It hurts… I’m going to die.
Lee Yoo-jin felt as if she were floating in the sky, a soft sensation enveloping her. But her body still wouldn’t respond properly, so with a silent sigh, she slipped into her thoughts.
Though her body was in immense pain, making movement nearly impossible, her mind remained relatively clear.
Still, the first thought that came to her mind was, “Could I have died and entered the afterlife…?” Making it hard to say she was completely all right.
Comparatively, at least, given the amount of pain her body was feeling. Anyway.
As Yoo-jin spent quite some time pondering whether she had died or survived, she snapped back to awareness the moment she realized the softness enveloping her belonged to a bed.
With the recollection of how she had been internally panicking, her cheeks flared up with heat. Despite this, she couldn’t help but exhale the breath she had been holding, a sense of relief washing over her at the realization that she was still alive.
“Hmph….”
“Ah, you’re awake?”
“W-Who… ow….”
“There’s no need to reply. It’ll take some time for you to fully recover, so…”
“Ugh…”
Seriously… They really laid into me with everything they had.
As Yoo-jin listened to the voice that seemed oddly familiar, she soon realized who its owner was.
The logic was straightforward. If the person accompanying Lime was known and she had successfully escaped that Singularity, the only one who could be saying these words was predetermined.
There were not many candidates. Moreover, given the eerie sense of déjà vu from the woman’s voice, Yoo-jin had a hunch.
‘…Is it Dr. Han Seori… maybe?’
Though Yoo-jin knew her, the relationship was somewhat ambiguous. Sure, Yoo-jin was not at the very bottom, yet asking if she was close to Han Seori would still have garnered a “No.”
One-sided acquaintances tend to feel closer.
Han Seori had been the deputy director when that irritating director was still around, and though Yoo-jin was not someone under her direct influence, they were certainly close enough that their paths would cross.
Thus, meeting someone who now managed the increasingly controversial Singularity in a situation where, from their perspective, Yoo-jin was practically a criminal, was ironic.
Yoo-jin found it absurd yet felt a void of sorts within her.
She had helped a Singularity—something more human than actual humans—escape, but in the eyes of those outside, wasn’t she just a defector?
Even though she had escaped.
It was uncertain for how much longer she would remain alive. Given that they were speaking to her while she lay in bed, she didn’t seem to be in immediate danger.
If they had intended to kill her, she wouldn’t have been awakening in a bed but rather forever buried in cold soil.
But could she allow herself to hope?
Yoo-jin would answer “No” to that question as well.
The organization she originally belonged to wasn’t exactly brimming with kindness. If it were, she wouldn’t have found herself in this predicament.
They had sent her to a place as good as a death sentence.
As Yoo-jin grumbled internally, she was struck by a strange feeling.
When she had thrown herself off the dark, steep cliff following Lime, she hadn’t cared if she died. But the moment she actually fell, myriad thoughts surged in her head. The life she had lived flashed before her eyes like a lantern, and a profound desire to live overwhelmed her.
Though she had verbally claimed she was fine with dying, her heart clearly wanted to survive. And the decision was right—she was still alive.
Yes, Yoo-jin wanted to live. She wanted to survive—not for the sake of someone else, but purely out of her own desire not to die.
However, there was no cliff she could hurl herself off anymore, so all she could do was lie still on the plush bed.
Something felt a bit odd, but that was the gist of it.
Therefore, Yoo-jin waited quietly for the presumed Han Seori to speak, since that was the only way to understand her own fate.
Amidst the swirling thoughts in her head, Yoo-jin tried her best not to give away her internal turmoil and patiently awaited Han Seori’s voice.
After waiting for what felt like an eternity—her racing thoughts having quieted into a cold stillness—Yoo-jin couldn’t help but wonder. Why wasn’t the woman saying anything?
Could the “rest” she had suggested actually mean silence until Yoo-jin was fully healed?
…Eh, why?
Yoo-jin found it difficult to understand. But reflecting on it, the incomprehensibility was akin to what had unfolded within the board game Singularity.
After all, she had escaped thanks to the help of a Singularity that seemed more human than any person.
Could it simply mean closing her eyes and sleeping?
Too much uncertainty lingered, making it hard to rest. With a heavy heart, Yoo-jin forced herself to speak, knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep properly until she clarified her situation.
