As Haim pushed open the rooftop door, a cold night wind brushed against his cheek.

The hospital rooftop, deep in the night, was unnervingly still—as if the chaos below had been nothing but a lie.

He placed a hand on the metal railing and leaned forward slowly.

Seoul’s nightscape unfolded before him.

Neon signs, streetlights, the endless trail of headlights—as if the city was still functioning normally, its darkness hidden beneath the surface.

But Haim could feel it clearly—something was lurking beyond the glow.

Something unfamiliar was seeping through the city, slipping between the garish signs like a false smile. It drifted through the air like a shapeless mist, steadily engulfing everything.

“This is just the beginning,”

he repeated silently.

“The 901st Night isn’t just a symbol—it’s a ritual. A reenactment of the story itself.”

Just then, his phone buzzed.

[New patient reported] [Unconscious individual at club near Sinchon Station exhibiting similar symptoms]

It was an internal hospital alert.

“It’s spreading.” “It’s no longer confined to the hospital.”

He looked out at the distant cityscape, overcome by a strange sense of déjà vu.

Though this was the first time he had witnessed such an event—it somehow felt familiar.

As if he had seen it all before… inside a story.

He whispered to himself.

“The brighter the light, the deeper the shadow.”

Something was being born beneath the glittering lights of the city. Not a disease, not a virus—

But a story.

A story that consumed emotions, distorted memories, and masked reality with a smile.

Stepping back from the railing, Haim took one last look at the city.

His fingertips were frozen, and his eyes sank deeper than before.

“This isn’t just an incident.” “This is a story that reshapes the entire world.”

But that story—it was too intricate, too perfect.

As if someone had planned every part of it from the very beginning.

That night, Haim couldn’t sleep.

Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, then quietly closed his eyes.

And from deep within his memory, a night long sealed away surfaced.

It was a memory from far before the “901st Night.”

A story he had never told anyone.

A story that should never be told.

And at the center of it all—was Haim himself.