Chapter
The boy came back before dawn.
Tae-Jun hadn't slept. Not really. His body dozed, but his ears stayed alert, trained by habit and fear.
He expected the sound of boots, the scrape of metal, maybe even the crack of a rifle. But what came instead… was a cough. A quiet one. Human.
He opened his eyes.
The boy was there, sitting again, just far enough to stay out of reach. His eyes were red from the cold, a small scrape bleeding on his cheek. He dropped something between them. It clinked softly.
A can.
Food.
Tae-Jun stared.
The boy didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Tae-Jun dragged the can closer. Cold beans. Barely edible. But food was food. He ate with his fingers, too weak to care about shame.
The boy watched, then opened his own and ate as well.
They sat in silence.
Not enemies.
Not friends.
Just… alive.
---
When the sun was up, the boy stood again. He took a piece of broken metal and walked to a cracked wall. Slowly, with precise movements, he began to scratch something into the concrete.
A word.
Tae-Jun squinted, confused.
A name?
No.
A number.
> 30
Then the boy walked backward, counting in his own language.
One... two... three...
Until he stopped.
Thirty steps.
Then he turned, sat, and pointed to Tae-Jun.
His message was clear.
This was the line.
Thirty steps.
No closer.
---
Tae-Jun chuckled, weakly. It hurt his ribs.
The boy didn't laugh. But he didn't leave either.
---
That night, Tae-Jun wrote again.
> Entry Four.
He made a boundary. Thirty steps. I don't know if he's protecting himself or giving me space.
Maybe both.
It's the first rule we've made. Without words. Without war.
Thirty steps. Thirty bullets.
One pen.
I wonder which one will run out first.