Chapter 9

“Listen carefully, this problem is a bit long.”

“Number one, ‘a.’ Number two, ‘c.’ Number three, ‘c.'”

“……?”

Jaekani turned the crumpled sheet over to check the back.

It was just an ordinary piece of paper, not some magical ‘see-through’ sheet. Even if it were translucent, there was no way anyone could read it under dim candlelight without night vision like a predator’s.

He was about to demand an explanation, but Huikyung spoke first.

“Do the people around you know?”

“…I don’t think they don’t know.”

“If they don’t, they don’t. If they do, they do.”

“…Then they probably know.”

As Jaekani fumbled for words, Huikyung’s next question followed immediately, like a snake chasing its tail.

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. What else is there?”

Talking about this made Jaekani uncomfortable, as if something heavy sat in his chest.

Deciding that Huikyung must have guessed the answers randomly, Jaekani tried to refocus on the homework.

Without taking his eyes off Jaekani, Huikyung raised his hand. His fingers, slender and sharp like twigs, moved lightly through the bars. Jaekani watched, entranced, as the hand approached, as if to touch his bruises.

But for it to reach him, Jaekani would have to lower himself. He unconsciously started to lean forward but froze halfway, stiffening his upper body.

Because the boy didn’t move closer, Huikyung’s hand failed to reach him.

His long, knotted fingers retreated behind the bars.

“The problem… just solve the problem.”

Jaekani’s intent to steer the conversation away was so obvious that Huikyung let it go, as if the almost-contact earlier had been a mere dream.

“‘a.’ I said number one is ‘a.'”

‘He must have guessed and got it right by chance.’

Pretending not to hear Jaekani’s muttering, Huikyung decided to change tactics.

“What’s the point of doing homework so well?”

With the end of his pen held lightly between his lips, Jaekani recited, “You can get a good job, which increases your food rations and gives you other privileges. Your opinions carry more weight during decision-making. And so on.”

“Trying to climb the ladder in this cramped, backward village?”

“It’s not backward.”

It was small, yes—not in area, but in the number of people.

But was it really not backward? Even as he argued back, Jaekani found himself questioning. The village had no freedom, no privacy, and no room for individual opinions. Sometimes, he too felt they were like a swarm of rats blindly following the tail ahead without knowing where they were going.

“This village is a garbage heap.”

It was a natural response from someone imprisoned here, so Jaekani didn’t bother scoffing.

How would someone trapped in such a wretched place feel after being confined for just a few days? Even a safe haven could start to feel like an incinerator.

If Huikyung had spoken well of the village, that would have been the real problem. Yet, understanding him didn’t make his words any easier to hear.

“Don’t speak ill of the village.”

“How would you know if it’s bad or not?”

“If it were bad, why would I stay here?”

“Because you have nowhere else to go.”

The curt reply left Jaekani at a loss for words.

“You’ve never lived outside the walls, have you? You don’t seem to know what it’s like out there.”

He hadn’t lived outside, but he had been out many times. Or rather… not many times, but still. He wasn’t entirely confined. His last trip outside had been years ago, and even then, it was to help with menial labor. It hadn’t been a good experience—just one filled with things he’d rather not have seen.

But saying that would only make Huikyung treat him like a frog in a well, so Jaekani bit his tongue.

What could Huikyung possibly know? He was an outsider who understood nothing.

At that moment, a distant roar echoed, like thunder rolling far away—the sound of a creature. Crumpling the paper again, Jaekani furrowed his brows stubbornly.

Huikyung began spitting curses, saying he wished a creature would appear and wipe out the entire village.

“Don’t speak ill of the village,” Jaekani said again, his voice genuinely warning this time. But Huikyung didn’t seem to listen.

“My mistake. It’s not a garbage heap—it’s just garbage.”

Why was he trying to provoke him? Was this some ploy to manipulate him into helping with an escape? But angering Jaekani wouldn’t help him break out.

So this must be…

“…You need somewhere to vent your anger. I get it.”

Jaekani didn’t know why Huikyung was suddenly angry, but swallowing his retort made his own frustration dissipate.

This wasn’t going anywhere.

Since his purpose here was over, Jaekani began to pack his things.

Whoo— He blew out the candle, removed it from its holder, and smeared the wax marks on the floor with the soles of his sneakers, erasing all traces.

