What's left of you | Minsung ✔️

3. The Camp

*1423 words

3.

The train chugged along the tracks. It did not stop once for the entirety of the 3-hour long ride. Soon Jisung's stomach started to grumble, he hadn't eaten breakfast as he was too busy being loud and obnoxious. Typical angry-Jisung-behavior. Some might even call him bratty. 

Thoughts of every possible scenario regarding the camp tormented his mind. Was he now a prisoner? Would he have to give away his personal belongings? A single cell with a tiny barred window? No privacy? Gross food? Knitting? 

Jisung nibbled on his nails. His heart raced. A sudden, soft kick to his shin snapped him back to the present. Annoyed, he looked at pretty-face-guy. 

Having seemingly read his mind, the guy said: "Cheer up, we're not going to prison. It's still a camp." 

"But why the uniform?" Jisung whispered, being too scared to talk normally. 

"It's a federal institution, the government finances it, so people like us won't go to jail. We still have rights, you know." 

"People like us? The hell you talking about?" 

Pretty-face-guy narrowed his eyes at Jisung. "Young adults, first time offenders? Community hours? Ring a bell?" 

Jisung stared at him with a flat expression. Was his debt enough to put him into a place like this? He didn't say another word. Instead, he resumed biting his fingernails while looking out the window. Landscapes of hills, trees, and distant mountains rolled by, colors blurred together at the high speed. A cloudless sky and the high noon sun. 

The break pads squealed as the train came to a stop. The woman from before announced that everyone was to exit the train in an orderly manner. 

Once outside, the sun burned down on Jisung's head, making him feel dizzy. This sucked! Like school children, they all - dozens of young people - marched away from the station. Jisung craned his neck, trying to have a better look over the mass of people. There were two guards at equal distances at the front, in the middle, and at the very end. Their blue jackets reflected the sunlight, making them hard to overlook. One of them now walked near Jisung. He secretly glanced over and sighed in relief when he saw no gun hanging from the belt. 

Hardly anyone talked. The asphalt soon turned into a gravel road that led them into a forest. Tall trees, moss-covered rocks, soft rustling of dry leaves in the breeze. The further they went the darker the green of the moss became. The cool air smelled of moist grass. Jisung pressed his bag harder against his chest, seeking some type of comfort. 

When they stepped out of the forest, the warm humid air smacked Jisung in the face like a brick. The road ahead started to go slightly uphill towards a massive building. The yellow facade and dark roof made quite the impressive contrast to the light blue sky. Soon Jisung started having trouble keeping his pace. He was sweating like a pig. It was July, that was inevitable. Still, Jisung would rather not. 

They entered the vast courtyard. There was the big yellow building in front of them and a bit further back were wooden cabins. They were in the middle of a forest, surrounded by nothing but trees. This double sucked! Drenched in sweat, feeling dazed, Jisung and the others started looking around. The woman from the train stood on a crate and talked into a megaphone. 

"I will now call out everyone's name one by one. Once you hear your name, you walk up to me and take such a folder." She held a pile red folders up in the air. "It contains everything you need to know. Further, my colleague will assign you your cabin and cabinmate." 

Jisung groaned internally. Soon, he barely paid attention to anything around him. Many times his ears perked up when he thought he had heard his name. Turned out, many shared a similar sounding name. He almost missed his cue when someone nudged him. The woman repeated his name, sharply. Jisung stumbled forward, took the red folder, and quickly left the crowd. 

He went to the parking lot and sat down between two cars, needing some shadow and time to think. With shaky hands, he opened his bag and pulled out a water bottle. All that stressing out and walking in the heat had worn him down. Before he emptied the bottle, he pressed it against his forehead. It wasn't cool anymore, but still a noticeable difference in temperature. 

"Please no migraine," Jisung groaned under closed eyes. 

Next time he opened his eyes again, he found the place in front of him deserted. Only occasionally would a few people walk across the courtyard, Jisung recognized the red folder in their hands. He took his own and opened to the first page. There wasn't even a cover image, just plain text. 

Welcome to Camp Chuncheon! 

Founded in 1768, a group of judicial officers bought the premises in the middle of Chuncheon's untouched nature. Those individuals believed in - 

Jisung skipped the whole paragraph. A lesson in history was the last thing on his overstimulated mind. 
Well, at least the last sentence stated in bold letters: You are not a prisoner! 

Breakfast: 7am - 7:30am 
Lunch: 12:30pm - 1pm 
Lunchbreak: 12:30pm - 1:30pm 
Dinner: 7pm - 8pm 
Please note that any type of misconduct will have consequences. 

Jisung sighed and closed the folder, rubbing his eyes. He had skimmed through the pages, this place really seemed like a regular camp that offered many activities; only downside was that he couldn't walk around freely. The nearest city was a twenty-minute walk away. If he desired to go there, he had to 1) earn the credits for it, and 2) sign out and, upon return, sign back in. 

Right now, Jisung had two things that helped him to not give up right now: The first one was the concert of his favorite K-Pop group in a couple days, and the second was the promise of 25% off his debt. A desperate man clings to any carrot, a wise person once said. 

His stomach made a loud noise, contracting painfully. Pulling out his phone - 12:07pm - he considered sending his grandmother a not so nice text. Basically, she put him there. End of story. But he didn't. He was a brat, not an asshole. 

Jisung stood up, opening the envelope with details about his housing situation. A simple graphic showed the cabins on the grounds. His cabin was pointed out with a giant red dot. He started walking towards it, sometimes crossing paths with other... participants? Convicts? Inmates? Fellow sufferers? 

The cabins all looked the same. Grayish, weather worn wood. A few stairs led to the open porch; at this time of day, the roof cast a shadow over the small area. Jisung went up the stairs, the wood creaked with every step. The door creaked just as loud and annoying as it swung open, and revealed a modern looking space. 

Jisung entered, letting the door close by itself. The air felt wonderfully cool. Contrary to what he expected, it didn't smell musty in here. There was even an en-suite bathroom, thank god! Jisung would've hated it if he had to walk around outside only to find a crusty loo. 

There were two beds on either side of the room; the right one was empty, while there was a backpack on the other bed. Bookshelves that functioned as room dividers at each bed's end gave them some privacy. There also was a wide wardrobe. A desk and two chairs stood in front of the windows. Simple. But it looked really nice. If it wasn't for the fact that Jisung was there as a punishment, he might have actually liked it. 

Jisung plopped down on the vacant bed and let out an exhausted sigh. When he heard the noise of a flushing toilet, his eyes shot open and he sat up. His jaw dropped as he saw someone familiar walking out of the bathroom. When their eyes met, Jisung gave him a grim glare, while the other one scoffed. 

"What's your name again?" Jisung asked, trying to sound as cool and arrogant as possible. 

"Looks like you vomited out part of your memory. But for you I'll repeat myself. The name's Lee Minho." 

For once, Jisung was too stunned for a witty comeback. He always thought so highly of himself, full of wit and cleverness. 

Looked like he had to step up his game.