Everyone who enters the Crack feels it at least once—an odd sense of familiarity with its environment.

Though the reason remains unidentified, the Crack maintains a steady temperature around 20°C, no clear day or night cycle, air startlingly similar to Earth's, gravity that feels native to our bodies, solid ground and sky—all providing an environment so accessible that humans can live here without any real technological support.

In the early days after the Crack opened, scholars wondered why.

Even if the universe is infinite, and thus it’s statistically possible there exists a planet with an atmosphere nearly identical to Earth’s, the idea that this hyper-scientific anomaly—a world beyond the Crack—would be so comfortably tailored to humanity? It defies logic, like a divine prank.

But I’m no scholar.

Which means I don’t have the talent to write an academic paper that presents my thoughts in polished terms with formulas or citations like the academic world demands.

Still, I can speak my mind.

I’ve long suspected that this familiar environment is a trap.

Maybe it's a ridiculous idea, but what if the Crack—this incomprehensible entity—remodeled itself to resemble Earth, just to send its monster vanguard out to bleach our world gray?

Now that I’m back inside the Crack, those old thoughts swirl through my head again.

What is this gray-white world?

Could this entire world be part of some vast design—a cog in a massive, divine mechanism?

And what would it take for humanity, for Earth, to overcome this death-filled world?

I think about it sometimes.

If all of humanity united with a single will—something like that primal sovereignty enshrined in the constitution—maybe we could stand against the Crack. Maybe we’d find a solution.

If the Western world had banded together to help when India and China were falling to the Crack—

Then maybe humanity, still at the peak of its power, could’ve fought back more flexibly, more abundantly, against this phenomenon.

But humans, in the end, only look at what’s in front of them.

And that way of life, if you zoom in on the graph of a single human’s life, isn’t necessarily wrong.

We’ve seen it too many times to count:

A con artist who stole someone’s life savings serves less than five years, then lives happily off the hidden cash.

A man who risked his life serving the nation dies in a narrow, shabby one-room flat.

We’ve seen these scenes so often that they’ve become common knowledge.

And even now.

Even in this maddening, gray world, people only look beneath their feet.

“Ah, seriously, I wanna fuck that bitch so bad.”

Break time.

Kang Gu-cheol sidled up to Jo Yong-gu, acting chummy as he spat out his filth.

One of the civilian laborers from another team had just flipped out, tried to run back beyond the Crack, caused a whole scene—but Kang Gu-cheol didn’t give a shit.

He was fixated on Cha Chae-eun, sitting alone in the distance, sipping water from her thermos. He spoke doggedly, eyes locked on her.

“Word is she’s got a boyfriend. But I bet that asshole can’t even get it up. That’s why a pretty thing like her got thrown into the Crack.”

“So?” Jo Yong-gu answered curtly.

Kang Gu-cheol shot a glance at me, then continued speaking to him.

“I’m thinking I might push her a little.”

Jo snorted coldly, but Kang Gu-cheol didn’t give up.

“You wanna join me? You drop cash at the brothel all the time anyway—why waste money?”

“Do it alone. What if she reports it?”

“Come on, man, this isn’t our first day in here. Even if she does, nothing’s gonna happen. Who else is gonna haul supplies into the Crack but us? You saw that guy earlier, pissing himself running off? We’re elites here. Irreplaceable elites. Elites should be allowed to commit a few light crimes.”

Back when the government was still based in Jeju, I remember reading on Viva! Apocalypse! about the rampant sexual assaults in mixed-gender labor teams.

Most of them happened under logic like Kang Gu-cheol’s.

Victims: isolated women with no one to help them.

And unless the victim had real connections, the punishments weren’t anything serious.

The people in charge just want the gears to keep turning. They’d rather let small problems slide than go through the trouble of swapping out parts.

And even though South Korean law strictly forbids vigilante justice, we all know there’s a massive difference between what’s possible and what actually happens when you try to defend yourself.

Kang Gu-cheol made his pitch, handing Jo Yong-gu something.

A quick glance revealed it was cigarettes—new ones, straight from the factory.

