L*st and Death

Siron averted Baekgyeong’s savage and desperate gaze and began scanning the room inch by inch. A super single-sized mattress, about a handspan thick, was laid over a concrete bed bolted to the wall. The walls were clean and white. There was a spotless toilet and shower, separated from the room. Even the air conditioning was set to a comfortable temperature. Compared to the detention facility he’d been locked in, this place was nothing short of heaven.

“Just like I expected.”

Siron spoke Korean with crisp pronunciation, like he was performing a monologue.

“I was stuck in a suffocating shithole of a prison, and meanwhile you’ve been fucking living it up. This is textbook—rich walk free, poor get jailed.”

“‘Rich walk—’ Christ.”

Lost for words, Baekgyeong quickly rubbed his face with his dry palms.

“You think that kind of talk makes sense right now?”

“In context, yeah. Why wouldn’t it?”

Siron leaned against the wall, casually spouting nonsense with perfect composure. One CCTV camera faced the bed, and another was mounted on the opposite wall. He couldn’t be sure if they recorded audio too. But he couldn’t waste time worrying about camera angles mid-conversation—so the only option was to speak in Korean, not English.

“You even shaved. I haven’t showered in over a week, you know.”

Baekgyeong ignored the absurd comment and finally asked what had been bothering him all along.

“Why are you here?”

“I was kidnapped. Same as you.”

Thinking over Siron’s words for a moment, Baekgyeong quickly arrived at a conclusion.

“They... found out your nature?”

“They didn’t. That’s not why I was taken. ...It’s a long story. Eat first.”

Siron moved the tray of food to the center of the floor. Some of the stew must have spilled while being pushed through the food slot—broth clung to the fork and spoon. Using the napkin beneath the bowl, Siron wiped the utensils clean and held them out to Baekgyeong.

“Eat. It should taste better than yesterday.”

Baekgyeong stared blankly at the spoon, then took it quietly. He looked at the spoon, then the food on the tray, then at Siron—one after the other, like he was trying to process an impossible event. It still didn’t seem real to him that Siron was here. At Baekgyeong’s dumb, slack-jawed expression, Siron couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“They say you threw a fit over the food. Who the hell throws a tantrum in a place like this?”

He could’ve been killed for it. Siron instantly recognized what was clinging to Baekgyeong’s neck like a choker. It was the same one Isaac had worn.

“You’re still living with your brain switched off, huh?”

But Siron, too, had clearly forgotten his current reality. His life was still hanging by a thread, fragile as a fly’s. And yet, like he was drunk, a sudden elation flooded through him, and inexplicable happiness spread from head to toe.

After four years of doing everything to escape Baekgyeong, here they were—face to face again. In Baggers City, and now on a nameless outlaw island. Siron didn’t hate it. Though if he ever escaped the island, that might be a different story.

“Kyung-ah, you’re seriously fucking insane.”

Baekgyeong still looked dazed. He was dizzy from starvation, and just looking at Siron—like staring into the sun—made his eyes sting. Without realizing it, Baekgyeong let out a sigh that was almost a moan.

“You’re the crazy one. What kind of lunatic makes a stew like that?”

“Lunatic, huh? So you didn’t eat the stew I risked my life to make?”

Baekgyeong’s eyes wavered. A strained, awkward smile hovered on his lips.

“Let’s say I did. I must’ve, since I saw your name in it.”

At Baekgyeong’s clumsy lie, the burst of elation Siron had felt moments earlier vanished like smoke.

‘It doesn’t fit. He really doesn’t fit.’

They had barely been reunited for a few minutes, and Siron already wanted to claw Baekgyeong’s head off. But the idiot kept going, eyes full of hopeful curiosity as he asked:

“How did you know I was the one who asked for the kimchijjigae?”

“Because there’s only one psycho in this world dumb enough to demand kimchi stew at gunpoint.”

Baekgyeong stared at Siron as he clicked his tongue in disgust. Baekgyeong had always been a bastard to the bone—revenge for his mother’s sake was never a motivation for him. But Siron... Siron was the only reason he kept on living. In Baekgyeong’s world, blazing with nothing but fury, only his feelings for Siron had color. Back then. And even now.

Baekgyeong cupped the back of Siron’s head and leaned in. His eyes burned with a desperate desire to inhale the scent of him. Just as he moved to cover Siron in kisses, like a man possessed, Siron shoved Baekgyeong’s face away with his palm.

“If we kiss right now, it’s gonna traumatize both of us.”

