[Summer, 2050. South Korea.]
After an unusually long winter, the lingering heat arrived early—
banishing any memory of spring and quickly heating up the ground and the air.
The anchor's voice from the TV was as dry and detached as ever.
"Today, extreme weather alerts have been issued nationwide.
The inland region of Gangwon has gone ninety-three days without a single drop of rain,
while southern coastal cities have been flooded by over 210 millimeters of rainfall.
The northern mountains of Gyeonggi are once again engulfed in flames, and daytime highs are expected to exceed 49 degrees Celsius."
The TV screen showed a series of scenes: cracked rice paddies, flooded streets, and villages shrouded in smoke.
In inland Gangwon, the rice fields were split wide open.
A lone farmer knelt and scratched at the parched earth with his fingertips.
In the city of Busan, a bus stood half-submerged in the road, while a child floated down the street, using a large plastic box as a makeshift boat.
Mountain villages were blanketed with smoke, and residents clutched water containers to their chests as they hurried to evacuate.
Electronic billboards flashed along the streets of Seoul: "Level 3 Heat Alert in Effect."
People wiped sweat from their faces above their masks, hurrying to find shade.
The camera paused on a narrow street in a busy district.
A citizen, half of their face hidden behind a mask, spoke to the interviewer with a blank expression.
"Every day, it's disaster news on TV. Even just breathing makes me anxious."
Beyond the interview, people wiped sweat from behind their masks and quietly walked through the disaster unfolding around them.
[That evening in 2050, inside Jian's room.]
The day, heavy with sweat, was finally ending. Jian slipped into her small cooling pod.
Outside, the air felt like a giant oven.
No breeze, no movement— just heavy, suffocating air pressing down.
Far off, the low hum of cooling units and the occasional wail of ambulance sirens drifted in, blending into the background.
Inside the pod, it was relatively cool—but even that had its limits.
It was only better than outside; at best, it was "just enough to breathe."
Jian rolled a pen between her fingers and muttered to herself,
"This isn't living.
To survive summer these days… you have to be good at breathing."
At that moment, a soft but indifferent notification sound chimed from her smart device.
A single line of text appeared on the screen:
Emergency Climate Disaster Alert
— "Greenhouse gas emissions up 1.8 times compared to 2023."
— Heatwave warning remains in effect.
— Expected to be the hottest summer on record.
— Avoid prolonged outdoor activities during the day.
— Stay hydrated and maintain proper salt intake.
— Wear hats or use umbrellas, and take frequent breaks to protect your health.』
Jian dismissed the alert and closed her eyes.
Disaster notifications had become a part of daily life.
Every day was an emergency, but nothing ever changed.
Tomorrow would be just as hot, and breathing would be just as heavy.
[2050, Early the next morning.]
Jian woke before her alarm, already feeling the heat that had crept in since dawn.
The moment Jian took a breath, hot air pressed down on her lungs.
She pushed open the lid of the pod and stepped out— even the air against her cheeks felt heavy and stifling.
She forced her sluggish body to stand and opened the door to her room.
In the kitchen, Jian's mother, Yunseul, was already dressed and ready to leave for work.
Her mother, wearing her goggles, stood by the toaster, transferring roughly toasted bread onto a plate as the timer went off.
"At least today we have eggs that aren't past their expiration date."
Her mother gave a weary smile as she cracked an egg into the frying pan.
It wasn't organic, of course— and since it hadn't been refrigerated, she had to sniff through the carton just to find a good one.
"I boiled the juice. It's better lukewarm, since we can't keep anything cold."
Jian sat quietly at the table.
On her plate: bread straight from the wrapper, a slightly burnt egg, a handful of wilted vegetables, and in her cup, lukewarm barley tea—boiled, then cooled to room temperature.
It had been a month since their refrigerator stopped working due to power restrictions.
"Fill up the water before you leave for school today. The pressure's still decent in the mornings."
Yunseul said this as she hurriedly tied back her hair, and Jian nodded.
It was already 34 degrees outside.
Her mother left first, heading toward the café in front of the school— a tumbler in one hand and a small handheld fan in the other.
After her mother left, Jian finished getting ready for school.
She lingered at the door, reluctant to step outside.
But before it got any hotter, she put on her hat, sun goggles, and mask, then finally headed out.
With every step, she felt as if heat waves were shimmering up from the pavement beneath her feet.
Each breath filled her lungs with hot air, and sweat trickled down her back.
The whole city felt like a giant furnace.
When she looked up, the familiar warning flashed again on an electronic billboard above the street.
『Heatwave Warning / Recommended for Outdoor Activities: Mask + Sun Protection / Please review heatstroke prevention guidelines.』
Jian let out a short sigh.
'Looks like I'm really going to be late today…'
By the time Jian arrived at school, her T-shirt was already soaked with sweat.
When she opened the classroom door, it wasn't cool air that greeted her, but a strange, damp heaviness.
She dropped into her seat.
She tried to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand, but even her hand was already damp.
The air conditioner was running in the classroom, but with time and temperature restrictions, it couldn't cool the room below a certain point.
The windows were tightly shut, and the students sat at their desks in silence.
Some clutched handheld fans, while others wiped sweat with wet tissues, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
That was when
Jian noticed someone.
By the window sat a boy with a tumbler set neatly on his desk.
His hair was carefully dried, his surroundings strangely quiet, and his eyes looked empty and distant—almost lifeless.
Jian paused for a moment.
She recognized that face—she'd seen him a few times in front of the café.
Yesterday, too, he'd been there, drinking a cup of hot tea.
'…Was he in my class?'
'Jihyuk? He just transferred here not long ago, didn't he? I think he's in your grade.'
A few days ago, her mom had mentioned it offhand at the café.
