Part 8

The air in the abandoned factory hung thick with the scent of ash and rust, a lingering memory of fire and time. Longtai stepped into the building, his footsteps echoing through the hollow space, and immediately the atmosphere felt heavy, as if the walls themselves carried the weight of a thousand forgotten stories. The once-bustling textile mill, where countless workers had labored, was now silent, reduced to ruins by flames that had torn through it like a storm, leaving behind only the skeleton of what once was.

Longtai lifted his camera, the world instantly shifting as he looked through the lens. He framed a shot of a rusted sewing machine, its metallic parts warped and melted, but in his mind, he could see it whole again. He could hear the hum of the machines, the clatter of workers stitching fabric, the sounds of their voices blending with the rhythmic pulse of industry. Behind the lens, Longtai could imagine the workers-men and women who had come here every day, building lives with calloused hands, stitching their dreams into every piece of fabric.

*Click.*

He captured the image, his finger moving instinctively as he found another angle, another perspective. The factory may have been burned and abandoned, but to Longtai, it was alive with stories. Every corner held a memory. Every shadow whispered of the past. He could see the ghosts of the people who had once worked here, see them sweating over their machines, talking about their families, their hopes. Now, all that remained were the empty shells of their labor-the remnants of a life extinguished too soon.

The light filtering through the broken windows painted patterns on the blackened walls, highlighting the charred remnants of the place. Longtai moved silently, taking photos of every corner, every broken beam, and every scorched surface. But in each shot, he wasn't just documenting destruction. He was telling the story behind it. In every frame, he captured the echoes of the past, the resilience of the workers who had once made this place their livelihood, the tragedy of those who had lost everything when the fire claimed it all.

The lens was his way of seeing the world, of capturing stories that otherwise went untold. And in this place, the story was clear: people had worked hard here, their hands had bled and their backs had ached, all for the chance to provide for their families. But now, all that was left was silence and ruin.

"Hey, I found it!" Kai's voice broke through the stillness, pulling Longtai from his thoughts.

Longtai paused, taking one last shot before lowering the camera. He glanced around at the scene once more, soaking in the eerie stillness of the space. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he followed the sound of his friends' voices.

He reached the main hall, where the fire had done the most damage. The walls were scorched black, the ceiling sagging from where beams had collapsed. The room felt like a tomb, a place where time had stopped. It was haunting, but there was a strange beauty to it as well-the way the burned surfaces caught the light, the way the emptiness felt heavy with meaning.

"Look at this," Kai said, pointing toward a large mural painted on the far wall. "The detail is insane. Whoever did this is a genius."

Longtai lifted his camera again, squinting through the lens as he focused on the mural. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. The artist had transformed the ruined hall into a canvas, using the blackened walls as part of the story. The mural depicted figures with outstretched hands, their faces turned toward a burning sky. It was a statement-bold and raw-about loss, destruction, and the aftermath of catastrophe.

He captured it from every angle, each shot revealing something new. The way the figures seemed to blend into the charred walls, the fire itself becoming part of the story the artist was telling. As Longtai clicked the shutter, he felt himself becoming immersed in the message. The artist was telling a story through the art, just as Longtai told stories through his camera. Each stroke of paint on the ruined wall echoed the loss of jobs, the struggle of families who had depended on this place. He could feel the weight of it, could almost hear the voices of the people this mural represented.

"Pretty bold, huh?" Kai said, grinning as he stepped closer to admire the work. "I like how they used the burned parts to add texture. It's kind of... raw, you know?"

Lain, standing beside him, crossed her arms and tilted her head. "It's amazing, but it's also kind of dangerous. I mean, this place could collapse any second. And who knows if the artist will ever get caught for sneaking in here?"

Longtai wasn't listening. His attention was fixed on the mural, on the art that told a story in the same way his photos did. He stepped closer, his fingers tracing the air just above the surface of the wall, careful not to touch. He didn't need to touch it to feel the energy in the lines, the emotion behind each stroke. He felt as if he were beginning to understand the artist-not just as someone who created beautiful things, but as someone who had something important to say.

He lowered his hand and adjusted his camera, capturing another shot from a different angle. The light played tricks on the mural, making the painted figures seem to move, to stretch even further toward the sky. In his mind, Longtai could almost see the artist here, spray paint in hand, working in the dead of night to tell this story. He could feel the desperation, the anger, the grief. And in that moment, he knew: this wasn't just art. It was a message. It was a cry for help, a way of saying that the people who had lost everything here hadn't been forgotten.

