Yamada was already on his second cup, cheeks red and smile loose. Across from him, Sakura giggled, clinking her ceramic cup against his.

“Okay, okay,” she said, swaying a little. “Let’s play it again—right or left?”

Yamada held both fists forward, hiding the tiny coin they'd found earlier inside one of them. “You’re on,” he grinned. “But you always choose left.”

“That’s because left feels lucky today.”

“Bad logic,” he laughed. “But fine.”

She tapped his left fist. He opened it—empty.

Sakura gasped, then burst into laughter, almost spilling her drink.

Yamada leaned back and pointed. “Told you. It’s always the hand you don’t choose. Life lesson!”

“You cheated!” she shot back, poking his forehead.

“Only emotionally.”

They both laughed again—loud, carefree, like they weren’t hiding from a city falling apart.

Across the room, Masaru sat against a wooden beam, sipping slowly from his own bottle. He said nothing. His eyes drifted between the two, narrowing slightly.

Beside him, Kaito leaned close, whispering out the side of his mouth.
“…Are we watching a rom-com or an apocalypse?”

Masaru grunted. “Looks like both. And neither are ending well.”

Kaito raised his cup in mock salute. “At least the drinks are real.”
—Paused for a second, "The heck man, flierting with my girl?" spoke in a low voice, a voice that barely could be heard

Kaito gave a half-hearted chuckle, but his eyes didn’t leave the scene across from them.

Sakura, his girlfriend, was now laughing with her head tossed back, cheeks flushed pink from the drink, her shoulder brushing against Yamada’s as they giggled through another round of that stupid coin game.

“Right or left?” Yamada asked again, swaying a bit.

Sakura squinted, grinning. “You’re trying to read my mind now, huh?”

Kaito’s jaw clenched subtly. He swirled his drink in the cup but didn’t take a sip.

Masaru caught the look.

“…You good?” he muttered under his breath.

Kaito nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just—”
He didn’t finish.

But he didn’t have to.

Masaru glanced again at the pair across the room.
Yamada, ever the soft-spoken oddball, now had Sakura laughing like a kid.

Kaito looked away.

“She doesn’t even know who he is,” he muttered.

Masaru didn’t comment. Just leaned back, arms crossed.

“I mean—he’s just… some drunk we picked up, right?” Kaito said, forcing a laugh, but his voice was sharper now. “And she’s over there acting like they’ve been best friends since childhood.”

“People get weird when they’re scared,” Masaru said finally. “And drunk.”

Let them laugh, he thought again.
Let them hold onto something. Even if it’s broken.

Just not for too long.

J-in sat cross-legged a few feet away, staring at the glass outside. He didn’t say much. Didn’t drink. Just kept glancing at the door.

Meanwhile, Sakura leaned her head on Yamada’s shoulder. She was warm. Tipsy. Smiling.

“You’re weird,” she murmured.

Yamada turned to her, his voice soft.

“…You have no idea.”

Masaru watched them with quiet caution. He hadn’t forgotten the bite mark.
He wouldn’t forget it—not even now.

A silence settled.

Then, from the edge of the room—J-in spoke up.

“Anyone getting signal yet?”

Heads turned.

J-in pulled out his phone, lifting it slightly as if the angle might change anything.
No bars.

“Still dead.”

Sakura fumbled for hers. Kaito checked his too.
Nothing. No service. No Wi-Fi. No connection to the world beyond the shattered glass windows of this forgotten shopping street.

“…We’re cut off,” Masaru muttered, checking his screen one last time before pocketing it.

J-in stepped forward, anxiety tightening his words.
“I don’t think this place is safe to settle in. No signal, no food, no water system. If something happens—anything—we’re stranded.”

They all looked at him.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “We don’t know what’s happening out there. We could be surrounded and have no clue.”

For a moment, no one said anything.

Sakura glanced at him. “So what do we do?”

Then Yamada suddenly snapped his fingers. “Wait. In the back—behind the counter. There’s an old radio receiver. It connects to external frequencies. Emergency bands, maybe.”

Masaru’s brow lifted. “You sure?”

“I mean,” Yamada scratched his head, “I saw it years ago when this was still open. The old man used to run the place. He said it was there in case of earthquakes or blackouts.”

“That could work,” Sakura said, hopeful. “If it still functions.”

Yamada shrugged. “One problem… I don’t know how to fix it. It’s got wires, antennas… a whole bunch of crap I never touched.”

A beat passed.

Then J-in raised his hand slightly. “I… might know a little.”

They turned to him.

“I mean, I used to build modded walkies with my cousin. I know some stuff—radio bands, basic circuit patches, how to hook up a signal boost with a tin can…”
He trailed off, suddenly aware everyone was staring at him.

“I’m not an expert or anything,” he added quickly. “But I can give it a shot.”

Masaru gave him a nod. “Good. Let’s not waste time.”

Yamada pointed to the back room. “It’s behind a metal shelf. If no one’s moved it, the box should still be there.”

J-in stood up and wiped his palms on his pants.

And with that, they moved toward the room—hoping that could still connect them to whatever was left.

The back room was dusty and cramped, filled with half-open boxes and faded plastic bins that smelled like cardboard and time. J-in crouched low, eyes scanning until he spotted it.

A bulky, retro-styled radio—gray knobs, a cracked dial, and wires that looked like they’d been chewed.

“There it is,” Yamada said, pointing. “Told you.”

Masaru whistled. “That thing looks older than me.”

J-in brushed off the dust and tilted it toward the light. “Okay… okay. Easy. I’ve seen YouTube videos about stuff like this.”

Kaito raised an eyebrow. “You sure?” smirkingly, poking his nose in J-in words, "You run your own youtube channel."

