8C7XRK.

You hated being nothing more than a combination of numbers and characters. So insignificant in the system. So insignificant and bothersome that you need to fight to survive. For something that used to be an innate right.

But that was before the overpopulation. Before the time when humanity started killing itself with the help of the governance.

The world as it is today is a lot crueller than it used to be. Money is nice but life has started to be more valued than materials because nobody can be sure if they survive the tomorrow. Not in times like this.

The Annual Median has been now brought to Korea.

The program’s sole purpose is to reduce the population and instead of putting poison into the water system or drawing unlucky bastards, the higher-ups decided to involve the people. All of them. It’s a death and life game that goes on until half of the country’s inhabitants are either dead or crossed the border which is never easy in these cases.

There’s no law, no authority, no respect. It cannot be because on the first day of Median, everybody will be assigned a code and a status. The latter can either be hunter or hunted. You aren’t sure which one is better: would you rather be a prey or a killer? Because if a hunter doesn’t kill for a day, he will become hunted, too. And if a hunted kills, you ask? No, oh no, they won’t be a hunter, that’s their own death sentence. There are a very few rules but it is one of them: you have to act like the role you are supposed to play.

The most frightening part is that you can’t know it. Your neighbour can kill you, your colleague or an old classmate. You might wonder how people live after all that bloodshed? Every survivor of the Median will be brainwashed later on and they will live their life as if nothing happened. Pretty convenient, isn’t it? That’s the worst thing in the system: that they make it seem normal.

As if it was normal to have a code tattooed onto your nape, a serial number like you were worse  than an animal that has it hardcoded not just that you’re merely a record in the database but a prey on top of that. Only preys’ codes start with numbers. So now you wait, you hide and pray that nobody will find you because that’s what preys are supposed to do.

As of today the population of South Korea dropped from 88 million to 63 and that’s only the first day. That means about 25 million hunters killed and 19 million decided not to. You wonder if they regret now that they can die whenever.

 

A week passes and you are running out of food.

The killing pace slowed dramatically in the last few days. People either got better in hiding or not many hunters are alive. They could have started killing each other for all you know. You haven’t left the storage room built in your back garden for days now. Or to be more precise: you haven’t left the bunker underneath. It was too risky to go up to the surface. Your only connection to the outside world is the official radio signal that announces the number of survivors at the end of every day.

Normally Medians are over within a week, so you didn’t pack enough food for so long. Maybe that’s the hunters’ strategies now, too. People are better in hiding, so now they gotta wait until we move because we need something to eat. If they are smart, they are around supermarkets, so there you won’t go, no chance. But you gotta get something and soon or else you will be too malnourished to survive these days anyway.

You wear light clothing, so you can move fast and you choose dark colours to fit into the night. You also take a bag and a baseball bat with you. Just out of protection. You have never been more afraid to step out of your own house than now and it’s shocking how quiet the surface is. It gives the night an eerie feeling but no matter how much you want to go back and hide under the blankets, you know you have to face the night. You chose a late time because of the bad sight circumstances and because you hoped most of the people slept during this time, at least the hunters who could sleep in peace.

Every little sound you make, every noise that your boots create with the gritty road makes you want to jump out of your skin. But you keep going with a strong grip on the baseball bat, you go towards to the corner coffee shop where you’re sure they keep enough food in the stock room. You have been working there the previous summers, so you know exactly what to look for and where. You’re almost relieved when you reach the back door and find the spare key in the little pot by the window. The door creaks when you open it and your breath hitches when you see the torch’s light coming from inside. But you are so close to your goal! It’s just a quick in and out, you tell yourself. You have to run maximum of 5 meters until the stockroom or you better sneak into it without getting caught, stuff food into the bag. Why would you turn back now? It might be just another stray.

You take a deep willing yourself not to panic and snuggling close to the wall you peek out from the corner to see into the main area of the shop.

There’s a guy there with his back and a bit of side profile to you. He looks young, your age or only a bit older. He wears simple but quality clothes, his pitch black hair is perfectly cut and he seems too calm in such situation. Your first thought is that he’s familiar, he must be because you know most people in the neighbourhood. But then he turns and you hide behind the wall quickly. You have seen enough of him anyways and that’s when realization hits you: you know him. Everybody knows him.

