'A dream?'
My face hurt. My arms hurt. Actually, my whole body hurt.
The light was blinding. Was I still dreaming? I couldn't open my eyes.
As my senses slowly came back online, reality hit me all at once. I'd fallen asleep slumped over the table.
*Oh — sunlight.*
My face had been pointed straight at the rising sun. Morning. Had I really passed out here? I couldn't remember falling asleep.
I lifted my head. Both arms had been pinned under my face all night and were flushed red. They tingled painfully.
I turned and looked out at the wooden platform. Same as last night. The only difference was a few flies buzzing around the plate.
Yesterday still hadn't left me. The spider monster. I didn't think I'd ever forget that thing.
I'd slept in an awkward position, and waking up from a deep sleep was supposed to make you feel refreshed — yeah, right. I was even more exhausted. My whole body ached like I'd been beaten.
I got up, opened the fridge, pulled out a water bottle, and drank it down in long, desperate gulps.
*Wait. Hold on.*
The water was lukewarm. I rubbed my half-open eyes and checked the fridge again. One sausage, one cucumber, one banana. That was it.
And the fridge wasn't making any sound.
*What's going on?*
I checked the control panel by the entrance where all the switches were clustered. The right-side lighting switch was still on. I opened the door and stuck my head out.
The exterior lights were off.
*Oh no.*
A cold chill ran down my spine. Something scarier than any monster flashed through my mind in an instant.
I rushed to the driver's seat and checked the dashboard.
*What?*
The fuel gauge was at one bar. And that last bar was glowing red.
Why? I'd checked it last night — there were three bars. The camper van had only moved a few meters from the storage shed. How?
I sat down in the living area and thought it through.
The fridge had been running all night. That was normal. I'd used the microwave and the induction burner. I'd opened the fridge a few times for food and water. I'd run the ventilation fan. And then —
I'd left the exterior lights on all night and fallen asleep.
*Damn it.*
I'd drained the fuel.
*But there's still one bar left, right?*
Except nothing inside was working. Not a single appliance.
*So what does that one bar even mean?*
It was probably the minimum reserve needed to keep the camper van's abilities running. If even that disappeared, I was going to be in serious trouble.
A long time ago, I'd left the interior lights on in a delivery truck over a holiday weekend. Came back a few days later to a dead battery. Missed my delivery window.
I got chewed out so bad I nearly cried — classic new-hire memory. The truck's battery had already been on its last legs, and those Chuseok lights finished it off.
*Ugh.*
I hadn't expected the fuel to burn through this fast.
Just in case, I went to the driver's seat and tried to start the engine.
Nothing.
I'd put in one Korka yesterday. So did that mean there were originally two? One Korka per bar?
I still didn't know. But the camper van's systems had been running before I added mine, so there must have been some fuel in it to begin with.
I didn't know the consumption rate yet, but the immediate problem was finding more Korka. There was only one way to do that.
*But where?*
I shifted my gaze to the rural landscape outside.
The morning sun poured down without a care in the world — completely indifferent to the state of the planet, or whatever was left of life on it. Same as always.
Why does everything look so normal?
It was just a quiet country morning. Too peaceful. The thick black smoke that had been rising from the town center was gone. No noise. I could even hear birds.
Only human civilization looked like a disaster zone.
I took a banana out of the fridge. The peel was almost completely black.
*Aren't bananas supposed to be stored at room temperature? Why is the default setting the fridge?*
Didn't matter. Wherever it had been kept, it was still edible.
I finished the soft, overly sweet banana and looked around for a trash can to toss the peel. Couldn't find one.
Throwing it out the door felt wrong. Even if the house was in ruins, it was still my house. I didn't want to just litter in it.
I stepped carefully outside.
The plate — the one that no longer had an owner — was still sitting on the wooden platform exactly where it had been. I forced myself to look away. I couldn't keep dwelling on things I couldn't change. That was no way to survive.
The autumn morning sun was intense. The ruined house and its walls looked the same as yesterday, and in the daylight I could make out other houses farther away.
They were in the same shape. Like they'd been bombed. Every streetlight had been ripped out of the ground and was lying scattered across the road.
But birds were flying overhead. I could hear branches rustling in the wind. Nature was carrying on like nothing had happened.
Only human civilization was in ruins.
*Are there any people left?*
I tossed the banana peel and scanned the area. The clear weather let me see pretty far.
No monsters anywhere. No strange sounds.
*Do they only come out at night?*
I didn't have enough information. If they only appeared after dark, I had until nightfall to find Korka.
But if they showed up at any hour, that was its own problem.
If the camper van still had fuel, I could drive to the town center right now. I regretted falling asleep last night — then let it go. No point holding onto things you can't change.
