[Lunch hour, 2050, at school.]
In the cafeteria, metal trays were neatly arranged with the day's menu.
A slice of high-protein soy steak sat beside a dark brown insect protein bar.
It was a sight no longer unfamiliar.
"They say they're switching to low-carbon diets these days."
Shia set down her lunch tray and spoke.
She had an app open that scanned the nutritional content of her food, but hadn't taken a single bite.
Jian poked at her soy protein steak once and muttered with a sigh.
"It's not about the cost—I just want some sweetness."
Shia swallowed a laugh while reading the protein bar's label.
"This has 12 grams of protein. Zero grams of sugar.
It's the diet of pain for people like you. Myself included."
"Guess tasty and healthy don't go together…"
Jian took a sip from her cup, but all that lingered was a bitter taste.
She had no appetite—no, she belonged to a generation where the very idea of appetite had vanished.
Food was just something to endure.
That was the standard.
In one corner of the cafeteria, an LED sign flashed the words "Carbon Footprint Zero Challenge Week."
Jian glanced briefly at the sign before turning her gaze out the window.
Beyond the glass, the sky still looked thick and heavy.
Then, at the edge of her vision, Jian noticed a familiar figure.
A student quietly setting down their lunch tray and sitting alone.
A quiet personality, calm eyes, and… a thermos.
It was Jihyuk.
He held the protein bar quietly in his hand before setting it back down on his lunch tray.
Though he had picked up his fork, it seemed he hadn't started eating.
Like someone sitting in a room that wasn't quite the right temperature, his presence felt a little different from those around him.
Jian suddenly put down her fork and stood up from her seat.
"Where are you going?"
Shia asked, but Jian didn't answer. Instead, she picked up her lunch tray and moved.
She quietly took a seat across from Jihyuk's table.
Jihyuk looked up, startled.
"You were eating alone… so if you wanted to be left alone, just say so."
Jian spoke cautiously.
Jihyuk looked up, slightly surprised, hesitated for a moment, then shook his head.
"It's okay. You can sit here."
Jian smiled slightly at his words and sat down across from him.
The awkward tension hanging in the air began to ease, little by little, with that brief smile.
"Well then… I'll call Shia and Minseo over here too.
Eating alone is kind of… hotter than the weather."
At that, Jihyuk's expression softened just a little.
Jian gestured to call her friends, and though Shia raised an eyebrow, she soon followed.
"Jihyuk, do you hate soy protein steak too?"
Shia spoke as she took her seat.
"Yeah. It makes me feel nauseous even before I eat it."
Jihyuk nodded, and all three of them chuckled softly.
It was a simple, ordinary laugh, but Jian felt something that had been closed off for a long time slowly starting to open within it.
Gradually, the atmosphere softened.
Though the sky outside the cafeteria window remained gray, a warmer air lingered over the table.
No one spoke, but the warmth between them was unmistakably changing.
[School Playground, 2050]
The sun hung high in the sky, with temperatures nearing 41 degrees Celsius.
The artificial turf on the playground absorbed the heat, becoming as hot as a searing metal plate.
From the soles of the children's sneakers, a faint smell of burning rubber rose.
Students gathered in small groups wearing their gym uniforms, preparing for class, but no one smiled under the shadeless playground.
Portable cooling patches, personal ice packs, and cooling vests were standard gear, yet even those were soaked with sweat and losing their effectiveness.
The teacher held a handheld device in one hand, frowning as they checked the heat warning.
Jian, water bottle at her lips, slowly adjusted her sneaker laces as she moved forward.
That was when it happened.
The first thing to reach Jian's nose, piercing through her mask, was a familiar yet unpleasant smell—thick, acrid smoke.
The heavy air carried the scent of something burning.
When Jian looked up, a hazy column of smoke was rising from one side of the sky.
And in the next moment, sirens blared throughout the entire school.
Red warning lights flashed simultaneously at the school gates, hallways, and on exterior screens, as continuous announcements began broadcasting: "School suspended / Emergency evacuation / No outdoor activities."
Amid the trembling heat of the air, fatigue showed on the children's faces more than surprise.
"Warning. Wildfire detected nearby. Fine dust levels exceed dangerous thresholds.
Outdoor activities are prohibited. Everyone must evacuate indoors immediately."
