The answer came at dawn.
Not through the radio.
Through the wind.
Distant.
A sound.
Blades.
Chopper blades.
---
Tae-Jun was already awake. He sat up sharply, his whole body on alert.
Yul was at the window in seconds, peering through broken glass toward the northern ridge.
The sound was getting louder.
But the sky stayed empty.
Until—
A shadow moved across the treetops.
A helicopter. Matte black. No flag. No signal light.
Not flying high. Not searching wide.
Flying with purpose.
Straight toward them.
---
Tae-Jun grabbed his notebook and backed toward the wall.
> "That's not a scout."
Yul didn't move.
His eyes tracked the flight path, calculating. Judging.
And then, for the first time since they'd met, he spoke a full sentence in broken Korean:
> "They don't come… unless they know."
---
The chopper passed overhead — slow, heavy.
Then circled back.
Tae-Jun's heart dropped.
> They know.
---
Yul grabbed Tae-Jun's shoulder. Shoved the notebook into his chest.
"Bag. Go."
"No time," Tae-Jun said, but moved anyway.
He limped toward the ladder.
Yul grabbed the radio. Looked at it.
Then…
Smashed it.
One blow. Glass and wire exploded under his boot.
> No more signals.
---
They ran.
No direction. Just away.
From the sound. From the sky. From the answer they had asked for.
---
> Entry Sixteen.
They're coming.
I don't know for who.
I don't think it matters anymore._
Because the moment we asked to be found…
We stopped being ghosts.
And ghosts don't run.