The fluorescent lights had dimmed for once. No shouting, no blood on the floor — just the low murmur of breathing, a lull in the storm.

You sat against the cold concrete wall, knees pulled to your chest, watching the way Ji-yeong twirled a marble between her fingers. She wasn’t looking at you, but you knew she knew you were there.

Finally, she spoke.

“You think anyone out there misses you?” Her voice was flat, almost casual. But there was a crack in it — one you heard too clearly.

You hesitated. “Maybe. But… maybe not.”

She nodded slowly. Then turned her gaze toward you — that soft, unreadable stare she wore like armor.

“Then we’re the same.”

---

Later, she sat beside you. Shoulder to shoulder. Neither of you said much.

At one point, she leaned her head on your shoulder — featherlight, like she was afraid to break something.

“If we make it out of here,” she whispered, “I want to take a train. Anywhere. Just… not here.”