HMT Chapter 3 (Part 2)
by BrieSky Pension consisted of one single-story building and two three-story buildings. Sangpil and his wife lived in the single-story house. The two three-story buildings each had six rooms and were used for the pension business.
The swimming pool, which in summer would be full and make kids laugh, now lay empty and gave the place a desolate atmosphere.
The building where Sangpil gathered the kids was the single-story one. When he called out, the pension door opened. A woman with short permed hair came out. The moment she saw Sangpil, her eyes widened, and she marched over, smacking his back with loud slaps. She was Lee Hyeja, his wife.
“Ha-eun’s father, why are you so late?! I thought something had happened! Why do you insist on meddling and rescuing people when it’s impossible?!”
“Aigo, woman, it hurts. Stop it.”
He accepted the blows at first, knowing he had gone out against her wishes. But when the pain reached his bones, he twisted away from the incoming slaps.
“There are kids here! It’s embarrassing! They’re all Ha-eun’s age.”
The moment their daughter’s name left his mouth, her strikes stopped cold. Hyeja glared at the kids huddled together. They were indeed all around her daughter’s age. Her gaze lingered on Haena, whose face resembled her daughter’s quite a lot.
“…Come in.”
Her voice trembled faintly with tears as she let the kids inside. The entryway was already packed with all kinds of shoes.
“I wasn’t sure what would happen, so everyone’s been gathered here. Come on inside.”
Sangpil nudged the hesitant kids forward. The single-story home was just as full inside as the entryway. People sat on the living room sofa and floor with gloomy expressions. When the kids entered, they awkwardly rose to their feet.
There were nearly ten of them, perhaps more. Their ages varied. The youngest seemed to be the couple in matching shirts, clearly in their twenties.
“They’re pension guests and people who live nearby.”
“Ah, hello. I’m Dohoon.”
Dohoon bowed first. The normal, cozy house interior eased the tension in his shoulders. And outside, the two police officers were also present. For the first time, they felt like they were somewhere under adult protection.
Dohoon stepped aside to hide his reddened eyes as the others greeted the adults one by one.
“There are too many of you for me to remember all your names. Have you eaten yet?”
Hyeja addressed them with a completely different tone from the one she used on her husband. Her sharp eyes scanned their faces. They were cold, hungry, exhausted, clearly worn down by everything they had gone through.
Their clothes were splattered with blood, showing just how hard it had been to reach this place.
“…I’m hungry.”
Ayoung pressed a hand to her stomach and spoke timidly. The faint smell of kimchi stew drifted through the living room, and her eyes turned toward the kitchen without thinking. Noticing this, Hyeja gestured to the kids.
“Come sit in here. I’ll bring the food right away.”
She pointed to a room where two low tables had been pushed together, enough for four kids each.
The kids hesitantly filed in and sat down. Jiwoo took a seat at the end, and once again, found himself next to Yoon by coincidence. He knew he shouldn’t think this way, but today he felt unusually lucky. The world had turned upside down, yet this luck alone made him hope it would continue.
Jiwoo sank to his knees and intertwined his fingers. He was closer to Yoon than he had been on the bus, there was no armrest separating them now.
If either of them moved even a little, their arms brushed, and their thighs touched. Even in a situation like this, Jiwoo felt his face heating, so he bowed his head deeply. Fortunately, the kids were focused on Hyeja.
Ever since she promised them food, she was basically an angel in their eyes. Holding all their round, hopeful gazes at once, Hyeja spoke.
“Do you all like kimchi stew?”
“Yes! I love it!”
Kim Min answered without hiding his excitement. Kimchi stew, just hearing the words made his heart pound.
Soon, bubbling kimchi stew was placed in the center of the tables. Dishes of roasted seaweed, sweet-and-savory stir-fried anchovies with almonds and walnuts, and seasoned dried squid accompanied it.
For that moment, even Yoon swallowed hard. The spicy, savory aroma of the stew filled the room and teases his appetite.
“Here’s the rice. If you need more, I’ll heat up some instant rice, so don’t hold back. Eat as much as you want.”