Amid the school announcements, murmurs rose among the students.
Some were frightened, others annoyed—
but Jian… couldn't breathe.
The sirens blared, piercing her skull, and the scent of smoke seemed to lodge deep in her lungs.
In that instant, Jian's mind was transported back three years.
Three years ago, that night.
At her grandparents' rural home.
On a dry autumn night, a fire that started in the nearby hills quickly engulfed the village.
Sirens.
Moonlight.
And smoke.
Jian and her mother evacuated first,
but her father… drenched himself with water and went back into the flames to save her grandparents.
After that night,
Jian never saw her father again.
The flames reached her grandparents' house before the late-arriving rescue team, and since then, the word "fire" has frozen her to the core.
"Jian!"
The moment she snapped back to reality, she heard Jihyuk's voice.
Kneeling, Jian was trembling.
Her hands, her breath, her voice—all had stopped.
"Jian, are you okay? There's no fire here. You're safe."
Jihyuk quickly came over and supported her.
Shia knelt down beside Jian, her face full of concern as she held Jian's hand tightly.
"It's okay, it's okay. We'll be heading indoors soon. The smoke is coming from far away—it'll clear up quickly."
Shia whispered calmly, but her eyes were filled with worry.
Without a word, Jihyuk wrapped his arm around Jian's shoulder, slowly, very slowly, helping her to her feet.
Supported by her friends, Jian arrived at the school nurse's office and lay down on a bed, covered with a thin blanket.
Her fingertips were still cold, but her breathing was gradually calming.
While the school nurse stepped out for a moment,
Jihyuk quietly sat beside her.
Shia sat at her feet, taking water and fruit jelly from her bag.
"Once… when I visited the countryside, there was a fire."
Jian's voice broke quietly.
"Near my grandmother's house, in the hills. There was a wildfire.
The fire spread so fast… the rescue was delayed, and my dad…
he went back in to save my grandmother and grandfather…
that was the last time I saw him."
Jihyuk and Shia said nothing.
Their silence was longer and warmer than any words.
Quietly, Jihyuk took out his thermos, poured some warm tea into the lid, and offered it to Jian.
"Would you like a little?
Sometimes… warm tea is better for the heart than the throat."
Jian hesitated for a moment before nodding.
She then cupped the small tumbler lid gently with both hands.
Feeling the warmth at her fingertips, a small corner of her heart grew a little lighter.
[2050, Indoor Air Circulation Lab at School]
When Jihyuk and Shia carefully supported Jian as they returned to the classroom,
the PE teacher had already replaced outdoor class with indoor activities and moved the students.
Seeing "Air Circulation Lab" written on the board, the three quietly headed toward the lab.
The moment Jian stepped inside, she noticed the air was clearer than outside.
A cool chill and steady humidity, purified and invisible, surrounded her body.
The space was quiet and orderly, almost mechanical, as if isolated from the world.
Students sat upright, following yoga poses,
while Jian, Jihyuk, and Shia quietly took seats in the back, syncing their movements with the final poses.
Crossing her legs comfortably,
closing her eyes,
she breathed in deeply…
and then exhaled very slowly.
The walls and ceiling of the air circulation room were covered with screens.
Blue skies, lush forests, sunlight filtering through leaves.
Birdsong spread gently, followed by the sound of the breeze.
But it was all digital.
An idealized nature filtered through a layer of pixels.
An image of a world that no longer exists, held only in longing.
Jian closed her eyes and breathed in softly, like a sigh.
A faint mechanical hum tickled the inside of her mind, but that peace didn't last long with her.
'How long does it take for the fine dust I breathed outside to be cleansed from my body?'
'Honestly… I think I'd end up not wanting to leave this classroom.'
'Why didn't people in the past… protect such beautiful nature, even when they had it?'
Another thought quietly surfaced in Jian's heart.
'If only we could have lived like before…
That massive wildfire that took Dad and Grandma and Grandpa wouldn't have happened.
If that were the case, we'd still be gathered together…
On a summer night, laughing in the yard, eating watermelon…'
She missed them.
The words stuck in her throat, blocking her heart.
Her breath was clear and light, but her heart felt even heavier.
The more fresh air she breathed, the more questions arose—like a cruel paradox.
