Surviving Restructuring

A group of Subjects entered the tunnel, their movements tight with purpose. Far above, a boy and a girl watched with serene detachment, like spectators observing a distant play.

“Seung,” the girl called, addressing the much taller man beside her. “That guy. He’s weird, right?”

“Who? Ah, yeah.” Seung cut himself off mid-question.

There was only one person here worth his superior’s attention: Lee Eun-Ho. With above-average intelligence, below-average physical ability, and average charm, he was overall an average Subject.

“I haven’t seen him in person before, but what a cocky bastard,” Seung said, frowning. “Standing up to the Administrator like that.”

Besides, this was not just any Administrator—it was Harona, a rising star once poised to become the next team leader, if not for a single disciplinary mark on her record. For someone like Eun-Ho to get in her way was beyond insolent.

Seung clenched his jaw. The longer he thought about it, the more infuriating it became. He made up his mind to teach the kid a lesson.

“I’ll go down there and straighten him out—”

“His vibe changed,” Harona interrupted, absentmindedly twisting one of her twin braids.

“Sorry? What did you say?”

“He’s too confident. Don’t you think so?”

Seung replayed Eun-Ho’s words in his mind, the memory still fresh.

“It’s ten seconds to nine.”

He remembered Eun-Ho stepping forward—calm, collected, even after witnessing her power.

Seung then nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it... Yeah, he’s strange.”

From everything they had seen, Eun-Ho didn’t strike them as reckless. He was the type to avoid risks unless absolutely necessary. Yet, here he was, stepping in himself.

“Please begin the exam.”

There had been unspoken, yet unmistakable pressure in those words. Almost like a warning about time punctuality which was one of the company’s ironclad, non-negotiable rules.

“It felt like he knew we didn’t have time to waste,” Harona muttered.

“Well that’s...” Seung hesitated.

We have to make sure all trials begin at the exact registered time, Harona thought.

They could register additional trials during unused blocks, but they couldn’t just delay a pre-scheduled one. That would throw off the entire company timetable.

“It’s a coincidence,” Seung said firmly. “There’s no way a Prospective Candidate would know how the company operates.”

Seung was right—it was supposed to be impossible.

“Sure, but I still don’t like it,” Harona grumbled.

It was just a slight shift, a minor detail, but it was enough to irritate her. She was meticulous, and once something felt wrong, it clung to her like a splinter.

“Besides, Eun-Ho isn’t the kind of guy who risks himself for others, right?” Harona asked.

“Maybe it’s a hero complex,” Seung suggested. “I heard that Sector 13 tends to glorify self-sacrifice.”

It was a logical guess, but Harona did not seem convinced.

“Hmph. He doesn’t seem like that kind of person to me.” She twisted her braid again, deep in thought. “What if he’s getting something out of this?”

“But saving the others wouldn’t benefit him in any way,” Seung said.

“Ugh, it just bugs me, okay? This damn system! Who knows what it’s planning!” Harona let out a heavy sigh, clearly frustrated.

Still, what options did they have? Even senior administrators were powerless when it came to the system’s core functions.

“It’s a shame,” Seung muttered. “If we could just access their status windows, this wouldn’t be so irritating.”

Harona nodded, then waved the thought away. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter what tricks he picked up. This trial won’t be easy.”

“Well, you made sure of that,” Seung said, smirking.

”I’m just pissed because the higher-ups keep breathing down my neck!” she snapped.

The petite girl let out another long, irritated exhale, then added sharply, as if coughing out the words, “And if we fail, they’re handing everything over to the Center.”

That was the real reason they were here, wasting precious time to personally oversee the trial—the Project Hunt had failed. Not a single candidate had been eliminated, an unprecedented failure by every standard.

Thanks to that stunt, they had gotten an earful of “You’re supposed to give them a crisis, not save everyone in sight!”

On top of that, there was now a standing order. If they could not handle this personally, the task would be reassigned to another department.

“By the way, why do you think the Center’s so interested in him?” Seung asked.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Harona shot back. “They pounce on anything with the faintest spark of potential. It’s annoying.”

She clicked her tongue and gritted her teeth in frustration. Seung watched her warily, worried she’d blow up again, but thankfully, she didn’t seem that mad.

“Well, orders are orders,” she said with a shrug.

If they told her to make things harder, she would. If they told her to cut headcount, she would do that too. That was just how things worked here.

Still, Harona couldn’t help but think that all this hassle over one troublesome candidate was getting ridiculous.

“Hmph.”

“But you seem kind of excited about this, Lady Harona,” Seung said, tilting his head.

