𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗳-𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 || 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱

𝟮𝟬. 𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗲𝘁

WRITER'S POV

09:35 

"Is everyone okay?" Suhyeok's voice cuts through the tense silence, the group slowly starting to regain their bearings. Daesu is grimacing in pain, clutching at his injured leg, his breath ragged. Onjo, her face pale and filled with quiet despair, glances over to the construction site, hoping—no, praying—that she'll see the familiar faces of her friends. But the field is empty. The silence is deafening.

Onjo takes a slow, shaky breath, the weight of the situation settling heavy in her chest. She feels the pull of something inside her, some tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they're still alive.

"Onjo, let's go," Suhyeok's voice is gentle but firm, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him, her eyes clouded with sadness. He gives her a reassuring nod, but she isn't so sure.

"I'll go check," Onjo whispers, her voice hoarse. "I'll be back."

She doesn't wait for a response. Instead, she steps forward, her pace quickening, as if her legs can outrun the fear gnawing at her insides. She knows what she's walking into, but a small part of her refuses to accept it. Not yet.

"We're coming too," Namra calls, catching up to Onjo, followed by Wujin.

The three of them make their way across the rugged terrain, their eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, as they approach the dilapidated building. Onjo leads the way, each step heavy with the weight of everything she fears.

When they reach the highest level of the construction site, their hopes are dashed. It's a graveyard. The place is untouched, eerily quiet, but there's no sign of their friends. No movement. No signs of life. Just the wreckage.

"Hara?" Onjo's voice trembles, barely a whisper against the deafening silence. She repeats the name, this time louder, but there's no answer.

Wujin scans the area, his face darkening. "This... this can't be the end," he murmurs, his voice tight with disbelief. He's trying to hold it together, but his words betray him.

Namra places a hand on Onjo's shoulder, her expression soft but resolute. "Let's say goodbye, and then we go," she suggests quietly.

The words hit like a blow to the gut. Onjo nods silently, tears welling up in her eyes. The three of them stand in the ruined space for a moment longer, but there's nothing left to do.

"Let's go," Onjo says, voice small but steady.

But Wujin remains still. His fists are clenched tight, his gaze locked on the ground as he stands frozen in place. The others exchange uneasy looks. They know what's happening. They've all lost something. Someone. But Wujin's grief is consuming him. He hasn't moved.

"Wujin..." Onjo starts, her voice catching, but before she can finish, he steps past her without a word, his gaze never lifting to meet hers. He's gone before she can call out again.

Namra rests a hand on Onjo's shoulder, a silent signal to let him be.

They've all lost something. But the journey isn't over. It can't be.

10:15 

The survivors trek deeper into the woods, their exhaustion palpable. Daesu is leaning heavily on Suhyeok and Gyeongsu, his body aching from both the physical injuries and the crushing mental strain. The others are close behind, their dehydration becoming more apparent with every step. The air is thick with tension, and the quiet seems suffocating.

Wujin is trailing behind, a full five meters between him and the group. He's distant, his head down, lost in his own thoughts.

"Hurry up, Wujin!" Daesu calls out, his voice strained but attempting to sound commanding.