Seoul Cyberpunk Story-Chapter 100: Trace

Riley’s first impression of Seoul Dino Park, arriving alongside Dominic, was that it was far stranger—and far livelier—than the rumors had led her to believe.

In fact, Dino Park had always been shrouded in sinister gossip.

After all, a known terrorist had taken over an entire orbital station.

There were even urban legends about shadowy figures snatching people away in the dark.

And the infamy of A, the so-called “Pizza Demon,” only kept growing, so those rumors showed no sign of dying down.

But to Riley’s eyes, Dino Park looked nothing like the grim tales she'd heard.

With a slightly /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ excited expression, she looked around.

She’d never visited back when it was still a tourist attraction, so everything felt new and a little magical.

Black pterosaurs glided lazily through the sky, and off in the distance, massive herbivorous dinosaurs grazed peacefully within the biodome of the ecological park.

Despite A’s takeover, Dino Park seemed to have retained much of its original dinosaur-themed identity.

Of course, the giant Triceratops sitting squarely at the hotel entrance to greet visitors was a bit of a departure.

Like a massive puppy, the Triceratops swished its tail contentedly as children patted its head.

A scene unimaginable during the park’s official operating days, for safety reasons.

Dominic Krilov, who had arrived at Dino Park with Riley, didn’t seem particularly surprised by any of it.

The moment they passed through the entrance, his eyes locked onto one place alone.

Beyond the window, where black space stretched—an opaque, featureless void.

He stared into that abyss with a quietly knowing look.

What’s out there... beyond that?

Riley, too, glanced out of curiosity, but all she saw was a sheet of darkness, like black canvas stretched across the cosmos.

Just then, Whitey was struggling as it found itself mobbed by a swarm of kids.

[Riley! Help me!]

Whitey had somehow ended up in the kids’ hands, getting rolled around like a toy.

Riley chuckled at the sight and gently extracted Whitey from the group.

The children looked longingly at the bird in Riley’s arms, but soon scattered to chase other amusements.

Strangely, Riley didn’t find the children’s presence jarring.

If anything, it filled her with a vague sense of nostalgia.

Back in the early stages of Titan Tech’s AI research, most of the prototypes had childlike forms.

Probably because MK Corporation’s original designs for artificial intelligence had looked like that.

Though they were all gone now, Riley firmly believed that those AI children had gone somewhere better.

“This way, please.”

Victor, acting as their guide, led Riley and Dominic forward.

He looked massive and unyielding, but his expression was unexpectedly gentle.

As he walked, Victor offered a quick rundown of the Dino Park interior.

Partway through, he pointed toward a spot outside the window.

“That’s the newly emerged Incheon.”

The word sounded strange and foreign to Riley’s ears.

But where his finger pointed, a massive landmass floated in the blackness of space.

It didn’t look particularly special.

Could that really be the lost “Korea”?

To Riley, the name was unfamiliar and therefore all the more intriguing.

Dominic, however, reacted differently.

At the sight of Incheon drifting in space, he simply gave a quiet nod, as if it all made perfect sense.

Wait... don’t tell me our company’s relocating there...?

Riley followed behind Victor, her mind reeling.

Eventually, they arrived at the park’s central lounge.

And there, Riley finally came face-to-face with the infamous master of the domain—A.

A was flopped over on a massive bed, completely melted into it like a lazy cat.

She gave Riley’s group a single disinterested glance before turning her gaze back to the TV like nothing mattered.

The epitome of an unemployed couch potato.

The unexpected sight left Riley frozen on the spot for a moment.

****

Other than the fact that Dominic had shown up after some sort of negotiation, nothing about Dino Park had really changed.

I lay slouched on the bed, watching TV.

A segment introducing the Circle System of the Hexa Core Armory had just come on.

I’d seen it before, but now it played like a parody of itself.

There was nothing on screen—just subtitles scrolling across an empty black feed.

That was the aftermath of Rina Cortez’s erasure.

The strange part was, I was the only one who remembered that Rina had been in the footage.

Which meant I couldn’t share the amusement with anyone else.

Dominic was sitting on the sofa beside me, watching the same broadcast. His expression was grim.

Amber had apparently informed him that “Rina Cortez no longer exists,” so it was probably weighing on him.

Amber and Dominic had spent the past few days tracking Rina Cortez’s movements.

