[Dockside Slaughterhouse – Sublevel Entry]
Bokgu's lunge never landed.
Eli didn't step back.
He sidestepped.
And Bokgu whistled.
The yard's rear gate clanged open behind Eli.
Four figures emerged. Two walked past Bokgu without eye contact. One descended the stairwell hatch behind the container stack. The last stood still—barefoot, shirt off, body covered in surgical tape and scar-maps.
Yeon-sik.
Drift lieutenant. Low voice. Close-range grappler. Called "the Snake."
Eli didn't flinch.
Instead, he laughed—once, sharp.
"Ohhh. This is the part where I'm supposed to run, isn't it?"
He took one long look at the opened steel hatch beneath the meat locker's shadow.
Then walked straight into it.
[Sublevel – Corridor 1, "The Fog"]
The stairs were slick. The air dropped ten degrees by the third step.
Lights buzzed overhead but barely worked. Pipes hissed. Steam curled from the ceiling like breath.
The walls closed in. There were no exits. No back doors. Only a path forward. A trap.
Yeon-sik's voice echoed from the dark.
"You're not scared yet?"
Eli's voice was calm.
"I was bored. This is better."
A shadow moved behind him.
Another to his left.
Then came the footsteps—off-rhythm. Intentional.
They wanted him to listen for a pattern. Then fail to find one.
Classic rhythm disruption.
"Do you know why we call this place 'the Fog'?" Yeon-sik whispered.
Eli didn't answer.
He walked.
Step.
Steam curled behind him.
Step.
A glint of chain to his right.
"You can't breathe in here without tasting metal."
Eli turned the corner. Pipes above. Meat hooks long-abandoned. Floor wet.
"And you can't think without losing track of your pulse."
[Cut – Eli's Inner POV]
Three opponents.
Two are decoys. One is Yeon-sik.
They want me cornered.
They're pacing me like a beat.
Wrong move.
I own tempo.
[Sublevel – "The Pull"]
Suddenly, a body rushed from the right—fast, full charge.
Eli ducked low. Caught the man mid-stomach. Shifted.
The second attacker came from behind.
Eli smiled.
Didn't block.
Let the hit land—a glancing elbow across his back.
Then spun. Grabbed the first man's collar.
Switched positions—used one Drift soldier to block the other.
Both collided into the pipe wall with a crack.
Steam blasted downward.
Yeon-sik emerged.
He walked through the fog like it belonged to him.
"Your tricks won't matter now."
Eli tilted his head.
"Then let's talk."
Eli circled slowly. Arms loose. Smile slight.
"You love this, don't you?" he said. "The silence. The heat. The idea that you're the boogeyman with a blueprint."
Yeon-sik said nothing.
Eli raised a finger.
"Except, you're not the snake."
He tapped his chest.
"I am."
A pause.
"See, you wrap around rhythm. I devour it."
He stepped into Yeon-sik's space, casual.
"You think you're controlling the air. But I stopped breathing three fights ago."
Yeon-sik struck.
Fast choke. Elbows in. Clinch.
Eli let him.
[Combat: Drift Clinch Phase]
Yeon-sik's grip was tight. Breath close. Knee already aiming for Eli's ribs.
But Eli didn't fight it.
He leaned into the pressure.
"You're choking a devil in his own grave," he whispered.
Then he smiled against Yeon-sik's cheek.
"I hope you brought a priest."
Headbutt.
Crack.
Knee to groin. Pivot. Elbow to neck.
Yeon-sik staggered.
Eli spun behind him.
Wrapped the chain off the hook around Yeon-sik's throat.
Didn't tighten it.
Just whispered:
"Do you feel that?"
A beat.
"That's control."
[Exit Phase – Message Left]
The two other Drift soldiers lay groaning.
Eli didn't finish them. He crouched next to one. Held out a lighter.
Lit it.
Burned the edge of the Drift bandanna on the man's wrist.
Left it smoldering.
"They'll understand."
Then he walked through the last corridor.
At the far end, under a single spotlight, sat a metal folding chair.
On it: a phone. Old. Screen cracked.
It rang once.
Then stopped.
Eli didn't pick it up.
He tapped the seat once.
"I'm already sitting at your table, Gilwoo. You're just late."
He walked out.