The world stilled for a moment, the dust particles hanging in the air as if paying respect to his grief. Then, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A hand, small and trembling, emerged from the wreckage of the school.
SI-WOO
(sobbing)
Ye-jun!
The hand grew more frantic, desperately searching for purchase amidst the wreckage. With renewed strength, Si-woo stumbled towards the school, the dust from his fall billowing around him like a cloud of grief. His eyes locked on the hand, a beacon of hope in the sea of despair.
Suddenly, the air grew charged, the hairs on his arms standing on end. The ground beneath his feet vibrated gently, building into a rhythmic pulse that grew stronger with each passing second. The hand paused, and Si-woo watched in horror as a bluish light began to envelop it, pulling Ye-Juns distorted, bloody body out of the rubble.
The light grew brighter, illuminating the ruins around them. It was the same light from the earthquake. The same light that had promised hope and salvation, but had instead brought only loss and pain.
SI-WOO
(screaming)
NO!
The hand grew still, the light consuming Ye-jun's body inch by inch. Si-woo's screams grew louder, his legs pumping as he sprinted towards the wreckage. His eyes burned with tears, blurring his vision, but he couldn't tear them away from the sight before him. The light grew brighter, and the air grew colder, the ground beneath him trembling with a power that seemed to beckon him forward.
YE-JUN
(muffled)
Si-woo...
The light enveloped Ye-jun completely, and with a final, agonizing cry, he disappeared into the ether. The pulsing subsided, and the earth grew still once more. The silence was absolute, a counterpoint to the chaos that had just unfolded.
Si-woo stumbled forward, his knees giving way as he reached the front of what used to be the middle school his brother had been moments before. The rubble lay undisturbed as if Ye-jun had never been there. His chest heaved with sobs that seemed to tear through him, echoing through the desolate streets.
"No...no...no," he chanted, his voice hoarse and broken. He could still feel the heat of the light on his skin, the cold emptiness where his brother's hand had been.
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He staggered homeward, the mask now hanging around his neck, his body numb, useless. The air outside was thick with dust and the metallic scent of fear. Each step was heavier than the last as if the very earth was mourning with him. The neighborhood was a ghost town, with only the occasional sound of distant wailing to break the silence.
As he approached the shattered remains of the convenience store, he saw it through new eyes. The familiar shelves, now twisted and broken, held no comfort. With trembling hands, Si-woo reached into the wreckage, searching for something, anything that could shield him from the acrid air of loss and despair that choked the streets. His fingertips brushed against cold cans, shattered glass, and the lifeless hand of the store owner, Mr. Tsun He recoiled, pulling his hand back in horror.
He scanned the debris, eyes blurred with tears. His hand found a mask, and he put it on, the fabric doing little to filter the toxic fumes that clung to the ruins like a specter.
The streets of Yohen were eerily silent, the only sound the occasional groan of a shifting pile of rubble. The once-lively town was now a ghostly shell, a testament to the sudden and brutal demise of civilization. He walked with a heavy heart, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of life. The sight of his home, or what was left of it, brought a fresh wave of pain. There were only bits and pieces of the gate that once gave him comfort in security. The house he had known all his life now stood as a mere skeleton, the flesh of its walls torn away by the relentless earthquake.
As he approached the door, he found himself biting his nails, a nervous habit he hadn't had since he was much younger. The mask he had found in the ruins of the convenience store felt tight and suffocating, but he knew it was necessary. He took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold, the dust rising to greet him like a malevolent specter.
The sight of his mother's lifeless body was almost too much to bear. He had sat there for what felt like an eternity, his eyes transfixed on her still form. The blood had congealed into a macabre painting on the floor, a grim reminder of the chaos that had taken her from him. He knew he couldn't just leave her there, so he forced himself to his feet, his legs feeling like they were made of lead.
With a trembling hand, Si-woo reached out to touch her cheek, cold and pale. He whispered a prayer, a silent goodbye that seemed to hang in the air around him. He felt a sudden urge to rip off the mask, to let the outside world in, but he knew that was a dangerous thought. The mask had become a symbol of protection, a barrier between him and the horrors that surrounded him.
He stepped out of the house, mask on his face feeling like a prison that allowed him to breathe but stole his voice. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted street. As he made his way to what was left of the convenience store, he noticed something that made his heart skip a beat. A little girl, no more than six years old, with dark cream hair, was following him. She tried to stay hidden, but her small frame was difficult to miss in the barren landscape.