Theatrical Regression Life

* * *

After changing locations, the group worked hard to build a decent campfire. They had the materials and the knowledge, so there was no reason they couldn’t create one. No one in the group was foolish or unaware enough to fail to do something they’d already done before.

Particularly Park Dahoon, who remembered the detailed instructions while working with Lee Jaehun to build the campfire.

First, they created a small spark and used dry newspaper to start the fire. Then, they transferred the flame to larger logs and carefully blew on it to keep it alive. The result was a pretty good campfire. While they knew the method, the effort required to actually make one was significant.

After exchanging a few words of thanks, a heavy silence settled over the group.

“…….”

“…….”

No one spoke easily.

‘…Me included.’

Park Dayoung, one of the younger team members, propped her chin on her hand and looked around at the group.

The person who had been taking care of us, Kwon Yeonhee, seemed drained and sat down after a bout of crying. Her eyes were vacant, as if her spirit had been sucked away. It appeared she was deeply affected emotionally.

However, she wasn’t the only one with problems.

“We’re running out of water. Should we make a trip to the lake?”

“It is an urgent matter, but let’s wait until the director wakes up to form a team. We need to protect him since he’s unconscious.”

“That makes sense.”

At first glance, it seemed they were pulling themselves together and having a constructive conversation, but Park Dayoung knew better. In reality, they were merely voicing whatever information seemed plausible in their heads.

And somewhere in their minds, they were likely thinking:

‘Am I being too harsh?’

Park Dayoung curled up as she watched her brother. Park Dahoon blinked at her gaze and soon sat down next to her. His silent, solid presence brought her a sense of relief.

In her line of sight was a man who appeared dead asleep.

“…….”

Unable to bear looking any longer, she buried her head.

‘I was happy.’

When that person first called out to them. When they were hiding awkwardly behind trees, hesitating like frightened mice, and feeling an instinctive envy at the strange sense of camaraderie among the group. Yet, despite their fear, they followed these adults they had never seen before, holding their breath.

When someone they thought wouldn’t even know of their existence called out to them as if they had been waiting. That moment had brought genuine happiness.

“He’ll wake up, won’t he?”

There was relief in having found a place to rest.

“He’s not dead, right?”

“He was almost dead when he came here…”

“…….”

“…Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

Park Dayoung felt a slight pang of guilt for brushing off her brother’s clumsy attempt to comfort her. She held back from openly apologizing because of an unspoken agreement between them.

Instead, she repeated the same words over and over like a broken doll.

“He’ll be okay.”

And so, she wanted him to keep living.

She hoped he wouldn’t die.

‘He’s a good adult.’

That was the reason.

In fact, objectively speaking, Lee Jaehun couldn’t exactly be described as a good adult.

His tone was sharp, and his personality was sensitive. It was clear at first glance that he was the type to get angry over mistakes rather than offer generous understanding. He didn’t fit the common image of a ‘good adult.’

‘But… that’s just a problem on the surface.’

It was just a shield or wrapper surrounding him; in reality, he wasn’t like that. Human nature always shows when one is in need.

‘His words and expressions may seem that way, but…’

Everything was built on his own sacrifice. Everything was aimed at the safety of the rest of the group, excluding himself. Didn’t this reveal Lee Jaehun’s true intentions?

He was a good adult. At the very least, he was someone who could kneel down on one knee to meet a child at eye level.

Such a…

“…….”

Such a good person.

“Good people…”

“…What?”

“…Nothing.”

Park Dayoung swallowed her words and gently lifted her head.

‘Do good people always die young?’

The first thing she noticed was the bright red shirt. The suit vest was already stained black, and the bandages covering the empty spaces were no longer white. It meant there was not a single unscathed spot left.

Who could look at him and say he was fine?

‘He said he doesn’t need to go to the hospital.’

He even claimed he didn’t need any medication.

Lee Jaehun was clearly a patient who needed to go to the hospital, and if he couldn’t do that, he should at least have taken some medicine. Park Dayoung, having experienced a broken leg herself, found it incomprehensible that Lee Jaehun, in his current state, wasn’t even groaning despite his condition.

“…….”

When they averted their eyes, he understood. More than that, he empathized.

While she was grateful for his understanding, Park Dayoung was also worried, and she bit her lip.

“People like him always seem to die first. People like Lee Jaehun ahjussi.”

“Where do you see that?”

“In movies. And in dramas…”

“It’s a common cliché.”

A responsible, good adult dying while trying to protect the team was not an uncommon story, at least not beyond the monitor or within the pages of a book.

But the thought that such a person might actually exist in real life had never crossed her mind…

“…….”

“…….”

In the end, they both fell silent.

Despite his severe injuries that could kill him at any moment, the group probably couldn’t take him to a hospital. Based on the reaction when a pharmacy was mentioned, this seemed like a plausible hypothesis.

But with injuries as severe as his, how could anyone recover naturally?

‘Won’t he die if we leave him like this…?’

As doubts gnawed at her brain, nearly certain he wouldn’t make it, the doctor who had been talking to the woman with a short haircut stood up. His steps led him to Lee Jaehun, who was lying on the softest spot they could find.

True to his introduction as a doctor, he checked over the patient covered in blood.

“It would have been good to have fresh bandages.”

“Bandages… It might be hard to get them right away. Should we try washing the clothes at the lake? That might help.”

