My Stars Say Your Name | WOOSAN

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It was a crisp morning in Seongnam, a quiet suburb far from the chaos of the city. The sky was painted with hues of soft pink and orange as the sun gently rose over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the town. Birds chirped in the trees, and the occasional breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers through the air. The neighborhood was slowly coming to life—people heading to work, children preparing for school, and elderly couples taking their early morning strolls.

Mrs. Park, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile and gentle demeanor, stood at her kitchen sink, washing the breakfast dishes. She hummed a familiar tune as she looked out the window at the peaceful street below. Her husband, Mr. Park, was seated at the dining table, reading the morning paper with a cup of coffee in hand. Their life was simple, filled with small joys, and on this morning, everything seemed as normal as it could be.

But then, Mrs. Park noticed a slight tickle in her throat, something she initially dismissed as nothing more than a minor irritation. She coughed softly, clearing her throat as she continued with her chores. As the minutes passed, however, the tickle grew more persistent, turning into a dry, raspy cough that echoed through the quiet kitchen. She paused, frowning as she reached for a glass of water, hoping it would ease the discomfort.

Mr. Park looked up from his newspaper, concern etching into his features. "Are you alright, dear?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Mrs. Park waved him off with a small smile. "It's just a little cough, nothing to worry about," she replied, taking a sip of water. But even as she said the words, she felt a chill run through her body, a sudden wave of fatigue that made her knees feel weak. She steadied herself against the counter, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Mr. Park quickly got up and hurried to her side, his heart pounding with worry. "Maybe you should sit down for a moment," he suggested, guiding her to a chair. Mrs. Park nodded, her smile fading as she sat down, her hand pressed to her chest.

"I don't know what's come over me," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I felt fine just a moment ago."

But her condition rapidly deteriorated. Within moments, her breathing became labored, and she broke out in a cold sweat. Mr. Park, now panicking, rushed to grab his phone to call for help, but as he turned back to her, he saw the color draining from her face, her skin taking on a pale, almost grayish hue.

"Stay with me, please," Mr. Park begged, his voice trembling as he clutched her hand, trying to keep her conscious. But Mrs. Park's eyes fluttered shut, her body going limp as she slumped in the chair.

The peaceful morning was shattered by the sound of his desperate calls for an ambulance, his voice breaking as he pleaded for his wife to hold on. But deep down, a gnawing fear took root in his heart—a fear that this was no ordinary illness, that something far more sinister was at play.

As the paramedics arrived and whisked Mrs. Park away to the hospital, the neighborhood continued to go about its day, blissfully unaware of the silent killer that had begun to claim its first victim. It wasn't long before whispers of her sudden illness spread, and as the hours passed, more and more people in the town began to experience similar symptoms—coughing fits, shortness of breath, an overwhelming fatigue that left them bedridden.

By the time the sun set on that once-peaceful day, the town of Seongnam was plunged into a state of fear and uncertainty, as the virus that had been unleashed began its deadly march through the streets, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. The peaceful suburb had become ground zero for a plague that would soon spread beyond its borders, sparking a panic that would grip the nation.

And all the while, in a hidden lab far from the chaos, the architects of this catastrophe watched with cold satisfaction, knowing that the nightmare they had unleashed was only just beginning.