Carrying high bowls of rice equal to the number of kids, Sangpil entered the room. Jiwoo waited until everyone picked up a bowl before reaching for the last one. It was the smallest bowl, with the least amount of rice.
The tableware was disposable. Jiwoo tore the plastic wrapping and took out the spoon inside. He tried to scoop some kimchi stew, but several spoons were already stirring inside the pot.
He wanted to taste it, but instead he split apart a pair of wooden chopsticks and picked up a sheet of roasted seaweed. The dark seaweed lay atop the pale yellow grains of barley rice. Jiwoo clumsily wrapped the rice with the seaweed.
As he pushed it into his mouth, the crisp, salty flavor spread across his tongue. The grains crushed one by one under his molars. The natural sweetness of the rice stimulated his taste buds, and Jiwoo’s head slowly dipped toward his bowl.
Everything that had happened today flickered through his mind like a lantern show. Just this morning, he had been filled with nothing but excitement that he would be able to see Yoon up close all day.
When Yoon sat beside him, he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. He didn’t have the courage to look at Yoon’s face directly, so he stole glances at his reflection in the window. Back then, he had witnessed something strange.
‘Something was already happening at school before all this…’
Now that he thought about it, the student who suddenly collapsed had been suspicious. Someone who approached the fallen student had their hair grabbed and was dragged across the floor.
As he remembered the two becoming tangled like a single body, blood splashed across the memory. The student who ran in to help must now also be wandering outside as one of those things.
Jiwoo’s hand trembled around the chopsticks. Tears seeped into the corners of his tightly pressed lips. He had once believed it wouldn’t matter even if he died. Ever since the day he learned why he could never blend into his family, he had slowly let go of any attachment to life.
It had been a week before his elementary school graduation. He had been the only child whose parents didn’t attend his kindergarten graduation.
Even at that young age, the absence had hurt deeply. His parents had sent only a bouquet by courier. His teacher had stepped in and acted in their place, but Jiwoo still shrank on that huge auditorium stage.
So for his elementary school graduation, he desperately wished at least one of them would show up.
His steps toward their bedroom had been heavy. Whenever they looked at his face, their expressions hardened. His older brother went in and out of their room freely, but Jiwoo was never welcome there, and every step felt forbidden.
It was shortly after dinner. When Jiwoo reached their door, it was open just wide enough for two fingers.
“How long do you intend to keep raising him in this house?”
His steps froze at the sharp voice from inside. After his mother, his father’s tired, annoyed voice followed.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You said yourself we only need to raise him until he can take care of himself. Jiwoo can cook for himself now. Puberty is right around the corner. He’s not even my child, why do I have to keep watching someone else’s kid grow up? Aren’t you being cruel to me?”
What… was she talking about?
His mother’s words stabbed into Jiwoo’s chest like a dagger.
Jiwoo wasn’t as academically perfect as his older brother, who always scored full marks, but he was still a good student. His academy teachers even commented that he could probably get into Korea University one day.
But Jiwoo had never once been praised by his parents. He thought it was because he wasn’t as smart as his brother.
So he worked late every night, trying to study even harder. But the words spilling from the crack in the door mocked all that effort.
“Every time I see him, I get chills. It reminds me of when you snuck around with that woman behind my back. It’s horrifying. So choose. Either divorce me, or get Jiwoo out of this house right now.”
He wished he were stupid enough not to understand. Now he knew why his mother always looked at him like he was something crawling on the floor. But knowing the reason did nothing to ease the pain, if anything, it ruined him.
“You know her. Jiwoo’s birth mother died giving birth to him. And there’s no family willing to take him.”
“So what! I already have my hands full raising Hyungwoo. You should be bowing to me every day for tolerating that child this long. Understand?”
Jiwoo turned around before he could hear any more. He walked back to his room with hot tears streaming down his cheeks.
He closed the door without a sound and crawled under the blankets. He cried for a long time. He only realized he had stayed up all night when he heard his parents leaving for work the next morning.
Even then, no one knocked on his door. He stayed inside all day. He didn’t feel hungry. Maybe he had cried too much, he didn’t even feel the need to use the bathroom.
And still, no one came for him.
