The bunker always felt cosier after midnight drinks, lights dimmed to a honeyed glow. Someone—it was hard to recall who, but probably Minjae—had raided their stash of rice wine, and the evidence sat in half-emptied bottles lined up on the console like trophies.
Kairo slouched back in his chair, his limbs feeling boneless. He’d been looping the same four bars of a synth track that had, at some point, become a drinking game. Every time it glitched, everyone drank.
Coincidentally, it glitched a lot.
Minjae was on the floor, sprawled out like he’d melted there, mumbling lyrics into the sleeve of his hoodie. Rayne sat nearby, barefoot, long legs folded, a picture of composure but still curious at their reactions to the wine. Soahn’s neural filaments were shimmering gold, a sure sign he’d absorbed too much of everyone else’s amusement. And then there was Onyx, who had retreated to the corner, arms folded, doing his best to pretend he wasn’t currently caught in a wave of hiccups.
“OK,” Kairo said, spinning around in his chair so fast the wires tangled around him. “Serious question…”
Minjae groaned. “That’s never true when you say it.”
“No, no, listen. If we had to pick English names — like real ones, for interviews or whatever — what would we pick?”
A pause. Then laughter, incredulous and bright, the kind that bubbles and fills a room.
“What makes you think anyone would want to interview us?” Soahn said with a residual giggle.
“Oh come on, it’s only a matter of time,” Kairo said, trying to pick apart the cable monster that had him trapped. “I mean, what if we were all, like… accountants or baristas or something. Normal people.”
“I am normal,” Minjae said, and burped.
Onyx shook his head.
Soahn, quietly amused, said, “You’ve really thought about this before, Kairo?”
“Of course I have,” Kairo said. “And it’s Kian, actually. That’s what I’d be. Spelled fancy, pronounced cool. Short and efficient.”
“Short and efficient?” Minjae said. “So… a USB stick.”
“You’ve got the short part right,” Onyx muttered and a weird sound burst out of him, like a snort-laugh.
“Kian.” Minjae opened another fresh bottle. “You sound like an IKEA Nu-Form product line. Comes with two screws missing and an existential crisis.”
Rayne silently watched their interaction, but his posture was more relaxed than it had been in a while.
“All right, Kian from IKEA Nu-Form,” Minjae said, propping himself up on his elbows. “If you’ve thought so much about it, go ahead. Hit us with your genius.”
Kairo rubbed his hands together, eyes bright. “OK. Starting easy. Minjae… you’d be Mark.”
Minjae blinked. “Mark?”
“Yeah. Just Mark. Like, dependable, deprec— deceptively chaotic. Probably late to everything, but somehow still gets promoted.”
“That’s… weirdly accurate,” Soahn murmured, and Minjae threw a pillow at him.
“See? I’m good at this!” Kairo said triumphantly.
Onyx sighed. “This is what happens when you give him alcohol.”
Kairo pointed at him next. “And you’d be… Reece. Definitely Reece. The guy who says he’s not coming to the party but shows up anyway, wearing black, looking like he is the party. A really scary, dangerous party.”
Minjae raised his cup. “Cheers to that.”
Onyx didn’t respond, but the faint curve at the corner of his mouth was victory enough.
Kairo spun back around to Rayne. “Now you’re tricky.”
“I’m flattered.”
“No, I mean it’s impossible. You don’t look like anyone. You’re too… Rayne.”
“So… Rayne, then.”
“Fine. But if you ever had to fake an ID, you’d go by, like… Gabriel or something angelic. You just would.”
Rayne tilted his head, considering it. “Gabriel,” he echoed, softly. “I’ve been called worse.”
Soahn chuckled, faint and warm. “It suits you.”
Kairo turned to him next, finger raised in mock ceremony. “And you. You’d be Noah.”
Soahn blinked. “Noah?”
“Yeah. Feels right, doesn’t it? Quiet. Kind. Carries too much on his shoulders but still builds the boat anyway.”
The room went quiet for a beat, long enough for it to land. Then Minjae whistled low. “Damn, that was poetic.”
Kairo grinned. “I’m a lyrical genius.”
“You’re a sentimental drunk.”
“Semantics.”
They all laughed then — that rare, full-bodied sound that filled the bunker and made the old metal seem warmer.