He’s Kang Chanhee, the son of the president.

Since the country needs guidance even after thing whole bloodshed ends, of course the government is exempted from participating but not their families. Still, it makes you question: what if they tricked the system. Maybe this boy will do anything to survive because that’s exactly what his father wants him to do. They probably had a plan way before all out- and inside communication were cut off. The mere thought angers you. What you wouldn’t have given if you could have one last phone call with your parents before getting locked into this killing zone.

It might happen because of your distracted thought, but you become too careless and almost knock down a shelf. The collision’s noise echoes in the small place and you swear under your nose. You grab on your baseball bat with two hands and use it as a shield in front of you when the approaching footsteps reach you.

When he turns on the corner, you finally see him up close, his charcoal eyes widening at your sight, raven black hair messy and pale cheeks hollow.

“Hey, hey, you don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he rushes to reassure you when he sees your fierce but frightened eyes.

“That’s what they all say,” you grit your teeth still holding on your weapon as if your life depended on it.

The way he carries himself all mighty and confident, you’re sure he’s a hunter. You wonder how much blood is on his hands by now. But you can’t let yourself think too much, so you act on impulse and lunging forward you elbow him into the face. As you pass by him, you hear a faint crack and the guy cursing.

“Wow, I think you broke my nose.”

His surprised tone and the actual pain in it takes you aback enough to slow down your steps and glance back above your  shoulder to see his nose is bleeding that’s for sure. You tell yourself not to feel guilty about it because even though you can’t kill a hunter but hurting them isn’t against the rules.

“I don’t want to die,” you state clearly and make a grab on your backpack when the president’s son’s voice stops you once again:

“I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you. I’m a hunted, too. I have literally no reason to do that,” he says firmly, a bit hurt by your actions and it fills your blood with uncertainty and guilt. What if he says the truth? What then? Why does he keep talking instead of letting you both go on your own way? “Do you wanna see my code? Will that make you believe?”

Now that’s interesting. Why is he so keen on proving himself to you?

“Whatever. Just take care of your nose first,” you turn back to him who keeps a random cloth to his bleeding face. He wipes it off taking a deep breath to make sure the bleeding stopped after a minute of holding it and luckily for both of you, the bone doesn’t really look broken.

Then when he’s done, he turns around and pulls down the neck of his shirt to reveal his code to you.  He really has one there but it’s not like yours, it’s not intact. His original code was ON6N33 but the O had been crossed and now there’s a zero in its place. He was right: even if he was supposed to be a hunter, he didn’t kill. He’s a good man.

“Fine. I believe you,” you hang your head down while you step to the fridge of the kitchen, take out some ices and bundle it up in a cloth. “Here, put it on your nose. It will help with the swelling. And remember not to scare girls in the dark.”

“I-uh I will keep that in mind,” Chanhee laughs and it’s so genuine that you have no idea what to do with it. You must seem baffled because he notices your expression and frowns. “What?”

“You’re the first person I’ve talked to since it started,” you admit and it reminds you how much you missed human contact. Speaking or just hearing someone’s laugh.

“Oh,” he whispers not knowing what else to say. You wouldn’t know in his place either. But at least you haven’t seen anyone getting killed nor had someone coming after you. But being locked in a small basement room with no window can indeed sound like prison even if it was you who decided to keep the key.

“How did you know I wasn’t a hunter?” you ask after clearing your throat.

“Hunters have nothing to lose once they started killing. And you were hiding, the human instinct makes you do that if you feel danger and want to survive.” Chanhee explains and you have to admit that his logic is right, there’s nothing to add.

It leaves you in an awkward silence which is only broken by the grumble of your stomach. Oh yeah, the food.

“Uhm, do you wanna eat?” The boy asks with less certainty than before and he looks into the storage he scared you out of. (Like a rabbit jumping out of the bush.)

“I… yeah,” you give in because that’s why you came didn’t you: food.

“I just arrived today and I’m actually surprised how much supply is still here,” he notes and you both take a handful of food from the storage room just to sit down at a table to actually eat. It’s weird, eating in this place where you have had dates and family dinners but now it’s dark, there are only two flashlights and there’s a boy who you don’t even know.