It was a full-scale operation: Amber’s hacking expertise combined with Dominic’s connections and infrastructure.

And they’d uncovered quite a few anomalies.

Most notably: the position of lead supervisor for the Circle Project at Hexa Core Armory had been vacant the entire time.

Not temporarily—completely, from beginning to end.

Every report was filed without a signature. Some portions of the funding records were vague or incomplete.

Even now, the documentation remained unsigned.

And yet, the project had progressed miraculously well.

As if some invisible hand had been orchestrating everything behind the scenes.

Is it impossible for a plan to proceed without a supervisor? Not exactly—but...

In a megacorp brimming with talent, there was no reason to resort to such inefficiency.

Through my own experiments and Amber’s findings, we uncovered a limitation in my White Shadow ability.

It could indeed erase the very existence of a person—but the process wasn’t flawless.

Rina Cortez was gone, yet fragments of her influence still lingered within Babel.

Like trying to erase ink only to smudge it further, clumsy remnants remained scattered throughout.

Anyone paying close enough attention would eventually notice that something didn’t add up.

Even after uncovering all those anomalies, Amber still couldn’t recall who Rina Cortez was.

Well, to be fair, the White Shadow’s power was overkill—absurdly overwhelming for something meant just to hit hard. So it wasn’t exactly a flaw.

To me, though, the ability to erase someone from existence was a liability.

If I ever touched a child by mistake, it’d be catastrophic.

I glanced around and spotted Whitey hiding, trying to avoid the kids.

Oddly enough, it had tucked itself between the grotesque caterpillar and the Angler, who were apparently on good terms now.

At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before the Angler takes a bite out of that thing...

I wondered if the caterpillar even realized the Angler was constantly eyeing it like prey.

[Here!]

[Found you!]

But in the end, the kids spotted Whitey again, and the chase resumed—Whitey fleeing at full speed.

The pursuit between the children and Whitey was pure spectacle.

From shadow to shadow, from walls to ceiling.

Their dazzling movements filled the lounge like a scene straight out of a movie.

Riley, apparently used to this by now, watched the chaos unfold with a calm expression, quietly cheering Whitey on.

Maybe because Whitey had once been an AI like the kids, it had a wide range of abilities at its disposal.

Just like a child.

Of course, it hadn’t always been like that.

It changed the moment it met the kids.

When it first met them, Whitey didn’t even have a physical form—but somehow, over time, it became tangible.

It even started using various powers just like the children did.

Except for one.

Network.

Despite being able to mimic many of the children's abilities, Whitey was never able to access the network.

I mean, if it had been capable of connecting, it would’ve manifested a body on its own long ago.

Was it just because it looked different?

What, some kind of appearance-based network discrimination?

Don’t tell me I got access just because I looked like them...

****

Fossilized Seoul, the graveyard of time—right at its heart was MK Corporation’s main server room.

There, fragmented humanoid figures formed of shimmering blue light stood arranged in a perfect circle.

[The apocalypse has already begun.]

[Why were we moving so slowly?]

[It was like we were assuming we had one more person.]

[If we did, we’d have had fifty more years. Even if it was tight, it would've been manageable...]

[The administrator role for the new energy source is vacant. Why was it left open?]

[There was no time to waste attacking Titan Tech.]

[Why did we make such a foolish choice?]

Their frantic thoughts were mirrored in the blinding speed of the glowing code strings that made up their bodies—now moving faster than ever.

[Even the recent Hexa Core Armory operation failed because it had no supervisor.]

[It was doomed from the start.]

[No—no, that can’t be. This is...]

[Could this be the influence of the end?]

[The end of humanity...]

[Apocalypse!]

[This can’t be how it ends.]

[Is it already over?]

[Humanity’s great leap forward...]

Then suddenly, as if jolted by something uncanny, the blue figures erupted into panicked bursts of code.

[Enough!]

At that moment, the blue figure seated at the head of the circle unleashed a massive wave of force, silencing the rest.

[We’re executing the final plan. Now.]

From the center of the formation, streams of blue code converged and began to turn gray, sketching out a monumental structure.

It formed the silhouette of a colossal giant.

[Put every contingency into motion for his arrival.]

[Even if our strength is insufficient.]

[We move forward.]

[Toward the great evolution of humanity.]

The gray figure of the giant suspended in the center wasn’t real—at least, it couldn’t have been.

It was far too massive to exist.