DRAM Ch 1

At the moment when the red sun spread its light and disappeared beyond the horizon, the earth cried out in anguish. Bright red glows sliced through human bodies like a butcher’s knife, and blood burst through every torn gap, quickly covering the entire world.

Some called it a disaster; others, a curse. Chilling screams filled the air in an endless, one-sided slaughter. Once, humans reigned at the top of the food chain, but now they were brought low—victims of unbridled greed and selfishness.

From the blood-soaked land, something new emerged—machines. They were the result of mankind’s “Machinization Project.” The curse of knowledge had given birth to living machines, self-aware beings that soon became foes too powerful for humans to defeat.

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The tables had turned: now, the machines controlled everything. Run, and you died; get caught, and you were turned into a test subject. As if following a grim order, the roles reversed, and one by one, humans vanished—dumped in the “scrapyard.”

In just one year, half the Earth lay in devastation. This calamity, which ended in humanity’s defeat, would be known as the “First Machine War.”

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The barren lands, where life could no longer survive, were abandoned. Borders between nations and cities had long since vanished. On this scarred earth, a structure known as the “Field” was built and encircled by walls. The surviving humans took refuge along its edge, while the center remained under the unyielding control of machines.

In this new order, a few humans even managed to secure positions in the heart of the Field. They were the descendants of those who had launched the Machinization Project—people who, through secret deals, had turned their backs on the rest of humanity.

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Soon after, blue minerals inscribed with the word CORE appeared throughout the Field. Known as the System Core, these stones connected to a central device—often simply called the “Central Control Unit.” The machines moved through the Core, and every human action was closely watched.

Human days were now short—each person had to hide before nightfall. When darkness fell, those with eyes glowing bright red would ready their weapons once again. It was a time of pure hell. Humans held their breath and huddled together in the dark, for by then only a few remained.

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A pained groan shattered the silence:

“Ugh… uh…”

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The sound suggested that the man might pass out at any moment. In the darkness, only a soft moonbeam illuminated the area, its hazy glow soaking the ground and revealing a man lying as if dead.

His face was as white and delicate as porcelain. Even with blood staining his skin, he still shone in the dark. Moonlight spilled over his smooth nose in fragmented streams. Although his black hair was in disarray and his eyelashes clung together with dried blood, his striking features remained unmistakable.

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“Ah, fuck…” he muttered, furrowing his brow as he slowly lifted his eyelids. His dark eyes, reflecting the moonlit sky, held a deep, unreadable gaze.

“Night…” he sighed, followed by a weak laugh. With effort, he raised his limp arm into the moonlight, revealing clear marks etched into his battered limb—a name carved there: Seo Ha-yoon. That was the only proof he had of who he was.

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Gritting his teeth, Ha-yoon swallowed his groan and forced himself upright. His body trembled with unrelieved pain, and every movement set the scrap metal beneath him clattering loudly. Wiping blood from his eyes, he surveyed the area: broken machine parts and heaps of debris lay scattered everywhere.

“Is it a blessing or a curse…?” he wondered. This was the so-called scrapyard—a dump on the edge of the Field where dead humans and shattered machines were discarded. He had been here many times, and despite his blurred memories, the moment of death remained vivid.

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“Fuck, my eyes are wide open,” he remarked with a wry smirk, touching his bloodstained eyes. He was tired of dying over and over again. Once, death had frightened him, but now it had become a sick, endless routine. In a world ruled by machines, he had become almost immortal—no death could claim him completely. All that changed was the time it took for him to wake up again, depending on his injuries. Even with his heart pierced, he eventually opened his eyes in excruciating pain. Life and pain mocked him, each revival taking a toll on his memories until he sometimes barely noticed what was lost.

The moment he realized his memories were fading, he carved his name into his arm. In a world where nothing else was certain, that name was all he had to prove he existed.

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This was a world ruled by machines. There was no denying that he would keep coming back. After countless cycles, Ha-yoon had accepted his fate—there was no escape. Death no longer frightened him; it was just another pain to bear. Yet he still wondered: why had he been given this cursed body? Why him?

“I wonder if I can make it home,” he murmured. The ones who could have answered—his parents—were long dead, their bodies impaled by machines. All Ha-yoon remembered was that his first killer had been a machine from beyond the wall. On that bloodstained day, he faced his first death—a punishment for his defiance. He closed his eyes as he watched his parents’ faces crumble in despair. When he awoke again, torrential rain was falling, and under the downpour, Ha-yoon cried out. The agony of being abandoned among heaps of dead machines was all too vivid. That first death would haunt him forever.

