Gunfire echoed faintly in the distance—probably a shootout between gangs. In Riverland, the mafia and gangs, fattened on the profits of drugs and prostitution, were constantly fighting turf wars to secure their shares of the demand. Violent incidents erupted several times a day.
Someday, I’ll make a comeback as an actor and finally live in a mansion in safe, secure Linhart.
That was Siron’s dream. For now, though, reality meant hiding his identity, paying steep rent for an apartment that didn’t even require a credit check. But his dream remained unbroken.
Besides, even this setup was something he had to be thankful for. Sure, the elevator broke down so often he had to hike nine floors on foot. And every night, a pervert who kept trying to flirt with him pressed up against the thin wall and jerked off audibly, forcing Siron to listen to the wet sounds live. Still, it was a step up from where he’d lived the year before.
The last apartment had a brothel underneath, a junkie living next door, and a gang member across the hall who was stabbed in the middle of the night, leaving a bloodstain on the hallway carpet that never came out. At least here, there were no gangsters with full-body tattoos roaming the halls.
Climbing to the ninth floor, Siron kept muttering to himself. This was an apartment that cared about your health, he told himself. A workout, for the sake of future roles.
After a quick shower, he collapsed onto his bed. His phone was mounted on the holder above his head, perfect for watching videos while lying down.
Return to Bunker was a drama praised for extending the reality of war into a fully immersive experience. It was based on the true stories of soldiers in the British "Plus Company" during World War II.
Season 1 had aired three years ago, and now, after much anticipation, Season 2 had finally been released. Social news sites were flooded with rave reviews. Siron wasn’t usually into war stories, but he got curious about the hype and decided to check it out. Predictably, the drama was excellent. Siron found himself completely immersed—sometimes suffocating under the constant presence of death that loomed in every scene.
And then... he saw that face.
Midway through Season 2, there was Private Norman Anderson, who died after being hit by a grenade thrown by the enemy. He had an innocent aura, wide eyes, dull blonde hair, and stood tall like a tree—but always with those slightly hunched shoulders, like he was embarrassed of his height. His lips were always chapped and full. He was beautiful in a way that stuck with you.
Even in the horror of war, love blossomed. Norman’s olive-colored eyes were constantly fixed on the back of Lieutenant Marcus from the same unit.
“Lieutenant Marcus... Please, survive. Live long enough to become a white-haired old man, until the war is nothing more than a distant memory. And until that time comes... please don’t forget. That I loved you.”
The silent lips that barely ever opened unless absolutely necessary gave that final confession before death—and it left a deep impact, a haunting afterglow.
“Fuck. That’s so fucking tragic.”
Binge-watching the series again, Siron sobbed as Norman’s heartbreak got to him all over again. He blew his nose with a tissue, wiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop leaking out.
“God... I’m so jealous. I wanna play a role like that too.”
He was moved, sure. But he was also jealous.
Once he’d regained some emotional composure, Siron’s curiosity turned to the actor himself. He searched for Private Norman Anderson.
The actor’s name was Lewis McCarthy. According to the online encyclopedia, he had a long list of credits. He’d debuted at eighteen in a small TV role and had slowly worked his way up to fame through Return to Bunker. It had been a tough road.
The opposite of Siron’s own career, where after just two or three supporting roles, he was suddenly cast as a lead.
“Well, I guess being pretty doesn’t guarantee success. I mean, I was kind of... the exception.”
Staring smugly at his reflection, Siron studied his own face, then gave his head a shake to fix his parted bangs before diving deeper into the internet.
Lewis McCarthy was twenty-five—two years younger than Siron. The only known family was an older sister with a large age gap. No scandals, no gossip. A young actor with a clean record and nothing but success ahead.
Siron felt a sharp pang of envy.
And then he saw it.
A headline he never expected: Actor Lewis McCarthy declared brain-dead after a car accident.
The article was from just two months ago. Apparently, Lewis had expressed a desire to donate his organs. He was now on life support while the donation process was being arranged.
