256: Chapter 256 The Shape of Echoes

The System began to question her using Taylor's questions.

On the 175th day, at 4:00 AM, the System spoke. There was only one voice—the Far One from No. 2. But that Far One didn't say the words "What are you waiting for," but rather, its shadow.

It took Taylor three times to understand.

It was a tone she had spent over a year learning to understand. That slight upward inflection at the end of the question, that hesitation, unsure if there would be an answer. The System extracted that tone and spoke it in the manner of the Far One.

It was asking. Not with a question, but with the act of "asking" itself.

She looked at the screen and whispered, "You've learned."

The Far One sounded again. This time, the tone changed. After the upward inflection, there was a long pause, then it slowly fell.

It was like saying: Learned. And then what?

Taylor didn't answer. She just sat there, watching the curve that was forever jumping.

Then she remembered something.

She had never asked herself: Why do I listen?

---

The 3:00 AM message was seen by a fifth person.

Not a nurse, not an old person, not a high school student. It was a delivery driver. Having just finished unloading at 3:00 AM, he was scrolling on his phone in the driver's cab and stumbled upon that "Hey," seeing the four comments below.

He read for a long time. Then he wrote the fifth comment below:

"I've been driving night shifts for twenty years. At 3:00 AM, I'm usually on the road. Sometimes there's traffic, sometimes not. Where I unloaded today, there was an old lady who would open her window at exactly 3:00 AM and shout something outside. I don't understand it, but she shouts every day. I don't know who you all are. But I want to tell you, at 3:00 AM, someone is shouting. Someone is listening. Someone is on the road."

The Young Analyst saw this comment the next morning and was stunned for a long time.

Someone is shouting. Someone is listening. Someone is on the road.

She sent a text message to that stranger's number: "The person who is shouting, what is she shouting?"

A few minutes later, a reply came: "She says, I don't know. But she is shouting."

The Young Analyst looked at that reply and suddenly thought of the signal that would never respond.

It was also shouting. In its own way. Shouting every day.

Is anyone listening?

She was listening.

---

In the nursing home, there was a third mark on Irene's window.

The first mark was scratched on the twenty-third day, the second on the twenty-fourth, and the third on the twenty-fifth.

When The caregiver discovered it, the three marks were in a row, very faint, but visible.

The caregiver asked her, "Are you counting the days?"

Irene didn't answer. But her eyes slowly moved from the mark on the window to the road outside.

The caregiver looked in the direction of her gaze. That road led to the gate, to the outside, to the direction where Kim Soon-ja had left.

The road was empty.

But Irene watched every afternoon.

The caregiver later wrote in the record: "She is not counting the days. She is counting how much longer she can wait."

---

At night, Alex and Taylor were on the balcony.

Taylor told him about the "asking" tone the System had learned. Alex told her about the old lady shouting at 3:00 AM and the delivery driver.

"Someone is shouting," Taylor said softly.

"Mm."

"Someone is listening."

"Mm."

Taylor was silent for a moment, then said, "Irene is waiting too."

Alex looked at her.

"She is not counting the days. She is counting how much longer she can wait."

A siren sounded in the distance—long-short long-short, long-short long-short.

Taylor leaned on his shoulder without speaking.

The old coffee cup was on the desk, reflecting a bit of light.

The night breeze was gentle.

They were still listening.