> Two weeks earlier.
It had rained for three days without pause.
The forest was thick with fog, and the air stank of fuel, sweat, and wet steel.
Tae-Jun walked at the back of the unit, rifle gripped tight, boots sinking in the mud.
Twelve men.
One lieutenant.
No backup.
They weren't supposed to be this deep. The map said they were behind friendly lines. But maps don't bleed. Men do.
---
Lieutenant Park stopped and whispered something to the sergeant. Everyone tensed. Eyes darted. Fingers on triggers.
Something was wrong.
The trees were too still.
---
Then—
The crack of gunfire.
Screams.
Dirt flying.
Blood.
Men dropping like puppets with strings cut.
The world exploded.
Tae-Jun dove for cover, firing blindly.
He saw the lieutenant fall.
Saw the radio explode.
Saw his best friend — Sun-Woo — running toward him.
> "JUN! GET UP—!"
Sun-Woo's voice cut off with a snap.
He dropped.
A red hole where his neck used to be.
---
Tae-Jun froze.
His hands were shaking.
His mouth was open, but no sound came out.
A hand grabbed his arm — another soldier. Eyes wide with terror.
> "WE HAVE TO GO! LEAVE HIM!"
Tae-Jun screamed back, but his voice was lost in the chaos.
A decision was made without him.
They ran.
And left him behind.
---
When he opened his eyes again, it was night.
His leg was broken.
The shooting had stopped.
No one came back.
He was alone.
---
> Now, in the present…
Tae-Jun lay in the same ruins, sweat on his brow, the pain from the past sharper than the wound in his leg.
The boy — the enemy — was still nearby, staring at the stars.
Tae-Jun opened the notebook.
> Entry Six.
They didn't just leave me. They chose to.
Sun-Woo died trying to save me. The others didn't even look back.
I wonder if they think I'm dead. Or if they're hoping I am.
Either way, I'm not going back. Even if I could.
This boy, this stranger… he didn't know me. He had every reason to finish me off.
And yet… he stayed.
---
Tae-Jun looked up. The boy was watching him again.
But this time, there was something different in his eyes.
Not caution.
Not curiosity.
Recognition.