Chapter 9 : Woman and Monkey

I stepped out of the room, my breath shaky, eyes heavy from exhaustion. Seo-yeon and Sang-woo were still unconscious. The hallway was dark and quiet, lit only by the dim light peeking through the broken windows.

I searched nearby rooms, hoping to find anything useful. A few wooden chairs, a small table, and two water bottles—one half full, the other barely holding a sip. I dragged the furniture back and barricaded the door, stacking them tightly so it wouldn’t be as easy to open as before.

I took a sip from the bottle with less water, the stale liquid scraping against my dry throat. I tried to keep myself awake—two people were depending on me. I kept checking their pulses every hour, silently praying they’d stay alive.

Somewhere deep in the night, thunder rolled across the sky. The lightning didn’t stop—it felt like the sky itself was cracking open. Then came the sound of footsteps… fast, inhuman… and a roar—no, three roars. They overlapped like a chorus of nightmares, so loud they felt like they came from inside my skull.

And then... silence.

But it didn’t last. Hours later, new sounds emerged—less intense, but enough to keep my hand tight on the gun.

As morning light began to creep in through the cracks, I heard a stirring. It was Seo-yeon.

Seo-Yeon stirred beside the cracked wall, her fingers twitching first, then her breath shifting to a pained whisper. I instantly moved to her side, placing the back of my hand on her forehead.

“Yeon,” I called softly. “Seo-Yeon, can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first. “Oppa…?”

I propped her up gently, cradling her head and guiding her against the wall for support. “Hey, don’t move too much. You hit your head.”

She blinked, then suddenly winced, grabbing at her temple. “Ahh—my head… what happened?”

I quickly dug through my pocket and pulled out the headache medicine. “Here. Take this. And drink some water—slowly.”

She sipped carefully, grimacing between breaths.

“You passed out after the crash,” i said, my voice low but steady. “I carried you here… We’ve been hiding in a construction site ever since.” I continued "We’ve been hiding in this construction site ever since. A monster came during the night."

Seo-Yeon’s eyes widened. “The… the monster?”

"Sir Sang-woo used his nature to erase our presence. That’s the only reason we’re still alive.”

I gave her a brief rundown of everything: the mission system, the status window, the weapons that had appeared.

“So that’s why there’s a gun and a shield…” she said, pointing.

“You should check your own window too.”

As soon as she nodded, a transparent screen appeared in front of us.

Name: Park Seo-yeon

Race: Human | Age: 21

Nature: Heartbound

Class: Telekinetic

Sub-Class: (Unlocks after Mission 5)

Title: (Unlocks after Sub-Class)

Level: 001

Strength: 006 | HP: 008

Agility: 011 | Mana: 018

Stamina: 007

Nature – Heartbound

*Your strength deepens when protecting those you care for. When a bonded ally is within 10 meters, you gain +30% mana regeneration and +20% resistance to fear effects.

Class – Telekinetic

You can move objects with a total mass up to 10% of your body weight. Regenerates 0.5 mana per second while resting during battle.

Weapon (Not Selected)

She selected her weapon—a pair of delicate ring-shaped earrings, each with a miniature golden apple dangling from it.

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Weapon (Selected): Appleton’s Earring (C)

Increases resistance to temperature by 80%

Increases natural healing by 8%

“You should wear them now,” I said, helping her take off her old ones.

As soon as she put them on, she blinked. “I… I’m not cold anymore. And my headache—it’s fading. I feel… stronger.”

For a moment, they sat in silence.

“I thought I lost you,” he muttered. “When you weren’t waking up—”

“I’m okay now,” she whispered. “Oppa, I’m okay.”

I leaned back, letting the tension leave my shoulders for the first time in hours.

“Your eyes,” she said softly, her gaze tracing the veins burning red against my fatigue. “You haven’t slept, have you?”

I gave a tired smile, brushing it off with a light shrug. “I’m okay. It’s not a big deal.”

But she wasn’t having it. Not this time. “Look at them. They’re red. Redder than my face during my death scene in our drama series.” she added, trying to inject a little levity, even though worry lined her voice.

Still, I resisted. “I’m fine. Really.”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes tender. “Then just let your head rest here,” she offered, tapping her shoulder. “You don’t have to sleep. Just lean.”

I hesitated. Just for a second.Even though she was injured, weakened, and still regaining strength, Seo-Yeon noticed the heaviness in my eyes. I tried to hide it—my exhaustion, the way my shoulders sagged, how my grip on the gun had loosened without realizing.

But the moment my head touched her shoulder, a wave of relief passed through me. She felt it in his breath, the way it softened, slowed. Like his entire body had finally admitted it was tired.

A scene played in her mind. A younger version of him, fifteen, furious after an audition gone wrong. He’d kicked over a trash can outside the building, gritting his teeth in frustration.

“It’s not just the audition,” he’d said, voice shaking more from disappointment than rage. “I’m sick of trying to be someone I’m not. I don’t have the voice, or the look.”

She remembered walking up to him, hand gently resting on his arm, grounding him. “You have presence,” she had told him.

He laughed bitterly. “Presence doesn’t pay the fees.”

“You were the only one in that room who made me feel something,” she had said back then, eyes steady. “That has to mean something.”

And when he’d asked—almost helplessly—“Why do you even care?”

She had answered honestly: “Because you're the only one here who looks at me like a person, not a brand.”

The memory faded, like a warm breeze through cracked glass. She looked down at him now, asleep, his head resting in the same place it had years ago after that disastrous audition. His expression was softer in sleep, his breath even.

I knew this would work,” she whispered, barely audible. “He did the same thing back then too.”

A few hours later.

