Song Dohyun sits in his car for eleven minutes before he tells the driver to go.
He spends those eleven minutes looking at the closed vortex — the portal already smaller than when he arrived, the boundary contracting the way a healing wound contracts, the shimmer going from dark-edged to ordinary. Whatever had been wrong about it is being corrected. From the inside.
Someone sealed it from the inside.
He thinks about who could do that.
He thinks about Yeon Yujun, whose Division profile still looks wrong every time he looks at it. Whose B+ rating came from nowhere in three months. Whose face the Concealment skill makes forgettable to everyone but Song Dohyun, who knows what that face actually looks like and has always known.
He thinks about the word Eight.
