Chapter 48: A Place to Return To

“…Gross? I’m gross?”

“You weren’t like this before. Why’ve you become so emotional?”

“Now you’re making me embarrassed too.”

“Hey, who was the one that started this conversation in the first place?”

“If we’re counting things to say, I’ve got way more.”

It was nice.

Nice to talk with someone he could genuinely call a friend.

Nice to be surrounded by shelter residents who welcomed him and asked how he was doing instead of returning to the Center dorms that waited only with pitch-black silence.

And most of all, it was nice not to exist merely as a disposable tool for someone else anymore.

Slowly sipping the cooling coffee, he spent the rest of the night talking with Shinwoo about everything they had missed.

Most of Shinwoo’s stories were filled with old memories and familiar nostalgia.

And before he realized it, wrapped in those lingering feelings, he quietly drifted to sleep.

‘Please… let everything stay like this.’

Strangely enough, for the first time in ages, no pain came for him.

He slept peacefully until late afternoon.

“This and that, and also….”

“Hey, why are you packing so much?”

“We’re only stopping by to pay respects for a bit.”

The next morning, while gathering things to bring when visiting the director’s grave, his bag gradually became just as stuffed as when he first arrived here.

The sounds of children running across the wide courtyard outside the building filled the morning with life.

Nearby, the elderly busily boiled water in giant cauldrons and prepared porridge with rice and grains.

“Jaeyoon.”

“You really didn’t have to pack this much for us.”

“Ah, nonsense.”

“There’s nothing more important than eating a good breakfast.”

“It ain’t much, just some potatoes and corn.”

“You and Shinwoo should eat them on the way.”

“…Even then, this feels like too much.”

“I’m pretty sure even both of us together couldn’t finish all this.”

“Oh please.”

“Look at Shinwoo’s size.”

“You think tiny portions are enough for a boy built like that?”

A bitter feeling settled in his chest.

Everyone at the shelter, including Grandma Dosan, was clearly trying their hardest to take care of him despite barely surviving themselves.

It was obvious they were overextending.

Yet the elderly woman stubbornly forced the pale blossom-patterned bundle into his hands anyway.

Warm steam from freshly cooked potatoes drifted out from inside.

The frozen corn looked rough and dry after being reheated, but in a situation like this, simply having food in front of him felt like a blessing.

Bowing deeply to thank Grandma Dosan for working so hard since early morning, he finished packing.

Unable to withstand Shinwoo nagging him nonstop, he eventually reduced his luggage to half of what he originally intended to bring.

“Let’s go now.”

“Oppa, when are you coming back?”

“Before lunch?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll come back as fast as I can so Ahyoung doesn’t have to wait too long.”

“Okay. Promise.”

The graves of the director and the other shelter residents were located in the deepest part of the mountains.

Even if they wanted to bury them somewhere sunny, the safest place from the looters was deep within the shadows where nobody would ever think to look.

“Have a safe trip, hyung.”

“Yeah. Take care of things while Jaeyoon and I are gone.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep everything safe.”

Approaching the large iron gate, Shinwoo fiddled with a strange switch mounted beside a pillar before unlocking the heavy padlock.

Then two unfamiliar young men approached and buried the exposed chains deep underground.

This way, only people who already knew the entrance existed could find the chains and come in or out.

Much more efficient than standing guard nonstop.

Crunch. Crunch.

“Haa… haa….”

“You probably should’ve rested longer until your body recovered.”

“You pushed yourself way too hard yesterday too.”

“I still needed to come say hello.”

“And I’m fine.”

“I’m just a little out of breath.”

“Out of breath?”

“Your face looks awful right now.”

“You were already pale before, so what the hell did you go through over those years to become even paler?”

Since he woke up early to take painkillers and rest, the pain itself was absent.

Being away from the Center also meant less exposure to psychic wave interference, so even in that short time his condition had noticeably improved.

But he kept losing his breath.

He already knew that growing up half-starved left him with poor stamina.

Still, this was excessive.

Even the memories of surviving brutal guiding combat training through sheer stubbornness alone had long since faded.

“Just a little farther. It’s right ahead.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Crossing a frozen stream.

Passing a giant withered ginkgo tree.

Then turning toward a dense patch of unusually tall trees.

Unlike him, who couldn’t distinguish one path from another beneath the piled snow, Shinwoo navigated flawlessly without hesitation.

