Am I Dead or Alive?
No, right now it felt like he was at the gateway to the underworld, where his mind and soul would eventually dissipate. His physical body seemed to be gone already. The flesh he had now was probably just an illusion, not the real thing. It felt exactly like a ghost.
"Fuck that bastard... that goddamn monster bird..."
He wanted to kill the thing for real after it toyed with him to death. That monster bird had definitely attacked out of curiosity. Just like a human squashing an ant on a whim—seeing this puny creature lugging ostrich-chicken legs on its back must've piqued its interest. It was so goddamn unfair; even in death, the grudge wouldn't fade.
After a while of lamenting and despairing, his tears finally stopped. Han Yaseong wiped his tear-streaked face with his hand, rose from the bushes, and stepped out. A vast plain stretched before him. No grim reaper had come to fetch him yet. Or maybe, since this wasn't Earth, nothing like that would show up at all. He might just wander this world as a ghost forever.
Han Yaseong let out a sigh. Dying and turning into a spirit... it was enough to make him wail. At least his consciousness lingered after death—that was a small mercy.
"Huh?"
But something was off. There was a massive shape on the plain. Drawing closer, he saw the monster bird was dead. It had been torn and shredded to pieces. Feathers littered the ground, and his dagger, true sword, and hand axe lay nearby.
"What the hell happened?"
Examining the monster bird closely, it was genuinely ripped apart. The corpse showed signs of being brutally yanked and torn, not sliced with a blade. Like pulling kimchi straight from the jar—ripped and shredded raw. He had no idea what could have done this.
Still, it felt good.
"You piece of shit, serves you right."
He'd been wondering how to get revenge, but it was already dead. Utterly satisfying, a sweet relief. If he'd died alone while this thing lived on, the resentment would've been unbearable. But now? Pure joy.
Still, what killed it? Whatever it was had to be insanely strong to take down a monster bird like that. The thing was the size of a light aircraft, with one wing spanning over three meters. Most animals couldn't beat it—claws thick and sharp as steel rebar, and it could fly.
Did it have a natural predator? Or maybe that one-eyed monster, ten meters tall? That brute could've easily ripped off wings and all with its bare hands. But those things hunted with clubs. And besides, it hadn't eaten the corpse—just shredded it wildly. This wasn't hunting for food; it was killing for the sake of killing.
Han Yaseong couldn't figure out what the hell had happened. But he was satisfied the monster bird was dead. A stroke of luck.
"Fuck, what do I do now?"
Dead—what was he supposed to do? No bright light to guide him, no afterlife messenger. Just the quiet plain. He wondered if maybe he wasn't dead after all, but shook his head. Impossible.
"No way. That claw shredded me..."
He'd felt his gut punctured and torn, innards spilling out. Ribs shattered, and crucially, his chest crushed by the claw, heart pierced. He'd felt his heart burst, breath leaving him. That vivid death—he couldn't be alive now.
He was definitely dead. No denying it. It wasn't a dream.
"But this is weird."
Touching his limbs and body, everything felt real. Not ghostly at all. And with the chill seeping in, he could swear he had a physical form. But that was impossible, leaving him in total confusion.
"Am I alive right now, or dead?"
No clue. Someone explain it, he thought—but who? Yadong was gone, probably fled.
"You bastard, running off alone..."
No wonder they say pets are useless. He'd fed it all this time, and it betrayed him, bolting to save its own skin. Sure, he'd told it to run, but it should've stuck around nearby. Whatever—nothing he could do. Against that monster bird, Yadong was helpless. Like a chihuahua charging a tiger. Better that it escaped.
Yeah, at least you survive. I'm dead, but still.
"But am I really dead? Fuck, I'm freezing my ass off..."
Dead but cold? It made no sense. Alive or dead—he couldn't tell. Too freezing to care, Han Yaseong grabbed his dagger, hand axe, and true sword, then hurried back into the bushes. Dead or alive, he was heading to the Forest 0 shelter. If he felt cold even in death, the afterlife was bullshit. Death should mean freedom from pain. Or maybe it wasn't his body cold, but his soul. What was real, what illusion—he had no idea.
His head throbbed, so he stopped thinking and dashed through Forest 1 to the Forest 0 shelter.
But Yadong wasn't there. Where'd that thing wander off to? He'd come back shivering, unsure if he was dead or alive. Pets really were worthless.
He tossed more logs on the campfire, stoking it high. He burrowed under the blanket up to his head, warmed by the flames, boiled some water, and drank it hot. Only then did his frozen body thaw.
But the more he thought, the weirder it got. Dead, yet feeling cold and drinking water? Was he alive after all? No answers, just confusion. He wished someone would just tell him.
Han Yaseong sighed, now too hot under the blanket, and shed it. He dressed. Feeling heat too? Soon it'd be burning. Hell, he already felt the fire's blaze.
"No way I'm alive?"
Weird, but maybe he hadn't died. Otherwise, why feel so vividly physical? Things didn't pass through him; he could touch everything. His dick felt heavy; squeezing his balls nearly killed him with pain.
"Ack..."
Han Yaseong winced, pinched his cheek, twisted butt flesh. Hurt like hell. Pain meant no dream, no death.
"This is bizarre..."
Maybe the monster bird attack was a dream? Hunting the ostrich-chicken, tripping on the way back, head hitting hard—blurring reality and hallucination? But no. What delusion caused that agony? When the claw ripped his gut, he'd nearly died from pain. Worst ever. Like burning alive. And gripped by three talons, ribs cracking—he'd felt it all. Even vomited blood. He wiped his mouth with a cloth. Bloodstains. Real.
Chest crushed, heart pierced under the claw. That raw agony couldn't be fake.
Yet no wounds. Body pristine, like nothing happened. He couldn't make sense of it.
"Did a ghost possess me...?"
Even wondering if this world had spirits, he was that lost. Too exhausted to think more. He boiled instant soup, dumped in microwavable rice, scarfed down a steaming bowl of gukbap, then crawled under the blanket and crashed.
Alive or dead, he'd figure it out after sleep. Too drained for anything else. Han Yaseong lay there, breathed a few times, and passed out.
Next morning, nothing changed. He stared blankly around. No sign of Yadong—hadn't come back. Maybe eaten by the monster bird? But that thing was shredded.
"Ah, I don't get it."
Unanswerable riddles. Like falling into a black hole.
"Fuck it."
Han Yaseong scratched his head and got up. No point dwelling. He went to the stream, drank, detoxed, bathed. Gut, chest, ribs—all fine, no pain. Must've been a dream. Vivid as hell. But what about the monster bird's corpse...