The story was clear now. This wasn't just a burned factory-it was a monument to the people who had suffered when it burned. It was a place of loss, but also of resilience. And the artist had captured that perfectly. Longtai clicked the shutter one last time, feeling a strange sense of connection to the person who had created this mural. They were telling the same story, just in different ways.

"Should we check out the other side of the building?" Lain asked, glancing at Longtai. "There's probably more art over there."

"Yeah, sure," Kai replied, his excitement evident. "But man, this is incredible. I wonder who the artist is. I bet they're someone famous, or at least they should be."

Longtai glanced down at his camera, lost in his own thoughts. He knew the artist wasn't famous, at least not in the traditional sense. But they were someone who understood the power of storytelling. Someone who, like him, saw the world through a different lens.

The group climbed the creaking staircase of the burned factory, each step echoing ominously in the otherwise silent building. Longtai trailed slightly behind, his camera slung around his neck, fingers brushing its edges like a security blanket. The air grew heavier as they ascended, the faint smell of ash and rust mingling with the dampness of abandonment.

When they reached the second floor, Kai let out a low whistle, his voice breaking the eerie quiet. "Look at this place," he said, his eyes scanning the graffiti-covered walls. "It's like a gallery no one knows about."

Lain raised an eyebrow, cautiously stepping over a broken beam. "More like a lawsuit waiting to happen. Be careful, Kai. This place is falling apart."

But Kai was already moving toward another mural, his excitement palpable. Longtai followed slowly, his eyes darting to the peeling walls and shattered windows, trying to capture every detail. The second-floor graffiti was just as powerful as the one below, each piece telling a different story of pain, rebellion, and survival.

"Check this out!" Kai's voice rang out, louder than necessary. He pointed to a vibrant mural on the far wall. It depicted a lone figure standing against a storm, their face obscured but their stance defiant. Above them, ominous clouds loomed, and lightning bolts struck dangerously close. The words scrawled beneath the figure.

Kai turned to the others, grinning. "Tell me that's not the coolest thing you've ever seen."

Lain rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her intrigue. "It's impressive," she admitted, her voice softer. "But keep it down, Kai. We don't want to draw attention."

Longtai moved closer to the mural, raising his camera to frame the shot. His heartbeat quickened as he adjusted the focus, the raw emotion of the art practically seeping through the lens. He clicked the shutter, the sound almost lost in the cavernous room.

Meanwhile, on the top floor, Yok leaned against the edge of a rusted metal fence, the city sprawling out below him. A can of beer dangled loosely from his hand, condensation dripping onto the cracked concrete. Next to him, Gram sat cross-legged, idly tossing pebbles toward the ledge while Sean leaned back against a wall, his dark eyes scanning the horizon.

"This view never gets old," Gram muttered, his voice low. He tilted his head, watching the people walking down the distant streets, their movements like ants from this height. "Makes you feel... detached. Like nothing down there really matters."

Sean snorted, taking a swig of his beer. "Detached or just hiding, Gram?" His tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it.

"Maybe both," Gram replied with a shrug. He tossed another pebble and then froze, his gaze sharpening. "Looks like we've got company."

Yok straightened, his brows furrowing as he followed Gram's line of sight. Below, he could see faint figures moving through the second floor, their voices faint but audible.

Sean tensed, his jaw tightening. "Who the hell are they? No one's supposed to come here."

"Relax," Yok said, his tone casual but his posture stiff. "They're probably just students or photographers. This place attracts all kinds."

"We should leave before they notice us," Sean said firmly, pushing off the wall.

But Gram smirked, his mischievous nature surfacing. "Or we could stay and see what they're up to. Maybe they'll scare easy if they know we're here."

Yok shot him a warning look. "We're not here to mess with anyone, Gram. Let's just go."

Gram shrugged, tossing the last pebble over the edge. "Fine, but if they're loud enough to hear from here, they're asking for attention."

As Yok turned toward the staircase, his mind wandered. He wasn't sure why the thought struck him, but he wondered if Longtai was somewhere down there, exploring the same wreckage. It was a ridiculous thought, but it lingered, like the faint scent of smoke in the air.

Meanwhile, on the second floor, Kai's enthusiasm was uncontainable. "Seriously, guys, come check this out too!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the empty building.

Longtai winced, glancing toward the staircase. The sound seemed to carry further than it should have, and a strange unease settled in his chest. "Kai, keep it down," he muttered.