Siron smacked his lips like there was a bad taste in his mouth.

“I don’t care.”

Baekgyeong whispered, biting lightly at Siron’s cheek.

“This is too gross. I can’t do it.”

“I’d still lick you head to toe—even if you hadn’t bathed for a month.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Especially that soft little dick of yours. Fuck, I missed it.”

“...Soft little dick, huh. Ha.”

Siron smiled. A smile laced with secrets—somehow sly, almost predatory. He shoved Baekgyeong’s face away again with firm pressure and stood up.

“Enough. I’m taking a shower.”

Before Baekgyeong could stop him, Siron stepped into the bathroom, peeled off his clothes, and tossed them out the door. Then he poked his head out through the crack.

“Eat while I wash. If you leave anything, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“This is Zulu. Inmate 3547 has been located. Current position: Grid 141. Requesting medical support. Subject has a leg fracture and requires emergency care. Repeating—Grid 141...”

After sunset, the ocean darkened like a navy canvas, slowly swallowing the faint traces of daylight. In ten minutes, the horizon would be consumed by complete darkness, and the boundary between sky and sea would blur—impossible to distinguish.

The alpha holding the radio had found 3547 on a black sand beach formed by waves crashing against the towering western cliffs of the island. A large basalt outcrop jutted out midway up the cliff like a giant statue’s head—that’s where 3547 had been hiding, and why he had gone unseen for so long.

Despite falling from the high cliff, 3547’s injuries were surprisingly minor. Slight dehydration, a fractured ankle, and some bruises. After receiving basic emergency care, he was returned to the detention facility—found 31 hours after escaping the lab. The other captives said he was as good as dead. But the price for his escape turned out to be relatively light. Though badly beaten, 3547 had made it back alive.

“Where were you hiding? There are places to hide on this island?”

The man in his thirties, curled up on the floor in hunger and exhaustion, asked 3547. But 3547 didn’t hear him. Trapped in his own world, he stared fixedly into the distance, mumbling endlessly to himself. No one could understand the hallucinations he saw—or what the words meant.

The man tried to empty his mind and ignore the incoherent mumbling. The moment his thoughts slipped, his brain flooded with food. Cheap donuts filled with gritty cream, flat cola. Just picturing it made his empty stomach throb in pain.

If he could just escape, he could get a job again. Eat full meals every day. Swallowing the saliva that had filled his mouth down his parched throat, he caught 3547 whispering about cliffs, about a beach. The thought that 3547 had wandered every corner of the island for more than a day and a half sparked a sudden surge of hope. He sat up straight, grabbed 3547 by the shoulders, and shook him.

“Is there a way to escape?”

“A way?”

“Yeah. Like a little yacht or something. I’ve got a sailing license.”

“There is. I saw it.”

“You saw it?”

The man’s voice rose in excitement.

“Where is it?”

“You see that antenna on the east side of the island? That’s not an antenna. That’s a spaceship the aliens sent. When you get close, the signal from it gets louder. It starts out whispering, like near-silent, and then if you drink even a sip of coffee, it tells you to have sex.”

“...What?”

“The radio frequency merges with the alien signal. It controls your brain. We all go into rut like animals. That’s the command they’re sending us.”

Suddenly, 3547’s eyes lit up with wild clarity, his voice whispering things no one could comprehend. The man recoiled in horror.

“Fuck, what the hell’s wrong with you? Did the shock break you?”

“Leave him. He was already crazy before he even got here.”

The man in the next cell—his skin a deep coffee brown—clicked his tongue and chimed in. The first man backed away from 3547 and collapsed onto the floor again.

“Maybe the shot made him worse. That injection... it felt like a human experiment.”

“He’s always been this far gone. We were in the same shelter. He almost got kicked out for causing trouble, but I talked them down and let him stay.”

The coffee-skinned man sighed deeply, face full of regret.

“I should’ve let him go. At least then, he wouldn’t have ended up here.”

After that, the cells filled with quiet sighs of despair. If only they hadn’t left the shelter. If only they hadn’t fallen for that sweet lie about reuniting with their families. If only they hadn’t let themselves dream of a fresh start—they wouldn’t have been dragged to this godforsaken island.

Despair pressed down like a heavy fog. Anxiety over an uncertain future gripped everyone—everyone except 3547. He stayed in another world, whispering endlessly.

“It’s real. I saw it. I swear. I saw people fucking under the alien rut signal.”

But no one listened. The airless, windowless cell was stifling in the heat. And the dark night passed by—agonizingly slow.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!