…Unless she passed out again.
“That…uh…”
“Why are you so restless?”
The worried voice was met with a kind response. The gentle tone reminded Yoo-jin of a mother smiling warmly at her child after waking from a nap, though perhaps an ill-suited comparison given the nature of Han Seori.
Still, the naturally kind tone came as a surprise to Yoo-jin, who suddenly felt her throat tighten.
It seemed her swollen eyes, hot with unexpected tears, had betrayed her emotions.
“Is… something wrong? Are you hurting anywhere?”
“N-No… I’m…”
Perhaps what she truly desired was such a small, unassuming kindness.
Next to her, Kim Cheon-soo’s fruit lay half-eaten by Han Seori and Lime, who were both equally baffled at Yoo-jin’s sudden bout of crying.
Han Seori, having been briefed by Electric Scent on the general situation, saw it as a somewhat natural reaction, but Yoo-jin, unaware of this, interpreted it as a minor incident.
After quite some time, Yoo-jin managed to calm herself down from the surge of emotions and wiped her tear-streaked face with a tissue handed to her by Han Seori.
“Thank you…”
“It’s nothing, really.”
Grateful for the gentle voice despite the lump in her throat, Yoo-jin cautiously opened her eyes and met the sight of a blue blur seated at her bedside.
No introductions needed. This was Lime, who had helped her escape. Unconsciously, Yoo-jin’s lips curved into a faint smile, and seeing that, Lime’s face seemed to light up like bubbling jelly.
With a heart slightly at ease, Yoo-jin was finally able to pose her pressing question.
“So… what happens to me now?”
“Ah, naturally, you’re curious.”
Han Seori nodded knowingly. Indeed, this was a question Yoo-jin would naturally ask upon regaining her senses.
…Did she cry for that?
Perhaps.
In any case, Han Seori was relieved that she could provide Yoo-jin with a positive answer.
“Alright, checking just in case… you did change your name, correct? You’re not originally Lee Yoo-jin…”
“Yes…”
“I see. Shall we address you by your new name?”
“That would be… appreciated.”
To avoid those bad memories.
As Yoo-jin’s face darkened, Han Seori quietly nodded and continued.
“I’ve been informed of everything that happened inside.”
“Huh? Er, wait… how? Did those guys inside come out?”
“Not at all, so don’t worry. Those… bastards most likely didn’t make it out.”
Forever.
Han Seori refrained from voicing the rest, recalling how the number of participants marked in the Singularity had reset to ‘0’.
While Lime too seemed uncertain of their exact fates, judging by the notation, it was likely they had perished inside.
Of course, there was a high possibility that they were dead, but the ‘0’ indicated that they were no longer considered human in any sense.
There didn’t seem to be any reason for Yoo-jin to be concerned about them.
After all, they had come with dubious intentions and ended up strangling themselves with their own misconduct. Yoo-jin, who acted properly and stayed clear-headed, had survived.
Anyway.
Han Seori observed Yoo-jin looking at her with a baffled expression.
“And… we worked at the same lab before, didn’t we?”
“Huh? Erm… do you… remember me?”
“Vaguely. I recall seeing you when I was dealing with that lunatic director… during the investigation.”
“Ah… then…”
Han Seori observed Yoo-jin’s ambiguous face with some discomfort, and scratched her cheek.
“To be honest, I handed the case over to others, so I’m unclear how it concluded exactly. But if you’re clear of conscience, I assume it was handled correctly, right? That bald-headed manager… or Mr. Gang-jik, probably wouldn’t have dealt with it properly.”
“I see.”
As Yoo-jin responded, she appeared like someone who had been charred white, perhaps feeling a strange sense of emptiness. In any case, her confusion was evident, so Han Seori decided she needed more time to process everything and stood up.
“So… focus on recovering for now. We have no immediate plans or intentions to harm you.”
“Understood…”
…Is she going to be okay?
Han Seori felt a peculiar pang of discomfort as she left the room with Lime.
Still, she was relieved to notice that Lime seemed to like Yoo-jin.
However, despite this, there was a certain nagging uncertainty she couldn’t shake.
As she walked away, she instinctively held Lime tightly in her arms.
