“…Ah, um… thank you?”
Nod, nod.
When Lee Yoo-jin expressed her gratitude with a dazed expression, the mysterious figure sitting across from her gave a satisfied nod in response. As Yoo-jin’s gaze inadvertently shifted to Little sitting next to her, she couldn’t help but feel confused.
Truthfully, there was nothing particularly surprising about it.
She had seen something similar while waiting for Lime to enter the Singularity—a kind of… species (?). To be precise, it was a humanoid figure made up of something akin to Jelly.
Aside from the translucent, blue skin, there wasn’t much resemblance to Lime. It would be a stretch to call them family, so labeling them as a similar species seemed more appropriate.
…Putting that aside.
Yoo-jin reflected on what had happened moments before.
As she aimlessly wandered in the endless darkness, a sudden light had ignited hope within her. Just as she was about to embrace it, Lime abruptly covered her mouth, startling her so much that she momentarily forgot the pain in her ankle.
It felt as though Jelly (?) had pressed its body against hers, sealing her mouth. The sensation was odd, almost like part of a foreign body was inside her mouth.
But before she could dwell too much on the strangeness, Yoo-jin realized why Lime had acted. She stopped squirming and strained her ears.
From the corner where the light was streaming, a peculiar sound, like something approaching, echoed faintly.
The shaking of the Jelly-like figure holding her made her heart race furiously. She wanted to stop her racing heart out of fear of being discovered, but once it started, she couldn’t control how wildly it thudded.
In the midst of her panic, a feeling of guilt washed over her. This creature seemed to be worrying about her safety.
The more she thought about it, the more peculiar the situation became—perhaps the creatures of the Singularity were more human than the humans she had left behind.
What does it mean to be human, anyway?
Does anything a human-shaped being do automatically qualify as “human”?
The phrase “a beast wearing a human’s skin” came to mind, implying that not everything human-shaped acted human. So, what defines humanity?
And if a beast wearing human skin acts like a human, would it qualify as such?
“…”
Yoo-jin’s train of thought dissipated almost as soon as it began. The footsteps were now so close they resonated in her ears, and the pain she’d momentarily forgotten returned in full force.
Fortunately, the thick Jelly covering her mouth stopped any sound from escaping despite her sharp intake of breath.
Though the feeling of Jelly filling her mouth was overwhelming, it wasn’t unpleasant.
Just as the tension reached its peak—when Lime seemed to tense up as if preparing for battle—the shadowy figures sitting across from Yoo-jin emerged from the dimly lit corner.
Lime flinched as if recognizing them, then cautiously followed their beckoning after carefully glancing at Yoo-jin. Even though her mouth was still covered, Yoo-jin nodded in agreement.
Once her mouth was free, Yoo-jin briefly puzzled over the dampness left behind. Her throat felt parched, and she yearned for water—or anything even remotely similar.
Curiously, the lingering dampness tasted sweet, making her hesitate.
…Would it hurt if she swallowed it?
Eh, whatever.
Gulp.
Swallowing the Jelly seemed to quench her thirst a little. She thought it might’ve been intentional, which made her regard Lime with newfound appreciation. Was this just her imagination?
Meanwhile, Yoo-jin found herself before the source of the light—a small campfire that warmed the platform.
Then, as if explaining why they’d gestured for her to follow, they crushed some kind of herb onto her ankle and carefully wrapped it with bandages they apparently had on hand.
Thus, Yoo-jin offered her thanks with a touch of awkwardness. In turn, the figures responded with nods, either because they didn’t understand her or couldn’t speak, much like Lime.
As she alternated her gaze between the Jelly-like human (?) and Lime, she was offered something—similar to the food leftover on the floating platform.
With an expression that said, “It’s really not that bad,” the unknown figure handed her the cooked meal. Without realizing it, Yoo-jin smiled and accepted it, chewing carefully.
She had tasted it before, yet somehow, it tasted better now. Had her struggles made her appreciate it more, or was it because her mind was finally at ease? She couldn’t tell.
Glancing at the side, she saw Lime chewing with an odd expression. Though her face looked stuffed, somehow it struck Yoo-jin as even more human.
