CHAPTER 175: CHAPTER 175: CHAINS IN THE DARK

The silence in the underground chamber had weight. The kind that pressed against the lungs, stealing air with every breath. Lin stood perfectly still in the glow of their flickering flashlight, his gaze locked on the photograph in his hand. It was unmistakably him—his younger self, standing on a rain-slick street in Seoul, years before this nightmare had ever begun. The background blurred with neon signs and umbrellas, but the sharpness of his face cut through the image like a blade. It was not something pulled from public records, not a surveillance still. No—this was intimate. Personal. Someone had been watching him long before this game began.

"Lin..." Min-joon’s voice was a trembling whisper, as if speaking louder might invite the tunnels themselves to close in. "That photo—how is that even possible? You were... you were in Korea then. You hadn’t even—"

"Shut it," Keller growled, one hand pressed hard against his side. Blood seeped between his fingers from the shallow gash he had earned dodging the collapsing walkway earlier. His teeth ground together in barely concealed pain. "We don’t need panic right now. We need a way out of this cursed rabbit hole."

But before Lin could respond, the tunnel itself seemed to breathe. A low hum vibrated through the concrete, followed by a sudden crackle. The overhead speakers—long corroded, barely visible in the ceiling’s shadows—lit to life with static.

Then came the voice.

Smooth, steady, every syllable dripping with amusement. "Ah... there you are. I was wondering how long it would take before you found the ghosts I left behind."

Jin.

The sound of him filled the chamber, bouncing from wall to wall until it felt like he was standing right behind them, whispering against the nape of their necks. Min-joon clamped his hands over his ears, but the voice slipped through anyway, inescapable.

"That photograph you’re holding, Lin," Jin continued, his tone like velvet over glass. "It’s one of my favorites. You always carried yourself with such sharpness, even when you were young. I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you—that you would one day step onto my board."

Lin said nothing. His silence was deliberate, calculated. But inside, his chest tightened. Years ago, he had been another face in Seoul’s endless crowds. The thought that someone had plucked him from anonymity, tracked him long before this nightmare began, sent bile rising in his throat. He tightened his grip on the photo until it nearly crumpled.

Jin chuckled softly. "Oh, don’t scowl like that. You should be honored. Most who enter my game stumble here by accident, but you, Lin... you were chosen."

Keller spat blood to the floor. "Chosen? You’re insane. He’s not your pawn."

"Oh, Keller." Jin’s voice dipped into something darker, mocking. "Always so brash, always bleeding. Tell me, how long until that wound of yours slows you down? How long before Lin has to decide whether dragging dead weight is worth the risk?"

Keller’s face twisted in fury, but Lin cut him off with a single sharp glance. Keller fell silent, breathing ragged.

"And Min-joon," Jin continued, almost playfully now. "The weakest link in the chain. How sweet, how fragile. Do you know how many times I’ve seen people like you crumble before the walls closed in? I wonder which will break first—the tunnels, or your mind."

"Stop it," Min-joon muttered, his knees drawn close, his flashlight trembling in his grasp. His breath was shallow, panicked. "Stop talking to me."

Jin ignored him. "Do you feel it, Lin? The weight of command? You’ve done well holding them together, but you know as well as I do—it cannot last. Sooner or later, you’ll stand alone. Just like the others."

Lin finally spoke, his voice cold, steel-edged. "The others failed because they played your game. I don’t intend to."

For the first time, the laughter that came through the speakers was genuine. Low, throaty, unsettling. "Good. Very good. Then prove it."

A loud click echoed through the tunnels. Somewhere deep in the concrete belly of the city, a mechanism unlocked. The chamber shuddered as if stirred awake.

"There are three exits," Jin said. "Two lead to death. One leads you forward. Choose wisely. And do hurry—the air down here is not so forgiving."

The speakers crackled, then fell silent.

The three of them stood in the heavy quiet that followed, the only sound the uneven drip of water somewhere far in the tunnels. The chamber stretched before them like a crucible. Three arched doorways had always been there, disguised as cracks in the old subway walls. Now, faint lights pulsed above each—red, yellow, green.

Keller hissed, clutching his side tighter. "He’s playing us like rats in a maze. We pick wrong, we’re corpses."

Min-joon shook his head violently. "No. No, we can’t do this. He’s already decided. No matter what we pick, we die."

"Not necessarily." Lin crouched, studying the floor. Dust, debris, faint scuff marks. Jin’s traps always carried his signature, if you knew where to look. "He wants us to panic. That’s how he wins."

Keller leaned against the wall, jaw clenched. "Then we’d better pick fast. I’m losing more blood than I can afford."

Lin pressed the photo of himself into his coat pocket and rose. His flashlight caught faint scratches near the base of the yellow-lit doorway. Not natural erosion. Marks, deliberate. Like someone had clawed at the wall trying to escape.

He turned to the green-lit arch. The dust before it lay untouched, undisturbed. Almost too clean. A trap prepared but unused.

Finally, his eyes landed on the red-lit arch. The floor bore a faint trail of dried footprints, leading inward but never returning.

His gut twisted. None of these were safe. Not really.

But Jin had said only one path led forward. That meant someone had survived it before.

He pointed at the red-lit door. "This way."

Min-joon recoiled. "You can’t be serious. Look at it! No one came back out—"

"That’s the point." Lin’s tone was ice. "The footprints stopped because they didn’t return to this chamber. They made it further."

Keller smirked bitterly. "Or they died deeper in."

"We don’t have another choice," Lin said firmly. "Move."

They passed beneath the red archway, the air shifting instantly to something colder, wetter. The tunnel ahead sloped downward, the walls narrowing until their shoulders brushed rough concrete. Min-joon’s breathing grew ragged, each step like dragging chains behind him.

Then they saw it—the end of the corridor sealed by a heavy steel door. Across its face, thick black chains crisscrossed, locked tight with a rusted padlock. Painted on the metal in stark white was the spiral. Jin’s mark.

But what froze them wasn’t the symbol. It was the sound.

Something moved behind the door. A dragging, wet scrape. A low, guttural exhale that reverberated through the steel like an animal’s breath. Min-joon stumbled back, nearly dropping his flashlight.

"What the hell..." Keller muttered, eyes narrowing. "He’s keeping something in there."

Lin stepped closer. The padlock was old, the metal corroded, but the chains were new—sturdy, deliberately reinforced. Whatever was inside wasn’t meant to get out. Not yet.

The sound came again. Louder this time. Followed by a sharp thud against the door that rattled the chains.

Min-joon backed against the wall, shaking his head violently. "No. No, no, no—we’re not opening that. Whatever’s in there, it’s not human."

Lin didn’t answer. His eyes stayed on the spiral, on the deliberate placement of this barrier. Jin had led them here, step by step, to stand before this door. To face what was chained behind it.

The chains quivered as another impact slammed against the steel, harder than before. A deep groan echoed through the corridor, half animal, half something else. The air grew thick with the stench of rust and something rotten.

Keller’s voice was low, grim. "Lin... tell me you’re not thinking of breaking that lock."

But Lin’s hand was already reaching for the hilt of his knife, his eyes locked on the symbol. Because deep down, beneath the fear and the revulsion, he understood one thing with perfect clarity:

Jin didn’t leave monsters behind doors without purpose.

And whatever was chained in the dark... was meant for him.