Sakura interferes by saying,"Can you fix it?"

“No,” J-in said honestly, flipping the radio around. “But I’ve got at least 60% confidence, and that’s more than what our government's giving us right now.”

He squinted at the back—a mess of jacks, wires, loose screws, and something that may have been a dead spider.

“…That’s not a port, that’s a burn mark,” he muttered to himself.

Sakura peeked over his shoulder. “Are you… connecting red to red?”

“Yeah,” J-in replied confidently.

Then immediately connected red to yellow.

“No, wait. Yellow to red feels better.”

Masaru crossed his arms. “You’re just guessing.”

“Hey,” J-in said, hands mid-spaghetti of wires, “guessing is just confidence without information.”

He started connecting things in wild order, narrating under his breath:

“Alright, if I link this blue wire to this rusted nail… it could ground the feedback loop… maybe… Or start a fire.”

A spark popped. Everyone flinched.

“I meant to do that,” J-in said quickly.

Sakura giggled nervously. “Totally trustworthy engineer over here.”

“Shhh,” J-in hissed, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. “I’m in the zone.”

Masaru shook his head. “Yeah, and we’re all gonna die in the ‘zone’ if that thing blows up.”

Then—a sudden crackle.

The radio sputtered. A high-pitched whine filled the room.

Lights flickered briefly. Something shifted on the dial.
J-in’s eyes widened.

“Wait… wait—did I…?”

He frantically tuned the knob. Static. More static.
Then— BEEP.

The radio’s tiny screen lit up dimly with a dull green backlight.
A low hum pulsed beneath the static, rhythmic… almost like a heartbeat.

Everyone leaned in.

“…Did that thing just… power itself?” Kaito asked, inching closer.

J-in looked behind it. “I think I connected the battery terminal to the auxiliary input jack. Which somehow… looped back through the speaker wire?”

Masaru blinked. “You powered the radio with the radio?”

J-in shrugged. “Technically, yes. It’s self-aware now. We built Frankenstein’s Bluetooth speaker.”

They all stared at the humming box like it might bite.

“Well,” Yamada said slowly, “is it… working?”

J-in hesitated. Then slapped the side. “It’s on. That's step one.”

He began twisting the frequency knob rapidly—pausing every few seconds to listen.

Nothing. Just bursts of static, the occasional click, a weird high-pitched whistle, then back to silence.

“Emergency channel… 107.3…? No… maybe the old disaster frequency—was it 86.6?”

Silence. Static. Whine. Hiss.

“C’mon, say something,” J-in whispered, tapping the side again. “Give me something.”

He tried three more bands. Then six. The screen blinked again—still nothing.

Masaru finally said, “You’re just pressing buttons like it’s a vending machine.”

“Maybe it is,” J-in replied, turning another dial. “Maybe if I press the right combo, it spits out snacks and hope.”

“Nope. Just disappointment,” Kaito muttered, flopping onto an old couch.

Sakura tilted her head. “Wasn’t there a test beep earlier?”

“Yeah,” J-in nodded. “That was probably the radio checking if it still had a will to live.”

The static carried on, empty and cold.

After a beat, Masaru said, “Let it breathe. Maybe something will come through.”

“Radios don’t breathe,” J-in replied.

“They do now,” Masaru shot back.

The room fell quiet again, the soft hiss filling the silence.

J-in sat cross-legged, eyes fixed on the glowing green screen.
Everyone else stayed still, almost afraid to speak.

Then—
Yamada, arms crossed, suddenly spoke up.
“What if we’re tuning into the wrong frequency?”

Everyone turned to look at him.

Masaru raised a brow. “You say that like any of us actually know the right one.”

Yamada straightened. “Let me try.”

Without waiting, he walked briskly toward the back room of the store. Everyone watched in confused silence.

Fifteen seconds later, the door creaked open again.
He returned, holding an old, dust-covered notebook in one hand and a tangled mess of wires in the other.

He knelt beside J-in, adjusted a few knobs, flipped a switch—
Then suddenly changed the frequency.

BZZZZZ

The radio gave a loud, grating buzz.
Then… silence again. Just static.
No voice. No alert. Just empty air.

Kaito smirked. “Wow. You went back there all dramatic, and still no signal.”
He leaned toward J-in. “Classic.”

Yamada didn’t even flinch. “That’s the frequency listed on the desktop.”

Everyone froze.

Masaru blinked. “Wait. Back up. What desktop?

“There’s one in the back,” Yamada said casually, pointing over his shoulder. “It’s old, but working. Shows a list of emergency relay bands.”

“Wait—you mean a computer?” Sakura asked, stepping forward. “Like… with a monitor?”

“Yeah,” Yamada nodded. “Why? I just opened the browser and—”

He paused. Eyes widening.

“…Shit,” he mumbled. “We have an internet connection.”

Everyone stared.

J-in stood up so fast he nearly tripped. “You WHAT?”

Yamada held up both hands. “Sorry, sorry—I completely forgot. —yeah. it working, We have ethernet connection.”

Masaru dragged a hand over his face. “You mean we’ve been stuck here, tuning static, and we could’ve just opened Google?”

J-in muttered, “Man, I built a feedback loop-powered radio like some end-of-world MacGyver, and we had net?”

Yamada gave a sheepish grin. “Well… at least now we have options, right?”

Kaito pointed at him. “I swear, if you tell me we’ve had a working phone line too, I’m gonna throw you off the roof.”

Yamada chuckled. “Relax. I unplugged that one. It was ringing during my nap.”

Masaru groaned into his palms.

Yamada being pointed out, he was just giving a small loosy smirk towards them, "Hmm..... Sorry!"