Chapter 7: The Ominous Encounter

“I found a toy in the incinerator and brought it,” Oteb said.

Oteb held up a scrap metal in the shape of a newborn baby.
It had an appearance that children would like, but as was typical of scrap from the incinerator, one of the baby’s eyes popped out like a spring.

Still, it was a rare toy to see in the incinerator.
Cheche, seeing Yeosu’s cheeks flush, moved her lips.

‘Thank you.’

Oteb replied briefly, “You’re welcome.”
But a gift didn’t seem to be his only purpose.
Handing the scrap metal baby to Yeosu, he added.

“Oh, Cheche, aren’t you going to send your child to the screening center?”

Cheche’s hand, placing a water bottle on the floor, paused for a moment.

“Thanks to me interpreting the map today, Leroi was able to safely take her children to the screening center. You need someone to read the letters too, right, Cheche? You want to send your daughter to the screening center.”

Oteb conveniently pulled out a flyer and pointed to the part with the map.
The map of the wilderness was densely filled with square markings.
These were the locations of the screening centers.

All of them looked similar, making it difficult to deduce the screening center’s location.
To find the exact location, one would need to know the current location and the name of each incinerator.

Oteb was one of the few incinerator refugees who could read the common language, along with the exchange manager.
A sense of pride emanated from his straightened posture.

But ironically, Yeosu, who only reached his thigh, could also read the letters.
And Cheche, who taught her to read, was even more proficient.
However, she had no intention of revealing that fact.

Being able to read, at least in this incinerator, was akin to revealing oneself as being of ‘different origin.’

Cheche pretended to ponder for a moment, then shook her head.
Oteb’s eyebrows twitched upwards.

“The reason you don’t need to is… because you think the Human Run is dangerous?”

Cheche shook her head again and moved her lips.

‘This child is weak.’

“Hmm.” Oteb rumbled in his throat and looked down at Yeosu, who was holding the scrap metal baby and staring intently at him.

It was a scrutinizing gaze, as if checking if she was sick.

“She is certainly short, but… well, with proper nutrition, she’ll grow taller than she is now. And.”

Oteb stroked his chin and smiled broadly.

“She won’t make a mistake on the obedience test either, will she?”

Cheche instinctively pulled Yeosu closer by the shoulder.
However, she couldn’t afford to attract Oteb’s undue attention.

Cheche quickly let go of the child and, meeting Oteb’s eyes, pulled up the corners of her lips.

‘That’s right.’

“And her face, well, it’s… certainly a bit short, though.”

‘How many times is he going to talk about my height?’ Yeosu’s eyebrows formed a V-shape.
The calmed atmosphere was about to become tense again, but fortunately, Cheche diverted his attention in time.

‘I have dried bugs. Would you like some?’

“Dried bugs? Oh, dried bugs? May I? Thank you!”

Oteb winked and naturally headed to the table.
Yeosu bit the inside of her cheek, seeing him sit in her usual spot.
Now she wanted to return this scrap metal doll.

“Hmm, good. That’s enough.”

Oteb raised his hand, looking at the dried bugs being poured onto the plate.
Cheche nodded and folded the bag.

Oteb used the string that tied his hair to secure his long sleeves.
Then, as if offering kindness, he invited the two mother and daughter, who were standing idly, to sit at the table.

“It feels bad to eat alone.”

The conversation was expected to continue.
As refusing would be awkward, Cheche sat on a chair and placed Yeosu on her lap.

As Cheche, who could not speak, was the counterpart, it was natural that the conversation was mostly Oteb’s monologue.

However, Yeosu fiercely glared at Oteb whenever he bent down to pick up a bug.
Pressing the scrap metal doll’s protruding eyeballs as if squeezing cookie dough was a bonus.

“Hmm, it’s time to go back.”

Finally, Oteb smiled, holding the cleanly emptied plate.
Yeosu, who had been glaring at him until then, quickly looked away, but he didn’t seem to care.

Was there something else he wanted to say?
Cheche was about to move to clear the plate, leaving Oteb still sitting.

“Now that I think about it, Cheche, you always seem to be wearing a scarf whenever I see you.”

Oteb looked at her neck with interest.
She wasn’t the only one who covered her body due to the harmful gases from the incinerator, yet his gaze was curious.