Then the graduation day arrived. He pulled on a black hoodie and headed to school after receiving a message from his only close friend.
He stood alone while everyone else smiled. Even the friend who greeted him soon turned away to join the family who had come to celebrate.
It was just like kindergarten. No, worse.
After the ceremony, Jiwoo stood in the auditorium watching other children laugh and take photos with their families. He didn’t even receive a couriered bouquet this time. His empty hands made his chest tighten.
He wandered the streets after leaving the school. He had dressed too lightly, and the cold wind made him shiver, but his feet wouldn’t stop moving.
Only when the sun began to set did he return home. As he opened the door, a spicy aroma filled the house.
“Hyungwoo, try this. I made your favorite braised pollack.”
“I’ll eat it later.”
“I want to feed you. I’ll put a piece on your rice, okay?”
His mother’s gentle voice tangled with his brother’s curt one.
“What, is Hyungwoo the only one with a mouth? I want some too.”
“Are you the same as our Hyungwoo? You have hands, pick the bones yourself.”
“It tastes better when you pick it for me.”
Even his father, usually reserved, teased his mother affectionately. The three of them looked perfect together. As if Jiwoo had never belonged there in the first place.
“…I’m home.”
After hesitating, Jiwoo took off his shoes and headed toward the kitchen. All the voices that had filled the house went silent instantly.
His family looked at him with cold eyes. In that moment, Jiwoo understood, no matter how well he did in school, his parents would never praise him.
There was only one thing he could do for a family that would be happier without him.
“Mother, Father. I… have something I want to say.”
“Say it after we finish eating.”
His father’s cold voice cut him off. Jiwoo quietly returned to his room.
He waited at the door until the meal ended. When he heard his mother cleaning up the dishes, he approached them again. His brother was gone. His father sat at the table, staring straight at him. His mother, still avoiding his eyes, carried dishes to the sink.
“What do you want.”
Her voice was too cold to be talking to her child. But Jiwoo was used to it. His lips trembled as he finally forced out the conclusion he had reached after wandering the streets that day. His hands were red and numb from the cold.
“…I want to move out. When I start middle school.”
“What? Really?”
His mother reacted before his father did. She turned, rubber gloves half on her hands, and looked at him with the brightest expression he had ever seen on her face.
Jiwoo realized he had chosen the correct answer.
For the first time, his mother was happy because of something he said. His father also seemed quietly relieved. Neither of them looked interested in why he had come to that decision.
After that, Jiwoo’s move to independence progressed without a hitch. Since both of his parents worked typical office jobs at small to mid-sized companies, the place they chose for him to live alone was a rooftop room in an old house on the outskirts of Seoul.
In the summer it was like a sauna, and in the winter it felt like a freezer. That rooftop room had been Jiwoo’s home since middle school.
Even now, as a student at Korea University, he still lived there. After moving out, until the day he met Yoon, Jiwoo had been little more than alive because he couldn’t die. He had no purpose.
His parents deposited living expenses in his bank account every month, but they never once called to check how he was. He attended his middle school entrance ceremony alone, his middle school graduation alone, and even his high school entrance ceremony alone. Even though he managed to get into a fairly good high school, his heart felt hollow.
It had become even harder than before to make friends, and the air around him always felt as cold as the wind that had blown the day he wandered the streets alone.
He had enrolled in high school without any expectations. At first, it was even worse than middle school. The classmate who had bullied him all through middle school ended up in the same class.
The sound of that boy laughing, saying high school would be “fun,” filled Jiwoo with dread. Even when the boy treated him like a toy in front of everyone, Jiwoo could only quietly endure the violence poured onto him.
He had tried resisting a few times in middle school and learned the hard way that fighting back only made things worse. After that, he decided enduring was safer.
But he reached his limit about a month after school started, when he was dragged to the rooftop during lunch.
“I think I’ve been way too nice to you lately. I can see the rebellion in your eyes.”
The violence escalated. Before, they had only hit Jiwoo’s head, put him in headlocks, or grabbed him in wrestling holds that made it hard to breathe.
But that day, as if bored with the usual routine, the ringleader suddenly dragged Jiwoo up to the rooftop.
