Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: A Long-Awaited Meal
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The sunlight stung.
The warmth touching his skin and the brightness piercing his eyes. Sensations he'd forgotten for so long.
Ian stood in the middle of the Gangnam Station crossroads, gazing up at the sky. Clouds drifted lazily by. A clear, vibrant blue filled his vision.
"Ah......"
A sigh escaped his lips unbidden.
People brushed past him. Office workers in suits, students in uniforms, young mothers pushing strollers. Everyone hurried along, but no one spared him a glance.
Of course. To them, it was just another ordinary weekday afternoon.
This moment was special only to him—to Ian, who had finally reclaimed his freedom after tens of thousands of years.
Ian began walking aimlessly. Turning a corner didn't reveal the same endless corridors of the Backrooms. New scenes unfolded everywhere his eyes landed. Cafes and clothing shops, phone stores and cosmetics boutiques. It felt like long-dormant memories were sprouting back to life.
The signal light switched to red. People stopped, and Ian did too.
A middle-aged man standing beside him was talking on his phone.
"Yeah, how about some pork belly for dinner? Right, that place near Yeoksam Station......"
Pork belly.
The word lodged in his ear.
Pork belly. Pig meat. Sizzling on a hot grill. Fat popping, smoke rising, dipped in sauce and wrapped in crisp lettuce—that flavor.
In the Backrooms, he'd gnawed on rotten fruit and chunks of nameless monster flesh. Revolting, but he'd forced it down for survival. Stuffed it in to fend off hunger. Eventually, even the hunger itself vanished, but he kept eating anyway.
The light turned green.
A pork belly joint.
He had to find one.
After rounding three alleys, he spotted the sign.
'King Salt Pork Belly'
It was a rundown little place. Worn chairs, grease-stained tables, a ceiling fan dangling overhead. Past lunchtime, so no customers. Just an auntie watching TV behind the counter.
Ian stepped inside without a second thought.
"Welcome. Party of how many?"
"Just me."
"Have a seat right here."
He took the corner spot. The auntie brought water and banchan. Pickled radish, soybean sprouts, sliced onions. A nostalgic spread.
"Two servings of pork belly."
"Sure thing, one sec."
Moments later, the grill was set, and the meat went on. Pink pork belly, fat layered thick.
Sizzle.
The sound hit as it touched the hot plate. Fat spatters flew. Smoke billowed up. The fan whirred, sucking it away.
Ian watched the scene in silence.
He'd forgotten this sound too.
The meat cooked, edges crisping golden, fat bubbling away. Ian grabbed the tongs and flipped it. The other side needed cooking too.
When it was just right, he picked up a piece with his chopsticks. Dipped it lightly in salt. Popped it in his mouth.
Chewed.
"......"
He closed his eyes.
Sweet. Salty. Savory. The fat melted across his tongue. Each chew burst more juices free. He felt it slide down his throat.
Delicious.
Fucking delicious.
Real food after tens of thousands of years.
Ian kept at it. Wrapped in lettuce, straight off the grill, shoveled down with rice. He ate like a man possessed. Two servings vanished in no time.
"Two more."
"Pardon? Oh... right away."
The auntie brought another round. Ian devoured it.
As he ate, he thought.
This was it. This is what he'd missed. The human life he'd forgotten amid millennia of battling monsters in the Backrooms.
After polishing off four servings, his belly finally felt full.
Ian leaned back in his chair. Satisfaction spread through him. Another long-lost sensation.
'Maybe try some booze?'
He ordered a bottle of soju. Poured it into a glass, the clear liquid sloshed.
Downed a shot.
Fire burned down his throat, warmth bloomed in his gut. He'd forgotten this too.
"Ah......"
Good.
Just good.
After settling the bill, the sun was dipping low.
The sky had turned orange. Sunset. The Backrooms had no sun. No day, no night.
Ian walked on. No destination in mind, just soaking in the sunset. Through alleys, across wide streets.
That's when he ran into a group.
Four guys, all early to mid-twenties. Dyed hair, earrings, hoodies. Textbook punks. They were smoking and laughing until they spotted Ian and blocked his path.
The leader eyed him up and down.
"Hey."
Ian didn't stop. He tried to walk past.
The guy stepped in front.
"Gimme a smoke."
"Don't smoke."
"Then cash."
A hand shot toward Ian's pocket.
Ian seized the wrist.
"...The fuck?"
The man's face hardened.
"Let go?"
