Chapter 5: The weight of the feet

In the world, bad things often pile up one after another.

Spilling food on a pristine white outfit.

Dumping coffee on your laptop at a café while feeling good about studying for once.

Finding the toilet paper roll empty when you need it most—those kinds of unfair moments.

The worst part? They don’t come one at a time; they hit all at once.

In a single day.

Today was exactly that kind of day.

As I was about to pack my school bag and leave, I remembered I’d left my textbooks in my room.

I went to grab them, only to realize I’d also forgotten the supplies I needed for class.

At school, I tripped over something on the floor—something I’d normally avoid—and, of course, PE, my least favorite class, was on the schedule.

By then, I was convinced the world was out to get me, and when I heard Garam had to stay behind for a teacher meeting and couldn’t walk home with me, words couldn’t describe how I felt.

…It was too much. Seriously.

“Ugh… Cheong, I’m so sorry!! What do I do…!!”

“…It’s okay, Garam.”

In the end, I decided to go home alone today.

I could’ve called Mom to walk with me, but I didn’t want to bother her while she was busy at home.

Besides, going to and from school alone was no big deal for me.

I’d never had issues before, so I figured today would be fine.

Having someone always by my side made me miss this rare moment of solitude.

Call it a lack of safety awareness—I won’t deny it’s half true.

I knew people would freak out if they found out, so I reassured Garam, who felt guilty about staying behind, that I’d be fine, and slipped out of school.

My heart raced with guilt for lying to my friend—an eight-year-old, no less—but I brushed it off, telling myself it was to ease her burden.

And so, I left the school gate, savoring a freedom I hadn’t felt in ages.

I imagined, after such a rough day, I’d go home, crawl under the covers, and rest.

But, as expected, my hopes were crushed.

WAAAA…

[“—Citizens, this is the National Security Agency’s Central Alert Control Center. An actual variant outbreak alert is being issued. The current time is 12:34, an actual variant outbreak alert is being issued for the Seocho-gu area. I’ll say it again, actual—”]

A familiar warning I hear weekly.

The sound piercing my sensitive ears was clearly about a variant sighting.

But unlike the “training” announcements from school, this one kept stressing “actual.”

I could tell instinctively this wasn’t a drill—it was real. I grumbled inwardly.

‘At this point, isn’t the world picking a fight with me?’

…Well.

Maybe it really was.

Everyone stopped and listened to the sound.

At least, that’s how it looked to me.

Speakers blared across the city.

The sound quality was poor, but a voice—maybe a nameless announcer or some text-to-speech tech—kept urging us to head to the nearest shelter or building due to a real-time variant sighting.

This was no drill—it was real.

Get to a shelter, now.

The reaction was, predictably, chaotic.

“—Run, everyone!!”

“Eek…! Jiwoo, where are you? Answer me!!”

“Another variant? I’m so sick of this…”

“Everyone, head that way—! That’s the closest subway station!”

“No, we need to grab our valuables! Who knows what’ll happen!”

“There’s no time for that, move!”

“Hyerim, what do we do…!!”

“L-Let’s just follow the adults…!!”

The mix of reactions created a whirlwind of chaos.

Some seemed used to it, grumbling about the annoyance of another variant sighting, while others screamed in fear, trembling.

There were adults frozen in panic, unsure what to do, and a heroic young boy trying to lead people despite the madness.

People spilled out of buildings in real time, some arguing as they got stuck in narrow entrances.

It was, quite literally, a scene of pandemonium.

But, thankfully, the chaos that seemed endless began to calm as time passed. Special Police Unit members appeared, guiding people and restoring order.

The disorderly crowd formed neat lines, and at the packed building entrances, checks were made to ensure no one was left behind.

A few stragglers darted out, still panicking.

“…I wish this would just pass already.”

I stood quietly at the edge of the sidewalk, careful not to get knocked over, watching the chaotic swarm of heads.

Staring at clumps of unknown scalps moving together was, frankly, kind of gross.

