Seoul Cyberpunk Story-Chapter 7: Burning Duct (1)

“Ugh...”

As I cracked my eyes open, the pitch-black darkness of my room welcomed me like an old friend.

The kind of comforting darkness that made me think, Yeah, this is home.

As my mind slowly came back online, the circuits on my coat, my hair, and my irises began to glow, casting a soft blue light throughout the room.

Like moonlight spilling through a window, my body’s luminescence cut through the dark, illuminating every corner.

The handwritten Hangeul notes plastered across the walls reflected the glow, shimmering faintly.

In the corner of the room, Mecha-Angler lay fast asleep.

Yaaawn.

I rubbed my eyes, stretched, and sat up on the bed.

A good night’s sleep had left me feeling light and refreshed.

The exhaustion that had crushed me before I passed out was completely gone.

Shoving aside the empty pizza box next to me, I finally took a moment to check my reflection.

My only outfit—the black coat—still pulsed with thin blue circuit lines.

In the mirror, my irises glowed with the same eerie light.

“Kyuu...”

Mecha-Angler made a soft, sleepy noise, lying on its back like an overturned turtle.

Why does this thing sleep?

I poked its soft belly.

Squish.

It felt like pressing into a bouncy, jelly-like plush toy.

As if there were no mechanical parts inside at all.

Mecha-Angler had been with me ever since I woke up in this world.

We had both opened our eyes in the ruins of the same abandoned research lab—so it had to be connected to me in some way.

When I got injured in an AI assimilation zone, it had reacted like a machine.

But its warm, squishy texture made it feel strangely alive.

It didn’t need power to function.

It communicated in short sounds.

It even watched TV.

A truly bizarre creature.

But no matter how strange it was, without it, surviving in this world with no ties or memories would’ve been even harder.

In this bleak, decayed cyberpunk reality, Mecha-Angler was my first friend.

Even so, the fact that it was still sound asleep while I was already awake annoyed me just a little.

So I grabbed a bottle of ketchup from the corner of the room and squeezed a little onto its belly.

“Kyuu-hing-hing!”

The second the ketchup touched its skin, Mecha-Angler jolted awake, letting out a pitiful wail.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

Heh.

It frantically wriggled around, trying to wipe the ketchup off, but its tiny arms couldn’t reach most of the mess.

Watching it struggle was so amusing that I let it go on for a bit before finally tossing it a napkin.

After that, I took a glance around my room.

The walls were covered with the notes I had written in Hangeul.

Records of everything I had learned since waking up in this city.

At first, they were meant to help me track down traces of Korea and MK Corp, both long gone.

But at some point... most of the notes had turned into food reviews.

I’m hungry...

I searched the room, but all I found were discarded pizza crusts—no actual pizza left.

I could’ve sworn I had some leftovers, but I must’ve eaten them in my half-asleep state.

Damn.

Just as I resigned myself to ordering more, a notification popped up.

A message from Amber.

Like an old-world text message, short and one-way.

<A. Stop by today. We need to settle the payment, and there are things we need to talk about.>

Brief as always.

Amber preferred discussing business in person.

Something about not trusting Nexus Node, the megacorp that controlled Babel’s entire communications network.

She probably wanted to go over what happened yesterday in more detail.

“Well, looks like I’m eating out today.”

Waving to Mecha-Angler—who was still struggling to clean off the ketchup—I stepped out of my tiny one-room apartment.

As I shut the door behind me, I muttered,

“Hold down the fort.”

From the gap in the closing door, a small “Kyuu!” echoed in response.

****

I stood at the edge of the district, pulling up a map of Babel’s outer zones in the corner of my vision.

“Hm, so it’s this route today...”

Amber’s shop was a place I visited regularly, but without checking the map, I’d definitely get lost.

Babel’s outer districts, born from the chaos of the Great Convergence, were always shifting and unpredictable.

Not as extreme as AI assimilation zones, but still chaotic enough that walking the same route two days in a row could lead to entirely different destinations.

The abandoned factory district where I lived and Burning Duct, where Amber ran her shop, were among the more stable areas.

