Days had passed since the men had last come for her, since the door had opened and their shadows had filled the room, demanding information she did not even fully understand herself.
Time inside this place no longer moved in hours or days-it blurred into a constant, exhausting stretch of pain, fear, and waiting. Each day felt the same, marked only by hunger, the cold creeping into her bones, and the unbearable tension of not knowing when they would return again.
The girl and the boy were still sleeping on the thin, worn-out mattress when the heavy door creaked open.
The sound was quiet, but in this place even the smallest noise felt like a threat. It echoed against the bare walls, sharp enough to slice through the fragile calm of sleep.
A man stepped inside, carrying a metal tray with dry bread and two small glasses of water.
The tray clinked softly as he moved, the sound foreign and unsettling in the otherwise silent room. His presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavier, even though he did not say a single word.
He noticed that both of them were asleep-or at least appeared to be-and placed the tray carefully in front of the mattress.
Without a glance back, without any sign of hesitation or emotion, he turned around and left again, locking the door behind him with a dull, final click.
It was already the ninth day.
Nine days since the world they knew had vanished.
Nine days of captivity, fear, and unanswered questions.
Nine days that felt far longer than they should have.
"Noona..." the young boy whispered softly, his voice barely louder than a breath.
There was urgency in it, but also fear-fear of being heard, fear of what might happen if they were.
He had been awake when the man entered, his body tense and frozen, his heart racing painfully against his ribs.
Out of fear, he had forced himself to stay completely still, eyes closed, breathing slow and shallow, praying that the man would not notice him watching.
The very second the door closed again and the lock clicked into place, he carefully shifted, peeking toward the tray to see what they had brought this time.
The girl stirred slightly beside him, reacting to the faint movement and the whispered sound of his voice.
Her body was sore, every muscle protesting as she slowly woke up.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, her voice hoarse and exhausted.
Even speaking felt like effort now, as if her body had forgotten what rest truly meant.
"Noona, they were here," he whispered urgently, his eyes wide as he looked at her.
The girl immediately sat up, every trace of sleep vanishing in an instant.
Her body reacted faster than her thoughts, fueled by fear and instinct alone.
"Are you hurt?" she asked rapidly, her hands already reaching for him.
"Did they say something? Did they do anything to you?"
Her voice trembled as she searched his face, his arms, his hands-looking for any sign of injury she might have missed.
She scanned him desperately, her fingers hovering over his sleeves and collar, her eyes tracing every inch of him, terrified of what she might find.
He quickly shook his head, reassuring her as best as he could, and pointed toward the tray of bread and water lying on the floor in front of them.
The boy leaned forward carefully, his movements slow and cautious, and picked up a slice of bread along with one of the glasses of water.
The girl managed a small, tired smile at him-a fragile expression that barely masked how exhausted she truly was.
