Number 1
Number 1
Number 1's life was a hard one.
She'd overcome hardship and adversity to finally reclaim some peace, but she still had to constantly watch the people around her.
"Hey, Number 1! What are you doing dropping that?! Ugh! You spilled it everywhere!"
"I-I'm sorry...."
Crash.
The soju bottle she'd lost her grip on hit the floor, scattering shards of glass everywhere.
It was a mistake.
Nobody had set her up or anything—it was just an accident caused by her own clumsiness.
It was always like this.
Even before the world had changed, she'd screwed up again and again, drawing sharp glares from everyone around her.
The kind of person the world labels a total screw-up.
That was Number 1.
Back in the old world, her pretty looks had occasionally let people write it off as just another part of her charm, but...
Amid a collection of glittering jewels, Number 1's shine didn't stand out as anything special.
Beauty is relative.
No matter how brightly a jewel sparkles, a more beautiful one beside it will always make it look like a plain rock.
"No, seriously—hey! How many times has this been?! Once or twice we could let slide, but how are we supposed to take it when you keep acting like this? Are you doing this on purpose?"
And so, there was no reason for any of them to encourage or comfort Number 1, who did nothing but screw up constantly.
"N-no, I'm not...! I didn't do it on purpose either...."
"There's a limit to accidents. Seriously, stop being such a damn nuisance."
"R-right... I'll be careful."
"Hmph, you always say that."
Number 4 glared venomously at Number 1, then clicked her tongue and turned her back.
Number 1 stared down at the broken soju bottle with a face on the verge of tears.
'I-I didn't do it on purpose either.'
She knew.
She knew full well that this sort of behavior made her look bad in the eyes of others.
But what was she supposed to do when her body wouldn't cooperate with her head?
That was just the hand she'd been dealt at birth.
"Are you alright?"
It was while she was carefully picking up the broken glass, feeling thoroughly miserable.
A familiar, stiff voice reached her.
The only person who ever came to help Number 1, the perpetual nuisance—Number 9.
"Don't pick that up with your hands. You'll cut yourself."
Number 9 held a dustpan and a small broom in her hands.
She was always so brusque that she'd always come off as slightly intimidating.
But in reality, that impression aside, Number 9 was a 'comparatively' kind person.
Because every time Number 1 screwed up like this, she was the only one who'd come over and help.
"Th-thank you."
Number 1 gave a faint smile.
Inside, she was so moved she was practically jumping for joy, but she deliberately kept it in check.
If she acted like that right after causing an accident, it'd only make people hate her more for no good reason.
Anyway, thanks to Number 9's consideration, Number 1 managed to clean up the broken soju bottle without hurting herself.
As she did, a sudden question occurred to her.
'Ah... but shouldn't Number 9 be working instead of helping me?'
Strictly speaking, Number 9 was supposed to be hauling supplies, just like Number 4 who'd just yelled at her had been doing.
Not spending her time helping Number 1 like this.
"Uhm... um... Number 9? If you're helping me, wouldn't that mean Number 4 and Number 3 have to handle all the remaining work by themselves?"
Number 1 asked, a bit worried.
To this, Number 9 replied with an unconcerned air, as if there was absolutely no problem.
"It's fine. Earlier, I asked Number 2 to cover for me just for a bit."
"Ah... I see?"
Number 2—wasn't that the woman who'd just joined them recently?
Her name was definitely Lim Da-hye...?
'It's a relief the old Number 2 is gone.'
The previous Number 2, who'd been Kang Ha-jun's plaything, had never received any attention from anyone.
An 'exception'... maybe that was the right way to put it?
Compared to her, the current Number 2 was a genuine newbie.
Someone who'd joined up later than the rest of them.
Number 1 and the others had decided to treat Number 2 as the youngest of the group.
So, the odds were high that Number 9's 'request' had actually been more of an order.
Besides, Number 9 had a tendency to subtly foist menial chores onto other people.
Well, Number 1 didn't mind, regardless.
Because Number 9 was the only person who was nice to her.
"You should slip away soon too, Number 1. Working hard doesn't mean you'll get the results you want."
"Still... I feel like Number 4's going to say something about it later."
"If Number 4 does, just tell her I told you to. She'll back off with an indignant look on her face, you know?"
