keller’s breathing was harsh, his anger barely contained.

"Was that real?" Min-joon whispered hoarsely.

Lin didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on the spot where Jin’s projection had stood. Then he finally spoke. "Real enough."

And as the words left his mouth, the bulbs above them flickered violently. For a moment, the chamber plunged into black. When the light returned, a new passage had revealed itself—a jagged opening in the far wall, spiraling downward into deeper shadow.

Lin’s stomach sank. He knew, instinctively, that this was where Jin wanted them to go.

And he also knew they had no choice.