Chapter Text
His body felt heavy, his head ached, his mouth felt dry, and an unbearable ringing echoed in his ears. Images flashed through his mind, he didn’t understand any of it; he didn’t recognize those people, and the voices sounded muffled, distant, and confused. He opened his eyes suddenly, he threw up something he didn't even know what it was, he found himself in a sort of gabion, rising rapidly in a sort of elevator. The lights on either side of the tunnel didn't provide enough light to know anything else around it.
“What the fuck?” his voice sounded hoarse and worn out, the bilis still burned in his throat.
He screamed for help, but the gabion didn't stop. He was alone, the only things around him were wooden boxes piled up in a corner. Strange noises came from the sides of the gabion forcing him to move away from the edges.
“Hello?” but his voice was subdued by the gabion noise.
Who was him? Why didn't he remember his name? How did he end up there? What the fuck was going on here? What was causing those strange noises outside the gabion? He wondered in his dazed and confused mind.
He approached the edge to lift one of the pieces of fabric covering the wire mesh, but the very same roar—like that of an animal—made him step back until he bumped into the other end of the gabion.
His chest tightened amid so much uncertainty; his eyes stung, desperate to shed salty, solitary tears.
“¿Hello? ¡Help, please!” His voice seemed to emerge from the desperation of mere survival.
He wanted to get out of there; it wasn't where he wanted to be. Well, if he could remember where he'd been before, he'd probably be more certain about it, but everything was uncertain, his heart was pounding in his chest, and the ringing in his ears was becoming unbearable.
He was about to scream again when the gabion came to an abrupt stop, causing him to lose his balance, and his aching body slammed against the metal floor. His breathing was still ragged, his throat hurt, and he was trembling like a frightened child.
“¿Hello?” he asked in a weak voice.
The doors above the gabion opened. The light blinded his eyes, causing him to let out an involuntary hiss, he put his hand over his eyes. Above him, there were boys… many young boys staring at him, their expressions neutral, curious, and in some cases resigned. He didn’t understand—who were they?
“Another one’s here,” one of them said flatly, there was a mocking smile on his lips that he didn’t understand.
His confused and frightened mind kept trying to figure out where the hell he was. A boy came down—with brown hair, a sharp face, and full lips; his clothes looked worn but not dirty, and a confident smile graced his face. He approached him, and instinctively, he stepped back.
“It’s okay, no one here is going to hurt you,” he declared in a voice that gave him an almost absurd sense of security.
“He probably peed his pants,” one of the guys who was still staring blurted out; some of them laughed.
“Shut up, Val,” another guy snapped.
“Come on, don’t listen to them—they’re idiots. I’m Keeho,” greeted the one who was still holding out his hand to him.
He stared at him for a couple of minutes, looked at his hand, and then took it. His legs were shaking, but Keeho helped him keep his balance. He was lifted up, and his body hit the ground, making him wince.
“You dropped som… oh…” Keeho’s eyes widened, and he turned to look at him with some difficulty.
In Keeho’s hands was a piece of paper.
“What happened, Keeho?”
The man’s face was serious; it seemed to express nothing more than something akin to restrained concern.
“He’s the last one” he murmured under his breath.
The boys upstairs looked at one another, not understanding the brown-haired boy’s words. Keeho looked at him, and his body tensed. Keeho climbed again and he didn't look at him again.
“Keeho” another boy appeared and stood up in front of the one with the brown hair.
“Please take a look at this note, Jongseob,” he said, handing him the paper. The boy with black hair—his face looked gentle and youthful—took the paper with a slight grimace.
The other boys gathered around the one called Jongseob, but the one with black hair wouldn’t let the others read it.
“Jongseob is the only one who can see it,” Keeho declared, and everyone seemed to obey without objection.
The boys looked at him again with almost obsessive attention. He pressed his lips together; some of their words were starting to make him dizzy, and the ringing in his ears was becoming unbearable.
“No…” he muttered, getting to his feet as best he could and then running off as fast as his legs would carry him.
Keeho tried to stop him, but it was too late.
“He’s a runner!” one of them blurted out, laughing. Keeho winced as he watched him fall hard.
He got to his feet as best he could, only to find a massive stone structure looming before him—a wall that rose up on all sides like a solid cage.
Where the hell was he? But before he could think any further, two pairs of arms grabbed him tightly.
“No… let me go,” he said, trying to break free from the arms holding him; they dragged him forcefully to what looked like a cage, threw him inside, and then shut the wooden door.
After they left, he approached the wooden door to take a look around; there were goats, and kids coming and going with axes, vegetables, and other things. The gray wall still loomed imposingly from where he stood.
“Hey…”Keeho reappeared behind the door and instinctively took a step back. “You ran really well… but don’t let that happen again, okay?” He didn’t answer, but that didn’t stop the other person from continuing to speak.
“Where are you from? ” he asked, and the boy couldn’t answer; he kept tapping his foot insistently because no matter how hard he tried to remember, nothing came to mind. “What’s your name?
“I don’t remember… I don’t remember anything. W-why can’t I remember anything? ” he muttered, continuing to tap the floor. Keeho looked at him and sighed.
“Oh? You’re talking? I thought the grievers had eaten your tongue,” he said with a soft chuckle, but when he saw the confused look on his face, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, bad joke. Don’t worry about it—it happens to all of us, okay? Don’t overthink it,” he smiled gently, opened the door, and held out his hand. “I don’t like having you standing there—come on.”