...That's probably true.
But I'll just end up even more hated instead.
Those words rose right to the tip of her tongue, but she never let them out.
One way or another, the only one looking out for Number 1 was Number 9.
She was a hundred times better than the others who did nothing but say harsh things all day.
"Alright. I'll do as you say, Number 9."
"Good. Later, let's crack open some chicken and beer, just you and me."
And so, Number 1 had no other choice but to nod along with a reluctant look.
After all, Number 9 shared the benefits she'd received from that 'man' like this.
'The others might get dumplings at best... but Number 9 could get whatever she wanted.'
It was blatant discrimination, yet no one could protest.
Because the fact that they could live this safely was entirely thanks to that 'man' and his women.
This place was that 'man's' kingdom.
His word was law; his will, the new order.
The consequences of running your mouth for no reason were painfully obvious.
You'd probably get beaten to within an inch of your life, or have all your privileges confiscated.
'I don't want any of that.'
Even if it meant she was just clinging onto Number 9's coattails.
Wasn't an easy life more desirable than clinging to your pride?
"Yeah. But I'll come back after helping just a little bit more."
"Just a little, okay? A little. Don't go making things worse for no reason."
...Okay, that one stung a bit.
Even if she was used to sucking up to people, that didn't mean her insides weren't rotting away.
As you go through life, you've probably encountered someone like this at least once.
The kind of person who just smiles benevolently and lets everything slide, no matter what happens.
Familiarity.
That person doesn't just have a good personality.
It's just that their heart has been worn down and rotted away so thoroughly that all that's left is resignation.
Number 1's case was no different.
She'd already caught on to the fact that Number 9 was using her to divert other people's jealous gazes away from herself.
That's why she'd said Number 9 was 'comparatively' kind.
From the start, every woman who had chosen the camper van over staying at the department store had a calculating streak.
It was self-evident that none of their kindness was pure.
Even if it stung her pride, Number 9's charity was still helpful to Number 1 herself.
At any rate, Number 1 left Number 9 and walked over to the spot where the work was in full swing.
"Haah...."
The moment she arrived, Number 4 let out a deep sigh.
Number 3 maintained her usual total indifference, but the look she gave Number 1 was not exactly kind.
"Hey, we've basically sorted out our share, so just stand there and don't touch anything."
"Ah... okay."
"Ugh. What am I, some kind of nanny looking after kids? Fuck. This is all because of that sly bitch Number 9. We're the only ones stuck with the shit end of the stick."
Grumbling loud enough for everyone to hear, Number 4 took Number 3 and left to call in the next shift.
Only Number 2 was left.
"......"
Silence hung in the air.
Number 2 was reluctant to speak in the unfamiliar environment, and Number 1, being in the most lowly position, couldn't bring herself to open her mouth first.
For now, Number 2 was being treated as the youngest, but Number 1's standing had been terrible even before she joined.
Rankings.
The numbers assigned from 1 to 9 had implicitly caused division among the First Generation.
Even if it was a vulgar standard they couldn't quite put into words—was wanting to stand above someone else simply an inevitable human instinct?
They divided themselves into classes and formed cliques of similar dispositions.
At present, the side of Number 9, who received the most favor, was dominant, but during periods when that 'man' didn't interfere, the group centered around the loudest voice, Number 4, gained power.
Back when that 'man' had spent a long time in Gwanak-gu recently, Number 4's authority had soared to the heavens.
'Number 4. You've been way too self-centered lately. Why did you send Number 2, Number 5, and Number 6 in your place and skip out yourselves even when it was time for the shift change?'
'And you're always pawning things off on other people and skipping yourself, so why the hell are you bitching at us?'
'I did it because I'm allowed to.'
'What are you talking about? He never said anything like that. Let's not make things up as we go, okay, everyone.'
No matter what Number 9 said, Number 4 didn't care.
Before, she'd grumble but still do her job—maybe Number 9 had been too brazen during that time.
The conflict gradually intensified.
But once they resolved the issue in Gwanak-gu, passed through Dongjak-gu, and reached Yeongdeungpo, Number 9 regained her original standing.
Because that 'man' had returned.
Ha Hui-ryeong didn't involve herself much in the First Generation's problems, but that 'man's' stance was different.