Suddenly, the darkness felt unfamiliar. The sensation itself was foreign to him. It was just a candle going out, yet the chill unsettled him. But what warmth could a few candles possibly provide? No, this was a different kind of cold—perhaps the emptiness that came from an abrupt severance.

“I’m leaving.”

“…Alright.”

Though his tone was calm, Huikyung’s reply felt tinged with sulkiness.

One day, Jaekani thought, he might want to snatch that perpetual smirk from Huikyung’s face and rip it apart. Glaring at him under the moonlight, Jaekani turned away. He bit down on his lip, leaving himself ready to turn back at the slightest sound of Huikyung calling him, even faintly. He tread carefully, afraid even his footsteps might drown it out.

But Huikyung didn’t say a word, and Jaekani had to walk home, his expression a storm of stubbornness, pride, and frustration all tangled together.

* * *

“Jaekani!”

Startled, Jaekani opened his eyes. The container box used for morning classes was filled with harsh laughter and piercing stares.

His blurred vision quickly came into focus. As he rubbed his eyes and sat up, Susan, the teacher in charge of morning classes, stood with her hands on her hips.

“How many times has this happened already?”

Having no excuse, Jaekani didn’t even attempt to defend himself. Working at the slaughterhouse was always exhausting, and now that his father had practically abandoned the job altogether, the workload he had to shoulder had only grown heavier. Every day, he fell asleep utterly drained, and on nights when he met Huikyung, his sleep was cut in half. As a result, he often ended up dozing off during class.

Though Susan had initially overlooked his behavior, knowing his situation, her patience had worn thin in less than a week.

“You need to be mindful. Do you want to stay in the slaughterhouse forever?”

The sharpness in Susan’s voice drew snickers from the other kids. Though her words felt unnecessarily harsh, Jaekani took it in stride—he was used to it.

Clicking her tongue, Susan returned to the lesson.

As Susan wrote on the board, Jaekani busied himself copying her notes into his spiral notebook. But part of his mind was preoccupied.

‘Why was I so focused on class, anyway?’ Thinking about it sent a dull ache through his chest.

Even Jaekani had jobs he wanted to do. But unlike his peers, who talked dreamily about becoming an Esper or a Guide, he knew better. Those weren’t jobs—they were abilities. Rare traits you were born with, not something you could aspire to.

Jaekani had never entertained the slightest hope that he could possess such extraordinary traits. He harbored no delusions, no grand aspirations. All he wanted was to take on tasks—whether patrolling or working under the council—and live as part of the group. In other words, to be less unhappy.

The more he thought about it, the more tangled his feelings became. He hadn’t been like this before. The ache had started after hearing Huikyung’s scornful criticism of the village.

On his way to the slaughterhouse after class, Jaekani glanced at his surroundings—something he usually didn’t bother to do. In the distance, atop the barbed-wire fence of the village wall, severed heads were displayed as warnings.

‘They say you notice more when you know.’

The scenery was the same as ever, but that small, insignificant warning felt strangely out of place today.

‘A garbage heap.’

As Huikyung’s words replayed in his mind, Jaekani wondered if he smelled bad. Bringing his sleeve to his nose, he took a small sniff. He didn’t detect the slaughterhouse’s usual stench of raw meat and blood. ‘Maybe I’m just too used to it to notice.’

‘If I live in a garbage heap, doesn’t that make me garbage too? What does Huikyung think of me?’

Jaekani looked in the direction of the abandoned building where Huikyung was. Last night, he’d gone home furious at Huikyung’s words, but by morning, the anger had faded, leaving him uncertain.

Still, despite the lingering unease, he didn’t want to see Huikyung.

Before heading to the slaughterhouse, Jaekani stopped by his house to change clothes. His father, Jaebadi, was there even though it was daytime. Remarkably, he was sober, and Jaekani couldn’t hide his surprise as he stepped inside.

“…Jaekani, kid.”

Jaekani gave his father a look, signaling him to continue. Without alcohol dulling his senses, Jaebadi looked particularly haggard and aged, with fatigue and years hanging around his eyes like tears.

Jaekani’s gaze drifted to the table, where a bouquet of nameless wildflowers was neatly arranged. The flowers, born of resignation and tears, were undeniably beautiful.

“…Today, I’ll go.”

He was referring to the slaughterhouse, and Jaekani let out a faint chuckle, his lips curling up slightly at one corner. He couldn’t hide his disdain for his father, who spoke as if he were doing Jaekani a favor. The slaughterhouse had always been Jaebadi’s responsibility, after all.