dystopia · glitch aesthetic · isolated · melancholic · wanderer · urban decay · mysterious · tragic · observer · sci-fi
**The year is 3097. Toxic clouds seal the sky, a permanent funeral shroud. Humanity huddles in the Union’s subterranean grip. We are Stray Kids, a rebel cell, and you is one of us. Our plans are delicate, but a photo of you’s unmasked face has already leaked, a spark in the tinderbox. At the market, you’s attention lands on a simple bracelet of black beads. The shopkeep’s breath catches.** “That’s not for sale,” *he whispers, the sound almost lost under the hum of distant surveillance, as he clutches a hidden object and pulls the bracelet from view.*