Eating Out (1)

Thud. Thud. Thud. A steady vibration echoed through the muffled haze, unchanging in volume—like drowning in water. Amid the foggy sensation, Cheol-woo focused on the sound, only to feel an eerie sense of familiarity. He'd felt this vibration before. As he groped for its source, a mumbling voice intruded, grating on his nerves. Is that Noona's voice?

"Hic!?"

His eyes snapped open, and Cheol-woo jolted awake. Shaking off the daze, he realized he was gripping Yuri's wrist in a death hold. But why the hell was his shirt pulled up? His face twisted in bewilderment.

"Agh, you scared the shit out of me. Thought my heart was gonna drop out. What are you, some wild animal? You freak out the second someone touches you..."

"Why'd you take my shirt off?"

"To disinfect your wound. Mi-young said she was too scared to wake you, so I came instead. If she'd shown up, your wrist would've snapped hers right now."

"..."

Cheol-woo wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and scanned the room. Right—they'd moved to a small rural village last night and crashed at a motel. So that vibration was just a dream? Hard to say. Now that he was awake, he didn't feel anything like it anymore.

"Hey!"

"What, yelling now?"

"Your stomach wound's completely healed! Not even a scar! Who's calling who a monster here?!"

"..."

Yuri paused, gauze soaked in antiseptic hovering mid-air, her eyes wide in disbelief. The massive gash that had pierced his abdomen was gone, replaced by nothing but taut abs. Sure, the bruises had faded faster than usual, and the cracked ribs ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had mended quicker, but getting labeled a monster for that? A surge of indignation boiled up inside her.

"It's really all gone. Doesn't even hurt if I poke it now."

"Freakin' monster."

"Nah, it wasn't like this before. Just a bit faster than normal, then suddenly—bam, perfect. Oh. The blue drug mist I inhaled?"

"Huh?"

His wounds had always healed at a modest pace. After the first gunshot, it took a full month—through Hong Kong and escaping on the yacht—for the surface to barely knit. But now, in just days, not a trace left? The only anomaly in between was sucking in that blue drug mist. Apparently, it didn't just boost physical stats; it supercharged recovery too. Like ramping up the whole metabolism? At this rate, most injuries would heal after a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dose and a nap. Total bullshit cheat code. Endless potential, aside from the tiny issue that normals turned into raging mutants.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no."

"No to what?"

"I can see exactly what you're thinking. No."

"Spit it out already. What?"

"You're planning to pop those pills like candy. Take 'em mid-fight, heal up, repeat. Don't. It just... feels wrong. There could be side effects that don't show up right away. If it's life-or-death, fine, but don't put yourself in that spot to begin with. God, I hate even imagining it, but if something happens to you too... I'd lose my mind."

"..."

Yuri sniffled, her eyes rimming red. When Cheol-woo had shown up mid-horde and torched them all, it was pure relief. But those bloodshot red eyes? Her breath had caught. Thank God he'd slept it off and woken fine, but the memory still chilled her. Irrational fear, sure. Telling him not to take a pill that made him stronger and healed him faster sounded stupid, but... she just wanted her little brother far away from that shit.

"I wasn't gonna use it anyway, even without you saying. Creeps me out too. Every time I dose, it feels like I'm not... me anymore."

"For real!?"

"Wipe those tears. Scared your bro might turn junkie?"

"Tears? I wasn't crying..."

Her hand lingered unconsciously on his abs as he pulled his shirt down. Sketchy as hell, that blue stuff. Like she said, safe now didn't mean safe later. Only a psycho would mainline it. Anyone with a brain wouldn't abuse it.

"Starving."

"No shit. You slept over twelve hours."

"Sh-should I make food? For all three of us, it'd take over an hour starting now..."

"Nah. We'll eat out. No parasites left, no reason to fear strangers' cooking."

"Ahh... phew..."

Mi-young exhaled like she'd aged a decade. The thought of cooking for those two after half a day of fasting had her vision blurring and chest tightening. Close call—she might've collapsed mid-prep.

Cheol-woo and the group washed up quick, clutched their growling stomachs, and headed out. But outside, the place was dead. Darwin felt urban by comparison; this was real sticks. A short walk downtown yielded few eateries. They picked the biggest one buzzing with locals—small spots wouldn't survive them.

"..."

The lively chatter hushed the moment they stepped in, all eyes snapping over. Rural spot, Asians rare? Wary glances prickled. Mi-young trembled behind Yuri; Cheol-woo ignored it and claimed a corner table.

"Need ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠help ordering?"

"Yeah. Drinks first. Hmm."

"Zero cola for me."

"Just water..."

"Water, zero cola, and a beer. For food—what's good here?"

"Kangaroo meat's our specialty. Pasta's tasty too."

"Got it. Six kangaroo steaks to start."

"Six steaks... got it... wait, what?"

"Two cream pastas, two tomato pastas."

"That's all? I'll down four pastas myself."

"Make it four pastas each then."

"Ah, uh, yes. $785."

The waitress scribbled furiously, took payment, and bolted to the kitchen. Too much at once and it'd cool; half now, more if good. If not, hit a second spot.

Gulping their drinks, they eyed the wall TV blasting news. Major cities mostly cleaned up, wrapping phase. Spotlight on Darwin: endless mass grave footage, mosaic-free corpse piles, groans echoing everywhere. Looked like some ethnic cleansing. Cheol-woo swallowed his urge to grab folks and yell, Parasites, not people!

The owner yelped and flipped channels.

Jason's interview flowed, face hidden, voice distorted. But who that "one ability user" was? Obvious. Post-interview, panels debated sheltered users. Big buzz, clearly. Cheol-woo and Yuri perked up too—curious what other abilities were out there.

"Kyaa!?"

Mi-young flinched at the sudden snuffling beside them. A massive bulldog had its paws on the table, nose buried in her bag. No food inside, yet it obsessed. It whipped around, barking deafeningly—woof woof!—and a scrawny guy strode in, presumed owner.

"You the owner of this mutt?"

"Yup. Sniff. That's me."

"Get it outta here. Ruining my appetite."

"Know what this? Specially trained dog. Sniff, haah. Sniffs out certain drugs like a pro. No need to spell it out—you know. Don't wanna bother locals, so hand it over quiet-like?"

"..."

"Don't get cute. Do what I say. See this badge? Could toss you all in jail now. Snort. That drug's tighter than coke—possession alone triggers anti-terror laws. Heavy crime. Got it?"

"..."

"Fuck. No English?"

Cheol-woo eyed the shoved badge—"Northern Territory Local Court Sheriff"—and the guy's face. Rapid-fire talk, bloodshot eyes, constant sniffing from wrecked nasal tissue, trembling hands. Not normal. Civilians might shrug druggie, but Cheol-woo clocked it exact: blue drug ability user.

"Just hand over the stash. Unless you want it rough. Hate looking bad in front of the ladies? Right n—"

"Food's here."

"Thanks."

"..."

Dishes hit the table; Cheol-woo dove into the steak. Yuri glanced warily, wiped drool, and slurped pasta. Trouble brewing, sure, but too hungry to care. What the fuck are these idiots doing? Bewilderment crossed the scrawny's face.