Chapter 48 — Hunger
The next morning arrived quietly.
Not because the world had become peaceful, but because the world had moved on.
The sun rose over the city exactly as it always did. Morning traffic filled the streets. Office workers hurried toward trains. Cafés opened their doors and filled the air with the scent of coffee and fresh bread. News anchors smiled into cameras and spoke about politics, economics, and the growing instability of gates across the country.
Life continued, it always did. And somehow, that felt cruel.
Soo-ah stood alone in front of the mirror inside her hospital room, staring at her reflection longer than she normally would.
For a moment, she barely recognized the woman looking back at her.
The pale blue hospital gown had been replaced with simple black clothes provided by the hospital staff. A loose sweater hung from her frame, paired with dark trousers and a light coat draped over her shoulders. Her hair was still damp from the shower she had taken earlier, falling in soft blue strands around her face.
Objectively, she looked better; healthier, alive. The wounds that should have killed her had disappeared. The cuts were gone. The bruises were fading. Even the lingering ache in her body had lessened considerably.
Yet somehow she felt worse than she had yesterday.
Her eyes lingered on her reflection.
The girl staring back looked exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally.
There was a hollowness beneath her eyes that sleep hadn't touched. A heaviness that sat somewhere behind her expression no amount of healing could erase.
She raised a hand and touched the glass, cold and real.
The realization should have comforted her. Instead, it only reminded her of the people who weren't.
Slowly, she lowered her hand. Then she turned away from the mirror and left the room.
The hospital corridors were quiet during the early morning hours. A few Players moved through the halls under supervision, some leaning on crutches, others covered in bandages. Nurses passed by carrying clipboards and cups of coffee, speaking in hushed voices so they wouldn't disturb the recovering patients.
Mounted televisions displayed morning news reports.
"...Recent investigations suggest unusual fluctuations in several gates across the country..."
"...The Union has declined to comment..."
"...Experts continue to warn that dungeon behavior has become increasingly unpredictable..."
Soo-ah barely listened. The words drifted past her without meaning.
Her thoughts were elsewhere.
At the reception desk, she signed the necessary paperwork.
The receptionist looked surprised.
"Miss Soo-ah? You're leaving so soon?"
Soo-ah offered a small, polite smile.
"I'll recover much faster at home."
The receptionist hesitated. There was enough concern in her eyes that Soo-ah almost felt guilty off.
"Are you sure?"
No, not even a little. But she nodded anyway.
"I'm sure."
The woman eventually handed over the documents.
"Please, don't push yourself."
Soo-ah thanked her quietly and continued toward the exit. The glass doors slid open. Cool morning air greeted her immediately.
She stopped, just for a few seconds. The breeze brushed against her face, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pavement and distant traffic.
Fresh air, real air. Not dungeon air, blood, or death.
For the first time since she woke up, she closed her eyes. And immediately, Aken's voice returned to her.
If I ever get another chance to protect the people beside me... I won't hesitate again. I'll would've done it in a heartbeat.
The memory came back with uncomfortable clarity.
She remembered exactly how he looked when he said it. Not determined, not heroic. Just tired, genuinely tired.
As if he blamed himself for things nobody should have been expected to control.
Aken carried guilt strangely. Most people hid behind excuses, others became angry, some simply refused to acknowledge their failures at all.
Aken did none of those things.
He accepted responsibility for everything, even things that weren't his fault, especially things that weren't his fault.
The thought should have annoyed her. Instead—
A faint smile appeared on lips; small, brief, but real.
Soo-ah noticed it immediately. And for some reason, that made the smile grow slightly wider.
That was unusual. She couldn't remember the last time she smiled without forcing it.
Strength changed people. The stronger she became, the fewer genuine interactions she had.
People spoke carefully around her. Measured their words, watched their tone. They saw her title before they actually saw her.
One of the Union's strongest Players. The Ice Queen. The prodigy. The executive.
Everyone called her something. Very few simply called her Soo-ah. Jin Wong had, Aken did too.
The thought lingered longer than it should have. Before she could think further, a black Union vehicle pulled up in front of the entrance.
The driver exited immediately.
"Lady Soo-ah."
She nodded politely and entered the car.
