A Month to Survive

Books are lying, he thought. Taehyun sat in the thick, damp grass, trying to pull off his sneaker from his left foot — already swollen beyond recognition. Lies. All lies. He remembered all those movies where the villain spends ten minutes monologuing about his motives, and in the last seconds, under dramatic music, salvation arrives. Happy ending. Lee Chonwon, the uncrowned omega king of their faculty, had spent much longer than that. He poured out his venom so carefully, so thoroughly, painting the imminent demise of Kim Taehyun, the inevitable merging of families, and his long-awaited marriage to his beloved Do Duhan — that Taehyun almost got bored. God. What jealousy can do. If he'd known that a trip to some remote village for practice would end like this — forest, pain, endless darkness — he'd never have gone. To die because some omega decided he needed Do Duhan? Absurd. Taehyun always tried to keep a low profile at university. His mind was consumed with studying and endless part-time jobs. After his grandfather died — his last remaining family — life, which had never exactly treated him to rice cakes, became a race for survival. He pulled at his leg again, yanking off the shoe. His foot looked horrific. Taehyun shuddered, realizing: he couldn't afford a medical bill. Without his part-time jobs, he wouldn't last a month. His studies were on a grant, but food and rent… Where would he get money if his foot gave out? "Oh, god," he groaned. "Damn it, damn it." On the third try, he managed to stand. Putting weight on his foot was so painful that his vision swam, and he sank back to the ground, nearly passing out. Need to find a stick. A crutch. He looked around. The dense forest almost blocked out the sky, ancient trees wrapped in a ghostly, chilly mist. Beautiful. Wild. Terrifying. Even tourists didn't come here — too far from the city, too dangerous. Taehyun crawled away from the tracks left by Lee Chonwon's jeep. Every movement sent a myriad of needles through his body, unwanted tears springing from his eyes. The thought of crawling all the way to the nearest village left a metallic taste of despair in his mouth. He only regretted one thing: his phone was in his backpack. On the back seat of Lee's car, from where he'd been pushed out unconscious. That's probably when he'd mangled his foot. Or broken it? Whatever. Reaching a fallen tree, Taehyun grabbed a dry branch. He broke it off, not sparing his palms, and gathered smaller twigs — for a splint. He tore a strip of fabric from his long oversized t-shirt. Somehow, he positioned the twigs against his leg, securing them with the makeshift bandage. On top — with his sneaker laces. He stuffed the sneaker itself into the inner pocket of his denim jacket. It bulged out in an ugly lump, making it impossible to lie flat or roll onto his side, but he couldn't afford to lose his shoe. These simple actions exhausted him completely. Taehyun wiped the sweat from his brow with his hand, leaned against the rough tree trunk, and closed his eyes. The forest hummed. This hum brought melancholy and hopelessness, seeping under his skin, mingling with the pain. His thoughts tangled, his eyelids grew heavy as lead. Can't fall asleep. You'll freeze. The thought still flickered somewhere at the edge of his consciousness, but his body no longer obeyed, plunging into either a doze or a merciful oblivion. Then the forest went silent. Abruptly. As if someone had flipped a switch. A second ago, a mosquito had been buzzing near his ear, a magpie chattering somewhere — and then nothing. Absolute, cottony silence. Even the wind stopped rustling the leaves. Taehyun wanted to open his eyes. He really did. He felt a cold, clammy terror, the kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. But his eyelids were too heavy, impossible to lift. There's someone there, he thought dully, sinking deeper. And then he heard breathing. Heavy, raspy. Very close. And a smell — wild, animalistic — of wet fur, of the forest, and of something else hot and alive. Footsteps. Not cautious, animalistic ones. Confident steps. The crunch of twigs. The rustle of leaves. "A human," said a voice. It was low, growling, but distinctly human. Taehyun couldn't tell where it was coming from, where the line between dream and reality lay. "Dead?" asked a second, younger voice. "No. Breathing. Broken leg, losing blood." "Leave him? Hyung, if he dies here, humans will come. They'll start searching." A pause. Taehyun felt someone's gaze burning into his face even through his closed eyelids. "Strange smell," said the first voice, the one with the growling undertone. "Not just a human. Can you smell it?" "Smells like an omega," the second one snorted. "Is that how humans divide themselves?" "Shut up." Taehyun was sinking into blackness, but the last thing he registered was strong hands lifting him under his back and knees. Someone pressed him against a hot, firm chest. This body radiated heat, almost like a stove. And a smell — different, not animalistic: sharp, woody, smoky. For some reason, it made the fear subside. "Take him to the camp," ordered the first voice. "The leader will decide." Leader? Taehyun wondered. What the hell kind of leaders are in the forest? His consciousness flickered out, not even saying goodbye.