“What are you doing here?” you huff taking a mental step back, feeling a bit confused after this whole encounter. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Seoul at daddy’s super secure home?”

“It’s not that secure when suddenly everyone tries to break in because they blame your father for something that’s not his fault. He has no hand in the Median. Not even with the Draw.” Chanhee explains as he bites into a cereal bar as if it was the best thing he ever tasted. “So you do know who I am?”

He questions belatedly like the thought only registered in him now. You shrug.

“It’s hard not to with your reputation.”

Your reply makes him raise a brow.

“Reputation?”

“The golden child of the president: excellent at school, great at sports, who also has an eye for arts yada yada,” you keep listing what you heard about him during the years. His image seemed very stern and perfect, a bit over the top but now meeting him, he seems vulnerably human.

“I’m very far from being golden,” he whispers a piece of cereal off his lips. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Tell me something about you,” he asks you and with an actually filled stomach for once, you do tell him about yourself. You tell him why you are alone and how you survived and what you have been doing in the bunker but then he asks you to speak about more trivial things like favourite bands and what you wanted to be as a child. It’s surprisingly easy to talk to him, it comes naturally. You talk for what feels like hours and for the first time since the Median started you actually forget this horrible situation you’re in. Suddenly it just feels like a girl and boy talking in a nice, quiet place. At one point you even teach Chanhee how to caramelize sugar because you find some nuts and make a humble little dessert like this.

It almost feels wrong to ask about what his plans are but it’s already getting brighter outside and with light, hunters come, you both know.

“Before all outside connections were cut off, he told me to go to Busan, that there will be a ship here to take people. That’s where I’m going.”

“Oh.” That was all you could say, not very coherent but what else could you add? Maybe you should wish good luck for his journey. Yeah, that would be the polite thing to do. But before you could act on these thoughts, Chanhee blurts out something that takes you aback:

“Do you want to come with me?”

“Why would you want that? You don’t even know me,” you blink in surprise but Chanhee doesn’t even need time to think before he answers:

“I know what’s your favourite colour, that you’re vegetarian, that you prefer sunrises over sunsets and that you have a questionable taste in music,” he adds in a slightly teasing tone but then the smile falls and his words seem serious again. “I know you’re alone and probably scared. And I’m selfish because I don’t want to be alone.”

On his part, it really is selfish. On your part it’s risky because it means you should give up hiding. It means dangers because the Busan sea is at least a few hours away if you want to avoid the main roads. But it means having someone to talk to, it also means leaving this place where the Median lasts god knows how long.

“Okay… Just let me get a few of my stuff,” you agree and seeing the bright, genuine smile on Chanhee’s face, the danger somehow already feels worthy.

 

The petrol in Chanhee’s car lasts for an hour more, still a few dozens more kilometres from the port. The streets seem endless and vacant, there’s barely anything moving. When you run out of petrol, you walk nearly five kilometres under the blazing Sun to get to the next city where you can steal a car. Law can’t punish what happens under the Median anyway.

You see the boy adjusting his belt multiple times and you know it without having to voice it out that he carries a gun with him, anxious about whom you will face. There’s nobody, not for a long time and you almost get relieved after getting some sleep in turns on the first night outside. You turn your head whenever you see the sea of dead bodies but at night, when you wake from nightmares, you throw up the little you had that day. Chanhee doesn’t say anything, he caresses your back and helps you calm down with soothing words and gentle fingers rubbing your skin.

You talk about normal stuff to pretend the Median has never ever happened, you talk about school and dreams and awkward childhood memories. With him, it’s almost easy to forget that you’re in the middle of a deadly competition for survival.

But nothing good lasts forever. Over the three days you’ve been on your way, you met only one hunted man quivering in the shadows but nobody else. Naively you think it will be easy then, to get to the port but to prove you wrong a bullet almost hits you in the heart.

“Are you okay?” Chanhee asks panting, his body hovering over yours as he saved you from the bullet by pushing you behind a car.

“Yeah,” you whisper back heart still racing.

