Darin pushed open the door to Kangwoo's room.
The soft creak cut through the silence. She froze in the doorway.
Kangwoo was still awake.
He sat on the floor amid half-packed bags and scattered papers, his back slouched against the bed. The weak lamp by his side flickered over open maps, fake IDs, and a dismantled phone resting in his lap.
Her eyes flicked to the shelf behind him. His old baseball medal rested there, a gold circle catching the dim light, its ribbon faded but carefully kept. She remembered how proud he'd been the day he won it.
Even now, he treated it like it was the one part of their old life that hadn't been stolen.
Dark circles carved deep shadows beneath his eyes.
He'd been up all night again.
Kangwoo lifted his head when he heard her. "You're up early."
"You didn't sleep again," Darin muttered.
He tried to smile, but it barely shaped his lips. "Someone's gotta make sure we're ready to leave."
She stepped in, her eyes drifting over the pile beside him: worn disguises, ration packs.
"Hyung…" Her voice was small. "Do we really have to move again?"
Kangwoo's hands stopped mid-motion over the bag. For a moment, he didn't answer.
"Darin," he said softly, "you know this isn't a choice… we have to."
She stood still, her breath got unsteady... pressure building until it finally burst.
"I don't want to!" she shouted.
Kangwoo froze.
Her voice cracked as everything she'd swallowed over the years erupted at once.
"If we keep living like this... running, hiding, if this is all life's ever going to be…"
Her throat burned as the words tore free.
"…I'd rather have been killed along with Mom and Dad!"
...
Kangwoo shot to his feet so fast the lamp rattled.
"Don't say that!" he yelled.
Darin flinched.
Kangwoo stood towering over her, shoulders trembling, his voice stripped raw.
"Don't ever say something like that again."
His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white, breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls.
"You think I want this?" His voice cracked. "You think I enjoy packing our whole lives into a bag every few months? You think I don't want a normal life too?"
Darin's lips parted, but no sound came.
"...This—" He swept a shaking hand toward the maps, IDs, and the bags. "—this is the only thing keeping us alive. The only thing left I can do for you. For us!"
His voice dropped, low and trembling.
"If we stay anywhere too long, they will find you. I'm not risking that. I'm not losing you too."
Darin's tears burned at the edges of her vision.
"Ever since Mom and Dad died, it's just been running… We never get to live. We never stay long enough to belong."
Kangwoo finally met her eyes.
Her hands twisted into the hem of her shirt. "…I just want a normal life," she whispered.
His expression softened... pain, guilt, and love all tangled together. He stepped forward and pulled her into a rough, shaking hug.
"I'm sorry, Darin," he murmured. "But this is the Wildlaw. Survival first. Everything else comes after."
…
Beside the maps scattered across the floor, the lamp flickered again, casting shaky light over the largest one… creased edges, worn folds, circles and arrows scribbled in Kangwoo's messy handwriting.
The map showed a wide stretch of wilderness: empty plains, dead highways, a whole lot of nothing. And in the middle of that nothing, A thick red circle had been drawn around a single point.
An unnamed town.
…
The motorcycle roared down a deserted road, horizon stretching empty in all directions. Darin clung to Kangwoo's back, her heavy pack digging into her shoulders, her face pressed against his jacket.
Her eyelids drifted shut… until the motorcycle slowed.
Kangwoo got down the motorcycle, then cursed, kicking the side of the motorcycle. "...Damn it!" The tire was shredded.
He crouched beside it, rubbing his face with both hands.
Even the road seemed determined to keep them from moving forward.
Darin sat on the bike, watching quietly, feeling that same sinking weight settle in her chest.
…
Later, the two of them sat on the cracked pavement, sharing stale bread and bottled water from their bag. Kangwoo broke the silence. "Two miles."
Darin glanced up.
"We'll have to walk the last two miles," he said.
She sighed, "Whatever…" then pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time.
Her thumbs hovered over the screen. One tiny signal bar blinked to life. A shiver ran down her spine.
…
Why would there be signal here?
This road was supposed to be a deadzone.