I sat in the living area and thought. If I stayed here, with the camper van's power gone, the food I had left would run out fast. And then I'd be dead.
Even if I rationed the food, eventually the reserve fuel would run out too. And then the camper van wouldn't be able to protect me anymore.
I pulled out the phone I'd checked yesterday. Still wouldn't turn on.
I got up and dug through the storage room. There was a small backpack I didn't recognize.
*Oh — where's my bag?*
Last night had been such a mess that I'd completely forgotten the backpack I'd carried here. Not that there was much in it. I'd left my laptop at the studio apartment because it was too heavy. Just socks, underwear, a few t-shirts to change into.
Oh — my wallet was in there too. Though I wasn't sure how useful that would be now.
I went out to the yard and looked around for it. Nothing. It was a ten-year-old bag, beat-up and worn, but I'd had it long enough to feel a little sad about losing it.
I went back inside and loaded the small backpack from the storage room with a half-full water bottle. Then I grabbed the medium sword I'd used yesterday.
*Should I bring the shield too?*
Better safe than sorry. It strapped onto my forearm and left my left hand free, and it wasn't heavy.
The water pump wasn't working, so I couldn't even wash my face. I thought about the pack of wet wipes that had been in my old bag. Oh well.
I finished getting ready and stepped outside.
Ten years had passed, but the countryside hadn't changed much. Well — it had changed. Starting last night. Drastically.
I started by checking the area around the house. I walked slowly, scanning the ground for anything like a Korka that might have fallen somewhere. No such luck.
I headed toward the hill behind the house. Getting to higher ground would give me a better read on the surroundings.
As I climbed, I mentally mapped out escape routes. The fastest path back to the camper van if things went wrong. The area was still quiet.
It wasn't a hard climb — more of a hill than a real mountain. Low and gentle. Near the top, I spotted a small boulder I used to sit on all the time as a kid. Still there.
I sat on it and let old memories surface. From up here, you could see the whole village. Not much of a village anymore — only a few houses left — but back then there'd even been a little corner store.
*I wish I had binoculars.*
Including ours, there had been five houses in the village. They were spread far enough apart that it was hard to make out any details.
I studied each one. I still remembered who lived where. Farmers, mostly. A couple of them ran shops in the town center. And —
*Oh…*
Two friends from elementary school came to mind out of nowhere. We'd all gone our separate ways when middle school started, and I'd completely forgotten about them. I was the only one who stayed in the countryside until I was twenty.
*Heesung… and what was the other one… oh right. Sunghee.*
I remembered how we used to tease them because their names were mirror images of each other. The three of us had been inseparable back then.
*How did I forget them?*
Being up on this hill must have shaken something loose.
*I wonder what they're up to. Whether they're even alive.*
They'd gone to the city — which, when we were kids, just meant Seoul. Our world had only two categories: city or countryside.
I was drifting through those old memories when I spotted a bird flying toward me from far off.
*What kind of bird is that?*
From a distance it looked like a hawk, maybe. But as it got closer, it started to look more like a vulture.
*A vulture? Out here?*
Wait — weren't vultures predators? I jumped to my feet, raised my shield, and watched it carefully. And then —
As it got closer, I finally understood.
It wasn't a vulture.
It was a monster.
I bolted down the escape route I'd mapped out, running with everything I had. The thing was less than fifty meters away. I pushed myself harder, sprinting toward the camper van like my life depended on it — because it did.
Even as I ran, part of my brain was quietly calculating: *Can I kill that thing? How would I do it? How much Korka would it drop?*
My heart was hammering, but my thoughts were weirdly calm. Like my body and mind were operating on completely different frequencies.
I could feel the creature's presence closing in on the back of my neck when I finally threw myself through the camper van's entrance.
*SCREEEEEE!*
The monster's shriek tore through the air behind me. I spun around, gasping.
Through the open door, I could see it had crashed backward and was sprawled on the ground.
It righted itself, climbed up onto the wooden platform, and glared at me. Its feet knocked over the plate — the one with no owner left to claim it.
*You little—*
I glared right back.
It looked something like a pelican. Or a spoonbill. There was something pterodactyl about it too. Whatever it was —
It was a monster.
Those red eyes were almost identical to the two creatures from last night — the tall one and the ugly one. And it was radiating that same unsettling energy.
I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. Something deeply wrong, something that made my skin crawl. What would you even call that? A dark aura? Malevolent energy?
The creature stared me down but didn't move. Didn't come any closer. From inside the camper van, I couldn't reach it with the sword.
*If I could just kill that thing, I'd get at least one Korka. Enough to get the camper van running again. And this time I'd actually watch the fuel.*
So there we were — staring each other down, each sizing the other up as prey. Different species, same goal. We had that much in common.
*Oh.*
The bow in the storage room. I'd almost forgotten about it.