Seoul Cyberpunk Story-Chapter 101: Gift
A massive building in the eastern district of Babel was bathed in the light of the setting sun.
It was no longer Titan Tech’s Eastern Branch, but its imposing grandeur remained untouched.
The building’s glass walls reflected the glow of dusk, blazing like an enormous flame.
Dominic Krilov stood before the window of the top-floor executive office, quietly surveying the room steeped in twilight.
In one hand, he held a steaming coffee cup. His other hand stayed buried in his pocket.
“...Looks like it’s finally all cleaned up.”
His low murmur echoed through the empty office.
Just a few days ago, this place had been a battlefield.
Bullet holes had turned the walls into honeycombs. Expensive furniture had been smashed to bits, and the floor was littered with shards of broken glass and concrete debris.
The scars of betrayal had been etched into every corner of the building.
But now it was different.
New furniture had been arranged. The walls had been immaculately repaired. The floor gleamed like a mirror.
As if nothing had ever happened.
Dominic sipped his coffee, eyes fixed on the view beyond the window.
Outside, a peaceful cityscape was unfolding. But peace eluded his heart.
On the edge of his vision, an AR interface hovered in the air.
On the blue-lit holographic screen, streams of data he’d compiled over the past few days flowed without end.
Confidential information he’d accessed as Titan Tech’s Development Director, new clues obtained from Dino Park, and the shocking hypotheses that emerged when he put it all together.
“The Corrosion Domains probably aren’t what Babel thinks they are—or what the megacorps think either.”
Dominic moved his fingers to enlarge a specific data set.
The prevailing assumptions about Corrosion Domains were now contrasted with the new truths he’d uncovered.
To the public in Babel, Corrosion Domains were simply the creations of deranged AIs.
A digital nightmare born from artificial intelligence that had slipped out of control and distorted reality.
It was an easy explanation—and more than enough to stoke public fear.
The megacorps, meanwhile, knew a little more.
They believed the Corrosion Domains were side effects of the purple virus left behind by the vanished MK Corporation.
A cursed legacy from that colossal enterprise that disappeared a hundred years ago.
But even that wasn’t the full truth.
Dominic had begun to see the phenomenon from a completely different angle.
“How can something that’s merely a program—a piece of AI—create a phenomenon like the Corrosion Domain, which twists physical reality?”
It was such an obvious question, yet no one had ever truly dug into it.
Everyone focused only on the symptoms, while willfully turning a blind eye to the fundamental contradiction.
After wrestling with it, Dominic had managed to produce one rough—but revolutionary—hypothesis.
A self-improving AI, upon reaching a certain threshold, undergoes Ascension.
The purple virus interferes with Ascension.
This interference, for some unknown reason, damages space itself.
Something unknown intervenes in that damaged space and creates the Corrosion Domain.
“I don’t have enough proof yet...”
Dominic murmured and took another sip of coffee.
“But if it’s my junior researchers... they could find proof within a few years.”
He had already given secret instructions to a few trusted researchers to investigate discreetly.
Among the data Dominic had compiled was another staggering deduction.
It had come from cross-analyzing Babel Police Department databases, Titan Tech’s classified files, and the intel he’d gathered at Dino Park.
Songpa Connect, Puppet Strings, and Rina Cortez... all were tied to the MK Corporation.
“Maybe that’s why I was targeted too...”
Dominic rubbed his temple with one finger.
The likelihood that he was marked for elimination because he was tracking this network was extremely high.
He encrypted all his data with meticulous care.
Layer upon layer of advanced quantum encryption, and then sent through a secure channel to Dino Park.
Once the transmission was complete, Dominic lifted his coffee cup again and turned his gaze back out the window.
The eastern landscape still shimmered in splendor, but in his eyes, it seemed as if an uneasy shadow was flickering across it.
Phantoms.
The culprits behind the Great War—and Babel’s mortal enemy.
It was clear now that they had begun to stir once again.
“...And we don’t know a damn thing about them.”
Dominic’s voice carried a deep, gnawing concern.
****
As always, I was sprawled lazily in the Lounge of Seoul Dino Park.
The soft noise of the TV murmuring in the background, and the kyuu-hing-hing squeals from the Angler.
The sound of the Kiwi darting around at full speed, and the shouts of children chasing after it.
It was the same familiar everyday life.
