The Light That Binds Us-Hwang Inho

Rae-a stood in the dim alleyway, her hand pressed firmly to the fresh cut on her temple. The wound wasn't deep, but it stung, a sharp reminder of how ugly things had gotten at the loan shark office that morning. She had finally told her boss she was done—done with the collections, done with the endless cycle of violence, and done being their pawn. The laughter that followed her announcement echoed in her ears, mockery layered with malice.

They hadn't let her leave quietly. They never would.

Her steps were heavy as she trudged through the shadowed streets, her thoughts spiraling between guilt and anger. The air was cold, biting through her thin jacket, but she barely felt it. Neon lights from gaudy signs reflected off the puddles on the cracked pavement, casting distorted, flickering patterns. Rae-a's eyes stared ahead, unfocused, the faces of the occasional passerby a meaningless blur. Every step carried the weight of a thousand regrets, the echoes of a life she couldn't escape no matter how much she fought.

The girl's face haunted her thoughts. Wide, terrified eyes, filled with silent pleas Rae-a couldn't answer. They had tied Rae-a to a chair, forcing her to watch as they punished the girl—a bright, spirited child Rae-a had taken under her wing—for daring to challenge them. Every scream was a knife to Rae-a's soul, each crack of the whip another reminder of her powerlessness. She had fought against her restraints until her wrists bled, but it had been futile. The girl's life was snuffed out before her eyes, leaving Rae-a drowning in guilt.

She tightened her fists, nails biting into her palms as her emotions swirled into a storm of grief and rage. Her jaw clenched as she walked aimlessly, head down, ignoring the city around her. She wanted to scream, to break something, to make the world hurt the way it had hurt her. But the streets didn't care. The city swallowed its victims, their pain drowned out by the ceaseless hum of indifference.

As she turned a corner, a desperate cry pierced her haze.

"Somebody help! Please! My son!"

Rae-a's head snapped up. Further down the narrow street, a boy no older than ten lay curled on the ground, shielding his head as two burly men kicked him mercilessly. The woman screaming nearby was frozen in fear, hands clasped together as though praying for intervention.

Without hesitation, Rae-a strode forward, her body moving before her mind could catch up. She stepped between the boy and his attackers, her voice cold and commanding.

"That's enough."

One of the teens sneered, raising his fist to strike, but Rae-a moved with precision. She sidestepped the blow and slammed her elbow into his stomach, sending him staggering back. The other teen hesitated, clearly less confident, but Rae-a didn't wait for him to act. She grabbed his arm, twisting it sharply until he dropped the makeshift weapon he was holding, yelping in pain.

"Leave," she ordered, her voice like steel.

The boys exchanged nervous glances before fleeing. Rae-a knelt by the trembling boy, scanning him for injuries. The mother rushed forward, pulling her son into her arms as tears streamed down her face.

"Thank you," the woman gasped, her voice choked with relief. "Thank you so much."

"Take him home," Rae-a said tersely, already turning to leave. "And don't let this happen again."

But the woman grabbed her arm, desperation in her grip. "Please, wait! You... you're strong. You can help me."

Rae-a froze, her expression hardening. "I don't help people."

"You just did!" the woman insisted, her voice cracking. "Please, I need you. I signed up for something—something I can't do. Not when I have my son. My god.. I don't know what I would do if...when I am gone..."

Rae-a stared at her, the words barely registering. "What are you talking about?"

The woman glanced around nervously, lowering her voice. "It's a game. They said I could win enough money to fix everything. But I can't leave my son alone. Please.."

Rae-a wanted to walk away. To tell this woman that she didn't care. But the image of the girl—the girl she had failed—rose unbidden in her mind. Another child left to suffer. Another family shattered.

And if there was money to be won, then maybe, just maybe, she would be able to leave this hellhole.

"Fine," Rae-a muttered. "What do I have to do?"

The woman exhaled shakily, fumbling to hand over a card with a phone number and a strange logo. "You'll need this password, and the location to pick you up is xxxx at 11:30pm" she whispered, reciting it twice. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Rae-a didn't reply. She pocketed the card and walked away, her stomach twisting with unease.

The van was empty, save for Rae-a. She sat in the back seat, her body tense and her mind alert. The stale air felt suffocating, the silence unnerving. Her eyes scanned the locked doors, the tinted windows. Something was wrong, though she couldn't pinpoint what. All of this for a game?

When the gas began to fill the vehicle, her instincts kicked in. She yanked her sleeve over her mouth and nose, coughing as she scrambled to the door. The handle wouldn't budge. Panic surged as the gas thickened, clouding her vision and stinging her eyes. Her gaze darted around until it landed on the headrest in front of her. Without hesitation, she pulled it free, gripping the metal rods tightly.

She struck the window with all her strength, each hit splintering the glass a little more. Her arms burned, her movements growing sluggish as the gas sapped her energy. Her lungs screamed for air, but she kept swinging. The final blow sent the headrest clattering to the floor as her grip faltered. Rae-a's knees buckled, her body collapsing onto the seat. Her head tilted, eyes lingering on the spiderwebbed cracks in the glass—evidence of her fight—before darkness consumed her.

Rae-a woke to a blinding white light and the hum of fluorescent bulbs. Her head throbbed, her limbs felt heavy, and the uniform she wore felt foreign. She sat up slowly, her gaze falling on the number stitched to her chest: 089. The sight sent a chill down her spine.

Her eyes swept the room, taking in the rows of bunks and the sea of identical uniforms. Strangers murmured nervously, their voices blending into an indistinct hum. The air was thick with tension and confusion.

"Where the hell am I?" she muttered, her voice hoarse. She tried to clear her voice, but it did nothing to soothe the dryness of her voice.

The answer didn't matter. What mattered was finding a way out. No place that kidnaps people for a game is a good place. She scolded herself for being so foolish as to not trust her intuition from the beginning. As the voice over the speakers began to drone instructions, Rae-a's mind went to work. She cataloged exits, counted guards, and assessed the people around her. Regret gnawed at her, but she pushed it aside.

"No turning back now," she told herself, her jaw set. "Focus. And maybe i'll get out of here."