White fog stretched in every direction, thick enough that distance stopped meaning anything.
Jin-Woo stood alone in it, boots sinking slightly into something that wasn't quite soilid, snow perhaps. The air felt heavy, cold pressing in from all sides without wind or sound. He knew he had to be dreaming but the awareness he felt didn't help.
A figure formed ahead of him.
She didn't walk closer.
She didn't need to.
She was simply there.
It was Seo Hye-Rin, and she looked just like she did wehn she killed him with her pale skin drained of warmth, hair hanging loose and still, eyes an unnatural, piercing blue that cut straight through the haze and into him.
"You always look like that," she said, her voice calm and sharp at the same time. "Like you're waiting for someone to thank you."
Jin-Woo opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
She smiled faintly. "You were so willing to help others." Her gaze flicked over him with open disdain. "You burned yourself down for people who didn't even look back when you needed them."
The fog thickened. The cold deepened, crawling up his legs, stiffening his joints.
"You abandoned me," she continued, her voice echoing strangely, as if the fog itself were speaking. "You chose them. Chose to be useful instead of staying by my side and being useful to me."
He tried to move. Tried to speak. The cold wrapped tighter, crushing the words in his chest before they could form.
Her hand rose slowly.
Ice surged forward.
It wasn't sharp or explosive. It was absolute. A wall of cold that swallowed him whole, pressing into his skin, his lungs, his thoughts...
Jin-Woo woke with a sharp gasp, lungs burning.
His heart hammered in his chest as he sucked in air that felt far too cold. He sat up abruptly, the movement sending a jolt through his body. His breath fogged thickly in front of his face.
The room was frozen.
Frost coated the walls in uneven patterns, pale and creeping. A thin sheet of ice glazed the floor, cracking faintly beneath his shifting weight. Even the ceiling held a dusting of white, as if winter had passed through while he slept and decided to linger.
Jin-Woo stared, chest rising and falling hard.
He knew immediately what had happened.
His Cryo had activated while he slept.
He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to slow.
In.
Out.
Steady.
The cold responded reluctantly, retreating inch by inch as he reasserted control. Frost receded from the walls. The ice on the floor softened, then vanished entirely, leaving behind damp concrete and a lingering chill.
When he opened his eyes again, the room was quiet. Normal. As normal as it ever got here.
He rubbed a hand over his face and let out a slow breath.
He rarely dreamed. Nightmares even less.
His phone lay where he'd set it the night before. No notifications. No missed calls lighting the screen. The silence felt deliberate.
He thought briefly of the calls he'd ignored the day before. The voicemails he heard...
He pushed the thought aside.
Today had work that mattered.
He dressed quickly, pulling on clothes meant for movement and cold, then grabbed the axe from where it rested against the wall. The weight of it was familiar in a way that surprised him.
Outside, the air was crisp but not yet cruel. Morning light filtered through thin clouds, pale and unobtrusive. He headed toward the tree line without hurry.
Electricity would fail. He knew that. Gas would follow soon after, pipelines freezing, equipment breaking down, supply chains collapsing under conditions they weren't built to survive.
Wood didn't care about any of that.
Wood burned the same way it always had whether you needed it for cooking or just to feel warmth, it was neccesary during the apocolypse.
The forest near town was quiet, broken only by the crunch of his boots and the occasional rustle of branches overhead. The trees stood tall and old, trunks thick and steady. Jin-Woo took his time choosing which to cut, avoiding anything rotten or too young.
The axe bit deep with a satisfying thud.
He fell into the rhythm quickly.
Swing.
Impact.
Step back.
Adjust.
Swing again.
The work was hard, repetitive, honest.
Sweat built beneath his collar despite the cool air. His arms ached, muscles burning in a way that felt earned. The sound of the axe striking wood echoed faintly through the trees, grounding him.
It reminded him of the farm he'd grown up on. Long days spent doing work that would help him and his grandparents to eat a good meal, though back then he wasn't happy to do it.
After some time of chopping he realized, distantly, that he was enjoying himself.
He didn't dwell on it.
Time blurred after that.
Days slipped past without clear edges. Jin-Woo worked until his hands were raw and his shoulders protested, then worked some more. He hauled wood back to the house, stacking it carefully, keeping it dry and organized. He reinforced weak points in the walls where he could, layered insulation wherever it made sense. When he found he needed more of something, he returned to town, buying what remained useful while it was still available.
Everything he brought back had a place. Everything he placed had a reason.
By the time he paused long enough to take stock, the house felt different. Heavier. Anchored. Supplies lined the storage areas in a neat order. Wood was stacked high, more than enough to last through long stretches of cold.
Then before he knew it the final evening arrived quietly.
Jin-Woo climbed onto the roof just before sunset and sat there, hands resting loosely at his sides. The sky was painted in soft colors, orange fading into purple, the last light stretching low across the town.
Below, life continued.
Couples walked along the street, shoulders brushing. Someone laughed. A dog barked in the distance. Windows glowed warm with light.
No one looked up.
Jin-Woo watched without emotion. Not detached. Just… resigned.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the world shuddered.
It wasn't violent, but it was unmistakable. A deep tremor rolled through the ground, subtle enough that most people might dismiss it as nothing. The air shifted, pressure dropping, the atmosphere itself seeming to recoil.
Jin-Woo felt the cold rise and before he could react, a familiar interface materialized before him, clean and emotionless, hovering in the darkening air.
[THE ICE AGE BEGINS]