Jiwoo made eye contact with dozens of students on the way, but not one person tried to help him. Despair hollowed him out. On the rooftop, he was dragged into a corner and beaten senseless.
Because he wore a secondhand uniform left behind by graduated seniors, the already frayed sleeves wrinkled and tore badly. Jiwoo fought back desperately, but three boys who were all taller and stronger than him were impossible to handle.
The once-white uniform shirt gradually stained red. If not for the sudden sound of a whistle nearby, Jiwoo might have died that day.
“Hey, isn’t that the discipline teacher?”
“Kim Minseong, what are you doing? If we get caught again we’re screwed! He said next time he’d really suspend us!”
“Damn it. I was finally gonna blow off some steam today.”
Minseong grabbed the jacket he had thrown on the ground and kicked Jiwoo hard in the stomach. Jiwoo curled up, eyes wide from shock.
“You got lucky today.”
Even as their footsteps faded, Jiwoo could only clutch his stomach and choke out broken wheezing sounds.
If the discipline teacher really was coming, he needed to get up quickly. But he couldn’t move a finger. After taking a severe hit to the solar plexus, his breath kept catching painfully.
His vision blackened. He realized he might really die like this. The discipline teacher’s stern face flashed through his mind.
That teacher had always disliked him, because Jiwoo was too quiet for a boy, too timid, too reserved.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, yet everything felt like his fault. He had always told himself it would pass eventually, but that hope mocked him now.
Maybe, just like the discipline teacher said, the reason they pushed him around was because he couldn’t even speak up properly.
His vision blurred. Tears dripped onto the rooftop floor. He wanted to beg for help, but the only sound he could make was the rasp of a dying breath.
His heartbeat slowed. He had thought he had no attachment to life, but as death loomed, fear swallowed him.
“Are you okay, freshman?”
The voice he heard then was nothing like he expected. It wasn’t the discipline teacher’s raspy voice, but a low, gentle one, too distinct to forget once heard.
“It’s okay now. They’re gone. Try breathing in and out slowly.”
A warm hand rubbed his back gently. Miraculously, his struggling breath began to ease.
Once Jiwoo’s breathing calmed, the hand withdrew. Feeling the loss, Jiwoo looked up.
And in that moment, all his attention was stolen by the person standing with sunlight at his back.
Kind eyes looked down at him. Even with the light behind him, the graceful line of his tall nose cast a shadow on his face. And when Jiwoo saw the faint upward curl of his lips, even his tears dried up.
“Your clothes are a mess. Here, borrow mine.”
A soft weight settled over his shoulders. Even though it was daytime, Jiwoo felt as if night had fallen around them. A heavy yet gentle scent lingered near his nose, nothing like the harsh cologne and cigarette smell of the boys who had tormented him, but something natural and striking.
“Take your time. Come down when you’re ready.”
It had been so long since anyone was kind to him that Jiwoo froze. When the senior began to leave, he forced out his voice.
“Sunbaenim, my name… is Nam Jiwoo.”
Why did he say that?
Very few people remembered his name. His parents used to say it often enough, but after living alone, no one called his name anymore.
His classmates, his homeroom teacher, even the discipline teacher who always sighed when he saw him, their words were always “hey” or “you.” During roll call, his teacher would look at him with a face that said, Do we have a student like this?
And whenever they had to address him, they always reverted to “hey.” As if they wanted to recall his name but couldn’t. Eventually, Jiwoo forgot what it felt like to be called by his own name.
The one who had saved him, it had to be the senior who blew the whistle, somehow sending the bullies running. Jiwoo should have thanked him first, but instead he gave his name. He still didn’t know why. If it were anyone else, they would have ignored him.
But this senior was different.
“Okay, Jiwoo. Let’s greet each other properly from now on.”
His voice was soft like a passing breeze, yet he still turned back and waved his right hand lightly at Jiwoo.
Jiwoo’s heart pounded helplessly. For the first time, he realized his name could sound so warm.
A few days later, Jiwoo heard that the boys who had bullied him were hospitalized. Not long after, he learned they had been referred to the school violence committee for what they’d done to him and a few others, and were forced to withdraw from school.
