Once upon a time in God's playground-Chapter 93 - 92 : Meeting after 8 years

The cosmic train’s last screech bled into silence, swallowed by the stale air of Seoul’s underground.

The station stretched before me like a mausoleum—long, tiled tunnels painted with shadows and flickering light.

Too empty. Too still.

A shiver crawled up my spine.

Then movement—two shapes further down the platform.

A couple. I recognized them; they’d ridden the same train I had. Their eyes met mine, both of us assessing, measuring. And then... nothing.

No greeting, no conversation. Just a nod. That hollow, weary nod you share when the world’s burned down and words aren’t worth the effort.

I kept walking.

By the time I reached the cracked surface, the city hit me like a punch to the gut. Seoul was supposed to be bright, loud, suffocating with life.

Now? It was gray husks of skyscrapers, shattered glass glinting on the pavement, the stench of rot weaving through the air.

That’s when I saw them. Three figures ahead, clustered around a broken vending machine: two men and a woman. They were gaunt, faces sunken, but still breathing.

One of the men spotted me and stiffened. His hand hovered near the crude spear slung across his back.

"You’re a player?" His voice was wary, rough, like it had forgotten how to speak gently.

I lifted my hands halfway in mock surrender. "Depends. You planning to shoot me, or say hi?"

For a moment, no one breathed. Then the woman snorted, a tired smirk tugging her lips.

"Hi, then. We’re... hanging on. Barely."

I stepped closer, and the tension eased. Up close, I could see their clothes were torn, boots caked in dried blood, eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep. Survivors. Real ones.

We talked. At first, short, sharp exchanges. Then longer, heavier words.

They told me the truth that made my stomach twist: Seoul’s missions had been nothing like Ulsan’s after the first.

"Mission 2," one man muttered, "kill a boss monster. Big thing. We lost twelve people."

"Mission 3," the woman added, her voice cracking, "diffuse a bomb tower. If you failed? The whole district would’ve gone up."

The second man leaned against the vending machine, eyes haunted. "Mission 4... that was war. Ants versus Scorpions. You couldn’t hide. They dropped us right into the battlefield."

"And then mission 5..." The woman’s hands trembled. "Zombie waves. Non-stop. Hours. Days. It didn’t end until... half of us were already dead."

I listened. I didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer pity. Just absorbed every word.

Different roads. Different traps.

If Ulsan was survival on thin thread, Seoul was survival on barbed wire.

When silence finally settled between us, I gave a small nod. "You’re still breathing. That’s more than most can say. Keep it that way."

It wasn’t much. Probably worthless. But it was all I could give.

I left them behind. Because I had somewhere else to be.

Her.

Han Ji-a.

The address I remembered from those late-night calls when the world still had meaning was burned into my mind. Step after step carried me there, though hope drained with every block.

When I finally stood before the building, my chest hollowed out. The concrete was fractured like brittle bone. Windows gaped open with jagged teeth of glass. The whole thing leaned as though gravity was tired of holding it up.

I swallowed, forcing my legs to move. Heavy steps. Every one heavier than the last.

Her door was the final weight. I lifted my hand, knocked once. Twice.

Silence.

No footsteps. No voice. Just the empty echo mocking me.

I turned the handle. The door creaked open.

Inside... my breath caught.

The apartment was untouched. Not ruined. Not bloodstained. Untouched. Curtains still neat. Furniture still whole. It was like the world hadn’t dared step inside, like time had chosen this place to pause.

And then I saw it.

A letter. Waiting on the table.

My chest tightened. I didn’t want to read it. Didn’t want to know. But my fingers betrayed me, trembling as they unfolded the paper.

Ye-jun,

If you’re reading this, then maybe you kept your promise and came for me. Or maybe I was too weak to keep waiting.

The world broke too fast. Too cruel. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay by your side. I wanted to see you again, even just once more, but if I couldn’t... then at least know this: you were the one bright part of my life I never regretted.

Don’t blame yourself. Don’t carry me like another chain. Live. Because if anyone could laugh in the face of this cursed game, it’s you.

Goodbye, Ye-jun. My only wish is that you live long enough to forget me.

—Ji-a

The words melted into blurs. My throat locked. A sound clawed out of me—a sob. Ugly, raw, choking. The kind I thought I’d buried years ago.

Junior whined, his small body pressing against my leg.

But nothing could stop the flood. The letter crumpled in my fists as I bent forward, shoulders shaking, drowning in her goodbye.

Then the door clicked open.

"...Ye-jun?"

The voice froze me.

I spun.

And there she was. Han Ji-a. Alive. Real. Breath catching in her chest as she stared at me. Her gaze darted to the crumpled letter in my hands, to the wetness on my cheeks.

She stopped in the doorway, eyes wide. And then—unbelievably—she smiled. Teasing.

"Seriously? The guy who once fought an entire gang with nothing but a baseball bat is crying over a piece of paper?"

My lips parted. No words came out.

Instead, I crossed the room in three desperate steps and pulled her into me. Arms locked around her, crushing, terrified that if I let go she’d vanish like smoke.

She didn’t resist. She held me back. Her warmth seared through me.

Time slowed. The world stilled.

When the storm in my chest finally dulled, I leaned back enough to see her face. My voice cracked, heavy with everything I couldn’t say.

"Come back with me. Please. I can’t—if I lost you again—"

Her smile softened, tender now. But her eyes... her eyes told me the truth before her words did.

She shook her head. "No, Ye-jun."

The rejection landed sharper than any monster’s claws, cutting deeper than any wound I’d ever taken.