FLIA 4

“Months, or years?”

Yohan grew despondent at the vast, unfathomable length of time, but he forced himself to stay positive. If he hadn’t met Lee Hyunmook, he would’ve been shredded to death by that murderous eyeball monster. He needed to be thankful just to be alive.

“Yes, Mr. Lee Hyunmook! Let’s hang in there together!”

When Yohan spoke with renewed spirit, Hyunmook stared at him blankly, as if watching some alien lifeform moving in an unfamiliar way.

Truthfully, even in his sane state, Hyunmook seemed a little unhinged, but rather than say something rude, Yohan rummaged through his backpack again.

“Ah, would you like one of these? I found some jelly in a building yesterday.”

He pulled out one of the jelly packs he’d collected in the pitch-dark building. Holding it up to the firelight, Yohan tilted his head.

“Do we even have this brand of jelly in Korea?”

Now that he looked closer, the packaging seemed off. The text wasn’t Korean, nor was it English, Chinese, or Japanese, it was an unrecognizable script that made him vaguely uneasy. The illustration was of a bizarre animal, one that didn’t seem to exist on Earth.

“You probably shouldn’t eat that…”

Hyunmook said flatly when he saw the jelly pack in Yohan’s hand.

But it was valuable food, so Yohan opened it anyway. A strong fruity scent wafted out.

“It smells fine to me!”

He took out a piece of jelly and frowned, it was all misshapen, like a defective product.

As he examined it, Hyunmook reached out, took one for himself, and bit into it. His expression changed immediately.

Worried it might be spoiled, Yohan tensed, only for Hyunmook to say the opposite.

”…Why is it perfectly fine?”

He chewed thoughtfully, then pulled out another and popped it into his mouth.

Relieved, Yohan’s face brightened.

“Maybe it’s just imported jelly!”

”…You’re sure you found this here? You didn’t bring it with you?”

“It was on the floor of the building where I was hiding. Still sealed, so I figured the inside wouldn’t be dirty.”

Saying that, Yohan ate one himself. Though its shape was a mess, the flavor and texture were sweet and satisfying.

He offered more to Hyunmook, who stared dazedly at the brightly colored pieces in his palm.

Hyunmook slowly chewed a piece of jelly, his brows furrowing.

Now and then he glared at the jelly, as if it were incomprehensible, and sometimes even shot Yohan a suspicious look.

Not knowing why, Yohan avoided his gaze, careful not to provoke someone who was potentially still unstable. He cautiously changed the subject.

“So, um… had you been staying near here?”

”…No.”

Yohan glanced up, wondering if he’d annoyed him. But Hyunmook didn’t seem bothered at all, so he continued.

“I see! Then I was lucky. It’s a miracle you happened to be passing by. You saved my life.”

Yohan said brightly, but Hyunmook fell into silent thought. He chewed his jelly slowly, then muttered:

“Maybe… I thought I saw sunlight around here.”

“Sunlight? I stayed in that building the whole time and it was pitch-black for two straight days.”

Yohan tilted his head. There hadn’t been even a sliver of light in that building, if sunlight had come through a window, he definitely would’ve noticed.

Still, rather than insist Hyunmook was mistaken, he tried to justify it.

“Maybe when the Abyss opened, it let some sunlight through.”

”…Could be. Or maybe I just imagined it.”

Hyunmook murmured vaguely.

The question “Do you know how to get out of here?” rose to Yohan’s throat, but he forced it down.

If there were a way out, if it were possible, someone as incredible as Lee Hyunmook would’ve found it by now.

Instead, here he was, having lost his teammates, wandering alone like a madman.

Yohan sighed, despair creeping in again.

“What date is it out there now?”

Yohan didn’t think it was a strange question. In a hellish place like this, time must crawl.

There wasn’t even a distinction between day and night, so it made sense he wouldn’t be able to keep track.

“I entered here on November 7th, 2035.”

Hyunmook, who had fallen silent, suddenly trembled, then burst out laughing.

It wasn’t a cheerful laugh. The sound was so chilling that Yohan was instantly afraid.

He clutched the jelly to his chest and edged back.

Hyunmook leaned his head back and laughed harder, before his shoulders sagged and the laughter dwindled into low chuckles.

Yohan could feel a terrible, soul-crushing despair radiating from him.

“Ha… ha. Three years. It’s only been three years…”

The way Hyunmook muttered those words was so dark and terrifying that Yohan couldn’t even offer the usual “It must’ve been hard for you.”

Was this what people meant by killing intent?

He could feel it tightening his organs, and for a moment it looked like even the firelight around Hyunmook was fading.

Yohan trembled and began to inch away, only for Hyunmook to suddenly reach out, and grab the bench he was sitting on.

Screeeeech!

“Hup—!”

Yohan barely held back a scream and clamped his hand over his mouth.

Still seated, the bench screeched across the ground as Hyunmook dragged it closer.

After all that talk about not making noise or monsters would come, Hyunmook had just made a racket, yet he now warned Yohan flatly:

“No. This is the safe zone. I can’t guarantee your life beyond this point.”

“Y-yes, got it, I’ll be careful.”

Yohan hiccuped mid-sentence. Hyunmook stared, as if fascinated by the unexpected sound.

Yohan lowered his gaze, too afraid to point out that staring like that was rude.

“You seem like a real scaredy-cat.”

“N-no, not really, hic…!”

Yohan bobbed his head politely as he hiccuped, and Hyunmook leaned in, peering at his face without blinking.

It was truly unnerving.

“Are you crying?”

“N-no, I’m not…”

Despite denying it twice, Yohan’s eyes were already brimming with tears.

Truthfully, he was a crybaby and easily frightened, but it wasn’t only Hyunmook.

It was the dread of being in a place where even someone like Hyunmook had been driven to such despair.

As if none of the earlier menace had existed, Hyunmook suddenly softened his tone.

“Don’t worry. No matter what happens, I’d never hurt a human.”

Yohan couldn’t even reply. He just nodded frantically.

His tears spilled, dotting the dusty floor.

For a long time, the only sound was Yohan’s hiccups echoing through the heavy silence.

“Mmm…”

Yohan stirred, eyes fluttering open from the urge to pee and gnawing hunger.

The first thing he saw was Hyunmook’s broad back.

He sat with his back to Yohan, huddled up close.

He must’ve stayed like that all night.

Why… why am I sleeping like this?

He vaguely remembered dozing off near the campfire, staring gloomily into the flames.

He’d curled up somewhere warm, but now he was sandwiched between Hyunmook and a wall?

Yohan cautiously called out.

”…Mr. Lee Hyunmook?”

Though he clearly heard him, Hyunmook didn’t reply.

Instead, he began humming softly.

He had returned to madness overnight.

It must have been due to corruption.

Corruption occurred when someone stayed in a rift for too long or fought monsters and suffered physical or mental damage.

Mild symptoms included depression, mania, rashes, or boils, but severe cases caused grotesque transformations of the body.

Such people had to be quarantined, or they’d be killed by fellow awakeners once they lost control.

And this wasn’t just any rift, it was the Abyss.

Yohan could understand why someone like Hyunmook, after so long here, had gone insane.

His current state had to be severe corruption.

Unfortunately, there was no cure for it.

If I stay here long enough, it’ll happen to me too, won’t it…

Corruption was more likely in the weak. Civilians were especially vulnerable.

That’s why awakened teams never let civilians stay more than a week.

It was only because Hyunmook was so strong that he’d lasted three years.

Now Yohan understood why he had begged him to hold out for as long as possible.

Will I even last a month before I’m fully corrupted…?

He wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t tell if the gloom he felt now was corruption or just despair.

Either way, he gritted his teeth and tried to steel himself.

If he was going to die anyway, he’d do everything he could before that happened.

It was a mindset that bordered on defiance, but it gave him something to hold onto.