The wilderness was quiet—but not peaceful.
Every branch crack underfoot, every crow's caw overhead made Ji-hoon's grip tighten on his knife. He and Ada had moved west since sunrise, away from the ruins of the trader camp. Neither had spoken much during the day. Words would only slow them down.
When they finally reached the hidden outpost, the sun was brushing the edge of the mountains. The small two-story building sat tucked behind a ridge, hidden by crooked trees and half-choked in ivy. The sign above the door read:
U.S. BORDER PATROL – OUTPOST 3.
Ji-hoon whistled low. "Didn't think this place actually existed."
Ada didn't respond right away. She stepped closer, ran her fingers along the rotting wood, and gave a small nod. "Beta map. Version 0.7. Only a few of us ever saw it."
Ji-hoon glanced at her. "You played in beta?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she gave the door a hard push. The hinges groaned, but it opened. Inside was dark and stale. Dust floated in the still air. Desks, rusted lockers, moldy paper maps. Old ranger gear left behind.
"Get the doors and windows," Ada said.
They moved quickly, barricading everything they could find. Ji-hoon pried planks from old furniture, nailed canvas over the broken glass. Upstairs, he found blankets, a torn map, and even a rusted revolver with two bullets left.
Back downstairs, Ji-hoon asked, "How'd you know about this place?"
Ada was sitting near the fireplace, feeding it pieces of broken wood. The fire sputtered to life.
"I didn't play the beta," she said finally. "I was in it."
He froze. "Wait. What?"
Ada didn't look at him. "I was created as part of a hidden event. Experimental NPC programming. Not even players knew. The devs wanted me to learn, remember things between resets. That's how I got here."
Ji-hoon stared, stunned. "So you… know this isn't real?"
"I didn't, at first." She shrugged. "Woke up one day, and the world felt different. The days stopped blending together. I started remembering faces. Names. What didn't reset, I remembered. That's when I knew."
He was quiet for a long moment.
"You're… an NPC," he said slowly, "but you're self-aware?"
Ada smirked. "So are you, now."
"No—I'm a player. I logged in. I just… can't log out."
"Then maybe that makes both of us stuck," she said. "But the difference is, I knew the game was off before it broke."
They didn't say much after that.
The sky outside darkened. A cold wind rattled the boards.
"Get some sleep," Ada said. "I'll take first watch."
Ji-hoon hesitated. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "You'll need your mind sharp tomorrow. The infection's evolving. Whatever's inside this world… it's rewriting the code from the inside out."
He lay down near the fireplace, wrapped in a faded wool blanket. Ada sat beside the fire with the shotgun across her knees, watching the flames flicker.
Before Ji-hoon drifted off, he opened his HUD one last time.
[Objective Updated: Trace the Source]
[Signal Strength: 21% – Nearby Node Detected]
His eyes narrowed slightly.
It was here.
Morning.
Ji-hoon woke to the sound of footsteps.
Ada was already up. She stood near the basement door, shotgun in hand. "Time to check it."
Ji-hoon rolled up the blanket, grabbed his knife and revolver. "You think that thing's still down there?"
"Let's find out."
They opened the basement door slowly. The smell hit first—mildew, rust, something sour.
The zombie was still there—crawling weakly in circles. Its spine was laced with metal cables, some buried deep into its skin like veins.
Ada stepped closer.
"Test subject," she said again. "I saw reports about this back when I had limited access to logs. This wasn't a regular part of the AI loop. This thing was coded to listen to something. A signal."
Ji-hoon noticed a blinking light under its ribcage.
He reached carefully, flipped the panel open—inside was a pulsing node, like a core chip.
[Signal Node Identified – System Access Granted]
[Corrupted Subprocess: MIRROR.EXE – Linked to Core Root]
The zombie turned its head slowly. Its eyes were gone, just deep pits. But it tracked Ji-hoon.
Suddenly, it hissed—and tried to speak.
Not words.
Data.
Screeching, raw code burst out of its mouth like static screaming.
Ada shoved Ji-hoon back. "We're taking that chip."
He yanked it free.
The zombie twitched—and went limp.
Upstairs, the fire had gone cold. Sunlight barely pierced the clouded windows.
They looked at the chip.
Whatever it held… it wasn't just code.
It was a map.
To something deeper.