Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Maybe Getting Off This Island Won’t Be Easy After All
I stopped my hands, which had been soaked in happiness, and tightened my grip on the blade I had placed beside me.
This is different from the turtle.
Something moved in the forest.
It could be a predator, or those bastards.
I took a slow breath and turned my body.
“Who’s there?”
I lowered my voice and stared into the dark forest that still hadn’t fully cleared with daylight.
Something flickered between the leaves.
The tension peaked—
And then it burst out.
“…Poodak!”
A bird.
A flashy-feathered bird.
Not a sparrow. Not a pigeon. I didn’t even know what kind it was.
It stared at me for a moment, clicked its beak, and tilted its head.
Is this bastard thinking I’m some dead body it can pick at?
“…Ha.”
Even birds are ignoring me now?
“What, you here to announce morning or something? You almost made me lose my soul. Get lost.”
My eyes naturally drifted to its plump chest.
That thing looked well-fed.
Forget chips, humans need meat to function properly.
The bird started to look less like a bird and more like a roasted chicken.
Let’s catch it.
“My precious protein… come here.”
I lowered my stance carefully.
Ten years of knife combat instincts kicked in.
One throw before it takes off.
Whoosh—
The blade sliced through the dawn air.
But the bird mocked me.
Flap!
Before the blade could even reach it, it flapped upward effortlessly.
“Poodak! Poodadak!”
The knife stabbed into the tree behind it instead.
The bird disappeared into the forest.
“…Yeah, of course.”
I scratched my head.
“Right. If I could actually throw knives and hit flying birds, I wouldn’t be stuck like this. I’d be running the entire organization.”
I sighed and walked toward the tree to retrieve my blade.
But then I noticed something I hadn’t seen in the dark.
“…Huh?”
A tall trunk.
Large fan-like leaves.
And round, hairy fruits hanging from it.
“…Coconuts?”
Palm trees.
I looked around.
There were quite a few of them.
“Holy crap, jackpot.”
Wait.
Can palms even grow in Korea?
These were tropical species. They needed warm, humid climates year-round.
No coastline in Korea should be able to support this.
So this isn’t Korea.
…Whatever. Doesn’t matter.
Jackpot is jackpot.
The bottled water in my bag was now something I had to ration carefully.
But now I had a natural electrolyte drink growing everywhere.
And food inside.
I pulled my blade from the tree and grinned.
“Thanks, bird. I was trying to catch you and ended up finding treasure.”
I raised my blade again toward the palm tree, then stopped.
“…Wait. No.”
I was rushing.
The trees weren’t going anywhere.
I could harvest them later.
No need to waste energy now.
I dropped my tactical backpack and sat down.
First, I needed to deal with the actual food I already had.
My body was at its limit.
My mind was holding it together, but physically I was being dragged forward by sheer willpower.
A horribly inefficient machine running on fumes.
It was time to refuel.
My stomach answered before I even decided.
Grrrrr—KWAANG!
“….”
That wasn’t a stomach sound. That was an internal riot.
“Alright. Let’s eat first.”
I grabbed a bag of potato chips.
I had to be conservative.
Reality is not like survival shows or movies.
No loot boxes. No easy hunting. No fishing miracles.
Everything takes effort.
So I must ration this.
Five pieces in the morning, five at lunch, five at dinner…
Fifteen pieces a day.
“…No. That’s too pathetic. I’m not a rat.”
My stomach growled again like it was protesting my pride.
“Fine. Five pieces for now. Just five.”
I wiped my hands with wet wipes and prepared to open the bag.
But I stopped.
If I tore it carelessly, that would be a mistake.
Open it horizontally so it can be reused later.
A container. A tool. Nothing is trash on a deserted island.
Pop—
Air rushed out.
The smell of fried oil hit my nose.
“…This is insane.”
I reached in.
Golden, thin, salty chips.
I treated them like treasure and brought one to my mouth.
Crunch.
“…Damn, this is good.”
The texture exploded in my mouth.
Salt, oil, artificial flavoring.
This was better than any Michelin dish.
Crunch. Crunch.
I ate another.
And another.
I reached the last piece.
“This is it. The last one.”
Crunch.
“…Ahhh…”
My brain melted.
I stared into the half-open bag.
The remaining chips seemed to be calling me.
Just one more?
No.
This is survival instinct.
If I don’t eat now, I die.
“Right. Who survives on fifteen pieces? I need energy. Revenge needs fuel.”
I convinced myself instantly.
Crunch.
“….”
Why does this taste better than Su-jeong?
Another chip disappeared.
I needed to stop.
But my hand hesitated.
Then I saw the crumbs at the bottom of the bag.
“…Wait.”
Serious thought process activated.
Do crumbs count as chips?
No law in Korea or the organization defines this.
Crumbs are just broken possibilities.
They are not full units.
“Right. Crumbs don’t count.”
I flipped the bag upside down and shook it.
Shhhk—
Salt dust and fragments poured out.
I licked them greedily.
Crunchy, salty, slightly pathetic.
But satisfying.
I lay down on the sand, hugging the backpack.
“This… is happiness.”
I wiped my mouth and stared at the horizon again.
It was getting brighter.
All that remained was an empty chip bag.
I had eaten everything.
Not because of weak willpower.
But because I needed the bag.
For water. For shells. For survival tools.
This was tactical consumption.
“Alright. Time to move.”
I stood up and adjusted the backpack.
If there was a freshwater source or stream inland, that would be ideal.
But rushing into the forest blindly would waste energy.
So I decided.
I would follow the coastline first.
Step by step.
And survive.