Once upon a time in God's playground-Chapter 94 - 93 : The reason

Han Ji-a handed me a dented bottle of water and sat beside me. No dramatic sigh, no words of comfort—just the weight of her presence and the faint creak of the old chair as she settled.

The silence between us wasn’t awkward. It was... suffocating, like Seoul itself had wrapped its concrete hands around our throats.

The kind of silence that carried unsaid things, heavier than any monster we’d fought.

I cracked the cap open and took a sip, wincing as the cool water slid down my raw throat. "Thanks."

She nodded once, her expression calm—maybe too calm. Like it was practiced. But her eyes betrayed her. They carried something unspoken.

Worry. Guilt.

A shadow she didn’t want me to see.

I hated that I saw it anyway.

I let a few heartbeats pass before breaking the quiet. "So... how’ve you been holding up in Seoul City? You know—besides the charming end-of-the-world décor."

Her lips curved faintly, but it wasn’t a smile. More like an echo of one. "Do you mean before the apocalypse... or after?"

I gave a humorless chuckle. "Dealer’s choice. Whichever brand of misery you prefer."

"I was doing fine," she said softly. Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor underneath. "Better than fine, actually. We kept in touch, sure... but you know how it was. Calls. Chats. Screens between us. Never the same as—" She cut herself short, biting her lip. "—as seeing you."

Her words hit harder than I liked, so I drowned them with another gulp of water.

When I finally lowered the bottle, I asked the question gnawing at me. "Then explain this. If you’re fine... if you’re alive and breathing... then why the hell don’t you come back with me? It’d be safer than here."

Her eyes softened, but she shook her head slowly. "It’s not that I don’t want to leave with you, Ye-Jun. I do. But..." Her hand clenched against her knee. "Some of my friends are missing. I can’t just abandon them."

I leaned back, arms crossed, giving her my best are-you-serious look. "Friends. That’s what’s keeping you here?"

"Yes," she said firmly, not flinching. "One of them is my roommate. Lee Hyori. She disappeared right after Mission 5 ended."

Her fingers flicked, pulling up her party window. Sure enough, the name Lee Hyori glowed faintly. Alive. Still tethered to this hell.

"She’s still alive." Ji-a’s voice cracked on the whisper, like she was reassuring herself as much as me. "I think... I know where she might be."

I frowned, narrowing my eyes. "And yet you’re still here, waiting, instead of charging in to rescue her. Which means there’s a bigger problem."

"There is," she admitted, exhaling. "I suspect she’s been taken. By a man named Su-Bin. Before this... he was an asylum case. Sentenced for life. Dangerous. Delusional. When the world collapsed, he was freed. And now... people follow him."

Of course they do. Apocalypse 101: the freaks rise to the top.

"Do you know where he’s keeping her?" I pressed.

She shook her head, frustration tightening her jaw. "No. That’s why I’m still here."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Great. So we’ve got a missing friend, a lunatic cult leader, and zero leads. Just what I needed."

I sighed, then snapped my fingers. "Alright. Roger—front and center."

The air rippled, and my feathered companion shimmered into existence. A one-legged owl with a glare sharp enough to cut steel landed on the table with a low thud. His single golden eye blinked, unimpressed with the drama.

Ji-a nearly jumped out of her skin. "What... what the hell—?!"

"Relax," I drawled. "He doesn’t bite. Unless I’m in a particularly bad mood."

I gestured at her. "Show him a photo of your missing friend."

She hesitated but eventually pulled out a crumpled photo. Roger tilted his head, eye glinting as he studied the image with unsettling focus.

Before she could even wrap her head around that, Junior decided it was his turn to join the party.

A fuzzy head with too many red eyes peeked out from my hoodie.

The moment Ji-a saw him, her face went white. "W-WHAT IS THAT?! GET IT AWAY FROM ME!"

"Ah, right. You hate spiders," I muttered. Junior chittered innocently, clinging tighter to my shoulder. I gave him a pat. "Don’t worry. He’s house-trained. Mostly. Just... don’t let him near a fruit stand. He’ll rob the whole thing blind."

"Ye-Jun, I’m serious!" She scrambled back, hands gripping the chair like it was a shield. "That thing—just—just—ugh, why is it staring at me like that?!"

I raised both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Breathe. He’s my pet. Tamed. Harmless—unless you’re a banana. Or a cricket. Or a—"

"Ye-Jun!" she snapped, eyes blazing.

I stopped before she had an aneurysm. "Alright, fine. He’s family. End of discussion."

Didn’t help. Her breathing was still sharp, uneven.

I sighed, deciding it was time to change the subject. "Here. Maybe this will calm you down."

With a thought, my stat screen flickered open in the air.

Level 32 glared back at us, stats stacked high like a skyscraper built out of blood and sweat.

Ji-a froze. "...You’re... level thirty...?" Her voice broke, disbelief painted across her face. "Already?"

"Give or take." I smirked, leaning back. "Guess I’ve been busier than you thought."

She didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, with a quiet breath, she pulled up her own window.

Shadow Assassin.A class built for speed and silence. Her level wasn’t low—but compared to mine, it was a canyon.

"Shadow Assassin, huh?" I tilted my head, scanning her stats. "Figures. You always did like sneaking around and keeping things hidden instead of facing things head on."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but pride flickered in her eyes. "It suits me."

I held her gaze, and for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel like we were just survivors comparing scars. We were still us. Different. Hardened. But connected, in ways I didn’t want to admit out loud.

And somewhere out there, a missing friend—and a lunatic named Su-Bin—were waiting.