The other three closed in.
"Drop his hand, asshole. You wanna get fucked up?"
Ian stared at them, grip firm on the wrist.
His eyes were blank. No fear, no anger. Just staring.
"Check his eyes. This psycho for real?"
One reached for Ian.
That instant.
The shadow at Ian's feet roiled upward.
"......?"
They all saw it. The shadow on the asphalt rippling like liquid. Something surging up from within.
But it had no form. Transparent. Only faint distortions in the air gave it away. No one but Ian grasped the massive presence—twice a man's height—that had emerged.
Ian released the hand.
And then... it tore.
The knife-wielding man's wrist vanished first.
From wrist to elbow, gone like it'd evaporated.
Tssshhhak!
Blood sprayed, the raw stump laid bare. Bone, flesh, veins exposed to the air.
"Ugh... Uwaaaaaah!!!???"
The scream erupted. The man clutched his severed arm and staggered back.
"Wh-what the hell!!! What is this shit!!!"
Another yelled. He spun to flee.
Too late.
The transparent thing grazed his head. Just a graze.
His head was gone.
Nothing left above the neck. The stump gaped open, esophagus and trachea visible. White spine gleamed. Blood fountained out.
The body lurched, then crashed down with a heavy thud. Limp limbs twitched in spasms.
"Hiiik......"
The third pissed himself. His pant leg darkened, urine pooling as his legs gave out and he crumpled.
"Sp-spare..."
Before he could finish, the transparent mass enveloped his entire body. Distortions wrapped around him.
Then it folded.
The human body crumpled inward. Bones snapped. Crack. Crack. Joints twisted backward, ribs caved in, spine buckled.
"Kyaaaaaaaah!!!"
The scream shredded the air, rising in pitch. It grew shrill, thin... then cut off.
The man's body compressed to a third its size. A red lump of mangled bone and meat. Unrecognizable. Just a hunk of gore.
Thud.
It hit the ground. Blood splattered everywhere.
"Sp-spare me... spare me..."
The last one—the leader—crawled desperately. Scrabbling with arms and legs across the asphalt, trying to reach the alley mouth.
His face was a mess of tears, snot, and drool. Lips turned blue. His whole body shook.
"Please... please... I didn't do shit... I was just..."
About five meters in.
Footsteps echoed from the alley entrance. Someone approaching. A middle-aged office worker heading home, maybe drawn by the screams.
"......Huh?"
The man froze. Took in the scene. Blood. Corpses. Meat lump. Crawling man. And Ian standing behind him.
"Wh-wha...?"
"H-help!!!"
The crawler screamed, reaching out to the newcomer.
"M-monster!! There's a monster!! Call the cops!!!"
The office worker's face drained white. He fumbled for his phone, hands shaking, and dropped it to the ground.
"Wh-wha..."
He turned to run.
In that moment, from behind the crawler, the transparent thing lashed out.
Grabbed his ankle.
"Uwaaaak!!!"
He was yanked back. Nails scraped the asphalt, leaving a long blood trail. He thrashed, but it was useless.
Dragged into the shadow.
Halfway in, his body halted.
"Kk, kuaaaah......!!"
Waist-down in the shadow, upper body out. At the boundary, his body began to saw slowly in two.
Tearing sounds. Fluids bursting. Bones fracturing. Flesh ripping. Organs slopping out.
"Ah, aa, aaa......"
His eyes went vacant. Blood frothed from his mouth. Fingers clawed the air a few times. That was it. His hand fell limp to the ground.
The office worker at the entrance let out a bloodcurdling scream.
"Uwaaaaah!!! Help! Somebody help!!!"
He bolted away, shrieking for his life.
Ian watched his retreating back for a moment, then turned.
He looked down at the shadow by his feet.
The transparent thing, still partially manifested, undulated as if awaiting praise.
"Get back in."
At his voice, it flinched. A whining kiiing kiiing sound emanated as it drooped like a scolded pup. Then it sank slowly into the shadow like diving into water.
Silence settled over the alley.
The stench of blood hung thick. Three corpses and a meat lump sprawled about. Walls splattered with gore, ground a slick puddle of red.
Ian glanced down at his clothes.
Not a single drop of blood. Trained not to dirty its master, Null had kept that much at least.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The office worker must've called it in. Growing louder, closer.
Ian turned and walked the opposite way down the alley. No rush, just a casual stroll.
"Indigestion."
His gut felt heavy.
Too much pork belly, apparently.