The memory hit Jian all at once, as if she'd just gulped down a glass of cold water.
Strangely, he felt unfamiliar—yet for some reason, Jian couldn't help but notice him.
Jihyuk turned his head, gazing out the window.
Beyond his profile, bright sunlight flooded in.
Only after taking a sip of lukewarm water from the thermos Jihyuk was holding
did Jian feel that strange sense of having forgotten something.
Her tumbler.
She'd left it behind again.
'…Mom's going to lecture me about it later, for sure.'
Jian let out a small sigh.
Almost without thinking, she glanced over at Jihyuk again.
He sat quietly, holding his thermos in both hands, his expression distant—as if he were lost in thought.
[Classroom, 2050.]
The air inside was damp and heavy.
During the break, Shia stood by the teacher's desk, slowly scanning the room with her smart fan.
A faint mechanical whirring sounded from her fingertips.
Shia glanced at the fan's display.\
"CO₂ levels are in the caution zone. We need to ventilate. The air cooler shut off again."
Jian slumped into her seat, breathing hard.
"Let's just pretend we live in Carbon City or something…
There's no way I'm letting in all that hot air.
I'm, like, on the verge of a water shortage over here.
Can I borrow your tumbler?
I left mine. Again."
Shia turned and gave Jian a look, raising her eyebrows.
"Seriously? You forgot your tumbler again? This is the last time.
Haven't you heard the news? The new flu's going around again—people don't even share cups with their own families anymore."
Jian gave a half-hearted grin.
"I know, I know. But have you seen how much they charge for a single paper cup?
two thousand won (about $1.50)—just for one!
If I forget my tumbler even twice, my allowance is basically gone."
"I should start charging you for this, too. How about a thousand won per use—friends' discount?"
Shia laughed as she handed over her tumbler.
Jian took it, grinning back playfully.
"Shia, you're seriously the guardian of my allowance. I'll treat you to a café drink at my mom's café later."
"Don't just say it— let's go right after school. The new menu drink? Totally my style."
Jian and Shia couldn't have been more different.
Shia was the type who kept track of everything—from air quality levels to the class schedule.
Jian, on the other hand, tended to let things slide, but somehow always had a sharp instinct in a crisis.
Despite (or maybe because of) their differences, the two of them just clicked.
On days as hot and overwhelming as this, their differences felt like a comfort.
On her way to get some water, Jian recognized the figure standing by the water dispenser at the end of the hallway.
He moved with the same calm, unhurried motions as always.
It was Jihyuk.
He held his thermos under the water dispenser, slowly pressing the hot water button.
A faint cloud of steam drifted up.
Hot water, in this heat? Jian found herself speaking before she realized it.
"Hey."
Jihyuk turned his head slightly.
"I saw you order hot tea at my mom's café the other day…
And today, you're getting hot water again?
Aren't you hot? I get mad when even cold water doesn't feel cold enough."
Jihyuk gave a small smile as he closed the lid of his thermos.
After a brief pause, he said quietly,
"Ever since I had COVID, my throat hasn't been the same.
Drinking warm tea all the time just became a habit.
Honestly… I wish I could just drink cold water, too."
Jian bit her lip for a moment.
She felt embarrassed for her careless comment.
"…Sorry. I didn't know."
Then, she quickly brightened and smiled.
"Then… next time we meet at the café, I'll recommend my favorite tea.
I only drink cold water now, but in winter, I have a special go-to drink—
it's warm and has a wonderful aroma."
Jihyuk nodded.
His face held a strange yet comforting warmth.
In that moment, Jian felt a curious longing for colder seasons ahead.
The cool breeze, a steaming cup, and… the continuation of their story.
Standing in the middle of the sweltering hallway, thermoses in hand, the two paused briefly.
Amid the slightly lighter heat, the season yet to come quietly seeped in.
[Classroom, 2050 — Modern History Lesson]
Third period, Modern History class.
On the blackboard, a graph of the climate crisis was climbing steeply.
The teacher sighed deeply before speaking.
"All right, today we'll be looking at the history of environmental policies from the 2020s through the 2030s."
The homeroom teacher's voice filled the classroom, directed toward the blackboard.
On the smart board, the graph climbed year by year, accompanied by key policy terms appearing in sequence.
"In the 2020s, we stood on the brink of the climate tipping point but failed to stop.
The technology was ready, and many policy drafts were already in place. But…"
Her words hung in the air.
"Most of the choices came too late."
The classroom was silent.
Some students rested their heads on their desks, while others tapped distractedly on their screens.
The story sounded like a tale from a distant past— after all, it seemed like it was already too late.
Jian lay face down, her eyes half-closed.
Those words kept swirling in her mind.
"The technology was ready?
Then who didn't do their part…
Why do we have to live like this, suffocating?"
The unanswered questions hung heavy in her lungs like hot, stagnant air.
"This semester's project,"
The teacher's voice came through clearly again.
"For this project, you will research small acts of environmental action from the 2020s and create an interview script based on your findings."
A few students lifted their heads.
"Connecting it to the future and imagining possibilities is also encouraged.
You can use the simulation feature."
"Teacher! Can we use the AI simulator?"
When someone asked, the teacher nodded with a smile.
"Of course. Use your imagination to the fullest."
Jian's eyebrows twitched slightly, following the flow of her thoughts.
'I totally bombed the last midterm. Can I do better on the finals?
Sigh… I gotta do well on this at least so my report card doesn't look too bad.
I haven't even decided where to go yet, and now I have to keep up with Modern History too?
Ugh… whatever, I'll just get the project done.
They said we can use AI, so it should be okay.
It would've been way cooler if we could actually talk to someone from the past, though…'
At that moment, a faint light flickered somewhere deep inside Jian's mind.