The plaza felt too quiet. As if the world itself was holding its breath.
Kang Hyun-woo's steps were slow, almost hesitant, as he made his way toward the lone figure standing at the center of the ruined square. The wind carried the scent of ash and dust, but Hyun-woo barely noticed.
His eyes were locked on her.
Han Ji-ah.
He had already seen her profile—already confirmed what he couldn't believe: a main character from The Final Apocalypse Chronicles, alive, breathing, standing right in front of him. But now that she was no longer confined to text and imagination, Hyun-woo's throat tightened with nerves.
His heart pounded like a war drum.
What do I say to someone I've read hundreds of chapters about?
He was barely five steps away when Ji-ah moved—sharp and instinctive.
Her sword was drawn in a blur, the edge gleaming cold as it leveled directly at him.
"Don't move," she said flatly.
Hyun-woo froze.
Her expression was unreadable. No trace of panic, only trained focus. Her stance was firm, her grip precise—just like in the novel. There were no doubts in her actions. She was the real deal.
"I—I'm not here to fight," he said quickly, raising his hands, voice cracking under pressure. "I swear, I'm just—"
The tip of the blade didn't waver.
Ji-ah's eyes scanned him from head to toe. Calculating. Judging.
"You approached me," she said coolly. "In silence. Either you're foolish, or you're hiding something."
"I'm not hiding anything!" Hyun-woo blurted, his voice a little too loud.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. He took a shaky breath, then—against every screaming instinct in his brain—reached up and slowly pressed his hand against the flat of her sword, nudging it gently away from his chest.
Ji-ah's eyes narrowed, but she didn't resist.
"I'm just... like you," Hyun-woo said, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "Trying to survive."
She lowered the sword, but only slightly. The tension didn't ease.
"You don't look like a survivor," she muttered. "You look like a lost puppy."
He flinched. Not an inaccurate read.
She tilted her head. "Name?"
"...Kang Hyun-woo."
A beat of silence.
Then, she stepped back, withdrawing the blade fully.
"Stay out of my way, Kang Hyun-woo," she said flatly. "And don't follow me again."
She turned to leave.
But Hyun-woo stood frozen, heart still racing, the weight of the encounter settling in.
That's her. That's really her.
A character from fiction, walking and breathing beside him in a world gone mad.
He didn't know what to say.
But one thing was certain: their paths had crossed for a reason.
And he wasn't going to let her disappear just yet.