Beyond them, maps became useless. Trying to predict the landscape was pointless.

And even further out—there was nothing but pure chaos, as dangerous as an assimilation zone itself.

Or so I’d heard. I had never ventured that far.

Because of all this, the map in my vision seemed almost alive.

Wriggle.

The markers on the map shifted constantly, rearranging themselves at a slow but relentless pace.

Following the updated path, I made my way toward Burning Duct.

As I walked, the scenery around me changed.

The eerie silence of the abandoned factory district faded, replaced by a low, humming noise that buzzed in my ears.

After a long walk, Burning Duct finally came into view.

A space that felt entirely different from where I had just been.

****

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A labyrinth of pipes stretched across the sky like tangled veins, filling the air with bursts of steam that turned the alleys into a foggy maze.

At irregular intervals, fire belched «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» from between the pipes, staining the mist with flickering shades of red.

That’s how this place got its name.

Burning Duct.

The flaming pipes.

Beneath the massive pipework, the narrow streets were packed with people.

Mercenaries showing off their implants, street vendors selling food and weapons, netwitches whispering encrypted deals in hushed tones.

Neon signs flashed through the thick steam, advertising countless shops and bars.

I didn’t particularly like this place—too noisy.

But many mercenaries loved it.

One had once told me that this chaotic, cybernetic mess was the most mercenary place in Babel.

Throughout the streets, holographic ads floated like living creatures, glowing with artificial life.

[BRUTAL ARMS! BOOST YOUR STRENGTH BY TENFOLD!]

[LIMITED STOCK! GENUINE NEXUS NODE INVASION SHIELDS!]

[FIREWALL FOODS! 100% BURN GUARANTEED! EXPERIENCE SPICE LIKE NEVER BEFORE!]

The constant flickering of these ads made my vision feel cluttered.

Adding to the chaotic energy, a group of mercenaries had started a fight in the middle of the street.

One side was covered in heavy combat implants, looking as threatening as possible.

Their cybernetic arms gleamed with razor-sharp spikes, and their shoulders bristled with mini-missile launchers.

Their faces were full of scars and tattoos—trying too hard to look intimidating.

To me, they just looked like rookies.

Overdecorated implants like those were nothing but easy targets.

Their opponent was a single woman in a skintight biker suit.

Her bright red hair stood out starkly against the grimy backdrop.

Unlike the mercenaries, she had no visible implants. No weapons.

At first glance, she didn’t seem to belong in a place like this.

But the moment I saw her hair, I already knew how this fight would end.

Because to mercenaries who flaunted their clunky, oversized implants—

She was nothing short of a grim reaper.

“KILL HER!”

The mercenaries roared, drawing heavy firearms embedded in their cybernetic arms.

Murder gleamed in their eyes, and the crowd quickly scattered into the alleys.

But some stayed.

Watching. Betting.

Fights like these were common entertainment in Burning Duct.

BOOM!

A small explosion echoed through the street.

Too quiet to be a grenade.

And right after—

A chorus of agonized screams.

I glanced over.

Just as I expected.

A simple summary:

Their combat implants had betrayed them.

Their cybernetic arms had turned against them, choking their own throats.

The missiles they tried to fire had exploded inside the launchers.

Their expressions twisted with terror and confusion.

They had stacked up implants without securing them against netwitch interference—rookie mistake.

The crowd let out a mix of gasps and cheers. Some even placed last-minute bets.

The red-haired woman hadn’t moved an inch.

Just stood there, lips curling into a small, amused smile.

A faint blue light blinked on the device wrapped around her wrist.

I lost interest.

This fight had already been decided.

Turning away, I continued toward Amber’s shop.

In this chaotic mess, her place was one of the few quiet refuges.

A place where I could settle the payment and hear whatever she wanted to discuss.

That was when—

“Ah! A!”

A loud voice rang out.

The red-haired woman, fresh from her victory, had spotted me.

“Shit. Scarlet...”

The second I heard her voice, I bolted straight toward Amber’s shop.