There were no follow-up articles. Nothing about a transplant recipient. Nothing about a confirmed death or tributes from colleagues.
Siron felt crushed.
Some lives are just magnets for cruelty. Lewis McCarthy, who had finally reached success, only to have everything ripped away, was one of them.
And just as Siron was still mourning Lewis’s tragic fate, contemplating the meaning of life and death... a new post appeared on a Korean internet forum.
It was a paparazzi-style photo of Siron serving customers at Curry King—taken in secret, but vividly clear.
---
The in-flight tourist guide to Hell-sota featured detailed descriptions of the world’s largest Secreta Marsh and options for guided tours. A perfect place to bury bodies if you were a serial killer trying to hide the truth, thought Baek Kyung, idly flipping through the pages. Eventually, boredom won out and he let out a long yawn and stretched.
He’d already gotten plenty of sleep on the flight from New York to Hell-sota. He’d reviewed the schedule to his destination over and over. He’d even read the dull tourist booklet.
And still, there were hours to go.
At last, giving in to the tedium, he turned on his phone. Messages flooded in—dozens from Manager Kim, all sent through the sluggish in-flight Wi-Fi.
---
[Manager Kim]:
Baek Kyung, are you not coming to work today? 9:32AM
You’re supposed to attend the 10AM CMO meeting with ACME. 9:45AM
Why is your phone off? Call me as soon as you see this. 10:02AM
If you don’t answer, I’ll have to report this to the chairman... 10:15AM
Please return my calls! 10:18AM
I’m sorry, Baek Kyung. I have no choice but to inform the chairman. 10:27AM
---
As expected, Manager Kim—his mother’s puppet—had tattled.
And of course, messages from his furious mother followed immediately.
---
[Mom]:
Where are you? Why did you skip work without notice? 10:37AM
Is it a rut? Why aren’t you answering? 10:45AM
You’re worse than an animal! Pick up the phone while I’m still being nice! 11:19AM
You little bastard! Pick up NOW! 11:37AM
---
Baek Kyung clicked his tongue. No doubt his garbage personality came from his mother’s side.
He kept reading.
“You said you didn’t want to be locked up in a psych ward anymore. You were doing fine for months—what the hell happened?” 12:10PM
“You’re not on drugs again, are you?” 12:12PM
“You maniac son of a bitch. If you’re gonna lose it, at least do it somewhere we can clean up after you!” 12:17PM
Right after reading that last one, a voice call came through the messaging app.
He declined it.
A few minutes later, another message arrived.
---
“I must be out of my fucking mind to have given birth to trash like you! You rotten bastard!”
1:24PM
---
Baek Kyung felt no guilt. No panic. He’d been a constant source of stress for his parents for 23 years, but had spent the last four locked up in treatment centers and psychiatric hospitals—surely, that counted as a lifetime’s worth of filial piety.
And besides, piety wasn’t his thing.
---
I’ve decided to give myself a break from this repetitive life. I’ll return with renewed energy and a smiling face.
By the way, "rotten bastard" is a non-standard expression. The correct term is "hurae-ja-sik." Learn some Korean, Mom.
— Your loving hurae-ja-sik lol
1:31PM
---
Feeling wonderfully refreshed after sending that, Baek Kyung powered his phone off without hesitation.
After the scandal that rocked the country, Baek Kyung spent a year in a Korean psychiatric detention center, and the next three in a mental hospital run by the Baile Group’s medical foundation in the US.
Being the Baile chairman’s son didn’t earn him special treatment—if anything, it made things worse. He’d been locked up in the secure ward with patients suffering from severe schizophrenia, suicidal tendencies, and extreme bipolar disorder. Completely cut off from the world.
Eventually, he was deemed fit to rejoin society and assigned to the US headquarters as an unpaid intern. It looked like he was adjusting well. But of course, he couldn't kick his worst habit—and skipped work barely two months in.
They probably assumed he was running away because of drugs or rut. But his mother hadn’t yet found out the real reason.
Baek Kyung had already learned it earlier—just last night, through a friend back in Korea.
News about Yoon Siron.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter