Chapter 62: A Reason to Endure

‘What do you people even know?

Born in the upper districts without ever truly understanding death, hunger, or life itself… and yet you still spit out such filthy words like you’re somehow superior.’

The tears would not stop.

Whether it was the side effects of the medication or something else entirely, controlling my emotions became harder and harder.

It felt as though something had flown straight into my chest and lodged itself there with a dull thud.

My heart felt unbearably hollow.

Painfully empty.

For the first time in my life, I truly wanted to die.

Not because someone else forced me to.

Not because circumstances cornered me.

Not because I was going to die soon anyway.

No.

I wanted to die because my very existence felt pathetic and shameful.

Why had I only managed to become this kind of person?

The self-loathing was overwhelming.

‘It’s not like you’re getting paid for free. You’re even offering up your body in service.’

‘Who knows? Maybe he’ll survive by crawling into someone’s bed. Weren’t there rumors before that the team leader was backing him?’

“…Ah…”

Eventually, Kwon Yiyul’s words and the men’s disgusting insults twisted together into one tangled mess inside my head.

Droplets of water slid down my hair, lingered along my hollowed cheeks thinned from weight loss, then trailed downward across the scratched skin of my neck.

And there, no matter how much I clawed at it, Kwon Yiyul’s lingering handprints still remained.

“…Excuse me, are you Han Jaeyoon-ssi?”

“Yes. That’s me.”

When I finally stepped out of the restroom after barely regaining control of myself, the elderly supervisor from the shooting range earlier that morning approached me holding what appeared to be my phone.

“You left your phone in one of the shooting range lockers this morning. We tried contacting your office several times, but no one answered, so I decided to bring it personally.”

“…I was so distracted I didn’t even realize I’d left it behind. I’m sorry for making you come all this way.”

“Not at all. I should’ve checked more carefully myself before letting you leave.”

A small sticker was attached to the corner of the phone.

It was something Song Ahyoung once showed me proudly while we lived together in the village.

She had said it was one of her treasures.

But that nothing felt too precious when it came to Jaeyoon-oppa.

So she carefully picked out the largest stickers and placed them onto the back of my hand one by one.

Later, while Ahyoung slept, I secretly peeled them off and tucked them into the medicine pouch inside my bag.

After returning to the center, I placed one onto the object I touched most often, hoping it might bring me some comfort.

“Ah, there were also two calls for you earlier today. I thought it would be inappropriate to ignore them, so one of my subordinates answered on your behalf. I hope that wasn’t a problem?”

“…Calls?”

“Yes. It wasn’t a saved contact, so only a regional number appeared.”

Hearing that, I hurriedly powered on my phone and checked the recent call history.

Just as he said, the same unsaved number appeared twice exactly five minutes apart.

The area code began with 517.

District 2’s relief zone.

“…Did someone answer it?”

“Yes. The first time, we were busy and missed it entirely, but one of my staff members answered the second call.”

“…What did the voice sound like? Did they say why they were calling me?”

“Well… my subordinate didn’t gather many details. Ah, but they said it sounded like a young child. And apparently, the moment they realized it wasn’t the person they expected, they immediately hung up. Does that mean something to you?”

A call from the shelter in District 2.

And a young girl’s voice.

If my instincts were right, then the one who called me had to be Song Ahyoung.

I had already heard indirectly that the shelter residents were safe and settling in well, but hearing from her directly after so long made my chest pound violently.

Was she doing alright?

Were the others all there together too?

Had their injuries healed?

“…I think it was my little sister. Probably.”

“I see. Well then, since I’ve delivered the phone safely, I’ll be going now.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Just as even my sanity seemed ready to collapse beneath those ugly emotions, this sudden connection felt like a miracle thrown down to save me.

I didn’t care how she managed to contact me without having my number.

I only needed confirmation that it was truly Song Ahyoung.

Otherwise, I felt like I wouldn’t survive the night.

