One for All
“Hey, wait a minute!”
The three, who had been gawking in awe, suddenly zoned out and reached for the door. Arin, who’d been watching absentmindedly, snapped to attention and called out to stop them.
They didn’t halt at her first shout, so she yelled a few more times. Finally coming to their senses, they froze—hands just inches from the door—then recoiled in horror, staring at each other with faces drained white.
“Fuck…”
In the heavy silence, they alternated glances between Arin and the door, rubbing their faces, bodies trembling, jaws clenched tight.
Gyeongmin collapsed to the floor like a sack, muttering curses weakly, but no one responded. They all felt the same crushing despair.
There was no real proof, but for that brief moment, the Yellow Door had sparked hope of escape. Now, that illusion shattered, leaving an even deeper void wrapping around them.
Time dragged on in the stillness as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Unable to stand it any longer, Arin spoke up.
“Um, everyone? You never know. Maybe it is a real door. We just don’t know how to use it yet?”
No one reacted. Arin scratched her neck awkwardly, about to say more, when Injun sprang up with a grunt, brushing off his pants.
“Yeah, maybe there’s some damn rule here too.”
“Ah… yes, exactly! That’s what I meant.”
“Get up, both of you. The kid’s still holding strong—can’t have you crumbling. Sun’s setting, so let’s hole up here tonight and scout around tomorrow.”
Injun gestured for them to hurry, suggesting maybe the first folks left hints. He patted Arin’s shoulder gratefully.
Gyeongmin sighed heavily but nodded and stood. Seo-ah, wiping her face with both hands, rose reluctantly and followed.
They entered the cramped, sealed building. Using canned food and torn book pages, they kindled a tiny fire—not much of a bonfire, but enough warmth and light for comfort.
No point staying up. Exhausted in body and soul, they lay on the cold, hard cement without complaint.
Soon, steady breathing filled the space between them.
That night, Arin leaned against the wall in the corner, eyes closed, and dreamed.
In the dream, she approached alone the massive wall they’d thought was the Yellow Door, gazing up at it. The wall spoke to her.
The voice echoed in her mind, not quite audible yet unmistakable, implanting words directly into her thoughts. Surprisingly, it described an ordinary daily life.
Waking to an early alarm, heading to school, chatting nonsense with friends and laughing, whining about hating studies while counting down to lunch and dismissal—like any average student.
Then home for dinner, griping about school the next day, longing for the weekend. Utterly mundane.
On weekends, strolling the familiar streets, window-shopping at shops that felt both samey and fresh, vowing to own it all someday while passing clothes and makeup. Petty routines.
…Hold on.
The wall, spinning tales of this repetitive yet peaceful routine, finally turned to her.
Don’t you want to go back?
Just one thing. Easy. Give me one living thing, and you’ll return to normal—no strings.
It vanished slowly before she could reply.
Arin shouted at the fading door.
No, wait—this memory’s from high school, right? Hey! I’m a guy…!
Her desperate cry tied to her identity jolted her awake. She sat up, staring at sunlight filtering through the door crack.
…What the hell?
Simply put, it demanded a living sacrifice. But the memories it showed while speaking? Zero relatability. No joy, no fear—just sheer absurdity.
I was picturing some eldritch horror, but it’s dumber than I thought.
Her vague notions of unspeakable terror evaporated, replaced by dumbfounded amusement as she stared blankly into space.
A rustle sounded nearby.
The others stirred around the same time, sitting up with dazed expressions. Arin opened her mouth to ask if they’d dreamed too—but their eyes stopped her.
Terror, anxiety, disgust, sorrow—every negative emotion swirled in their gazes, laced with suspicion. The camaraderie from hours ago had chilled to ice.
The standoff dragged on, heavy air thick, no one twitching a finger, just eyes darting warily.
Arin, the only one dismissing her dream as ridiculous, broke the silence first.
“Everyone have the same dream?”
They all flinched hard. No answers needed. Arin clapped sharply to grab attention.
“The thing outside—the door or whatever—demanded one thing. Right?”