He was not imagining it. Despite everything, a flicker of anticipation crept into her expression. She even licked her lips in excitement unconsciously.

“What? No way. I’m totally not excited,” she replied, though she sounded unconvincing.

***

“W-what’s going on? I can’t see anything!”

“Is this a blackout?! Do something!”

“Turn on your flashlight! Wait... Huh?”

Something was wrong. Not just the tunnel lights but even the handheld flashlights the participants brought had all gone dark.

Every artificial light source blinked out at once, plunging them into total, suffocating darkness.

“Why is it this dark? Did they seal the entrance or something?”

“Aaah! Someone stepped on my foot!”

Panic rippled through the group and the absence of sight only amplified the other senses.

Rustle!

Every whisper, and every twitch of fabric scraped against the silence like sandpaper.

Rustle—

A warm hand of Ji-Eun’s brushed against the back of Eun-Ho’s. Then a faint scent of shampoo drifted from Ji-Eun, gripping the hem of his shirt.

“E-Eun-Ho? You’re there, right?”

“Yes, I am. And the foot you’re stepping on is mine.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!”

He could practically feel her jump in place, startled. Even so, she didn’t let go of his shirt.

Is she afraid of the dark?

Eun-Ho imagined she would be nervously biting her nails by now. Then, right on cue, a clear sound cracked through the silence.

[A defensive setup has been activated.]

[Survive the Shadow Path.]

A robotic sound echoed through the tunnel like an announcement at a train station.

“A defensive setup? Does that mean there are traps?” someone asked.

“Y-you go first!”

“What? Why me? I’m scared too!”

People’s voices started to tremble—confusion and fear coloring every word.

Then, Jae-Hyuk cut through the murmur as he was nearby. “Hyungnim! Is now the time?”

He meant the fire, but Eun-Ho shook his head.

“No, not yet.”

They had to wait for the right timing until something showed up. If they lit anything too early, it would only give away their location.

For now, the priority was to keep people from spiraling into panic.

“Everyone, check your maps! You can see, right?”

Despite the pitch-black surroundings, when the map was opened, a faint green circle glowed softly on the screen, like a lighthouse in open water.

The glow was so dim that it wouldn’t normally register as light, but in this darkness, it was enough to spark hope.

“I-I can see it! I can see the map!”

“Yeah, I can see it too!”

“The safe zone’s at the end of the tunnel!”

The true safe zone was marked on the far end of the tunnel. In other words, they had to walk the entire length of this dark path to reach it without their sight.

Realization finally began to dawn. One by one, the people there murmured under their breath, processing what was ahead.

“Shit, how are we supposed to walk all the way over there when we can’t even see our own feet?”

“It’s freaking long as hell!”

The shouting came, laced with fear disguised as anger.

[9:40]

Nine minutes and forty seconds left on the clock.

While Eun-Ho was busy thinking things through, Sol-Ah, the clever one, suddenly let out an “Ah!” like she’d just remembered something important.

“Hey, Mister! I saw a sign earlier! This tunnel’s one point three kilometers long, right? That’s totally doable in nine minutes, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eun-Ho replied, nodding. “If we run, we will make it in time. But that’s only if there aren’t any obstacles.”

“Huh? Obstacles?”

Eun-Ho remembered what he had read earlier.

“- Difficulty: Mid-High to Very High. Varies based on defensive setup.”

The defensive setup was somewhere in the tunnel. According to the trial file, it had to do with nocturnal creatures that could see perfectly in the dark, designed specifically to target and overwhelm survivors deprived of their vision.

However, Eun-Ho had ways to level the playing field.

[Capital Beacon torch]

- A torch buried for 500 years beneath the central beacon tower.

- Can emit either flame or smoke, lasting up to one hour.

“Let’s start moving! Stay close and try not to run into anyone!” Eun-Ho called out.

“Got it, Eun-Ho!”

“Got it, Hyungnim!”

If obstacles were in the way, then they just had to remove them. They kept going—somewhere between a walk and a run, urgency in every step.

Thump.

“Wait. Don’t you hear something?”

“Hear what?”

Thump. Thump.

In the pitch black, their ears strained for any sound. A faint crunching tread echoed through the air that was soft at first, but creeping closer with each passing moment.

They’re here. The defensive setup.

They were predators of the dark, moving freely through blindness, cutting down survivors before they even sensed the danger.

“Everyone! Grab your weapons!”

“Huh?”

“What? Why?!”

There was no time to explain.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The sounds drew closer and faster.

“Jae-Hyuk! Now!”

“Yes, sir!”

Thud!

Jae-Hyuk dropped the heavy load he had been hauling this whole time. Even without light, the rustle and impact painted the scene clearly.