The ride home took nearly an hour. The city rolled past beyond the window. Schools, restaurants, parks, and office buildings.
Thousands of lives moving forward completely unaware of what had happened in the city only days earlier.
Soo-ah rested her forehead lightly against the cool glass.
She watched two students arguing while sharing a drink. An elderly couple walking hand in hand. A mother pulling her laughing child across a crosswalk.
Normal people living normal lives.
For some reason, she found herself envying them. Not their safety, but their simplicity. They weren't responsible for protecting anyone. They weren't expected to be strong every moment of the day.
They could breakdown, cry, even fail. And the world would forgive them.
Soo-ah wasn't sure the world had ever forgiven her for anything, she wasn't given that leverage.
Eventually, the city thinned. The roads widened, large estates appeared beyond stone walls and iron gates.
The vehicle turned into a long private driveway, her home appearing beyond the trees, beautiful, massive, and silent.
The mansion looked exactly as it had been. And somehow it felt emptier than ever.
The vehicle came to a stop. The driver hurried around to open the door.
"We're here."
Soo-ah stepped out. The morning sun reflected against the large windows. The estate was beautiful, expensive and perfectly maintained. Yet, unbearably lonely.
"Thank you," she said.
The driver smiled politely.
"You should rest up Mrs. Soo-ah."
"I'll try."
The answer slipped out naturally. The driver blinked. Apparently surprised that she sounded so... normal.
Soo-ah almost laughed as she walked toward the entrance. The front doors opened before she reached them.
Mary stood waiting. The older woman had worked for the family for so long that Soo-ah couldn't remember a time before her.
She had been there during birthdays, training injuries, award ceremonies, and even funerals.
Everything.
The moment Mary saw her, relief flooded her face.
"Oh, thank goodness."
Soo-ah removed her shoes near the entrance.
"Sorry for worrying you."
Mary slowly opened her mouth, stopped, then stared.
Soo-ah frowned.
"What?"
Mary continued staring.
"...You're smiling."
The statement caught Soo-ah completely off guard.
"What?"
"You're smiling."
The older woman sounded genuinely astonished.
Soo-ah touched her face instinctively.
"Was I?'
" It looks like it."
Mary laughed softly.
"I don't think I've seen that expression in years."
Embarrassment flickered briefly across Soo-ah's face.
"You're exaggerating it."
"I'm not."
Mary folded her arms.
"You've looked like someone carrying the weight of the world since you were sixteen."
Soo-ah looked away. The comment hit closer than expected.
Mary's expression softened.
"It's good to see that."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Soo-ah nodded quietly.
"...Thank you, Mary."
She then headed upstairs. Mary watched her disappear down the hallway. The smile remained on her face, but concern lingered beneath it. Because despite that brief warmth...
Something wasn't right. Soo-ah looked exhausted, not physically, but soul-deep. Like someone carrying grief too heavy to name.
Upstairs, Soo-ah entered her bedroom and closed the door. The silence returned instantly. For the first time all morning—
She was finally alone. And suddenly, the smile disappeared. She stood motionless, then slowly walked toward the bathroom.
The shower began running, steam gradually filled the room as warm water cascaded over her skin.
For a while, she stood there beneath it; eyes closed, breathing steadily. Trying not to think. Trying not to remember. Trying not to feel anything.
It didn't work, because silence can be dangerous. Silence created space, and grief always rushed in to fill that empty space.
Jin Wong's face appeared first, not the way he died.
The way he lived.
Standing beside her during meetings. Quietly correcting reports she'd ignored. Scolding her for skipping meals. Bringing coffee to her office at ridiculous hours because he knew she wouldn't sleep otherwise.
A thousand little memories.
None of them extraordinary, but all of them were irreplaceable.
Her chest slowly tightened. She remembered being seventeen. Terrified before her first major raid, trying desperately not to show it.
Jin had simply stood beside her and said:
"Everyone's afraid before they enter a dungeon. The smart ones just hide it better."
She remembered laughing despite herself. He had always known exactly what to say.
Always.
The memory shattered her. Slowly, Soo-ah slid down against the shower wall. Her knees drew toward her chest, water continuing to fall around her.