“Sure, washing them would be good. Maintaining cleanliness helps in situations like this. But it can get chilly in the evening, so don’t try to wash everything all at once…”

Ha Sungyoon was treating Lee Jaehun while speaking to Yoon Garam, the woman with the short haircut who had followed him. Even Park Dayoung, who had no medical knowledge, could tell it was the work of an expert.

When Yoon Garam left, leaving only Dr. Ha Sungyoon behind.

“…….”

Park Dayoung could see where the doctor’s hands hovered.

‘…His neck.’

The blue handprints left on his neck.

Dr. Ha Sungyoon quietly covered them up.

“…I wonder if it hurts.”

“I don’t know.”

Park Dahoon gave a neutral response to Park Dayoung’s question. He too knew that his sister’s concern about ‘pain’ wasn’t limited to just the physical.

Those handprints were not unfamiliar to them.

“…….”

The pain and exhaustion were so great that there were people who bore such injuries without even knowing why they were suffering. Some people displayed their wounds openly, while others hid them as much as they could. It seemed that this person belonged to the latter group.

The clear handprints on his neck. The clean-cut wounds on his arms visible between his shirt. The man who worried about the group first even after returning from the monster’s grasp. Despite being battered and bruised, he refused to let them stop by the pharmacy.

As if he didn’t care at all how he died. That kind of good adult.

So, she understood.

“…I hope he wakes up soon.”

He might die in the blink of an eye.

“Ah, why do you keep saying that?”

“What?”

“You’re being so depressing. I’m exhausted enough as it is.”

“You think you’re any different? All your answers are one word. Hey?”

“That’s the best I can do. It’s an effort, you know.”

“You’re the hardest worker in the afterlife, huh?”

“Wow, here comes the attitude again.”

Just as the two were bickering familiarly, a voice that seemed both familiar and strange was heard.

“…Keok.”

“…….”

No, it wasn’t a voice.

“…….”

“Urgh, hm.”

“…Huh?”

“Kek, hack… ugh.”

“Doc, doctor… Doctor, please….”

Park Dahoon’s face rapidly turned pale.

Before he could even call out with his blood-drained, ghostly white face, the doctor was already looking at the patient. When the group sensed something was wrong, the doctor was in the midst of checking Lee Jaehun’s condition.

Ha Sungyoon firmly grabbed Lee Jaehun’s shoulders as he struggled as if he couldn’t breathe.

“Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”

“Kehk, urgh, hmmm…”

“…Damn it.”

The doctor busied himself, checking his eyelids and mouth, then muttered a quiet curse. He quickly turned the patient’s cheek to face the ground. The whole process was swift, but Lee Jaehun’s coughing and groaning didn’t subside.

The doctor frowned as Lee Jaehun reached a hand to his own neck. He swiftly grabbed one of the patient’s hands and pressed it down forcefully on the ground. The grip was strong enough that the patient would likely feel pain when he regained consciousness.

The other hand, which the doctor couldn’t catch, scratched at his own neck, causing blood to pool under the raised nails. The movements were slow but agitated.

Rip.

The sound of skin tearing echoed as the already bruised skin split open.

“…….”

Jung Inho watched the scene in shock.

The deep mistrust and faint fear were kept hidden in his dark eyes, unable to express them outwardly. Despite this, a small, breath-like sound escaped him, causing his lips to twitch slightly.

The doctor, undeterred, called out to Jung Inho.

“Jung Inho-ssi, hold down his wrists and arms together.”

“…What’s going on?”

“Hard to say.”

Ha Sungyoon continued speaking fluidly.

“He must be under a lot of stress.”

“…….”

“…He’s completely unconscious. Is it a seizure? Maybe not… There were no internal injuries in the throat, so maybe it’s deeper down in the respiratory tract…”

The doctor muttered to himself calmly, though he seemed uncomfortable. Jung Inho remained silent, noticing the familiar expression the doctor often showed when treating Lee Jaehun’s injuries.

The doctor listened to Lee Jaehun’s chest, and for once, his expression twisted with concern. Jung Inho thought the doctor was likely annoyed by the lack of a stethoscope. It seemed like he was trying his best to pick up on any clues.

After almost three minutes had passed.

“…….”

“…Oh.”

Lee Jaehun’s movements stopped.

“…….”

A cold wave of fear crawled up his spine.

The doctor, who had been listening to Lee Jaehun’s chest, looked up with wide eyes, and Jung Inho couldn’t make sense of what it meant.

“Why, what happened…?”

“…….”

“…Huh….”

He just stared at the man lying still with his eyes wide open.

He thought the wrists he was holding seemed a little colder, but he couldn’t be sure.

‘…So, this is what it means.’

Initially, Lee Jaehun’s movements weren’t very pronounced, so it was unclear whether he had simply calmed down or if something else was at play.

A blank canvas spread across his mind.

“Director.”

His voice did not waver.

There was no response to the soft call, perhaps unsurprisingly.

“…….”

“…….”

A chilling silence settled among the group.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

Then several more seconds passed.

The sound of shattering glass of varying sizes echoed in his ears, drumming against his eardrums, while his nose felt stuffed with dense cotton, making him hold his breath. The sound of his heart beating too loudly within his rib cage caused pain throughout his body.

He forced himself to take a jagged breath, struggling to swallow it down.

“…Director?”

“…….”

The deathly pale Director Lee Jaehun opened his eyes.

And a few seconds later, he coughed up blood.

* * *