“Come out, little mice, come out to play,” someone hollers on the other side of the car. He must find this horrible situation so freaking funny to compare it to a game. “I swear it’ll be over quickly. You won’t even feel a thing.”

Dying has become the norm at this state of this survival show and the killers probably don’t feel anything anymore besides the thrill or the rush of adrenalin. While you, the hunted has to adapt to survival skills you were never taught.

“Stay down,” Chanhee whispers, attempting to get up but you grab on his sleeve.

“Don’t do it.”

“It will be alright,” he says unhooking your fingers from his clothes and takes out the gun from the back of his torn jeans.

“Hello-hello, playing the hero, I see,” the hunter smirks. You see him with his gun held forward through the windows of the car you hide behind.

“Can’t you let us leave?” Chanhee asks and gosh, how can he still hope in the kindness of humanity in a cruel game like this?

“Don’t joke with me, kid. I’m just doing what I’m supposed to. If billions of us can’t survive on this Earth, I will make sure to be among the millions who do,” the man shrugs finger ready on the trigger while Chanhee’s arm is limp by his side. “So first I’ll kill you and then I’ll kill your pretty girlfriend.”

The sudden shot sounds like an explosion in your ears and you flinch. You look at Chanhee searching for deep wounds but he just stands there dead still. And then you see the other man collapsing, blood overflowing from the wound on his chest.

“Oh my god,” you whimper partly relieved, partly horrified and run to the fallen body without thinking. Putting your fingers over his artery on the neck, you whisper: “Please don’t be dead.”

In any other situation, you couldn’t care less if he was dead or not. But if a hunted kills a hunter, the governance will execute him for not respecting the rule of roles. That just can’t happen to Chanhee, not when he saved the two of you.

Under your fingertips there’s still a faint pulsing of a heartbeat but you aren’t sure the man will survive much longer and you’re actually afraid to think of what it means.

“Let’s go,” Chanhee pulls you up from the ground, keeping a gently grip on your wrist as he drags you towards the port where you were supposed to go anyway. You can’t stop trembling but it’s not because you just saw the boy shot a man. It’s because the thought of losing him. It leaves you cold like the worst winter days.

That night you stay in an abandoned warehouse and lay on the floor, staring at the dark ceiling restlessly. Neither of you can sleep, nor dare you to light a candle or talk too loudly.

“Will I forget about you when they wipe my mind clear?” you whisper, faintly like a fog in the night.

“What if we don’t ever come back here?” Chanhee asks, deadly serious and you take a sharp inhale of air.

“We aren’t safe anywhere,” you remind him because it’s not a problem that only exist in Korea. Wherever you decide to settle down can be the next chosen country for the Median.

“Then we will search for a place where we are,” the boy whispers back and when he intertwines your fingers in the night, holding you or holding onto you - you aren’t sure - you don’t let go.

 

It takes one more day for you to get to the port in safety. Thanks to Chanhee’s connections you get through security and get on the ship without being questioned. You have to stay in the ship’s deck though because this one shouldn’t take passengers. You only meet a few others apart from the staff, each of them yearning to leave.

“Please, can you lend me your phone for a minute?” you plea, asking the first person you bump into on the cargo ship when you’re alone for a bit. The man doesn’t understand you at first, speaking in a foreign language but then he puts his phone into your hands. You dial a number you know by heart and almost cry when you hear the familiar hello on the other end.

“Mom! I’m out,” you tell her with trembling lips, still not believing you made it.

“Oh my gosh, honey, oh my… Minseok, it’s our daughter, she got out. Where are you, honey? We’re going there…”

Thank god your parents were out of country when it started because during the Median, no border-crossing was allowed. It was for the best. You might have been alone and scared for a while but at least they weren’t there to make you more worried.

“We’re on a ship going to Laos,” you answer while searching the green land on horizon. The sign of hope.

“We? Who are you with?” your mom sounds confused and still in shock.

“A friend,” you say quietly, looking over the board where Chanhee is waiting for you with food. He waves to you with a smile tinting his features and you can’t help but think that your mom will definitely like him too. You smile back at him softly, grateful that you’re not alone, that he was willing to land you a free hand when you needed it the most. You saved each other from this hell, now it’s time to treasure the time you have.