Credits are pegged to Seoul’s currency, and the Seoul government enforces fixed prices for most items, but demand is what it is. Items with poor supply go for way above retail.

These new cigarettes, almost indistinguishable from pre-war smokes, fetch absurd prices.

He handed over half a pack.

Jo Yong-gu frowned, thinking it over.

Kang Gu-cheol kept pushing.

“You just gotta look the other way. I’ll take care of everything.”

Jo shot a look toward another porter some distance away—Lee Dong-hyeon—and suddenly asked,

“What about him?”

“Lee Dong-hyeon? Hmm. Hard guy to approach. But I doubt he’ll care. Once we’re at the individual drop zone, it’s just us. If you and your assistant don’t say anything, he won’t either. And if he does get uppity, we can just beat the shit outta that midget. Easy.”

Kang Gu-cheol assumed I was Jo Yong-gu’s assistant.

He figured that if he just got Jo on board, I’d fall in line too.

Jo glanced at me and muttered,

“Come with me for a sec.”

That told me he was at least partially on board with Kang Gu-cheol’s disgusting plan.

He didn’t even return the bribe cigarettes.

Behind the truck, Jo casually lit one up, handed another to me.

When I declined, he asked abruptly,

“Are you one of those people who can’t stand injustice?”

I shook my head.

“Not really.”

“You heard what he said earlier, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Long story short—he wants to rape her.”

“Didn’t he call her a yeo-mi-sae? Don’t those types usually treat women well?”

“Exactly why he’s doing this. Freaks like him don’t see lines.”

Jo let out a dry laugh.

“Judging by how prepared he is, this time he’s really set his sights. Then again, that bastard’s pulled this crap more than once.”

He went on to explain our schedule inside the Crack.

We’d follow the tracks to an outpost, deliver supplies, then rejoin the main convoy and head to the next site.

When heading to an individual outpost, we’d be detached and on our own.

That’s when Kang Gu-cheol planned to assault Cha Chae-eun.

The unfortunate reality was that civilian laborers weren’t allowed firearms.

If he used force, she’d have no way to resist.

“Wouldn’t it be better to stop him?”

Jo’s face twitched, just for a moment.

He clearly didn’t like my suggestion.

But he also knew who I was—or at least, that I wasn’t someone to be taken lightly.

He was the only one here who knew I’d smuggled a weapon in.

Jo silently licked his lips, then stared at me.

“Why?”

That one word felt like a summation of humanity’s identity in this gray world.

Only the outer shell remained intact.

His mind might already be eroded by the gray that surrounded us.

“No one’s asking us to help her. What, you got a thing for her or something?”

“I just don’t want to see something that filthy.”

I said it flat.

He twitched, but this time ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ I cut him off.

“Stay out of it. I’ll handle it.”

“Do as you please.”

Jo sulked and got into the truck, slamming the door shut.

Screech—screech—

Far ahead, dozens of laborers were dragging the train by ropes across the rails, like something out of Repin’s Barge Haulers on the Volga.

Electric vehicles lined up on either side of them, advancing in tandem across the gray landscape.

Signs marking the outposts stood at intervals along the track, and vehicles peeled off accordingly.

We diverted at the fourth sign.

The atmosphere in the truck was tense.

Jo didn’t say a word.

After a slight jolt, Jo finally broke the silence.

“You know,” he said.

I stayed quiet.

“Helping people never gets you anything.”

I knew what he was getting at, so I ignored him.

About two hours later, the vehicle came to a stop.

While Jo ducked under the chassis to swap out parts, the laborers each rested in their own corners.

Kang Gu-cheol started following behind Cha Chae-eun, eyeing her.

I approached her first.

“Hello.”

She gave a startled look and nodded mechanically.

She clearly didn’t want to talk, but I signaled with my eyes.

She glanced toward the back where someone was watching us with a chilling stare, then looked at me with a question in her eyes.

I nodded.

“Yes. Hello.”

While Jo finished his repairs, we made small talk.