“Do you have a wound that shouldn’t be seen by others?”

Oteb stared intently at Cheche, who swallowed dryly.
A faint smile lingered on his lips, as if it was merely curiosity.

Yeosu followed her mother with her eyes.
Holding the plate, she stood frozen, more rigid than usual.

“Uh, Mom is…”

Finally, Yeosu, unable to bear it any longer, was about to speak on behalf of her mother.
Cheche took off her scarf.

At that moment, the smile on Oteb’s lips quickly faded.
He was speechless for a moment.

‘There was a fire in the previous shelter.’

Horrible burn marks, like blisters, appeared all over her neck.
Her skin was still mottled as if covered in blood.

“Damn, no, I’m sorry.”

Oteb sharply turned his head and waved his hand, implying he didn’t need to see any more.

Cheche wrapped her scarf around her neck and threw open the tent flap.
It was truly time to end the conversation now.

“Uh, anyway, if you need someone to look at the map for you, find me. Anytime is fine.”

Oteb finally left his last words before leaving.
Yeosu, who saw him off instead of her mother, meticulously closed the disheveled tent and sighed.

Then, she went back to the table, intending to play with the scrap metal baby.

“Uh… what?”

Yeosu tilted her head and held up a hair tie she found on the table.
Cheche clutched her forehead.

“Oh, the man must have left it behind.”

Cheche immediately pulled up the tent flap and looked in the direction Oteb had left.
He was already passing several shelters with long strides.

‘Wait inside.’

Cheche, after instructing Yeosu, left the shelter.
Yeosu, holding the scrap metal baby, looked at the gap in the tent where the cold wind was coming in.
She somehow had a bad feeling.

“Oh? Cheche?”

Oteb, who turned around at the sound, widened his eyes when he saw Cheche.
Just a moment ago, not a single footstep was heard, but she was right behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

Cheche held out the hair tie to him, showing no sign of being out of breath.
Oteb, who had tilted his head, not understanding for a moment, then said, “Ah,” and laughed.

“Oh, dear. I put Cheche to trouble for just this.”

Cheche’s eyebrows twitched briefly.
But soon, she pulled up the corners of her lips.

Oteb took the hair tie and tied his brown hair, which reached his shoulders, to one side.

Cheche’s gaze shifted to below his ear.
A clean nape of the neck without a single small scar.

…Had she been overly sensitive?
It was just as she was about to turn her head.

“Well, then I’ll really get going now. If you need help, anytime, you know?”

A thin line appeared around Oteb’s hair, which was pulled tightly back and tied up.
The line, looking like cracked skin, was so faint that even someone with good eyesight would have ignored it.

But Cheche’s eyes changed.
That resembled the marks that appeared when a skin-like substance was added to the skin.
It was a procedure that upper-class residents usually received to cover scars.

…Or, it could be the camouflage of human soldiers to conceal a chip embedded in their neck.
Cheche’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Oteb’s retreating figure.

“Oh, dear. I put Cheche to trouble for just this.”

Which resident of the incinerator would think of a hair tie as ‘just this’?
Even a man who could read couldn’t afford luxuries in a place where even pebbles were considered currency.

Cheche unconsciously clutched her scarf tightly.
Settlement was over.
This place, too, was occupied by the military.

‘Wake up. Yeosu. We have to leave.’

Yeosu, blinking awake from sleep, looked at her mother’s mouth shape and checked the entrance.
A satchel with cookies and water was placed there.

She didn’t need to ask ‘again.’
For the two of them, moving was an unavoidable choice for safety.

Yeosu, as if accustomed to it, pulled up her socks and put on her ragged shoes, whose big toes peeked through.

Meanwhile, Cheche was scanning outside the shelter.
Fortunately, no one was passing by.
Whoosh. Cheche closed the tent and turned to Yeosu, moving her lips.

‘Pack the book.’

Yeosu went to the firewood pile and took out the book.
The book, damp with moisture, was easily crammed into the full satchel.

Cheche slung the slightly heavier satchel over her shoulder and held Yeosu’s hand tightly.

The shelter tent opened silently.
Cheche, after a final glance around, walked into the darkness.