I was walking the familiar streets of Burning Duct again for the first ti in a while.
There was only one goal: Black Bio Pizza.
Sure, Seoul Dino Park had Luna’s amazing homade pies—but sotis, I missed that classic taste only this place could deliver.
Today, the only ones tagging along were the Children.
Ember was out eting her friend, and Scarlet had insisted soone stay behind to man the Dino Park central control hub.
Aria... still looked unwell.
Ever since that incident in the warehouse flooded with blue mist, she hadn’t been able to recover.
“Hm?”
I glanced around and noticed only two Children were beside .
“Where’s the other one?”
At my question, the two looked up at —
Then, as if rehearsed, they both threw their tiny hands in the air and shouted:
[Ember!]
[Adventure!]
I nodded in understanding.
Well, Ember hadn’t returned for hours. Probably went to check on her.
The Children had a habit of trailing after her like ducklings sotis.
So we continued our stroll through the steam-choked streets of Burning Duct.
Rough rcenary laughter, thudding bass from distant speakers, and the sharp tang of cheap liquor—it was the sa old scenery.
A battered public TV screen mounted on the sidewalk blared exaggerated sound effects and breaking news.
[Attention citizens of Babel! The monopoly of Black Bio, long the ruler of our dinner tables, is finally coming to an end! A new contender—Perfect Food—has burst onto the scene like a cot!]
The anchor was gesturing wildly, their performance overly dramatic.
As Black Bio staggered from a recent terror incident, a new startup called Perfect Food had stord in with aggressive marketing, quickly cornering the market.
The screen cut to glossy ads showcasing food that practically glistened under studio lighting, frad by the Perfect Food logo.
[Unmatched freshness! Unbeatable value! And most importantly—real flavor! Perfect Food promises to enrich your dining experience, Babel citizens!]
“No way...”
I groaned under my breath.
My beloved Black Bio Pizza... under threat?
This was serious.
And of course, when we reached the Black Bio Pizza branch in Burning Duct, the place was dead.
Usually, the lunch rush would have claid a few tables, but today, there wasn’t a single custor in sight.
Old man Tony sat slumped at the counter, sighing heavily.
And directly across the street, in the most obnoxious spot possible, a glowing neon sign blinked: Perfect Food Pizza.
Sa industry. Direct competition. Right across the street.
These bastards didn’t even pretend to respect boundaries.
Just how good could it possibly be...?
I couldn’t resist the curiosity. I crept toward the Perfect Food Pizza joint.
The Children followed close behind.
Inside, the atmosphere was the complete opposite.
The place was packed—no empty tables in sight. Voices and laughter filled every corner.
The sll hit hard. It wasn’t like Black Bio’s earthy, oily scent.
This was... bolder. Sharper. Sothing about it made my mouth water involuntarily.
I found a seat and ordered the most expensive-looking item on the nu.
Perfect Fresh Worm Shockwave Pizza.
The na alone was a lot.
Soon enough, a monstrous pizza was set down in front of .
Just like the nu described.
Massive slabs of at covering the entire plate, vegetables so fresh they looked sculpted, and—
Visual trauma.
Of course it was a visual trauma.
In the center of the pizza sat a gigantic bug—bigger than my head—served whole.
And it was still alive.
Its antennae and legs twitched faintly, its shell a vivid green, covered in tufts of white fuzz.
Its shiny black eyes stared straight at .
“...Eugh.”
I yelped and sprang from my seat.
There was no way I could adapt to the food culture of the cyberpunk century.
This was a generational chasm.
I had tried—really tried—to understand post-collapse cuisine.
But this? No. Just—no.
I scooped the Children up onto my shoulders and bolted straight back to Black Bio Pizza.
I left the ordered food behind.
Ugh.
****
The slight movents from the Child in her pocket gave Ember a strange sense of peace.
But stepping back into her friend’s house now felt... heavy.
Monts ago, this place had seed so cozy, so serene.
Now, it felt wrong.
What is this...?
Nothing was out of place.
The pastel paintings. The sunlit potted plants. The sofa and the table.
But now, after coming into contact with the Child again, everything inside the house felt subtly twisted.
Ember flexed her fingers, trying to parse the discomfort.
It felt like walking onto a perfectly reconstructed stage set.
Too flawless. So flawless, in fact, that the perfection itself beca unsettling.
It was hard to put into words, but the sense of wrongness hit Ember on a primal level.
What is this...? I didn’t feel anything earlier...
The closer she got to the living room—where her friend waited—the clearer that disturbing sensation beca.
When she stepped into the room, her friend looked up from the sofa with a bright smile, still holding a cup of tea.
But that smile was... off. And the eyes—unfocused, like the gaze of soone half-asleep.
“Ember, what took you so long? The tea’s getting cold.”
The voice still sounded gentle—but now it carried a strange undertone. Sothing off-kilter.
Ember felt her body tense instinctively but forced herself to act natural.
“Sorry. Just had to take a call outside.”
She slowly approached the sofa.
Her friend’s gaze suddenly flicked toward her pocket.
In the next instant, their expression froze.
“Get that thing out of here! Now!”
They shouted, pointing directly at Ember’s pocket with a voice sharp enough to cut steel.
The mont the words hit her ears, Ember felt a powerful compulsion to obey.
Like sothing was trying to hijack her will, override her judgnt.
Before she knew it, her hand was gripping the Child—ready to toss them out the window.
No. This isn’t right.
She fought the urge, pushing back with everything she had.
But sohow, the act of throwing the Child had started to feel... normal. Even justified.
“Yes! Do it already! Why are you even carrying around that filthy thing?!”
Her friend’s voice grew increasingly hysterical.
Just then, Ember felt a tiny tongue gently lick her palm.
[Nooo!]
The Child’s frantic voice snapped through her like a splash of freezing water.
This is... a hallucination.
Everything—this house, the cozy ambiance, the warm conversations—it was all an illusion.
And the Child’s presence had fractured it.
Without hesitation, Ember pivoted and thrust the Child straight toward her friend's face.
“GyaaaAAARGHH!”
The mont the Child ca close, her friend let out a horrific scream—sothing no human vocal cords should be able to produce.
Then they collapsed onto the floor, writhing violently.
From their mouth, they began to vomit—foamy and thick, packed with sothing grotesque.
Transparent sli, threaded with what looked like dozens—no, hundreds—of wriggling worms.
The mass of them slithered out in waves, spilling across the floor in a sickening tide.
Seeing that, Ember didn’t hesitate for even a second.
She drew ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) the pistol from her belt and fired straight at her friend’s head.
Bang!
The gunshot tore through the illusion.
In an instant, the cozy living room dissolved—replaced by the decayed husk of a ruin.
The once-cute pastel furniture was gone.
In its place stood grotesque structures that looked as if they’d been knitted together from tangled, squirming worms.
The subtle scent of air freshener vanished, replaced by a cloying stench of rot that dug deep into Ember’s lungs like moldy tar.
Black mold blanketed the walls and ceiling. Pools of unknown liquid slicked the floor.
And in the center of it all, her friend—what was left of them—slowly raised their head.
The top half of it was gone.
Their face remained, lips curled into a terrifying smile that stretched far too wide.
Worms writhed from the severed stump of their head, gushing out like parasites from a broken shell.
“You figured it out, huh.”
The voice no longer resembled her friend’s at all.
It belonged to sothing else entirely.
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