“Let’s say hello.”

“…Here?”

“Yeah.”

“A few days ago I even stomped the ground down again so the graves wouldn’t collapse, but I guess it didn’t help much.”

Amid the pale dead grass rose several rounded mounds of earth.

Shinwoo cut away the overgrown weeds with a sickle before firmly pressing down the softened mud using the soles of his shoes.

The graves, shaped carefully into smooth mounds, rested quietly beneath the trees.

Sunlight filtered through the dense branches above, easing some of the icy chill lingering around the burial grounds.

“You built all these graves yourself?”

“Come on.”

“You think I did all this alone?”

“The shelter residents all helped.”

“Well, except the kids.”

“…I see.”

“You all must’ve suffered a lot.”

No matter how many times he experienced it, he never grew used to the deaths of people around him.

Every single time it hurt.

Every single time it felt unbearably tragic.

But this time felt different.

Standing silently before the graves, sorrow did not overwhelm him.

Instead, what he felt most strongly was peace.

Their deaths were tragic.

Yet perhaps, for them, death itself had become another form of rest.

After all, surviving in the conflict zone meant living like mice constantly fleeing from cats with their lives on the line.

“…I came to see you all.”

“You’ve all been doing well, right?”

“Teacher, Jaeyoon’s here.”

“The Jaeyoon you loved so much while you were alive.”

Without even laying down the mat first, he knelt directly on the freezing dirt and greeted each buried shelter resident one by one.

“We promised someday we’d all go on picnics together and eat delicious food.”

“But things turned out like this instead.”

“Still, I’m healthy.”

“I reunited safely with Shinwoo and everyone else.”

“And everyone’s treating me really well because they said they owe me.”

“To be honest, it’s a little awkward.”

“It’s been such a long time since I felt cared for by other people.”

“……”

“I grew a lot, right?”

“I used to be tiny and cry all the time, so you teased me constantly.”

“Do you remember?”

He sat before the director’s grave and quietly chatted.

At that moment, as though responding to his question, fierce winds suddenly swept through the once-silent brush.

The entire forest cried out.

Then came the distant howls of wolves echoing through the woods.

Startled, he instinctively turned toward Shinwoo behind him.

But then he remembered.

The wolves in this region usually hunted at night.

There was no reason to be frightened by sounds he had heard countless times growing up.

Shinwoo, who had clearly been waiting for the opportunity, smirked obnoxiously and mocked him for forgetting even that.

Ignoring him, Jaeyoon turned back toward the director’s grave.

“…I’ll live well.”

“No.”

“I will live well.”

“……”

“I’ll enjoy the things I never got to experience before.”

“Even if I can’t do everything I wanted or visit every place I dreamed of, I’ll still try my best to be happy within what I can do.”

“So….”

“…….”

“…Please wait for me a little longer, teacher.”

He deliberately let the rest trail off.

“After I make sure Shinwoo’s doing well.”

“After I make sure everyone at the shelter is safe.”

“Then I’ll come.”

“So when I do, don’t scold me for arriving too early.”

“Just pat my head once.”

Shinwoo, who had wandered off to inspect the nearby graves, probably couldn’t hear him.

‘…There’s no treatment.’

‘If we attempt anything carelessly, it could put even greater strain on Jaeyoon’s body.’

“…I suffered a lot.”

“But after constantly saying I wanted to die, now it looks like I’m actually going to.”

“No treatment exists right now.”

“And even if one did, they said there’s a high chance I’d die during the process anyway.”

‘At best, one year.’

‘At worst, maybe six months.’

‘And even that’s only an estimate based on the numbers.’

‘The illness could progress much faster.’

“…I’m only telling you this, teacher.”

Watching Shinwoo moving from grave to grave greeting everyone filled him with indescribable guilt.

“…Honestly, I’m scared.”

Did Shinwoo know?

That within a year—perhaps even less—he would probably have to bury another corpse in this cold ground with his own hands.

“I’m terrified.”

“No matter how many times I said I wanted to die, I never actually wanted to.”

“But the situation… the world… turned me into this.”

“So why do I have to carry all the consequences alone?”

“Why am I the only one forced to endure this?”

“It’s so unfair.”

And the body Shinwoo would have to bury…

Would belong to the childhood friend who had only just finally returned home.

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