Tap, tap. Something lightly tapped the spot next to me.
“……?”
The survivor tilted his head in confusion, then hesitantly approached.
“Lie down. Like this.”
I tilted my body to the side to demonstrate, then straightened up. A look crossed his face that clearly asked, Why should I do that?
“You’re tired, so you should sleep. That way your body can recover faster.”
It was already healing at an abnormal pace. If he hadn’t kept aggravating the wounds, they might have been nearly closed by now.
I brushed off the intact section of the mat—who knows how many pieces it was in—and laid it down to use as a pillow substitute. Then, as I looked up at the survivor, who was still standing there blankly with his candy case, he flinched and quickly hid the case behind his back.
“Grrr!”
“…I’m not going to take it.”
I let out a dry laugh and shook my head. Do I look like someone who gives things just to snatch them back?
“If you go to sleep now, I’ll give you another one of those later.”
“…!”
The survivor’s eyes lit up at my words. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but he seemed to immediately grasp anything that benefited him.
He plopped down next to me. The problem was, instead of lying on the mat, he rested his head on my leg.
The weight pressing firmly against my thigh made my body stiffen for a moment.
“Not here. You should use this.”
Trying to mask my bewilderment, I pointed to the mat, but the survivor frowned and covered his ears like I was being too noisy.
“Mrrghh…”
His eyes were already closed—he looked completely ready to sleep. I instinctively shut my mouth. If he could actually sleep like this, it was better to let him.
I stretched my legs out so he could rest his head more comfortably. Once the height was better, the tension in his brow eased.
As I looked down at his bangs spread across his face, my fingers started to itch. In the end, I gently brushed them back. The survivor opened his eyes and looked up at me, then slowly closed them again.
Despite everything his body had been through, his face—now fully revealed up to his forehead—was surprisingly free of scars. With his eyes closed and lips shut, he just looked like a young man who’d grown up normally on a ship.
I glanced at his curled-up body, all crumpled from clutching the candy case, and slipped off my gown. Even a thin layer might offer some sense of comfort if it was covering him.
……
Even after draping the gown over him, the survivor didn’t move. His breathing was steady, but it didn’t seem like he had fallen asleep yet.
How long passed like that, I couldn’t tell.
Eventually, soft breathing filled the air, like he really had dozed off. His curled-up form had relaxed, making him look more at ease.
I quietly raised my wrist to check the screen. It was about time to head out—my team would start looking for me soon. This was also the best time to slip away, now that the survivor had fallen asleep so defenselessly.
My hand brushed against the back pocket of my pants. A wave of relief washed over me at the thought that I hadn’t needed to use the item I’d brought in case he tried to escape.
I gently lifted the survivor’s head and laid it on the mat. Even as I adjusted the gown around him and smoothed his messy hair, he didn’t stir.
I stood, my legs tingling, and limped slightly as I moved. Every few steps, I glanced back at him.
Zzzzzzzt…!
Just as I exited into the corridor, right before the door shut completely, our eyes met—he was lying there, wide awake, staring straight at me.
In that brief pause, the entrance sealed shut without a sliver of space left.
***
In that vast space, the survivor, who once kept his guard up as if there was nowhere safe to rest his body, had started to wander around aimlessly ever since I examined his wounds.
There weren’t many things he could tamper with anyway, but he once passed under the ceiling-mounted beast shower, triggered the sensor, and was caught in a downpour of water, bolting away in shock. Other times, he tapped on the walls and floors with a skeptical expression, inspecting them as if something might be hidden.
He still ate well and seemed to enjoy tearing his clothes to shreds. Oddly enough, though, he kept the lab coat I had left behind in perfect condition. He usually rolled it up and placed it next to his candy case, but whenever he went to sleep, he would use it like a pillow.
The bandages, soaked through and unable to withstand the survivor’s vigorous movements, had unraveled and fallen off on their own. Perhaps because he had kept his promise not to touch the wounds, they were now visibly healing.
At this rate, could it be that his body had evolved to adapt to life on the surface? I looked down at my own ankle, still struggling to recover from an old injury.
“Ca, Can…”
“Candy.”
“Can-can, dy. Candy.”
The survivor frowned in frustration as he tried to pronounce the word.
I nodded and placed a candy in his hand. As if he’d never been upset, his face lit up, and he carefully placed the candy into the upright case he had set beside him. Then, he securely shut the lid.
Even when I moved freely inside the containment area, the survivor never attacked or tried to escape. Still, I didn’t believe he had completely let his guard down around me. There wasn’t enough justification for that.
I couldn’t rule out the possibility that he was biding his time, observing the situation, and meticulously planning an escape from the ship—all while pretending to comply with my instructions.
If I looked at it objectively, that is.
“Candy?”
His violent behavior on the first day might have been a calculated act, a way to make himself appear like someone driven solely by instinct and impulse.
“Candy!”
……
I stopped thinking when he held out his large palm, clearly wanting more. I met his eyes—those dark pupils that seemed focused solely on immediate desires and emotions.
To extract information, smooth communication was essential, and for that to happen, language had to be learned. When I began teaching him the basics, I realized he knew more than I expected and had even shown interest in my name, yet he seemed unfamiliar with written text.
He was relatively better at listening, so now and then, I’d say a few words aloud. That’s how he learned what his favorite snack was. Watching him proudly demand candy left me dumbfounded.
“…Here.”
Grroowl…
Amused by his delighted grumble, I rested my chin on my hand and observed him. His wounds had healed nicely, and after getting splashed with water every day, his hygiene was decent. He also seemed to sleep more soundly when no one was around, and his complexion had visibly improved.
Maybe that’s why his wildly overgrown hair was bothering me more than usual.
“Your hair.”
I reached out and fiddled with the stiff ends of his hair.
“Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable?”
“Un… uncomf…?”
“Yeah. What if we cut it like mine?”
I pointed to my own hair, then to his. He furrowed his brows and stared at my hand gestures. After a brief delay, comprehension finally began to show on his face.
……
He rolled his eyes in thought, then shook his head.
I guess it wasn’t time yet.
Just as I felt a twinge of disappointment, the survivor tapped me. When I looked at him curiously, he grabbed a handful of his own hair.
“Uncomfortable. Un… uncomfortable!”
“What? But you said you didn’t want to cut it.”
“Uncomfortable!”
He had always been the growling type, so his sudden outburst didn’t strike me as particularly odd.
So he didn’t want to cut it, but after hearing my suggestion, it had started to feel bothersome? In that case, tying it up was the only option.
I scanned the area for something to use on his long, thick hair, but of course, there was nothing. I dug through my lab coat pocket without much hope and came across the candy bundle I had packed to coax him. The elastic string tying it up looked durable enough.
“Turn around.”
Despite his size, he chewed on the candy like a child. I sat him down and took my place behind him. I pulled the strands covering his face to the back and began brushing them out with my fingers.
It wasn’t like I had never fixed someone’s hair before. Min Yugeon preferred tying up his slightly long back hair, and whenever it came undone, I’d occasionally help him retie it myself. He always found it irritating when his hair touched the nape of his neck.
…Hope he’s doing well.
A bitter taste spread in my mouth. I pressed my tongue to the inside of my cheek and lowered my gaze.
Ever since Min Yugeon left home, we hadn’t contacted each other once. Feeling his absence in that quiet house every day wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.
I tried not to think too much about him, tried not to dwell on all the things tied to Min Yugeon—but it wasn’t easy.
