INHO 32

The Isolated Island (12)

The three of us froze on the spot.

The surge of emotion and hope pressed down on us as if it had weight. It felt like being swept away by a wave.

“N-no, please, we’re the ones who should be sorry for not coming sooner…”

The words slipped out before I realized it, my voice trembling. But I couldn’t finish my sentence.

“Come now, how could young people like you have known anything? It’s enough that we have hope now—hope that we might finally get out.”

Before I could finish apologizing, another old man spoke up, his tone gentle yet firm.

“Yes. We’ll make sure everyone can get out together.”

Instead of me, who still couldn’t find my words, Min Hajun replied. His voice carried a quiet, unwavering resolve. He slowly turned his head, looking at each person gathered there, one by one.

In his eyes burned a blue light that would not go out.

We were resting in one of the houses they’d lent us. They tried to give us two, but we firmly refused—one was more than enough. So one of us had to sleep on the floor, but honestly, being able to relax in a closed room at all was more than enough.

It didn’t feel right to take both anyway. Watching the original owner pack up and leave already made me feel uneasy.

“I’m rested enough…”

We hadn’t even been sitting thirty minutes.

I turned away from Min Hajun, who was trying to stand, and took off my jacket completely.

“It’s better to rest properly while we can. Don’t leave while you’re still low on mana—at least get some sleep.”

Since there was no sunrise or sunset here, it was impossible to tell the time. I had no idea how long we’d been awake.

During battle, the adrenaline kept us going, but now my head throbbed dully. We must’ve gone at least a full day without sleep.

“Suhyuk’s recruiting volunteers for the search, anyway… and we should give the townspeople time to think.”

“But—”

“Enough. Lie down.”

I jerked my chin toward the straw bed. Finally, Min Hajun’s shoulders sagged, and he obediently went to lie down.

Once I confirmed he was settled, I turned to Lee Yul, who was sitting quietly nearby.

“You too—put your clone to rest and go feed your real body.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t make me say it twice. Why do you never want to rest?”

Lee Yul sighed, glancing toward Min Hajun’s bed.

“Fine. But if anything happens, make sure to work that bastard hard.”

“Don’t worry. Rest up. Survival is about efficiency.”

“Yeah, yeah. You old man.”

Instead of taking the bed, Yul flopped down flat on the floor. I’d tried to give him the last bed, but he waved me off.

“I’m a clone—what do I need a bed for? You use it.”

“But you’re the one burning mana—”

“Then share it with me.”

I hesitated for a moment, then shook my head.

“It’s too small for two people.”

The bed barely fit one person as it was. Two of us would be cramped.

“What?”

Yul suddenly burst out laughing, bending double. Then, still chuckling, he looked up.

“Obviously, I was joking. Why’d you think so hard about it?”

What the hell—he’s the one who said it!

“Just go to sleep already.”

I stood up and headed for the bed he’d given up. Yul chuckled a few more times before going limp, like a puppet with its strings cut. The connection must’ve gone out.

‘Yeah, he’s probably the most exhausted of us.’

He’d been controlling that clone this whole time without eating a single meal. Who knows how long he’d been fasting? At least we’d had some dried meat.

The bed was much softer than the floor.

Curling up, I closed my eyes.

I didn’t know how long I’d slept.

A faint noise stirred me awake.

“…—leeping… right now…”

I couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but my head felt clear. I didn’t need any more rest.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Min Hajun sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t look sleepy at all—no traces of drowsiness on his face. When our eyes met, he smiled faintly.

“You didn’t sleep?”

“I did. Just a short nap.”

I didn’t ask further. He knew his own limits better than anyone.

“Sounds like someone’s outside.”

“Yeah. I think Suhyuk came by.”

“You could’ve let him in.”

He only shook his head.

“You were sleeping.”

He could’ve just woken me up…

I got up fully to open the door—but froze at his voice.

“Wait a moment.”

He handed me my coat. It had been neatly folded—when did he even do that?

‘Unnecessary, but…’

It wasn’t cold, but I didn’t want to make his gesture awkward, so I took it and put it on. Then I opened the door.

Outside, several people were standing there, looking uncertain until they saw me.

“Oh—you’re awake!”

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Please, come in.”

As soon as I stepped out, their faces brightened. It looked like they’d been debating whether to stay or leave. Among them was Suhyuk, now a familiar face.

“Then, excuse us.”

“We’re the ones borrowing your place, really.”

When they came in, the first thing they saw was Lee Yul—limp on the floor like a corpse. The visitors froze.

“Uh… that man, is he—?”

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He won’t hear you no matter how loud you are.”

“O-oh… okay…”

Even so, their eyes kept flicking toward him, and they all sat as far away as possible.

I couldn’t blame them—it was eerie. A disconnected clone looked more like a mannequin than a sleeping person. No breath, no motion, just stillness.

Thankfully, they seemed to accept that “psychics must be like that” and left it at that.

“So, about the volunteers…”

“Yes?”

I wasn’t expecting much. When Suhyuk had first offered to help us, most people had reacted with fear. It made sense—ordinary civilians, unarmed, being asked to walk into a monster nest?

‘It’s a big risk.’

More people meant easier scouting—but also more people to protect. I had expected maybe two or three volunteers at most. Ideally, ones familiar with the local terrain.

“We’ve gathered about thirteen people so far. Do you need more?”

“…Thirteen?”

That was about a third of the entire settlement. Considering the elderly couldn’t join, that meant nearly half of the able-bodied adults had volunteered.

“Yes. And there are a few more who said they’ll go if it’s not enough…”

“No, no—that’s more than enough. Actually, we might have to reduce the number.”

“Really?”

He sounded a bit disappointed—he was probably one of the volunteers himself.

“I didn’t expect so many to come forward.”

My honest surprise slipped out. The others exchanged glances, smiling awkwardly. They must’ve heard that Suhyuk had been the only one to help us before.

“Well, it’s different now. Things feel… possible.”

There was sincerity in his voice as he rubbed the back of his neck. Their shared desire—to escape, to return to normal life—was what pushed them.

“Thanks to all of you, we’ll have a much better shot at getting out. Thank you.”

“No, no—we should be thanking you.”

“Still, I think two or three guides will be enough. Please pick those who know the area best.”

“Understood. We’ll sort it out again.”

After saying their goodbyes, they left. Min Hajun and I watched them go, then sat down facing each other again. He frowned slightly, lost in thought.

“…They’re really amazing.”

“You mean the villagers?”

“Yes. I can’t even imagine doing what they’re doing.”

Fair point.

“I know. Honestly, it’s a miracle they’ve survived this long.”

“…I always thought I was doing my best. But maybe I’ve been too arrogant.”

What?

I blinked, thrown off by the sudden confession.

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“These people—they were practically abandoned.”

“That’s not your fault, Hajun.”

“No. I knew there were missing people… but I didn’t think much about it.”

I hesitated, unsure where to start.

If I left him like this, he’d dig himself into that guilt hole until we all drowned with him.

“Hajun—do you think you can save everyone in the world?”

“At the very least, I try to act like I can.”

“Gates are natural disasters. You can’t blame people for not stopping them.”

“…”

He fell silent. But I could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“I don’t know what kind of life you’ve lived, but these people don’t blame you.”

“…Still…”

“Think about who you did save, not who you couldn’t. If not for you, I’d be ashes back in that pyramid.”

“…”

I didn’t know how deep his sense of duty went, but if he kept carrying it like this, it’d break him. Or worse, chain him to every life he couldn’t save.

“You can’t save everyone. But you can save the person right in front of you. That’s enough. Believe that.”