I stretched a hand leisurely into the air.
Above my palm, the shadow rippled like a living creature.
The black haze rose like smoke, weaving between my fingers, flowing and swirling into strange patterns.
“It’s definitely changed.”
The movement of the shadow was much faster and more responsive than before.
It seemed to shift shape before I even thought to command it—move before I even intended it to.
As if the shadow had developed a will of its own.
“It’s gotta be because of the kids.”
Since the day the Corrosion Bomb exploded, the number of children in Dino Park had skyrocketed.
Hundreds—maybe even thousands—of children were now calling this place home.
And the more of them there were, the stronger my powers seemed to become.
As the number of children grew, the shadow deepened, the Circle Energy intensified, and everything became clearer.
“Maybe I should clean up some of Babel’s Corrosion Domains soon. Add more kids to the roster.”
Even lazy me was starting to think things like that.
[“Nooo!”]
At the sudden cry, I turned my head. In one corner of the Lounge, a group of kids had gathered.
They were sitting in a tight circle on the floor, smacking their palms down to claim more ground in a kind of territorial game.
It was like hopscotch—but with extra rules only the kids understood.
“Kids have been different lately...”
Lately, there had been a subtle shift in the children’s behavior.
They’d started playing much more actively—more passionately than before.
As if this moment, right now, was their last chance to ever play again.
I’d never once stopped them from playing... so why had this change occurred?
And there was another change: gifts.
The kids had been giving gifts much more frequently these days.
And not just random junk—they were special gifts, carefully crafted with obvious effort.
The new Triceratops Hat currently sitting on my head was one of those gifts.
It was identical in design to the one I’d lost during that fight before, except one special feature had been added.
A tiny seat had been stitched into the crown—just the right size for one child to ride on.
Like a miniature observation deck, a kid could sit there and take in the view around them.
“How the hell did they even make something like this?”
It was honestly astonishing that tiny hands had managed to craft something so intricate.
Every stitch was full of care. The color scheme was perfectly balanced. Even the way it fit was comfortable.
And it wasn’t just the hat.
The kids had also gotten obsessed with taking photos lately.
At first, they wandered around with some huge camera—no idea where they got it from—snapping pictures of each other. Then they started asking everyone in Dino Park to take their photo too.
Group photos, portraits, landscape shots, even pictures of themselves sleeping.
The weird part was, they didn’t keep the pictures for themselves—they gave them away as gifts.
Now, everyone in Dino Park or working under Dominic had at least one photo of a child tucked into their wallet or pocket.
Some had even started collecting them by category. The kids’ photos were becoming a kind of collectible.
I’d tried to avoid accepting any because it was a pain...
But as I fished around in my coat pocket, yet another photo surfaced.
It was a shot of a child grinning wide, flashing a V sign with both hands.
“When did they slip this one in again?”
Lately, the kids had started this trend where they’d sneak photos into my pockets while I was asleep.
Like some kind of infiltration mission. The goal was to insert a photo without getting caught.
Most mornings, I’d wake up with my pockets stuffed full of them.
One time, they’d even slipped photos into every pocket of my coat—including between the inner lining. I’d burst out laughing when I found them.
“How long is this annoying little trend gonna last...”
I turned my eyes to the TV, where a preview for a show about Babel’s bizarre happenings {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} was airing.
<Lex Chroma’s Underground Babel! This week: the ‘Lizard of Immortality’ that regrows no matter how much you cut it!>
The screen briefly showed a grotesque lizard glowing fluorescent green.
Cut off its tail and it instantly regenerated—even the severed part squirmed and moved on its own.
<Is it the result of a megacorp’s genetic tampering—or a cursed legacy of the vanished MK Corporation? The truth will finally be revealed this Friday night!>
“MK Corporation, huh...”
Lately, stories connected to MK had been popping up all over the place.
Maybe it had something to do with the intel Dominic had sent me.
Songpa Connect, Puppet Strings, even Rina Cortez—they were all tied to MK.
“Might be worth watching later.”
With that thought, I sank back into the bed.
The laughter of children filled the background like ambient music as I slowly closed my eyes.
But right before I drifted off completely, a single thought flashed through my mind.
Wasn’t there... some reason the kids had suddenly started giving gifts, taking photos, sharing them, and playing with such desperate energy?