He openly favored only Number 9 and Number 0, Jeong Yeon-ji, so the hierarchy naturally snapped back into a vertical structure.
'Number 7... well, she kind of feels like she's just riding Jeong Yeon-ji's coattails.'
Number 7, the hardcore chain-smoker, was shrewd.
She was glued to the untouchable Number 0 and therefore wasn't affected by anyone's influence.
Number 1 was a little envious of that.
After all, Number 7 never had to suffer by being caught in some awkward middle ground like this every single time.
The way she looked like she owned the whole world just by puffing on a cigarette was truly... enviable beyond words.
"Um, well...." "Hey...."
Their voices overlapped.
They'd both worked up the courage to speak, but as it happened, the other person had done the same, and they both let out awkward laughs at the same time.
"N-no... never mind."
"Yeah...."
In the end, the two of them swallowed the words they'd been about to say and brushed past each other with awkward expressions.
She'd meant to help with the work, but since it was all finished, there was no reason for them to stick around together.
Of course, Number 1 had wanted to talk with Number 2, even just a little... but her catastrophically bad communication skills had held her back.
Soon after, Number 1's steps took her in the direction where Number 9 was.
She left the supply storage room and walked toward the central sofa.
"Is chicken alright again today? Hehe."
"You really love chicken, Number 9. Aren't you going to get fat eating that?"
"It's fine! I exercise as much as I eat!"
At the place she'd arrived, Number 9 was clinging sweetly to that 'man.'
Casting off her stiff tone for a soft, coquettish voice, she was stuck right to his side, caressing his nipples.
'Number 11 and Number 12 are here too.'
The mother-daughter pair, Park Soo-jin and Kim So-jin, who'd joined them in Gwanak-gu, were also there.
They'd been given numbers too, but their treatment was a little closer to Jeong Yeon-ji's.
Since they'd been excluded from the labor, Number 1 found herself envying them now and then.
"Slurp... hey...! When the hell are you going to finish!"
"That's up to how our So-jin does it. Look at your mom. See how proactive she is? She knows how to suck with this much skill."
"...You crazy bastard, for real."
The two, mother and daughter, continued their vulgar service between his legs.
It was a sight Number 1 could never get used to, no matter how many times she saw it.
Because before the world had turned into this, Number 1 was a person far removed from anything like carnal desire.
"Hm? You're... Number 1? What, what brings you here."
He'd noticed her footsteps, perhaps—his gaze landed on Number 1.
Number 1 flinched involuntarily, lowering her eyes as she answered.
"Ah, ah... I have something to take care of with Number 9...."
"Is that so? You've finished all the work?"
"Yes...."
"I see. Got it. Number 9, grab the chicken from the kitchen yourselves. And pick out whatever alcohol you like."
"Thank you~! Next time, Number 1 and I will serve you together, nice and thorough~."
...That wasn't something they'd agreed on.
Of course, she couldn't exactly voice her refusal.
Number 9 had made that promise on her own, without any regard for Number 1's will, and all Number 1 could do was find it absurd and feel just a little resentful.
"Let's go, Number 1."
"...Okay."
She followed after Number 9, who was walking with an excited spring in her step, feeling somewhat bitter.
"So-jin's husband—hasn't he woken up yet?"
"Haaah... not yet. But seeing as how he's tossing and turning sometimes, I think he'll wake up sometime tomorrow."
"Oh, really? A reunion with her husband, whom she's been eagerly awaiting while dripping another man's seed... that should be quite a sight to see, don't you think?"
"...You're a mean one."
Meanwhile, the conversation she heard behind her made her head spin a little.
So the unconscious middle-aged man they'd brought in last time was that woman's husband?
And despite that, this 'man' was still trying to take Park Soo-jin?
She felt her sense of ethics twisting.
No, it wasn't just that.
Everything was twisting.
The boundary between good and evil was collapsing, instinct had overtaken reason, and a warped logic was being upheld as the new order.
All of them, along with this changed world, had become stained a deep, dark shade.
In order to survive.
'The ironic thing is... this place is probably one of the better ones.'
In chaos, the lesser evil becomes the best choice.
Compared to other groups, this was a relatively livable place.
Especially if your looks held up.