She skipped mentioning “living,” but they got it. Disappointed by the lack of nods, she smiled sheepishly and continued.
“But does ‘one’ have to mean one of us? It just said ‘one.’”
She paused, giving them time to think.
As intended, curiosity and doubt flickered in their eyes alongside the dread.
A beat passed.
“…Yeah, she’s right.”
Gyeongmin spoke next, surprisingly.
“It didn’t say ‘one of us.’ Just ‘one.’”
“Exactly. Could be wordplay. Maybe just pluck a living flower from the ground.”
“You… yeah, you nailed it.”
Gyeongmin latched on, bouncing ideas with Arin. Injun, silent till now, rubbed his chin thoughtfully before chiming in.
“Worth a shot… Even if flowers or grass won’t cut it, we could grab one of those monsters next time and test.”
The dark mood lightened. Arin smiled, stood, and slung her bag over her shoulder.
“Alright, quit moping and let’s head out—”
A dull thud hit her side. Words cut off, she felt searing heat and turned.
Her gaze dropped to the square blade plunged into her flank.
It had sunk deep; as it yanked free near her navel, blood gushed, intestines spilling out.
“Ah… aaaah…!”
The dream demanding one living thing.
The moment Seo-ah woke from it, she gripped the handle of the blade she’d clutched even in sleep.
One.
She didn’t know what others thought, but to her, the offer was a kind whisper granting a chance to bury her shame.
Not about ditching the student as bait.
Honestly, anyone would’ve done the same. Self-preservation trumped some stranger met less than a day ago.
Why does it have to be alive…?
She’d always been that way—and always would. To others, she had to stay the good person.
Kind, friendly, humbly accepting praise from fools.
So her secret—using a student as bait and abandoning them—couldn’t be exposed. If it came out, the others had to sink with her, or lower.
Quietly, she rose and swung the blade at Arin’s unguarded back.
The crude edge tore uniform, flesh, guts—a sickening feel transmitted to her hands. Grimacing, she yanked the lodged blade free with both hands.
The other two, dumbfounded till Arin crumpled, finally shouted and lunged to intervene. Seo-ah tossed the blade aside.
“You’re all being fooled! She’s a monster too!”
Twisting her face in feigned agony, she yelled that she’d clearly seen Arin get eaten that night—helping her, only to turn and witness it.
A moment’s thought revealed the flaw: pitch-black basement, flickering flashlight—impossible to see clearly. But truth didn’t matter.
“I… I’m suffering too. For a second, I thought it was A-in back, and I was happy…!”
Too late now, even if they saw through it.
Person or monster, Arin’s side was split open, clutching spilling guts, gasping blood. No way to treat it here.
“Flowers or whatever… the monsters are just toying with us.”
Ignoring the others’ protests, Seo-ah pulled tape and bound Arin’s wound.
She needed a living one—not just any. Dead wouldn’t do.
“Don’t just stand there—help! I know it’s hard, but this is the only way.”
“But…!”
Seo-ah grabbed Arin’s reaching arm, pleading for aid. Frustrated by Injun and Gyeongmin’s hesitation, she yelled.
“Then what?! Hunt for proof she’s not a monster? Rip up grass to test? Whatever you pick, she dies anyway! So…”
Quit the pointless moralizing and be my accomplices.
Swallowing the last words, she dragged Arin outside.
“Ugh… uuurgh.”
Pain lancing up her spine drowned out screams. Even as hands seized her limbs, Arin couldn’t resist.
Against monsters, agony blacked her out fast. But now, bandaged to stave off death, time stretched cruelly till the end.
One! Here, take this one!
Impact rocked her back; a woman’s voice droned muffled, like underwater. One eye filled yellow—she’d been thrown at the door.
Arin twisted her head with all her strength.
Seo-ah, arms wide, pleading desperately at the Yellow Door. Injun, resolute, staring at his bloodied hands. Gyeongmin, distant, eyes averted.
All filled her fading sight.
Darkness came.
Then light.