The old office building loomed over them, its windows shattered and its structure worn down by time and neglect. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of dust and decay, but it was quiet. After the constant threats of the outside world, this silence felt almost comforting, even if it was temporary.
Yeon-ah and the woman found a small room at the back of the building. It was mostly intact, with a heavy metal door that still worked. The woman checked the room quickly, ensuring there were no immediate dangers, while Yeon-ah leaned against the wall, her legs trembling with exhaustion.
"We'll rest here for the night," the woman said, her voice steady. "We leave at first light."
Yeon-ah nodded, though her body was screaming for more than a few hours of sleep. She slid down to the floor, her back against the cold, cracked wall, and let out a long, shaky breath. Her stomach growled, and she realized just how long it had been since she had eaten anything substantial.
The woman, ever prepared, pulled a small pack from her side and tossed it to Yeon-ah. Inside were a few dried rations—nothing luxurious, but enough to keep them going. Yeon-ah's hands fumbled as she unwrapped one of the dried food bars, her hunger making her movements clumsy.
As she chewed the tough, tasteless bar, she glanced up at the woman, who was silently eating her own rations while keeping her eyes fixed on the door.
"How long can we keep this up?" Yeon-ah asked, her voice quiet but tinged with exhaustion. "Always running, always hiding..."
The woman didn't respond immediately. She finished her meal, wiped her hands on a piece of cloth, and glanced over at Yeon-ah. Her expression was as unreadable as ever.
"As long as we have to," she said, her tone even. "Survival is the only goal now. Everything else comes second."
Yeon-ah frowned, staring down at the remnants of her food bar. She knew the woman was right, but that didn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The world had changed, and so had their priorities. But it still felt wrong to live like this—always on the edge, always waiting for the next attack.
"There must be something more," Yeon-ah muttered to herself, almost too quietly for the woman to hear.
But the woman did hear. She stood up, brushing the dust from her clothes, and looked down at Yeon-ah with those sharp, piercing eyes.
"Maybe there was, once," the woman said, her voice softer than before. "But that world is gone now. And we're still here."
Yeon-ah wanted to argue, to say that there had to be more to life than just surviving. But she didn't have the energy, and the woman's cold logic felt too undeniable in that moment. They were survivors, nothing more.
The woman moved to the door, checking the lock one more time before sitting down beside it, her back to the wall, her sword resting across her lap. She was always ready, always on guard.
Yeon-ah sighed and leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. Her body was tired, but her mind was still racing. Every sound, every creak of the building made her flinch, expecting the worst.
"You should sleep," the woman said, her voice cutting through the darkness. "I'll keep watch."
Yeon-ah opened her eyes and looked over at her. "What about you? You need rest too."
The woman shook her head. "I'm used to it. Sleep while you can."
Yeon-ah wanted to argue, but her body was too tired. She lay down on the cold, hard floor, pulling her coat tighter around her to stave off the chill. The room was cold, but at least they were safe. For now.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the man they had encountered earlier. There had been something in his eyes—something dark, something dangerous. She couldn't shake the feeling that they hadn't seen the last of him.
After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, sleep finally overtook her.
Yeon-ah awoke to the faint light of dawn seeping through the cracks in the walls. The air was still, the silence almost oppressive. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and stretching her sore muscles. Her body protested every movement, but at least she had managed to get some sleep.
The woman was already up, standing by the door with her sword in hand. She had the same calm, composed expression as always, as if she hadn't spent the entire night guarding them.
"We need to move," the woman said, her voice as steady as ever. "There's no telling what's out there now."
Yeon-ah nodded and quickly gathered her things. They had to keep moving—that much was certain. But as they prepared to leave the building, a sudden sound caught her attention.
It was faint, almost like a whisper, but it was there. A soft, rhythmic thudding, coming from somewhere nearby.
The woman heard it too. She tensed, her grip tightening on her sword as she motioned for Yeon-ah to stay close.
They moved carefully through the building, following the sound. It grew louder with each step, the rhythmic thud becoming more distinct. Yeon-ah's heart raced as they approached a large, crumbling doorway.
The woman held up a hand, signaling for Yeon-ah to stop. She stepped forward, peeking around the corner, her body tense.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the woman relaxed and motioned for Yeon-ah to follow.
Yeon-ah stepped forward, her eyes widening as she took in the sight before her.
A small, makeshift camp had been set up in what used to be the building's atrium. A fire burned low in the center, surrounded by a few scattered belongings. And next to the fire, pounding away at something with a makeshift hammer, was a young girl.
She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen years old, her clothes ragged and her face smudged with dirt. But there was a determined look in her eyes as she worked, oblivious to their presence.
Yeon-ah's heart tightened at the sight. Another survivor. And a child, no less.
The woman stepped forward, her expression unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharp.
The girl looked up, startled, her eyes wide with fear. She scrambled to her feet, backing away from the fire, the hammer clutched tightly in her hands.
"I... I didn't mean to intrude," the girl stammered, her voice trembling. "I was just trying to fix my... my things."
Yeon-ah stepped forward, her voice soft. "It's okay. We're not here to hurt you."
The girl's eyes flicked between Yeon-ah and the woman, still wary. But after a moment, she seemed to relax, just a little.
"I've been here for a few days," the girl said quietly. "It's the safest place I could find."
The woman remained silent, her eyes scanning the camp. Yeon-ah could tell she wasn't convinced that the girl was telling the whole truth.
But for now, they had found a moment of rest.