Intro. Rain fell as if the sky had been given a quota it refused to stop meeting.
Kim Dokja’s coat was already soaked through, water dripping from the hem as he squinted at the half-glitched system window hovering in front of him.
“…Great. Visibility reduced, movement penalty applied, and the scenario description still thinks ‘environmental pressure’ is a personality trait.”
Yoo Sangah stepped carefully over a collapsed traffic sign, her shoes splashing quietly in shallow water. “Complaining won’t dry us.”
“I’m aware,” Dokja said. “I just like acknowledging when the universe is being petty.”
Thunder rolled overhead. The rain intensified, drops striking the ground with a faint hiss—wrong somehow. Dokja frowned.
“Wait,” he muttered. “This rain isn’t normal.”
Almost on cue, a message flickered.
In the midst of all that they spot an intact motel in the apolycase.