Silent screams held only within herself, with no one to answer.
Jihyuk sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, but his gaze unknowingly drifted to the side.
Beneath his eyelids, suppressed emotions stirred, and a quiet sadness spread at the corners of his lips.
Jian's silence wasn't mere blankness—it felt like a wall of longing to be understood.
Jihyuk quietly clenched the hands resting on his knees.
In that moment, memories flooded back.
In late 2044, when the pandemic swept the world again, his mother, with weak lungs, ultimately couldn't be saved by the hospital.
Having been unable to be there for his mother, who was in isolation, Jihyuk was still struggling through difficult times.
Like his mother, Jihyuk contracted COVID, and due to its lingering effects, he hadn't been able to let go of his warm drink since that day.
He also avoided raising his voice in crowded places.
So now, he found it hard to say anything at all.
As someone who had lost family, all he could do was quietly stay by her side.
That was all Jihyuk could offer right now.
The two sat in silence.
Beneath the blue sky on the screens, as if experiencing a forgotten era…
They felt each other's quiet hearts, sharing a moment deeper than words.
After school, 2050 — Walking home
Jian and Shia stepped out of the school gates, walking side by side along a familiar path.
Radiant heat shimmered like a mirage rising from the ground, and the soles of their shoes seemed to grow hotter with each step on the pavement.
The temperature displayed on the electronic billboard read 38.8 degrees Celsius, flashing clearly near the "Danger" level.
The shadow of an electric car slowly passed over the road.
Though the car made almost no noise, the intense heat waves rising from the pavement were palpable.
The air was heavy, unmoving, thick with fine dust and humidity, slowly settling onto their hair and foreheads.
Jian squinted to shield her eyes from the sun, while Shia walked on without changing her expression, as if she were used to it.
"When are we doing the project?"
Shia asked. Walking slowly with her arms crossed, she already looked like she had a plan for tomorrow.
"I don't know."
Jian sighed as she shook off the heat that clung to her head like a helmet.
"To be honest, I don't want to do those reports or whatever… I just want to talk to someone from the real old days."
Shia smiled quietly.
"If you say that to an AI, it'll probably just recommend some documentaries."
Jian shrugged and said,
"Well, let's give it a try. But what if a real person actually shows up?"
Shia kicked some dust with her toe and replied,
"Then that's your future—a future where you get scammed."
Jian chuckled.
But inside, she felt a strange flutter of excitement.
Not a documentary, but a real person—that might just lighten the weight of her life, even if only for a moment.
That night in 2050, in Jian's room.
The night was cooling slowly.
The air circulation system inside the pod hummed softly, and lying within, Jian slowly lifted her laptop lid with her fingertips.
The screen glowed faintly, pushing back the darkness.
After a brief hesitation, Jian quietly spoke into the microphone.
"Turn on the interview simulator. But… I really want to talk to someone from the old days. That's not possible, right?"
A brief silence.
The laptop didn't respond for a while.
Growing impatient, Jian glared at the screen with a frustrated expression.
>『Analyzing memory data…』
Jian frowned.
"Again? Did it freeze again…"
She tapped the side of the laptop, muttering to herself.
"Hey, hurry up so I can sleep… I've got school tomorrow…"
And then, it happened.
Whoosh—like a breath drawn in, a strange current swept through the pod.
The screen flickered once, followed by an unfamiliar voice.
It was nothing like the mechanical prompts of the usual system— somewhere rough and resonant.
> 『Real-time response data detected. Unauthorized access detected. Verifying response entity... Opening conversation interface.』
Jian's hand froze over the mouse.
The monitor's brightness suddenly shifted, and a strange message appeared in the center of the screen:
『Connection target: Kim Su-yeon / September 14, 2023』
A cold sweat trickled down her spine.
"…What is this, really? What is this…?"
Jian couldn't take her eyes off the screen.
A cold sweat trickled down her spine, and even the air felt strangely unfamiliar.
It was as if someone was nearby—no, as if time itself had slipped in beyond the cold air inside the pod.
Her heart raced.
Small and quick.
Like a tiny drumbeat,
signaling that something was beginning.
Jian swallowed dryly.
And then, she looked back at the screen.
There, still waiting, was "Kim Su-yeon of 2023."