My trembling fingers hovered over the screen several times before finally pressing the callback button.

Ring—

— Hello?

“…H-Hello?”

— Excuse me, who is this?

“Is this the shelter in District 2’s relief zone?”

— Yes, it is.

The woman who answered introduced herself as Lee Sujeong, the director of the shelter.

After introducing myself and explaining that someone from this number had called earlier, I carefully asked whether there was perhaps a young girl named Song Ahyoung there.

In a gentle, warm voice, she replied that Ahyoung had spent the entire day desperately waiting for a call from her oppa and asked me to hold for a moment.

— …Hello?

“…Ahyoung-ah. Hello? Ahyoung-ah, is that really you?”

— Oppa. Yeah, it’s me. Ahyoung.

“Ah… thank god. Thank god. Really…”

The pain squeezing my chest disappeared instantly.

My eyes reddened as I repeated clumsy words I normally would never say aloud.

I could still vividly picture the child being carried away unconscious on a stretcher two weeks earlier.

She still sounded shaken, as though she hadn’t fully recovered from the trauma yet.

But overall, Song Ahyoung seemed alright.

I had once heard that the shelter in District 2 was practically an enormous welfare institution disguised as a shelter, funded for generations by powerful political and financial families.

Apparently they even specialized in psychological treatment for rescued children.

It was entirely different from the tiny shelters in lower districts that barely received enough funding to survive.

Of course, admission requirements were extremely strict.

Without the right connections, most people never even made it through the screening process.

— So Shinwoo-oppa’s okay now too. He eats well and watches TV and everything. Thanks to you, everyone’s doing really well here. This place is huge. We only share rooms with one other person, and the beds are super big too. And every morning they give us snacks as rewards, and they’re really good. Oppa, when you come here later, I’ll share mine with you.

“Really? You’ll share with me too?”

— Yeah. They’re so good the kids fight over them every snack time. It’s honestly ridiculous.

“Haha… I’m glad you’re doing well. Nobody’s bullying you there, right?”

I swallowed back tears while imagining Song Ahyoung talking endlessly with that tiny mouth of hers.

As though afraid the call might suddenly disconnect.

Or that someone else would answer instead like last time.

She rushed through her words awkwardly, speaking almost breathlessly.

I’m insane.

How could I think about dying while leaving children like this behind?

While leaving the others in an unfamiliar place they still hadn’t fully adapted to?

If I died without preparing anything, dozens of people from the shelter could end up thrown back onto the streets again.

No.

That could never happen.

— Nope, nobody’s mean here. The kids are all nice. One even said they’d invite me to their house after we leave the shelter someday.

“Who?”

— A boy named Hwiseong. He keeps following me around. Apparently he’s really sickly, so his family sent him here to recover. Isn’t that weird?

At that moment, I resolved once again that even if I died, I would ensure the shelter residents never suffered because of it.

— Oppa, are you doing okay? Nobody at work is bullying you, right?

“…No. Bullying? Nothing like that. Everyone treats me really well here. I’m eating lots of good food too.”

— Really?

“Yeah. Really.”

I could feel the warmth of the child through the cheap metal speaker of the phone.

I wanted to hear everyone else’s voices too.

But apparently they were all outside working in the garden during practice hours and couldn’t gather together right now.

The moment gardening came up, Ahyoung burst into laughter again and started talking excitedly about the eggplant seeds she planted a few days earlier.

I listened, responding to her stories, laughing along when she laughed, doing everything I could to make her feel safe relying on me.

— Oppa, you know… I’m only telling you this, okay? I really like it here. I wish I could stay forever. There aren’t even rats at night, and we can use as much water as we want. Nothing bad happens here. Are all upper districts like this?

“…I don’t know. Oppa’s not really sure either.”

Yeah.

As long as this bright little girl could continue living safely…

As long as she never again had to curl up beneath a freezing metal roof during winter…

Then it didn’t matter what happened to me.

I was fine.

I could endure pain far worse than this.

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