He was stunned. He had assumed he would have to silently endure for three years, just like middle school. But after meeting that senior, Jiwoo’s school life became peaceful in a way he had never imagined possible.
Teachers and classmates still didn’t remember his name, but the quiet was a blessing. Not being bullied, simply attending school like a normal student, allowed him to breathe.
“Jiwoo, are you on your way to lunch?”
The senior kept his promise. He remembered Jiwoo’s name instantly and always called out to him whenever they crossed paths.
He would never understand how much that saved Jiwoo.
Jiwoo had no courage to die, so he lived out of habit. If the bullying had continued and grown worse, he might have offered up his nameless life to the world without hesitation.
But after meeting the senior, Jiwoo gained a purpose. He wanted to enter the same university, study in the same department. After graduation, he wanted the comfort of simply knowing the senior existed somewhere in the world.
And after the world became like this, he gained another desire, to protect him. Even if Jiwoo’s life disappeared in the process, that was fine.
Someone like the senior remaining in this ruined world was far more valuable.
So then why… why wouldn’t the tears stop?
He couldn’t tell if the tears were from relief at having survived or guilt toward the ones who hadn’t. Even he didn’t understand his own heart. Half-chewed grains of rice crumbled inside his mouth.
“Jiwoo.”
As always, Yoon’s gentle voice sounded beside his ear. Jiwoo wanted to swallow that voice whole, but unlike usual, he couldn’t lift his head. He felt warmth touch the crown of his head. Yoon lightly brushed his hair, then patted his back as if comforting a crying child.
“It’s okay. Everything will be alright.”
Even though they were in a safe place for now, no one knew what tomorrow would bring. Adults were here, but to Jiwoo, adults weren’t people to lean on, they were people to tiptoe around, people he had to avoid displeasing.
Despite everything being so uncertain, Yoon’s voice comforting him was steady and unwavering.
“Come to think of it, Yoon, you’re really good to him, aren’t you? What was his name… Jihoo?”
Jiwoo wasn’t the only one who had lost their appetite to sadness. Sensitive Kim Min and Han Min were already sniffling, and Ayoung was chewing through her tear-soaked rice.
Even Dohoon, dragged down by the gloom, eventually noticed the subtle atmosphere flowing between Yoon and Jiwoo. Yoon was kind to everyone, but Dohoon had never once seen him stroke someone’s head so tenderly.
And the junior Yoon was doting on wasn’t even a girl, it was a boy wearing outdated glasses Dohoon wanted to ask about, a boy with barely any presence, a boy whose name he wasn’t even sure of.
“Sunbaenim, his name isn’t Jihoo. It’s Jiwoo. Nam Jiwoo.”
Kim Min, sitting beside Dohoon, corrected him. After surviving together today, Jiwoo’s name was now firmly engraved in his memory.
“Oh, really?”
Embarrassed from calling him the wrong name, Dohoon rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushed.
“Anyway, what I was trying to say is… Yoon, you two look really close.”
He had thought he and Yoon became closer through student council work, but maybe he was mistaken.
Until now, he had never seen Yoon act especially close to Jiwoo. Their relationship felt strangely unfamiliar.
“He’s my high school junior. He even followed me into our department.”
“For real?”
If they had a connection since high school, then Yoon acting that way made sense. He probably felt sympathy for a pitiful kid who admired him.
Realizing Yoon was simply being his usual overly kind self, Dohoon lost interest in Jiwoo and went back to eating.
The others did the same. Grief and shock lingered, but hunger eventually won. Some moved their spoons with gloomy faces; others stared blankly while mechanically lifting food into their mouths.
Only Jiwoo remained frozen in shock. His eyes, hidden behind thick lenses, trembled violently. Yoon’s casual remark had sent a ripple through him that wouldn’t settle.
‘…Sunbaenim knew. He knew I came to this university because of him.’
It wasn’t just the same school, Jiwoo had chosen a department he had zero interest in just to see Yoon a little closer.
He never imagined that heart of his would be exposed. There were plenty of students who hovered around Yoon like he did, and Jiwoo had never approached Yoon directly, only watched from afar.