Sang-Woo stirred awake, his breath shallow, ribs aching. His vision took a second to focus, then sharpened on the quiet figure sitting nearby.

Seo-Yeon.

She sat against the cold wall, unmoving. Her eyes were red, not from tears this time, but exhaustion. Her arms rested gently around In-Ji, whose head lay on her thighs. He was fast asleep—breathing slowly, finally at peace for the first time since… everything.

Sang-Woo didn’t speak at first. He just watched, taking in the scene—the way Seo-Yeon absentmindedly brushed her fingers through In-Ji’s hair, the way she held herself upright despite the obvious fatigue in her bones.

And then, quietly, his voice broke the stillness.

“…You’re awake.”

Seo-Yeon looked up. Her eyes met his—and for a moment, the years between them flashed in his mind. He remembered her at fourteen, standing nervously in front of a camera for the first time. He remembered the way she’d clung to his coat during winter shoots. The way she always called him *manager-nim*, even when she was scared.

Now she looked like a woman surviving a war.

“You should’ve woken me,” he said gently, walking over and crouching beside her. “You didn’t have to stay up alone.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered. “Not after everything. Not with both of you still out cold.”

She looked down at In-Ji, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “He tried to act fine. But he just collapsed the moment I told him I was okay.”

Sang-Woo followed her gaze. His expression didn’t change much—but the quiet in his eyes was filled with something raw. Something paternal.

“He’s lucky,” he murmured. “To have you watching over him like that.”

Seo-Yeon gave a faint smile. “You used to say that about me.”

“I still mean it,” he replied.

A beat of silence. Then he added, more softly, “Seeing you like this… part of me wants to tell you to get away from all this. Hide. Let me protect you like I always have.”

She chuckled quietly, and for a second, she sounded like the girl he used to know.

“But I know you’re not that girl anymore,” Sang-Woo finished. “You’re stronger now. Stronger than I ever gave you credit for.”

Seo-Yeon looked at him, eyes glassy but warm. “You’ve always protected me. But now I want to protect others too.”

Sang-Woo nodded. There was a flicker of pain in his eyes, but pride too. “Then let me help you do that.”

They stayed like that for a moment longer.

Finally, Sang-Woo stood, offering a small stretch. “I’ll keep watch. Let your legs rest before he drools all over them.”

Seo-Yeon laughed softly. “Too late for that.”

Sang-Woo smiled, just a bit—more with his eyes than his mouth—and turned to the window.

He didn’t say it aloud. But inside, he was thinking:

You’ve grown up. You really have.

Hours passed. When I woke, my head was in her lap.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sang-woo said dryly. “Very irresponsible.” He smiled. “But you did a good job with the barricade. And the water.”

I blushed. “When did you wake up?”

“A few hours ago.”

“So… what now?” I asked.

“I say we stay here. Wait for instructions. No more risking lives.”

I agreed. Especially with Seo-yeon still recovering.

We rotated shifts that night—two awake, one asleep. It was freezing. We were out of food. But nothing attacked us.

Until next morning.

We heard skittering above us. Animalistic screeches. Then—a body slammed against the grilled window.

We first heard them before we saw them.

The sound multiplied. Dozens of small, clawed feet scuttling over concrete, crawling like a swarm of bugs. I moved closer, gun in hand, heart thudding harder with each second.

Then one dropped.

It slammed against the grilled window, latching on with four gangly arms. It was about two feet tall, covered in thick white fur except for its furless chest, belly, and palms. Its eight red eyes glowed like embers, twitching rapidly in every direction. Its long black tail—easily twice its body length—snaked behind it, ending in twin spider-like tips with webbing glands pulsing.

It let out a high-pitched screech and yanked at the grill. Once. Twice. Metal groaned, then cracked.

Bang! I fired at its head.

It fell.

But two more instantly replaced it.

“Remove the barricade, now!” Sang-Woo shouted, his voice clipped and commanding.

Seo-Yeon sprang into action, helping him pull the stacked chairs and table aside. I shot one monkey between its eyes. It dropped, twitching.

The other launched itself onto the wall, claws sparking as it scaled sideways.

The grill shattered.

They were coming.

We ran—bolting through the corridor, down the crumbling stairwell. A monkey dropped from the ceiling and blocked the way. I fired. Its skull burst.

They followed us. Some ran behind on all six limbs. Others clung to walls, scuttling at impossible angles. The rest swung using silky threads shot from the black tips of their tails.

Another screech above.

One flew toward us like a bullet, web line trailing behind it.

They were everywhere. Some running, some climbing walls, others swinging from tails that shot web-like strands.

I shot another and—

~ You have leveled up.

~ Extra magazine awarded.

Sang-Woo threw up his shield. The monkey slammed into it, grabbing on and scrambling up the front.

“Damn it—!” He shoved it off with a grunt.

I shot it mid-air.

Then four more appeared ahead, red eyes flashing.

Seo-Yeon didn’t hesitate. Her eyes narrowed, and with a motion of her hand, two of them were flung violently against the alley wall. I shot the other two cleanly.

We didn’t stop.

But our sprint ended in a dead end. Crumbling bricks, no exit. Monkeys above, in front, and behind us.

I reloaded.

A fresh mag clicked into place.

“I really don’t want to die,” Seo-Yeon muttered beside me, her voice strained but steady. She wasn’t trembling like before. Her eyes were sharp. Maybe it was her Nature, kicking in. Heartbound.

A spider monkey hissed and pounced from the wall—

CRACK.

One of the monkey heads exploded from a massive axe strike.

“You’re Seo-yeon, right?” came an unfamiliar voice.

Shin Ye-Rin, retrieving her ax. Shin Mi-Sun with a cold stare and Shin Ye-Jun.