Chapter 19: A Whisper from the Underside
Kaito lay in the hospital bed, staring at the sterile ceiling tiles as if they might break open and rain more horrors upon him. The beeping of machines was strangely comforting. Regular. Human. Normal.
But he didn't feel normal. Not anymore.
The events inside the company building haunted every breath he took. That screech. The glowing eyes. The way the concrete trembled like something ancient had stirred beneath it. And worst of all—how the creature seemed… aware.
It wasn't just an insect. It had watched him.
The doctor said he had suffered from oxygen deprivation and mild trauma.
He didn't argue.
"Any news?" he asked, as Aiko stepped into the room.
She looked pale, a clipboard in her hands, but her voice was steady. "They sealed the building. Military contractors have taken over."
"And the lab?"
"Gone," she said. "Destroyed. They've denied its existence."
Of course. That's how it worked.
Cover everything. Lie to the public. Let the people sleep soundly while shadows crawl beneath their feet.
"I saw the logs," Aiko added, closing the door behind her. "Something was moved into the lower containment vault two weeks ago. Something the company kept off the books."
"You think that was the thing I fought?"
She shook her head. "No. That wasn't the one they moved."
Kaito felt a chill run through his arms.
"So there's… another?"
"There always is," she said softly.
He tried to sit up straighter, but his ribs complained. Aiko helped him adjust the bed. He noticed her fingers trembling. She had seen something too.
"They'll come for you soon," she whispered. "To ask questions. But not because they care about the truth. They want to see how much you know."
"I didn't ask to know any of this."
"You weren't supposed to survive."
Silence filled the room. Even the machines seemed quieter.
Then she handed him something. A flash drive.
"What's this?"
"Proof. Or at least… a trail."
Kaito slipped it into his palm, hiding it under the blanket.
"I shouldn't be helping you," she said, her eyes darting to the door. "But I can't keep watching them ruin lives. You weren't their first test subject. Just the first one to fight back."
He wanted to ask more, but there wasn't time.
A knock echoed from the hallway.
Aiko moved fast, opening the window behind the curtain. "If you stay, they'll erase you."
"I can barely stand."
She handed him a vial—a stimulant. "It'll hurt. But it'll work."
He injected it without hesitation. The burn spread through his veins like liquid fire, his muscles locking, then snapping into strength.
Aiko helped him out the window.
He dropped down into the alley behind the hospital. The sky was darkening again.
Kaito…
He froze.
The voice wasn't Aiko's. It wasn't anyone's.
It was inside his head.
You heard us, didn't you? Beneath the concrete… beneath the lie. You heard the pulse.
He spun around, heart hammering.
Nothing.
We are not one. We are many. You broke the first chain.
A flicker of memory returned—those glowing veins on the creature, pulsing in rhythm. Not random. A heartbeat.
Kaito… do you remember your dreams?
He did.
Recently, they had grown worse. Dreams of tunnels stretching forever. Of wings brushing his cheeks. Of laughter beneath the earth.
He staggered through the alley until he found a payphone—an old relic. He dialed the one number burned into his mind.
"Hello?" a young male voice answered.
"Haruto. It's me."
"…Kaito? Are you insane? They said you were missing. That you—"
"I don't have time. I need to know if the old tunnels are still beneath District 9."
Haruto hesitated. "You mean the ones sealed after the subway collapse?"
"Yes."
"They're condemned. Full of debris and mold. Why—?"
"They're not empty."
A long pause.
Then: "You're going back underground, aren't you?"
"I think the thing I killed wasn't even part of what they buried. Just a scout."
Haruto cursed under his breath.
"Send me everything you have on the collapse. Blueprints. Maps. Anything."
"Got it. But Kaito…"
"Yeah?"
"Don't die."
He hung up.
Kaito stood still, the voice still echoing in his skull. Not just words, now. Visions. Images. Of cocoons large as cars. Of blood-soaked sigils carved into tunnel walls. Of people walking past cracks in the sidewalk, never knowing what watched from below.
The war hadn't started.
It had always been.
And now… it was waking up.