"Why? It's not like anyone's here," Kai replied, his grin undeterred. "This place is amazing. I mean, look at this stuff!"

Upstairs, Yok froze mid-step, his head snapping toward the faint echo of Kai's voice. For a split second, something about the voice seemed familiar, but he shook it off.

Sean frowned, his suspicion deepening. "We need to move. Now."

But Gram chuckled, already heading toward the staircase. "Too late for that. Let's go say hi."

Yok hesitated, torn between following Gram and leaving entirely. His gut told him to stay out of sight, but something else-something he couldn't quite name-urged him to stay.

Longtai's breath hitched as the echo of footsteps reverberated through the abandoned factory. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the sound of Kai and Lain's distant laughter. Something felt wrong-off-as if they weren't as alone as they'd assumed.

"Something's not right," he thought, gripping his camera tightly against his chest.

Before he could voice his unease, a shout from below startled the group.

"Hey! You punks, it's you again!"

The deep, authoritative voice carried through the hollow structure, and Longtai's heart lurched in his chest.

Kai froze, wide-eyed, before blurting out, "Shit! Security guards!"

Lain spun on her heel, already clutching her bag. "Run!" she hissed.

Without hesitation, Kai took off, his footsteps pounding against the cracked floor. Lain was right behind him, her figure disappearing into the shadows of the stairwell. Longtai hesitated, his legs rooted to the spot. Panic surged through him, paralyzing his body even as his mind screamed at him to move.

"Hey, stop right there!" one of the guards yelled, their heavy boots growing louder as they stormed up the stairs.

Longtai's muscles finally obeyed, and he bolted, his camera bouncing against his chest. His breaths came in short, panicked gasps as his feet pounded against the uneven floor. Fear gripped him, tightening around his chest like a vice.

Ahead, he could see the faint outline of Kai and Lain, their figures shrinking as they gained distance. "Wait!" Longtai tried to call, but his voice came out hoarse, swallowed by the cacophony of his own frantic breathing.

They didn't wait. Lain turned a corner, and Kai followed without looking back. The sound of their laughter earlier now seemed cruelly ironic, fading into the distance as if mocking his slower pace.

The guards were closer now, their voices angry and determined. "Stop running! You're all in trouble for vandalism!"

Vandalism? Longtai's panic deepened. He hadn't done anything wrong. None of them had. But there was no explaining that to the furious guards barreling after him.

His legs burned as he darted down a narrow hallway, his vision blurring slightly from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He clutched his camera tightly, terrified it might slip from his grasp. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and his heart thudded against his ribcage like a drum.

"Where are they?" one guard growled, his voice echoing ominously.

Longtai's instincts screamed at him to hide. His eyes darted frantically around the decaying building until he spotted a massive concrete pillar. Without thinking, he pressed himself against it, his chest heaving as he tried to silence his breaths.

The footsteps drew closer, the guards' voices bouncing off the walls. "They went this way!" one barked. "Spread out!"

Longtai's pulse thundered in his ears, and he pressed a trembling hand against his mouth, trying to stifle the sound of his breathing. Sweat dripped down his temples, his body trembling with fear. He peeked around the pillar, his eyes scanning for the guards' movements.

But just as he turned his head, a hand clamped over his mouth.

Longtai froze, his entire body stiffening in terror. A surge of adrenaline shot through him as he struggled instinctively, but the grip was firm. A second hand gripped his shoulder, steady but strong, pulling him further into the shadow of the pillar.

"Shhh," a voice whispered, soft but commanding.

Longtai's breath hitched, his mind racing. The voice was muffled, hidden beneath the black scarf wrapped around the figure's face. But it wasn't unfamiliar. His eyes widened as he caught the faintest glimpse of dark eyes peering at him through the scarf.

That voice. He knew that voice.

His body went still, the fight draining from him as he stared at the figure in disbelief. The hands holding him were gentle now, as if sensing his recognition. But the figure said nothing, only motioned for silence, their gaze flickering toward the approaching guards.

Longtai's breathing remained heavy, his chest rising and falling against the figure's arm. His heart raced-not just from fear, but from the electric buzz of recognition and uncertainty. Was it him? Was it Yok?

He didn't dare move, afraid of drawing the guards' attention. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, his mind a chaotic mess of emotions as he waited for the danger to pass, the mysterious figure still holding him in place.

~

Author's note :

"Please don't try this at home, folks. Don't be like Longtai's classmates who leave the baby behind! It's not cool to just run off while someone's busy being all clueless and cute. Stick together, people-"

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Love Yoon ~