12:35 a.m.
Eun Bi leaned against the railing of the observation deck, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Daehyun," she said softly, "your eyes... they seem more red than usual. Are you getting enough sleep?"
Dr. Kang Daehyun looked up from the tablet in his hand, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. "The eyes? It's nothing," he said with a faint smile, brushing her concern aside. "And yes, I've been sleeping just fine, Manager."
But Eun Bi noticed the way he scratched at the center of his scalp — not once, but repeatedly, as if unaware he was doing it.
She tilted her head, concern deepening. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, just... some rash, I think," Dae replied, avoiding her gaze as he scratched again, this time more aggressively. "It's been bothering me since yesterday. Nothing major."
A pause settled between them before he continued, voice more hushed now, almost urgent. "Anyway, I sent you something. About the greenhouse. It should be in your office now — take a look when you can."
She studied him for a beat longer, catching the twitch in his jaw, the way his pupils seemed ever so slightly dilated under the artificial lights. Something was definitely off.
"Alright," she finally said, turning toward the elevator. "I'll check it out."
As the doors slid shut behind her, Daehyun stood motionless for a moment, hand slowly returning to his scalp. He scratched again — harder this time — until a single strand of dark hair floated to the floor.
He didn't even notice.
She stepped into the elevator, the soft hum carrying her upwards back to her original office . The ascent was slow, mechanical—giving her just enough time to steel herself for what she needed to do.
When the doors slid open, she made her way to her monitor. She sat down and began scrolling through the files Kang Daehyun had sent her—Project Verdant Vail's latest progress reports, experimental data, and growth metrics. Everything pointed to a rapid acceleration; soon, the project would reach its full potential.
Her eyelids grew heavy as she absorbed the endless streams of data. The soft clicking of the keyboard slowed until her fingers rested on the desk. She leaned back, eyes closing for just a moment—a little rest wouldn't hurt.
12:45a.m
When she opened her eyes again, she found herself staring out through the glass of her office window.
And there, she saw them.
The people she had greeted earlier—the technicians, researchers, and staff—all moving slowly, their hands repeatedly scratching at their head's. Their eyes glowed faintly red, unnatural and unsettling in the sterile environment.
Her heart quickened. This wasn't fatigue or irritation—this was something far worse.
Shr swallowed hard, the weight of realization settling over her.
This was no accident.
Eun Bi scrubbed a hand down her face, blinking away the heaviness in her eyes as she dove into the surveillance footage from the greenhouse. Frame by frame, she scanned the grainy, timestamped feed — until something caught her attention.
At 11:47 p.m., near the base of a vat of nutrient-saturated soil, a black mushroom pulsed faintly in the artificial light. It looked wrong — slick, too dark, almost as if absorbing light rather than reflecting it.
Then it moved.
The cap of the fungus split open with a slow, fleshy peel, releasing a dense, inky smoke. The cloud writhed like it had mass, like it was alive, and as she watched in mounting horror, it slithered upward, seeking and finding a narrow vent in the wall. The smoke slid inside like a serpent and vanished.
Eun Bi's heart dropped.
She jerked up from her desk and pulled up the structural schematics of the facility. Her breath quickened as she traced the ventilation system's layout — from the greenhouse, through central filtration, and directly into every wing of the lab complex, including her sector. The entire place was a closed system. If the spores had entered the vents, they had already spread.
She didn't wait.
Within minutes, she was descending back into the greenhouse sector. As she pushed through the double doors, she saw two technicians in containment suits hovering over the black fungus, ready to incinerate it.
"Stop!" she barked.
They froze mid-motion as she stepped forward. "Don't destroy it. I need a sample — now."
The younger of the two hesitated, glancing at his superior. "Manager, this stuff—"
"Now," she snapped. "Seal it in a triple-containment unit and bring it to Lab 4."
They obeyed without another word.
Just then, Daehyun emerged from the corridor behind her, still scratching lightly at his scalp. His eyes, now unmistakably glowing a dull crimson, locked onto her.
"Manager... is everything okay?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but the words tangled. No? Yes? She didn't know. Everything was spinning out of her control — the symptoms, the spread, the inexplicable fungus.
"I—" She swallowed. "I don't know. Maybe. No. Just... get some rest."
His gaze lingered a little too long before he gave a small, off-kilter nod and turned away.
Eun Bi didn't look back. She carried the sealed sample herself, cradling it as though it might detonate in her hands. When she returned to her lab division, she locked the doors, activated isolation protocols, and placed the sample under the scanning microscope.
12:55a.m
Eun Bi stared into the microscope, her heart thudding as the fungal cells writhed in slow, purposeful patterns. She backed away and turned to her archive terminal, fingers flying over the keys as she searched the company's classified biological database.
"What fungus behaves like this?"
She typed faster, narrowing filters — parasitic, neuroinvasive, spore-emitting — until one record caught her attention.
Ophiocordyceps unilateralis.
It was infamous. A parasitic fungus that hijacked the bodies of ants, steering them to optimal locations for spore dispersal before killing them and sprouting from their corpses. Nature's real-world zombie-maker.
But this... this was different. Bigger. Faster. Smarter.
This wasn't in the archives.
Before she could dive deeper, a chilling scream rang out from beyond her lab doors. Then another. Then chaos.
Eun Bi bolted into the hallway.
Down the corridor, staff were stumbling, doubled over, blood splattering the floor as violent coughs tore through their chests. She froze as one collapsed, convulsing — and from their mouth spilled not just blood, but chunks of tissue. Wet, glistening masses like torn organs, twitching as if trying to regrow.
Others were clawing at their scalps so violently their fingernails raked skin from bone, leaving them raw, bald, and shaking.
"Get them to the infirmary! Now!" she shouted, grabbing a stunned security officer by the arm. "Move!"
