I woke up to the smell of antiseptic in my nose. A soft, white light blinded my eyes.
I tried to move. A deep, dull ache shot through my entire body, pinning me down. I wasn't in the boiler room anymore. I was in a bed, with clean sheets.
"You're awake."
The voice was calm, familiar.
I turned my head, slowly. Min-Soo was sitting in a chair next to my bed. He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes.
"The infirmary," he said, answering the question I hadn't asked. "I found you this morning in the basement hallway on level 6. You were... in bad shape. The healers have been working on you for hours."
There was a silence. I didn't know what to say. He had warned me. I had been stupid. I had insulted him. And still, he was here.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Like I got hit by a truck," I managed to say, my voice hoarse.
He gave a small, sad smile. "That's a pretty accurate description, from what I saw."
I looked at him. He looked worried. Genuinely worried.
Guilt hit me harder than any punch from the night before.
"Min-Soo..." I started.
My throat tightened.
"I'm sorry."
The words came out like a breath.
"You were right. About everything. I was an idiot. I'm sorry for what I said to you."
Min-Soo looked down at his hands. He was quiet for a moment. Then he looked up, and there was no trace of 'I told you so' in his eyes. Just fatigue and cautious relief.
"It's okay, Ji-Hoon," he said softly. "The important thing is that you're alive."
I stayed in the infirmary all day. The healers, students in the medical specialization, came by from time to time, their hands glowing with a soothing green light. Slowly, the sharpest pain began to fade, replaced by a huge stiffness and exhaustion.
Min-Soo stayed with me. He didn't talk much. He read things on his terminal, occasionally handing me a glass of water. His silent presence was more comforting than any words. Our alliance was no longer just a transaction. It had become something else.
In the late afternoon, as the sun began to set, my interface flashed with a blue light. It wasn't a personal message. It was a general announcement from the academy.
[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT]
[The weekend has begun. Classes will resume Monday at 8:00 AM.]
[Academy portals are open. Students are permitted to leave campus for family visits or leisure in the city until Sunday, 10:00 PM.]
[Reminder: Student behavior outside reflects on Apex Academy. Act with honor.]
Honor. The word echoed bitterly in my mind.
The weekend. I had completely forgotten the passage of time.
A single thought cut through the pain and humiliation.
My mother.
I hadn't seen her since I entered this prison. I hadn't spoken to her. I had to see her. I had to make sure she was okay, that she had everything she needed.
I sat up in bed, ignoring the protests from my muscles.
"Min-Soo," I said. "I have to get out of here."
Min-Soo looked up from his terminal, looking concerned. "Are you sure? The healers said you should stay for observation until tomorrow at least."
"I'm sure," I said, my voice firm. I swung myself to sit on the edge of the bed. Every movement was an effort, but my determination was stronger than the pain. "I have to go home."
He saw the resolve in my eyes. He didn't push it. He just nodded. "Okay. But be careful. Your internal injuries aren't fully healed yet."
He helped me stand up. My legs were weak. I had to lean on him to take the first few steps. It was humiliating, but I swallowed my pride.
We left the infirmary. I was limping, and every step was a reminder of last night.
As we crossed the campus, I saw other students, dressed in civilian clothes, heading for the exit, laughing and talking about their plans for the weekend. For them, it was a break. For me, it was a return to reality.
We arrived at the academy's grand gate. The same guard who had looked at me with contempt on the first day was there. He saw me, recognized my bruised face, and had a small smirk on his face. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
I ignored his gaze and walked out.
The city air felt different. Freer.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Min-Soo asked.
I shook my head. "No. I'll be fine. Thanks, Min-Soo. For everything."
He nodded. "Be careful, Ji-Hoon. See you on Monday."
He turned and went back inside the fortress.
I stood there for a moment, alone. Then I started walking, limping, toward the bus stop. Toward home.
The bus left the wealthy neighborhoods of Gangnam, where Apex Academy was located. The glass skyscrapers and luxury shops slowly gave way to more familiar, worn-down buildings.
The ride across Seoul was long. Every jolt of the bus sent a wave of pain through my ribs. I leaned against the window, watching the city go by. The neon lights of Myeongdong, the busy streets of Hongdae... It all felt like it belonged to another world, another life.
Finally, the bus arrived in my neighborhood. Gwanak-gu. A working-class neighborhood of small, sloping streets and red brick apartment buildings packed tightly together. It was less glamorous than Gangnam, but it was home.
I got off at my usual stop. The smell of tteokbokki and fried chicken restaurants hung in the air. It was the smell of normalcy.
I walked slowly, limping, through the streets I knew by heart. The old convenience store where I'd buy ramen. The laundromat. The small park where the elderly played baduk.
Nothing had changed. But I had.
I finally arrived at my building. A small, four-story building with peeling paint. I climbed the stairs to the third floor. My breath was short, my vision a little blurry from the pain and exhaustion.
I stopped in front of our apartment door. Door 302.
I took out my key, my hand shaking.
I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself. I didn't want my mother to see me like this. Hurt and beaten.
I opened the door, gently.
The apartment was silent. Too silent.
Usually, even when my mother was sleeping, I would hear the steady beep of the heart monitor. But now, there was nothing.
A ball of ice formed in my stomach.
"Eomma?" I called out, my voice barely a whisper.
No answer.
I walked in, closing the door behind me. The living room was empty. I walked through the small hallway to her room.
The door was open.
The bed was empty. The sheets were undone.
And the heart monitor was off, its screen as black as night.
Panic seized me. A cold, total panic, far worse than anything I'd felt in the Pit.
I looked around, searching for a clue, for anything.
And I saw it.
On the nightstand, where the machine used to be, there was a single sheet of paper, folded in half. It was a notice from the hospital.
I grabbed the paper, my hands shaking so badly I could barely unfold it.
My eyes scanned the lines of printed text. Medical words I didn't understand. But I understood the main sentence.
...transfer to the intensive care unit following a rapid deterioration of the patient's condition...
At the bottom of the page, there was a handwritten note, scribbled hastily by a nurse.
A deposit of 5 million won is required to begin the new treatment. Please contact the billing department as soon as possible.
Five million won. It was an astronomical sum. An amount I had no chance of getting.
The paper slipped from my fingers.
I looked at the empty bed. Reality hit me with the force of a hammer.
I was too late.