Today was a special circumstance, making them stay together. Normally, their interactions began and ended with Yoon greeting Jiwoo after noticing him nearby.
When had he found out?
The wooden chopsticks in Jiwoo’s hand snapped cleanly in half. He didn’t even realize it, swallowed whole by panic. Yoon, unable to watch anymore, gently took the broken chopsticks from his hand.
“Hey, aren’t you going to eat? Everyone else is almost done.”
“Ah…”
Startled as if doused with cold water, Jiwoo jerked his head up. Just as Yoon said, the kimchi stew was nearly empty and most of the side dishes had disappeared. The only bowl still piled high with untouched rice was Jiwoo’s.
With no choice, he picked up his spoon and shoveled mouthfuls of rice inside. It was so obvious he was going to choke that Kim Min poured a cup of water and handed it to him. Jiwoo bowed his head with bulging cheeks like a squirrel.
Watching Jiwoo act overly polite even among friends, Kim Min shook his head. He had already thought Jiwoo’s glasses were suspiciously outdated, but the more he saw, the more Jiwoo felt like he didn’t belong in their generation at all.
Just as Jiwoo managed to finish his rice, Sangpil returned.
“I’ll give you two rooms, one for the boys, one for the girls. There are towels and blankets prepared inside. Here are the keys. The rooms are in Building A, so head there, wash up, and sleep. The others who were here earlier already went to their rooms. We’ll handle introductions tomorrow morning. And once you’re in your rooms, try not to turn on the lights if you can. Those things might spot the light from far away.”
Fatigue that had been building since they finished eating washed over all of them. The pension’s heating worked well, and the warm air made their exhaustion heavier. Kim Min and Han Min, shivering for hours in the cold earlier, thought they could die happy if they could just lie down on a warm floor.
“We should at least clean up. We’ll go after we tidy this, sir.”
Taking the keys, Yoon began clearing the table. When Yoon moved, the others instinctively followed. Jiwoo also hurried to his feet.
“No need. I’ll wash the dishes. Just give them here.”
Hyeja appeared from the living room, collecting bowls from their hands. The dirty dishes stacked quickly in the pot that once held the kimchi stew.
Even though Yoon insisted they should finish the cleanup, the pension couple didn’t budge. And with that, the kids, full and warm, were practically shooed out of the owners’ home.
They had no choice but to put on their shoes and walk toward Building A. From the sign at the entrance, they saw it was the building closest to the owners’ quarters.
Before entering, the group naturally divided by gender. Yoon handed one of the keys to Yejin. As they started in, Haena grabbed Kim Min’s shoulder.
“Hey, Kim Min. Lend me and Ayoung some clothes.”
“Clothes? What clothes?”
When Haena stared at him like he was stupid, Kim Min frowned in protest.
“Well how am I supposed to react when you ask for clothes out of nowhere?”
“There are only a few people who still have their bags, you included. All our stuff is still on the bus. And we can’t sleep in these clothes.”
Only then did Kim Min understand what Haena meant. Thanks to Haena throwing their bags earlier, he, Han Min, Jiwoo, and Yoon had managed to save their belongings, but no one else had. Running for their lives from friends trying to bite them, climbing onto the bus roof, no one had time to grab anything.
“My clothes are going to be huge on you…”
“Does that matter right now? Hurry up.”
“Why are you always like this with me? Han Min, you take one out too. I only brought one spare.”
With no way out, Kim Min pulled a tracksuit set from his backpack. He jabbed Han Min’s side with his elbow. The only clothes they had brought were tracksuits. With a resigned sigh, Han Min pulled out a similar set and handed it to Ayoung.
“Thanks.”
Ayoung held the tracksuit tightly.
“Then we’ll go up first.”
Unlike Haena and Ayoung, Yejin didn’t ask Yoon or Jiwoo for clothes. Instead, she grabbed the arm of Minji, a quiet freshman, and gave the girls a look to follow. They all climbed the stairs after her, but Jisoo quietly approached Yoon.
“Yoon, can you lend me something too?”
