It was nighttime, and a full moon was in the sky.


    The full moon cast an eerie glow over the grayish hues surrounding the city.


    It made the world look sick, as if it were suffering from some kind of illness.


    Not the kind of contamination caused by humans, but something far more fundamental.


    It felt like a malice beyond our understanding, one that sought to dismantle the world as we knew it.


    The honeycomb-like structure of the building looked like a solid wall at first glance, but according to the blueprints I had acquired, each hexagonal section contained communal housing where multiple people lived.


    Structurally, it wasn’t all that different from an apartment, except it lacked windows. True to the nature of this place, where privacy was a luxury, essential facilities like bathrooms, laundry rooms, and kitchens were shared among the residents.


    The dining hall on each floor could accommodate about fifty people at once. Its location was the same as in both the Revolution District, where I lived, and Moran District, where Jeong Ho-kyung resided.


    So, it didn’t take long to find the dining hall.


    Inside, the clatter of utensils echoed.


    Jeong Ho-kyung.


    "Oh, Park Gyu!"


    The moment I heard his voice, my stiffened body regained motion. I quickly turned my gaze toward his tray, scanning it hungrily.


    "······."


    The word failure burned itself into my mind.


    If this were the internet, I might have seen this coming, but in real life?


    It was an experience I had rarely encountered.


    On his tray, just like the children''s, sat a grotesque, deformed lump of flour—completely unseasoned, practically an edible failure.


    And yet, Jeong Ho-kyung kept shoveling it into his mouth, chewing relentlessly as he gestured for me to come closer.


    That confirmed it.


    Jeong Ho-kyung was eating the same food as the children.


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