And finally, she stopped fighting it. The tears came quietly at first, then all at once. Years of composure. Years of discipline. Years of pretending.
Gone.
Her shoulders shook violently.
"He was supposed to come back."
The words barely escaped her mouth. Her voice cracked immediately.
"He promised."
She covered her face, but the tears didn't stop. Jin wasn't just a bodyguard, wasn't just an ally.
He was her family. The closest thing she had left, and now he was gone.
Forever.
The realization struck with fresh force. Again, and again, and again. Each time hurting just as much.
Eventually, she looked up, water mixing with her tears.
A bitter laugh escaped from her.
"...You'd hate seeing me like this, right?"
The imaginary version of Jin immediately appeared in her mind. Arms crossed; disapproving. Trying and failing to hide concern.
The image was so vivid she almost smiled.
"Don't cry forever, Soo-ah." His voice felt real, painfully real. "Life moves forward whether we're ready for it or not."
More tears slipped down her cheeks.
"... That's easy for you to say."
The imagined memory smiled.
"Of course it is. I'm dead."
Despite everything—
She laughed, a broken one, but still a laugh.
Eventually the tears stopped, not because she felt better. But ecause she had exhausted herself.
Soo-ah slowly stood, turned off the water, wrapped herself in a towel, and stepped toward the mirror.
That was when the pain started. A sharp sensation twisted violently inside her stomach.
Soo-ah froze, her breath caught.
"What..."
The pain intensified immediately. Not normal pain, not illness, nor injury. Something deeper; hungrier.
A violent nausea surged up. Before she could react, blood spilled from her mouth into the sink.
Red blood splattered across white porcelain. Soo-ah stared, confused, then slowly alarmed. Her skin suddenly felt cold.
She looked up, the reflection staring back at her appeared paler than before. And beneath her skin, something flickered.
A crimson pulse vanished, then appeared again. Like a heartbeat that didn't belong to a living organism.
Her stomach twisted once more, harder. This time she almost collapsed. An emptiness spread through her body, not weakness.
Need.
A desperate craving she couldn't understand. Her breathing quickened, the feeling gradually intensified.
Hunger.
The word appeared in her mind immediately. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.
Except it wasn't ordinary hunger. Food wasn't what her body wanted. At least, not completely. Something instinctive stirred beneath the her blood cells.
Soo-ah gripped the sink.
"...What's happening to me?"
No answer came, only the intense hunger; growing, expanding, and consuming.
Just then, a knock came across her room door.
"Soo-ah?"
Mary.
Concern filled her voice almost instantly.
"Are you alright?"
Soo-ah swallowed painfully, every movement hurt.
"...Food."
Silence.
"What?"
"Please, get me something to eat..."
Her voice sounded weak and desperate, nothing like herself.
Mary immediately became alarmed.
"Okay, I'm coming."
Footsteps disappeared rushing downstairs.
Soo-ah stumbled toward the bed, her legs felt unstable. The hunger grew worse with every second. Minutes later the door burst open. Mary hurried inside carrying enough food for three people.
Then she froze. The tray nearly slipped from her hands. Because something had changed. Soo-ah looked thinner, not dramatically, but noticeably. Like her body had consumed something vital in a very short period of time.
Her skin appeared paler, her breathing unstable. And her eyes, her eyes were wrong. Not only physically—
Instinctively.
Something hidden behind them made Mary's heart skip a beat.
"What happened to you?"
Soo-ah shook her head weakly.
"I don't know."
Mary immediately placed the tray down. Soo-ah began eating desperately. Faster than she'd ever seen.
Soup. Rice. Meat.
Everything was gone within minutes. Then more, and more. Yet still, nothing changed. The hunger remained.
No.
In fact, It got worse. Mary felt worry crawl slowly up her spine. Because she had cared for Soo-ah for years, and she had never seen anything like this.
Soo-ah slowly lifted her head, their eyes meeting. For one brief second—
Mary took an unconscious step backward. Not because she wanted to, but because instinct demanded it.
The movement lasted less than a few seconds. But Soo-ah noticed. And the look in Mary's eyes terrified her more than the blood in the sink.
Because Mary wasn't looking at her with concern anymore. She was looking at her with fear.
END OF CHAPTER 48