Yoon silently looked over her outfit. Although there were a few stains of dried blood, Jisoo’s clothes were honestly the cleanest among everyone here.
“Sorry, Jisoo. I only have one set to change into.”
Under normal circumstances, Yoon would have lent her his clothes. But right now, his clothes were soaked in blood, barely wearable. Rotten blood from the monsters had splattered across him like paint. Even he was surprised he had managed to sit down and eat like this.
Hearing his gentle but firm refusal, Jisoo’s face flushed. She turned away without a word.
Only after the last girl disappeared into the pension did Yoon lead the boys upstairs.
Sangpil had given them the second-floor A-building rooms. The two doors faced each other across the landing.
Yoon unlocked the room. Inside, the heating was already on, warm and comforting. The layout was similar to the owners’ building. A neatly stacked pile of blankets and pillows sat in front of the living room sofa.
“There are two rooms. Freshmen and sophomores can split up.”
Dohoon, stepping inside and taking off his shoes, checked the layout and pointed to the larger and smaller rooms.
“Since there are more freshmen, should we let them take the bigger room?”
He turned to Yoon for a decision. The rooms were identical except for size.
“Rather than that, Jiwoo and I will take the small one. The four of you use the big one.”
Everyone froze at Yoon’s unexpected words. Especially Jiwoo, who stiffened so suddenly his backpack crumpled in his grip.
“…Won’t that be uncomfortable?”
“No. We’ll use this room.”
Yoon smiled in response and gently pulled Jiwoo, still frozen like a statue, toward the smaller room.
Unable to put a name to the strange atmosphere, Kim Min exchanged glances with Han Min and Minsu. The three freshmen hurried into the large room. Only Dohoon lingered in the doorway, staring at the now-closed small room.
“Se-sunbaenim, why did you…”
Jiwoo’s voice trailed off awkwardly. He meant to ask why Yoon chose him, but hearing the words as he said them made the nuance strange.
“You seem like a quiet sleeper. And you don’t look like you snore. I’m a light sleeper.”
Yoon touched his own ear with a fingertip as he smiled. His reason was simple, Jiwoo seemed like someone whose presence would barely be felt even in the same room.
Dohoon, on the other hand, snored like a freight train. The freshmen were even more difficult to room with. Yoon realized he was unusually comfortable with Jiwoo, but brushed off the thought.
He just wanted to get out of his filthy clothes and take a hot shower. Even though he had napped briefly on the bus, it wasn’t enough to ease days of accumulated fatigue. With everything that happened afterward, both his mind and body were exhausted.
Yoon didn’t believe this place was completely safe. The walls were high, but if monsters followed their scent, things could get ugly. And among the people here, there was always a chance someone was infected.
Watching Jiwoo standing nervously by the door, Yoon scanned him closely. To sleep peacefully in the same room, he needed to make sure Jiwoo had no bite marks or scratches.
“Looks like there’s only one bathroom. Since it’s the two of us, we should wash first. You brought clothes to change into, right?”
“W-what?”
Unable to follow the sudden shift in conversation, Jiwoo raised his voice. Yoon reached into his backpack and pulled out a set of black tracksuits.
Then, as if wondering why Jiwoo was just standing there, he jerked his chin toward the bag.
Realizing Yoon wasn’t joking, Jiwoo’s face flushed the color of a ripe persimmon.
“If we wash first, the others can go after. If we do it one by one, it’ll take too long, and the sound of running water might reach the other floors.”
Jiwoo still looked overwhelmed, so Yoon simply pulled a black sweatshirt and sweatpants out of his bag for him. It was obvious these were the only clothes Jiwoo had brought.
“Bring them. I’ll tell the others.”
Yoon pressed the clothes into Jiwoo’s arms as if sealing the decision. As Yoon walked away, Jiwoo bit his lip hard.
Something just as unbelievable as his seniors turning into monsters was unfolding right in front of him.
Yoon leaned against the doorframe and knocked. The neat knock pulled the attention of everyone sprawled around the room like drained phones.
“What is it?”
Ever since they’d come in, everyone had scattered like dead batteries. They knew they had to wash up and clean their dirty clothes, but all their energy was gone.