After a short while, the crowd, which had felt like rush-hour subway chaos, thinned out enough that even I, with my cane, could walk comfortably.

I’d been counting how many balding or potentially balding people were in the crowd—a devilish pastime—but now it was time to move.

Tap, tap—

“…My ears hurt.”

I rubbed my ears, stinging from the loud noise, and slowly started walking.

Tapping my cane rhythmically on the ground to check for thresholds or slopes my eyes couldn’t easily spot, I carefully moved toward the shelter.

Sure, a variant appeared, but it probably wouldn’t be a big deal.

Thanks to Seoul’s status as home to half the population, skilled Awakener offices are stationed everywhere.

Maybe it’s different in rural areas, but Seoul’s never seen a real disaster.

There’s even a National Security Agency variant response team stationed nearby. Despite the war-like urgency of the broadcast, unless it’s a major issue, those capable Awakeners will handle it.

In about an hour, the chaos will fade as if it never happened, the broadcast will stop, and people in the shelters will return to their homes and routines.

The news, blaring breaking reports, will go back to regular programming.

Even those who didn’t panic earlier probably knew this, which is why they reacted that way.

If I just head to the nearest shelter and wait out the commotion, everything will be fine.

All I need to do is go home, hug Mom who’s probably worried, grab the cookies she baked for me, hold a cup of milk in both hands, and sit on the sofa listening to the news.

As long as I don’t cause trouble, it’s a simple task.

Yes, very simple.

But—

Tap.

“—A kid?”

[“…”]

The moment I saw a small head lingering in the alley from the corner of my vision.

In an empty alley where everyone had evacuated, a small figure was slowly walking away from the shelter’s direction, caught in my unique perspective.

My legs, meant to head toward the shelter, stopped dead.

A lost kid?

Judging by their size, they didn’t seem like an adult.

What’s that kid doing in an alley without a guardian?

The broadcast keeps screaming to get to a shelter, but what’s that kid doing?

Not running, just walking to some strange place, not even a shelter.

“…”

Dozens of thoughts tangled in my head.

For the first time in years, my mind, capable of deep thought, was nearly overloaded by this unexpected situation.

I just had to ignore it and keep walking.

Just move my feet forward, one after the other.

Saving that kid is the Special Forces’ job, not mine—I can’t even see properly.

It wasn’t fear of danger. If I got into trouble like that kid, wouldn’t that just double the work for them?

“…Haa.”

Everyone has their role.

Mine is to head to the shelter.

Don’t meddle.

My job is to go where people are gathered, where Mom might be, and not make things harder for the Special Forces. If I run into them, I’ll just mention I saw a kid in the alley.

That’ll do.

The conclusion I reached was rational, perfectly suited to the situation.

Any adult nearby would say it was absolutely right.

But why—

“I don’t know.”

Thump—

My feet were already heading toward the gap between the buildings, toward the alley where the kid might be.

It was the exact opposite of the shelter’s direction, a deep path I’d never taken since being born.

Does a kid need a reason to act?

If I want to do something, I do it.

“I guess I can’t be a good kid.”

I snickered, letting out a hollow laugh.

I apologized to Mom in my heart and stepped into the alley.

Even knowing this was wrong.

At least my heart was at ease.

Shim Cheong

The protagonist.

If she had a thousand won, she’d buy a drink; with ten thousand, she’d get snacks to share with friends.

She might not care about the suffering of far-off children without clean water or victims of distant earthquakes, but if someone’s in danger right in front of her, she’ll risk herself to help.

Living a second life, her own happiness matters, but she believes the happiness of those she cares about takes priority over her own, having already lived once.

She secretly thinks that since she’s happy enough, she wants others to be happy too.

“If a parent takes away their kids’ allowance to donate to a thousand strangers across the world, who’d call them good?”

Even if everyone else does, she wouldn’t.

She deceived her friend.

Han Garam

The protagonist’s friend.

Couldn’t walk her home due to a teacher meeting and feels a bit guilty.

Was deceived by her friend.

Child

An unknown child.

Walking inside an alley.