The thoughts about humanity that had lingered in the darkness resurfaced, but Yoo-jin deliberately suppressed them.
Why she did so, she wasn’t sure…
Lost in the act of chewing the food in her mouth, her mind wandered elsewhere.
Suddenly, it struck her.
Looking around, she realized none of the plants they were consuming could possibly grow here. Since she’d seen similar food near the platform earlier, it must’ve come from outside.
Could it mean they knew the way out of this endless darkness?
At that thought, the oppressive darkness seemed less daunting. Swallowing the food in her mouth, Yoo-jin turned to the group sitting opposite her and asked:
“Do you… know a way out? I want to leave here.”
As if confirming her suspicion, the Jelly-like figures nodded enthusiastically mid-meal.
It wasn’t clear if this meant they knew the path or if they promised to help her leave, but the glimpse of hope was enough for Yoo-jin to exhale in relief.
Turning to share her joy with Lime, she noticed something odd.
She had assumed Lime, too—despite not knowing her name—would wish to leave the place. After all, she had worked tirelessly, even carrying Yoo-jin, to get this far.
Yet… Lime’s cheeks were puffed out, clearly displeased—not because of the food, as it had already dissolved in her mouth. It seemed more like a sense of dissatisfaction or perhaps unspoken frustration.
Unable to comprehend why Lime reacted this way, Yoo-jin tilted her head in confusion. Only then did Lime relax her expression and idly fiddled with the antennae protruding from her head.
Unaware that Lime was upset because her words had been preempted, Yoo-jin simply thought, Maybe something’s bothering her.
Thus, she subtly averted her gaze, though she made no effort to distance her attached body from Lime’s.
How much time had passed?
Yoo-jin, staring blankly at the crackling fire, noticed her ankle pain had significantly subsided. What had initially felt like an indescribable ache had finally subsided, bringing a newfound comfort.
As if waiting for this very moment, the Jelly-like humans, who had been gathered around and playing, abruptly stood up and gestured for her to follow.
Yoo-jin nodded and rose, and Lime quickly stood as well. As Lime looked upon her with evident concern, Yoo-jin rotated her ankle to reassure her.
“I’m fine now.”
Despite this, Lime’s worried expression remained unchanged, leaving Yoo-jin touched.
Regardless, the two (?), along with the Jelly-like humans, followed them deeper into the dark passage. The darkness, however, didn’t seem as heavy this time—not with the Jelly-like humans carrying torch-like objects to illuminate their path.
Soon, the group reached a dead end.
At first, Yoo-jin thought they had prepared medicine only to ambush them here. She tensed up, but then dismissed the idea with, Nah, that’s unlikely.
She felt no shame in her suspicion.
The Jelly-like humans gathered at the wall and began rustling against it. With a loud bang, a small hole appeared.
They beckoned, signaling it was safe, and slipped through one by one without hesitation.
Watching them go, Lime quickly followed, wiggling her way inside.
Preparing to follow Lime, Yoo-jin crouched down, staring into the pitch-black hole ahead. Thanks to the torch the Jelly-like humans had abandoned, the faint glow reflected off Lime’s translucent blue body. But once inside, the overwhelming darkness would surely return.
Though aware she had no choice but to enter, the reluctance was undeniable.
But with no other options, Yoo-jin let out a faint sigh and dove into the hole.
Moving forward on her elbows and knees, she suddenly felt something cool—likely Lime’s body—press against her head with a soft thud!
The sensation was refreshing, and Yoo-jin noticed the fear that had accompanied the darkness began to ease.
How long had she been moving forward, her head occasionally bumping into Lime?
Fortunately, the hole wasn’t very long. Once out, both Yoo-jin and Lime were greeted with a sight that made their eyes widen in amazement.
Before them stretched a lush jungle, large trees bearing the fruit they had roasted earlier hanging heavily on their branches.
Emerging from the darkness into this new environment was certainly a welcome change, but…
“…Where exactly are we now?”
Exiting didn’t provide an immediate solution. They had strayed from the predetermined path, after all.
Still, Yoo-jin couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of optimism. As long as she was outside and had Lime by her side, holding her hand, she believed things would work out.
With her, maybe anything is possible?
…Right?