He looked at his hand again and then took it. Keeho gave him a gentle shove to get him out of there and was surprised by how strong the boy was.
“None of us remembers anything when we get here, but you’ll remember your name in a day or two… it’s the only thing they let us keep,” he stated.
“They?”
Keeho stared at him and then looked around the place with a sigh.
“The ones who put us here,” he murmured, and he couldn’t understand what he meant.
Why would anyone be so cruel and leave young kids in that place that looked like a prison?
"Listen. . . I’ll give you a quick tour.
He nodded.
“Over there are the ones in charge of building our shelters,” he pointed to a spot where small huts stood, “and over there are the kids who take care of our food…” And so he continued explaining the different areas, but his eyes kept drifting toward the great wall surrounding them. Keeho could tell.
“Jiung…” A new name made him turn back toward Keeho.
Another boy stood in front of them both; his hair was short and black, his forehead bare, and his eyes were sharp and distrustful. As soon as they landed on him, he felt a chill down his spine. His clothes looked just like Keeho’s, only a little less dirty.
“Newbie, this is Jiung. He’s in charge of the food and takes care of everything when I’m not around,” Keeho introduced him with a smile, slinging his arm around the boy’s shoulders. The boy sighed resignedly as he was squeezed against Keeho.
“Nice to meet you,” the boy murmured, but he kept staring intently at him.
Was it a pleasure for Jiung to meet him? he wondered, swallowing hard.
“Jiung, can you go get Jongseob?” he asked, and Jiung nodded.
“About the note…”
“We’ll talk about it later…” —this time, Keeho’s cheerful voice changed drastically. Jiung nodded and walked away, but not before taking one last look at him.
“Don’t pay too much attention to him; he’s a good guy… when he wants to be,” he smiled as if his expression hadn’t just completely changed.
He watched Jiung leave; Keeho’s gaze returned when the boy’s silhouette disappeared from view, and instead he watched as the other boys moved back and forth.
“What are they doing?” he asked, watching as the boys came and went, carrying things with them.
“We’ve got something planned for tonight—you’ll see.”
Keeho kept talking until they stopped at a large tower.
“I hope you’re not afraid of heights,” he joked.
He didn’t really know, of course—he didn’t remember.
In any case, he followed him.
“This is all we’ve got,” he declared, resting his arms on the wooden railing.
He stared intently at the place, the wall surrounding them was just as imposing as ever. No matter how much he looked at it, it continued to arouse a curiosity he still couldn’t quite figure out.
Keeho glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Newbie, pay attention,” he said firmly, his voice once again serious and almost authoritative, causing him to look back at him attentively. “We have rules here—three of them. They’re simple, but every boy in this place has to learn to respect them.” He nodded slowly.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like a puppy?”
He blinked in confusion and tilted his head.
“No… I mean… I don’t know?”
Keeho burst out laughing.
“Of course, you’re right,” he admitted, then cleared his throat. “Well, I think you look like one—I have vague memories of what a puppy is like.”
“Uh…”
“Sorry, what I meant to say was” he cleared his throat again, and his expression turned serious once more. “This is all we have, and we’ve fought to make it our own. If you respect this place and the other guys, we’ll get along just fine.”
But his gaze drifted back to the wall, which seemed to have some sort of door. Keeho looked at him and sighed but didn’t answer, which confused him, though he didn’t press the issue.
“In this place, we have three rules, newbie, Keeho said, frowning at him. Rule number one: do your part; we don’t have time for freeloaders. Rule number two: never harm another Glader.”
He swallowed hard; Keeho spoke with caution, authority, and something that made him feel small.
“None of this works without trust; trust within a community is key.”
His gaze drifted unconsciously back to the walls.
“Newbie,” the tone was stern, “look at me.”
He did.
“Rule number three, and the most important one: never go beyond the walls,” he declared without taking his eyes off Keeho’s.
His heart began to race; he didn’t know if it was because of the warning from the man who seemed to be the leader or because there was a thorn driving him on—a curiosity burning beneath his skin that was much stronger than his own desire to follow a simple rule.
“Is that clear, rookie?” The weight of Keeho’s hand on his shoulder made him almost gasp.
“Yes…”
Keeho smiled and patted him on the shoulder.
“Keeho!”
They both heard the brown-haired boy’s name. They peered out, and the same black-haired boy he’d seen when he came out of the gabion waved at them in greeting.
“Time for me to leave you in good hands,” he smiled, patting his shoulder one last time before walking toward the stairs.
He followed him, and Jongseob was waiting for them with his arms crossed, his gaze even more intense than Jiung’s.
“Do I really have to take care of him?”
Keeho smiled and patted Jongseob on the shoulder the same way he had patted him, and Jongseob immediately grumbled and stepped back, before the brown-haired boy could decide to dislocate one of his bones.
“Go on, do it. Remember, not long ago you were in his shoes,” Keeho muttered, and Jongseob snorted.
“See you later,” he smiled at him one last time and walked away, “and welcome to the Glade, newbie.
He watched him leave, and if he was being honest, the nickname ‘newbie’ was starting to annoy him more and more.
“Get moving, newbie,” Jongseob said, looking back at him with a suspicion he didn’t understand, but he followed him anyway, glancing one last time at the walls that still stood imposingly.
He didn’t know what lay ahead; the uncertainty of not knowing who he was, not knowing where they were or why they were there, continued to weigh on his chest, but those walls drew him in like a magnet, while the third rule kept circling in his mind like an insistent mantra.