His back aches so much that it seems to be on fire. His head throbs so uncontrollably that he has to put his fingers onto his nose bridge to relief the pain.

  It almost takes him a whole minute to blink away the black dots dancing behind his eyes. He sits up with difficulty when he finally clears his vision. For a second he can see nothing but dreadful darkness. Adjusting his sight, he can see the pane stretching endlessly towards the horizon, forming a straight line at the end. He scoops a handful of soil and let them slip through his fingers.

   My name is Kim Jong Kook.

  For a scary moment, he cannot remember anything else. Then the memories come flooding back so fast that his temples hurt. The filming, the crew, the PDs… They all make sense now.

  He stifles a laugh—is this a joke? He scans through the field but he cannot see anything. No cameras, no VJs. He thinks, Seriously. The PDs should at least give me a notecard to tell me what to do…

  …Unless this is not part of the show. Dread crawls up his skin to the bottom pit of his intestines. No way. He shakes that thought away. Lifting himself up with his hand, he stands unstably as he stares into the wilderness.

  He barges forward. There must be something, He decides. Or someone out there. This is just a show.

This is just a show.

***

   She plods through the desert. Sighing tiredly, she flops herself down on the rugged ground. Her legs are hurting like hell after walking for so long. She pulls out her phone and tries to call again. Still no signal