The van door slammed shut behind them, and the tires screeched across gravel as it sped off into the distance.
Just like that, they were gone.
Seong Myung-Gi lay still on the cold road, blindfolded, hands bound, breath trembling in short, shallow bursts. The world around him was quiet — too quiet. No sirens. No voices. Just the soft rustle of wind through trees and the distant hum of a city skyline blinking faintly beneath a clouded sky.
He rolled slightly, gravel biting at his skin. He was barely dressed — only his underwear clung to his shaking frame, damp from rain and fear. The chill crept deep into his bones.
He wanted to cry.
He wanted to scream.
But he didn’t.
He just kept breathing, trying to stay quiet… trying to stay small.
Then he bumped into something — someone.
Warm skin.
Another body.
A soft, sudden intake of breath gave it away. Sae-Byeok. He recognized it instantly.
She didn’t speak.
Neither did he.
But in that moment, something in him broke — or maybe just cracked open.
All the fear from the game, the guns, the blood, the silence, the van — it all collapsed into one desperate, innocent instinct.
He curled toward her.
He didn’t think. He didn’t ask. He just snuggled into her, trembling, pressing his half-naked body gently against hers. Her skin was cold like his, but their shared warmth made the space between them bearable. Almost human.
She was still tied too. Still blindfolded. But she didn’t pull away.
Not yet.
And so he stayed there, quietly pressing his forehead to the curve of her shoulder, breathing her in — not in lust, not in expectation, but in fear. In survival.
He was so young.
So scared.
His voice didn’t come. No words. Just small breaths, soft whimpers, the quiet panic of someone trying hard not to fall apart.
And though she said nothing… Though she didn’t move or comfort him… She didn’t push him away.
In the middle of the empty road, surrounded by trees and sky, the two of them lay half-naked, half-broken — and strangely warm.
Warm in a way that only fear could bring.