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“I swear I’ll kill that bastard first,” he vowed, his eyes fixed beyond the wall. He promised to destroy everything at the center of the Field—swearing revenge for his ruined life and the loss of his parents. He kept telling himself that once all his wishes were fulfilled, he would finally find a way to embrace a complete, final death.

“…I’m just going to die again along the way,” he murmured. Stumbling to his feet, Ha-yoon brushed his hair back and let out a short, bitter laugh. Simply standing made him feel nauseous, so he grabbed some machine parts from the ground to steady himself as he walked.

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As he left the scrapyard, cold sweat broke out on his skin, and his breath came in coughing gasps. He was in far worse shape than he had imagined; every step made his body creak and his insides twist.

“Fuck,” he muttered. Normally, he could handle running into machines on the night streets—he even went out hunting sometimes. But not today. In his current state, any encounter would mean instant death. He loathed dying immediately after coming back to life.

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“It’s okay. It’s okay…” Ha-yoon repeated as he took another step. His pale face was tense, and his grip on a scrap of metal tightened as he hurried along, doing his best to avoid drawing attention. Yet his body was failing him—his breathing grew uneven, and despite covering his mouth, blood continued to drip.

Then, to worsen matters, he spotted a moving machine at the edge of his vision. After sunset, these machines roamed the streets, watching and hunting humans. Their numbers grew as the night deepened, and there was only so long he could hide in the dark. He had to hurry.

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But the unfeeling sky was not on his side. Rain began to fall on his nearly collapsing body, and a bitter, helpless laugh escaped him. ‘This is so messed up…’ he thought. Perhaps he should have waited out the night here, but it was too late for regrets. The rain grew heavier, and although he managed to hide his presence, the eerie silence only heightened his anxiety.

Gripping his trembling body, he pressed on. Suddenly, a deafening noise pounded in his ears. He hoped it was just his imagination, but the sound drew closer. Daring not to look back, he calculated in a split second that if he could just round the corner onto the main road and go a little further, he would be home. Once inside, the machines would be unable to follow him. The dark, decaying alley offered his only chance to escape.

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His decision was swift—Ha-yoon kicked off the waterlogged ground and ran.

If he could just make it around that corner, safety—even if only for a moment—was within reach. He forced a weak smile as he turned the corner, only to see that even that small hope had vanished.

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“Fuck…” he muttered. He could not move forward; a bright red light shone directly before him. The heavy patter of rain mingled with the machine’s noise, almost mocking him. His body had reached its limit, and standing was his only option. Clutching a piece of rusted scrap in his hand, he felt utterly out of luck. What sin had he committed to be forced to die twice in quick succession?

“Hey.”

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The strange machine before him drew steadily closer. Under its bright red eye, he saw a code: E78. Ha-yoon murmured the code softly, then tossed the scrap from his hand. With a resigned sigh, he closed his eyes and let his body go limp, no longer resisting.

“Next time, I’ll kill you,” he said calmly in the face of death. As the terrible pain loomed ahead, he cursed the god that didn’t exist. “Fucking bastard,” he muttered as the sharp sound of the machine slicing through the air echoed around him. If he died this time, would it be his ninth death? Tenth? Or even more? Lost in these hopeless thoughts on the brink of death, he suddenly heard the machine’s noise cut off, replaced by the sound of an explosion. Through the heavy rain, a clear, pounding sound filled his ears.

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Slowly, Ha-yoon opened his eyes. In that moment, he saw the machine—with its red glowing eye—hit by a surge of electric current as it crashed to the ground.

He had survived. It wasn’t Seo Ha-yoon who had died—it was the machine that had fallen. It hadn’t truly died, only been knocked down for now. In disbelief, his mind went blank, and even the hand that had once been unresponsive now trembled. Then he heard another sound from the darkness—a sign that someone else was there. A person.

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Wide–eyed, Ha-yoon turned toward the sound—the splash of water echoing in the dark. Then he heard a voice. A figure slowly emerged from behind a veil of darkness.

“There’s still someone alive…”

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A man’s face appeared from the shadows, shining in the night as if he belonged to a world far removed from this ruin. Ha-yoon couldn’t tear his eyes away.