But then — the voice.
Cold. Calm. Inevitable.
1:00am
"Attention all personnel."
The overhead speakers crackled, and the voice of Delta, the station's central AI, echoed through every corridor like the toll of a death bell.
"Dr. Eun Bi has been stripped of her position. She has violated Directive Code 7. Her division is now under containment protocol. Await enforcement."
Around her, every elevator light flickered red. Locked down.
"No... Delta, override! This is a biohazard event, I need access to the upper levels!*" Eun Bi barked at the ceiling.
"Denied. Await arrival of the Silencers."
The blood drained from her face.
The Silencers — an elite corporate response unit tasked with cleaning up failures.Not rescue. Not containment. Erasure.
"No—Delta, listen to me. The vents have been compromised, you have to let me warn—"
"You will remain where you are, Dr. Eun Bi. The Silencers will determine your fate."
The hallway was still again — but only for a moment. Then came the sound of something metallic locking into place far down the corridor. Heavy boots. The distant hiss of sterilization gas being prepped.
Eun Bi backed away from the speakers, heart pounding, mind racing.
If she wanted to survive — and stop this from spreading beyond the lab — she had to move. Fast. Before the Silencers arrival
"Manager, what's going on?!"
"Is it a virus?!"
"Please, tell us the truth!"
Dozens of voices rang out from every hallway and lab bay, echoing off sterile walls. Panicked researchers, technicians, and junior scientists were swarming around her now, eyes wide, some bleeding, others holding trembling hands to raw, exposed scalps.
Eun Bi turned, her breath catching in her throat. *These people were innocent.* They didn't know about the hidden experiments, the off-record data, or the unapproved specimens she'd allowed into the greenhouse sector. But the corporation did now. *They'd found out.*
She shoved her way past the growing crowd and sprinted toward her office.
Inside, the room was dim, the light from her monitor flickering like a warning. She grabbed the internal comms phone and dialed — upper administration, emergency channel. It rang. Once. Twice.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
"Dammit!" She slammed the receiver down, chest heaving. The signal was being blocked. They were cutting her off entirely.
She steadied herself, swallowing panic.
She descended to her hidden sentry which has now been revealed.
The second the doors slid open, she was hit with the acrid scent of sterilization agents — and the sound of more screaming.
"No, no, no—" she whispered, stumbling out into the chamber.
Several researchers were coughing violently. Others were curled in corners, bald patches blooming across their scalps. Blood smeared the floors like brushstrokes.
"Everyone out! Now! Go to the top !" she shouted, slamming her hand on the emergency evacuation alarm.
The lab doors hissed open, and the staff surged toward the hidden elevator, some supporting those who couldn't walk. The lift filled with moans, crying, confusion. One by one, they vanished up the shaft — into whatever awaited them.
She remained behind.
Kang Daehyun lay slumped in a chair.
She rushed to him. His face was pale, skin glistening with sweat despite the lab's active cooling system. His hands twitched sporadically on the armrests, and his eyes — blood-red now, no longer subtle — locked onto hers with a dull intensity.
"Dae…" she whispered, brushing his forehead.
His mouth opened, but no words came. Just a wet, rasping breath.
She stepped back, heart thundering. *He wasn't going to make it.* And yet, she couldn't leave him.
*Unless…*
Her gaze snapped to the cryo-stasis pod in the corner — a prototype, built for extreme biological containment. It could freeze an organism on a cellular level in under five seconds.
Slowly they advanced to the lift and made it to the top. She dragged him to his office and slumped him in her office chair.
Eun Bi stood frozen in her lab, her hand still trembling from the failed call, Daehyun's shallow breathing echoing behind her. Her mind raced — nothing made sense. The symptoms, the aggression, the silence from above — it was spiraling too fast.
Then came the scream.
Sharp. Ragged. Close.
She bolted toward the hallway, heart pounding against her ribs like a warning drum.
Just outside the lab doors, a young male technician — Park Jihoon — was slamming his head against the wall over and over, his fingers clawing at his scalp like he was trying to peel it off.
"It won't stop!" he shrieked. "It won't stop!It's in me! IT'S IN MY HEAD—!"
Two others tried to restrain him, but he threw them off with impossible strength, his muscles bulging unnaturally, veins dark under his skin.
"Jihoon, stop!" someone shouted — too late.
One final slam. CRACK.
The noise was wrong— a sickening, hollow snap of bone and something softer. The hallway went still.
Jihoon collapsed, limbs twitching, face down in a pool of blood.
Gasps echoed around the corridor. One of the scientists, Dr. Hwan, dropped to his knees beside the body and checked his wrist.
"I—I don't feel a pulse," he stammered.
"No heartbeat," he whispered, and in shock, leaned closer, pressing his ear to Jihoon's chest.
A second passed.
Two.
Then Jihoon's eyes snapped open.
With a guttural snarl, he lunged upward and *sank his teeth into Hwan's neck*, tearing through flesh like paper. Blood sprayed in thick arcs across the corridor walls and onto the others — and onto Eun Bi.
1:20am
Her breath hitched as warm crimson speckled her cheek. Her legs locked in place as Hwan screamed — a sound that turned wet and gurgling within seconds. Jihoon chewed through him, eyes vacant and twitching.
People ran. Screams echoed. Someone threw up against the wall.
Eun Bi stumbled backward, hitting the wall behind her, hand pressed to her mouth.
She couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
Her vision narrowed, her chest heaving. She was covered in blood. Daehyun was mutating. Staff were dying. The elevators were down. The vents were poisoned.
And worst of all —
The Silencers still hadn't arrived.
They were being left to burn.
Her fingers clenched into fists.
She was shaking — fear, rage, guilt — she couldn't tell anymore.
This was her fault.
And now it was too late to contain it.