“Yeah, it’s tough. But if you work hard just one week a month, you get the rest off. Sometimes it’s only once every two months. This is one of those rare times, right?”

Maybe because she was young, or because she was a woman, but Jonnae-non peeked its head out of my pocket, curious—but she didn’t even comment on it.

As we spoke, I realized: Jo hadn’t turned a blind eye to rape just for some cigarettes.

Cha Chae-eun was cold and closed off.

The kind of woman who only opens up to someone she chooses.

Reminded me a bit of Woo Min-hee in her younger days.

Women like her only show kindness to people they’ve accepted.

And to those who aren’t chosen, unrequited affection often turns into despair—or something worse.

The repairs were finished.

I returned to the truck with her.

Kang Gu-cheol was waiting.

“Hey!”

He waved me over.

I followed.

“...Bastard.”

Jo climbed down from the truck, watching us.

But he didn’t lift a finger to help.

As Jo stood by, watching silently, Kang Gu-cheol suddenly swung at me.

I dodged easily and glared at Jo.

“Stop! Stop!”

Only then did Jo step in.

Kang Gu-cheol was breathing hard, but something in my reaction must’ve rattled him.

He didn’t try to punch me again.

Instead, he turned to Jo and started ranting.

Jo, who’d acted like he hated him earlier, now slung an arm around his shoulder like they were best friends and led him away.

I stood alone, watching them go, then turned back toward the truck.

“Hello?”

It was Lee Dong-hyeon.

He hadn’t spoken a word since boarding, but now he approached.

I returned the greeting.

Lee looked at Jo and Kang Gu-cheol, then smirked.

“Stay here too long, and everyone starts to break inside.”

He sighed and glanced around at the gray world encasing us.

I nodded.

“Seems that way.”

“Look over there.”

He pointed toward the horizon.

Against the pale sky, dark ash was falling.

The ash settled layer by layer, forming a shape.

A Kraken-type. A super-large-class mutation.

It was miles away, but its silhouette was unmistakable.

Lee, however, saw more than I did.

“At that trajectory... it’s heading for Japan.”

“Japan?”

“Yeah. Anything that forms over there heads to Japan. There’s a Crack that leads there. Don’t know where exactly—maybe Tokyo, with a monster that size.”

Lee smiled faintly.

“Anyway, it was good to see someone act like a real human today.”

As he walked past, he added,

“Don’t lose that.”

I silently watched him go.

Not a normal man.

He gave off the air of something inevitable.

*

After delivering the supplies to the outpost, we rejoined the main convoy.

The convoy advanced slowly.

The whole thing moved at the pace of the full-time workers pulling the train on foot.

To Koreans, used to a culture of speed, it was agonizing—but in the Crack, it felt reasonable.

The vehicles, prone to frequent breakdowns, could easily catch up after repairs, and those that had finished deliveries could rejoin without issue.

In the distance, a large sign marked the approach of Sector B.

A group waited for us.

Armed soldiers.

Combat troops inside the Crack.

The clown patch on their uniforms made it clear—they were part of Kang Han-min’s personal guard.

Jo, who had sulked the entire drive, finally spoke up.

“From here on, antibodies can appear. That’s why they assign escorts.”

He handed me a key.

It unlocked the box containing my combat gear, hidden among the maintenance supplies.

While Kang Han-min’s men took over the supply convoy, Cha Chae-eun got out of the truck.

She walked over to them, made a request, and was soon seated in another vehicle.

Of course, she didn’t thank me—not even a glance.

From the cargo bed, Kang Gu-cheol sneered.

“Poor white knight. I guess your stiff little dick’s feeling limp now.”

Jo chuckled quietly too.

No need to respond.

I never expected gratitude or reward.

I just didn’t want to watch something filthy unfold.

That was all.

That was supposed to be the end of it—

But without meaning to, I glanced back.

“...”

Felt like someone was watching me.

Something immeasurable, irresistible.

Maybe this sensation, too, was just another shard of the madness that lurked in the Crack.

If this gray-white world was the dream of a lunatic... it would all make sense.