“Why don’t you just kill yourself?” A girl at school asked me once. 

I think that question was intended to be cruel,

but it was the first time I’d ever contemplated the possibility.

A rifle gun fired from a distance. Do Kyungsoo’s eyes shot open. He looked around. It’s only been three days. And Seoul City looked like a quarantine. He started moving.

There’s nothing but empty, barren space stretching out ahead of him. Broken pavements, dirty roads, trees, dying plants, a yellowed city drowning in yellow leaves. The civilians were screaming and running for shelter, ducking away from soldiers rushing through their homes, pounding down doors to make sure no one would be spared.

JOURNAL ENTRY 8

CLA3. A chemical that comes in a form of a 150 grams candy, was sold to the entire world. Everyone was well informed about the object. It gave power - magic even - to those who’ll consume it.

They said “We humans can only are only using 10% of our potential brainpower. No one has an idea how to trigger the remaining 90% except the dolphins who are using 20% of their cerebral capacity. Apparently, the scientists of today proves to be better than dolphins.”

The CLA3 triggers another 20% of our cerebral capacity. That will make a total of 30%. And with that 30% active, an ordinary Man will be what used to seem unordinary to us. Reading minds. Manipulating matter at a distance. A lot more that would only mean power.

People were excited. The products sold out fast.

Fast. Like how it ruined the society.

Results varied. Bodies didn’t cope up. People died. Some got more than 30, most got less.

I got nothing.

It was sold at an impossible price for the poor, that’s why I got nothing.

Orders were released.

“Those who have no proofs of buying the chemical are to be executed.”

“Those who got less than 30% are now null citizens of the country.”

They want the others, killed. They want me, captured.

Why?

I got nothing.

Soldiers were starting to fill in. Moving from place to place. It was suffocating Kyungsoo. Not the pressure he’d somehow mastered to ignore. It was how he could feel every movement of the hundred and sixty-five soldiers within three meters radius.  Jitters. Goosebumps. Uneasiness. It was terrible. But whatever it was, It’s the only thing that could help him.

The roads are packed with pedestrians trying to escape. Kyungsoo looked nothing like a wanted person, but his wild eyes and jerky movements seemed to give him away. Everyone stayed away from him, darting in opposite directions, some squeaking, shouting, crying, dropping the things in their hands.

“Hey! Hey you! Stop!” A soldier called out.

Kyungsoo knew it was him. He kept walking. 165 soldiers ran towards his direction. 85 had their guns loaded. 14 talked through their walkie-talkies. 15 went east. 17 south. 18 west. 16 climbed buildings. He felt everything. Including the gun that fired. West. Kyungsoo squatted to the ground just as a bullet flies past his head. East. He kicked down the closest door and ran through the ruins toward another exit, trapped in a maze of what used to be a clothing store. Gunshots and footsteps were close behind.

“Goddamnit Jongin, where are you?” Kyungsoo muttered to himself as he rummaged through the clothes scattered around the place.

There had to be something, anything, that could be thick enough to keep him warm at night. If ever he survived the day.

He kept grunting curses meant for his friend as he took a caramel-colored coat from the ground.

He froze.

Eight. Ten. Fifteen soldiers were getting close.

Closer.

Too close.

He made a run for the hole on the wall created by the explosions of neighboring buildings. South. 20 soldiers ran after him. Real close.

He got out of the building. Dead air brushed  through his pale skin as he stood there motionless. A rifle gun was pointed on his head.

166. He lost count. He lost focus. He lost.

"Well, well. Look who we finally got," The man who held the gun looked amused. Him and his eating grin.

'Gen.', his name plate read.

'Gen. Kim Jongdae.'