Fwoosh! Crash!

He dropped the bundle of dry branches they had painstakingly collected the night before straight onto the ground. However, before they could do anything with it, cries erupted nearby.

“Aaaah!”

“What the hell was that?!”

“I can’t see a damn thing!”

From the darkness, screams echoed. They were already under attack!

What kind of monsters could they be?

Thunk! Clang!

Horns? Claws? No... That sounds like...

“Shit! It feels like these bastards can see us!”

“This is insane! How the hell are we supposed to fight them? This is unfair!”

One side could see but the other couldn’t. It was a true ambush, but utterly one-sided.

However, Eun-Ho wasn’t about to let that slide.

“Jae-Hyuk! Are you ready?”

“Here! All set!”

“Nice. Summon!”

[Would you like to activate the Capital Beacon Torch?]

[Choose between Beacon Fire and Beacon Smoke.]

“Beacon Fire!” Eun-Ho shouted.

He gripped the heavy torch in his hand, feeling the grain of the carved wood.

Then, a burst of flame ignited instantly, cutting into the dark like a blade.

Fwooosh—!

It worked!

Flames with no smoke were totally unrealistic, but he wasn’t complaining. He held the dry torch head to the pile of coarse branches.

Crackle! Crackle! Whoosh—!

In the pitch-black darkness, where not even a hand in front of his face was visible, a flicker of red flame burst to life at his feet.

Whooom—!

In seconds, the fire leapt up, catching the dry wood and throwing light across the tunnel.

“Focus! Grab your weapons, now!”

The fire surged so high it looked like it might lick the ceiling of the tunnel.

Suddenly, the darkness gave way to a red-tinged glow. In that light, shadows emerged—dozens of them—pressed against the walls, scattered across the ground.

Then, as if conjured from thin air, a solid wall rose ahead, sealing the tunnel and trapping them inside.

So that’s the defensive setup?

The surface of the wall shimmered like a red veil, blurred and glowing in the firelight. In front of it were dozens of enemies.

Twenty? Maybe twenty-one of them?

Even the monsters, who had been charging in just moments ago, hesitated, flinching back from the heat. Some of the others appeared startled too, taken aback by the sudden brightness and rising temperature.

Though, Eun-Ho did not miss a beat.

“We have to break through them and get past that wall! We’re out of time!”

Now that the fire had cleared their vision, there was only one thing left to do which was to cut down the enemies standing in their way.

“Oh my gosh! Monsters?!”

“Wait, I can see them now!”

“Grab your weapons, everyone!”

One by one, people snapped out of their panic, hands tightening around swords and spears. They squinted into the growing light, facing the enemy head-on. Yet, something felt off.

“- Difficulty: Mid-High to Very High. Varies based on defensive setup.”

This defensive setup was supposed to be nocturnal beasts, meaning animals and not people. At least that was what the briefing had said. However, what he saw in front of him seemed to be humanoid, covered head-to-toe in armor and helmets.

Are you serious? Helmets and full body armor?

There were no screeching bats or shadowy beasts. These were human-shaped soldiers, uniformed and shielded. It didn’t make any sense!

Whatever. Who cares.

“We’ve got them two-to-one! Pair up!”

They could handle this. Sure, the enemy had the gear and the surprise advantage, but their team had the numbers.

Besides, now that the tunnel’s greatest weapon, the darkness, was gone, their chances were looking a lot better.

Swish—!

Eun-Ho drew his sword and lunged at the nearest armored figure.

The moment his blade came close, the soldier shrieked and dropped to the ground. “Kyaaaah!”

What the...? Eun-Ho thought.

She then curled into a ball, arms raised, trembling as she covered her head.

Wait. Is that a person?

The helmet hid the face, but Eun-Ho knew from the posture, the reaction and the voice that this wasn’t a monster.

“E-Eun-Ho?!”

“Huh?”

Ji-Eun looked uncertain. Before she could speak, Eun-Ho stepped forward and pulled off the helmet.

Long, wavy hair spilled free—eyes shut tight, frozen in fear.

No way. Our enemy is...

“Ye-Ji?” said Eun-Ho.

This is really Lee Ye-Ji from accounting?

“Eun-Ho!” Ye-Ji replied.

She was the same girl who pulled a rare sword from a mystery box and then froze, too scared to swing it. The same one who stabbed a ghost once on the KTX train and passed out right then and there.

Seriously?

Eun-Ho let out a slow, exhausted sigh.

“Didn’t I tell you not to close your eyes in front of the enemy?”

What the hell am I supposed to do with this?