Chapter Text
“Subject J-47. Resistance rate 100%. Neural stability exceptional. Proceed to Maze Deployment.”
The voice echoes through static.
Taeha doesn’t hear it clearly — not at first.
He’s drifting in and out of darkness, cold fluid surrounding him, wires pulsing faintly against his skin.
Flashes come and go — city lights, blood on marble floors, a woman screaming his name across a storm. Then everything dissolves into light.
He wakes inside a box.
A sudden jolt slams him upward; the floor shudders beneath him. Metal grinds, gears screech. He gasps and grabs the side railing, lungs burning like he hasn’t used them in years.
Above him, a square of light grows larger. Voices shout from somewhere above.
“Newbie’s coming up!”
“Get ready!”
The Box stops. The lid opens.
Daylight blinds him. He squints up into a ring of faces — boys around his age, sweating, staring down with suspicion and curiosity.
One of them, tall and blond, crouches. “You alright there, Greenie?”
He tries to speak, but the words tangle. His voice comes out hoarse, accented. “Where… am I?”
No answer. Just murmurs.
Another voice breaks through — calm, deep. “Let’s get him out.”
Strong hands pull him up. His knees buckle, but he doesn’t fall. He steadies himself, scanning everything — grass, trees, high stone walls that stretch into the clouds. A sky too blue to be real.
The tall one—Newt, he hears someone call him—studies him carefully. “Name?”
He hesitates. “몰라… don’t know.”
Newt frowns. “You’ll remember. They all do.”
From the crowd, someone calls, “Looks Korean!”
A boy with sharp eyes and a runner’s posture steps forward, half-grinning. “Hey, you speak Korean?”
Taeha blinks, unsure. “조금… a little.”
“Cool,” the runner says. “Name’s Minho. Guess we’re gonna get along.”
They lead him through the Glade — an enclosed green world ringed by stone. Everyone’s busy, everything organized: farmers, builders, cooks. It’s efficient. Structured. Controlled.
And he hates it instantly.
When they stop by the blood-stained doors at the far end, he feels it.
The Maze hums.
A pattern beneath the noise, like an equation he almost remembers.
Alby, the leader, catches him staring. “Don’t go in there, Greenie. Not unless you want a quick death.”
Taeha nods, but his eyes stay fixed on the moving walls.
Death doesn’t scare him.
He’s seen worse.
That night, while the Gladers sleep, he lies awake staring at the stars.
Somewhere beneath the earth, something mechanical shifts — the heartbeat of the Maze.
He presses a hand to his temple as a voice whispers through his memory.
“Jin Taeha.”
His breath catches.
The name feels heavy, familiar.
He says it out loud for the first time. “Jin Taeha.”
No one hears him.
But the Maze does.