The scallion stalk snapped off with a crisp, satisfying crack, far easier than he’d expected. The texture felt firm and promising in his hand. The moment he bit down, a sharp, fiery taste exploded on his tongue. A wave of heat spread through his body, and his pores opened, sweat pouring down his face like a sudden rain. He swallowed hard, catching his breath. Jin-woo wiped the sweat from his brow and continued to chew. He waited for the wave of sweetness he anticipated, but it never came. I thought a stronger spice would mean a stronger sweetness, he mused, disappointed. It seemed this variety was all fire and no sugar. When he swallowed, the sharp taste vanished cleanly, leaving no unpleasant afterburn. Thankfully, it sat well in his stomach. Well, I can eat these when I’m craving something spicy. For now, hunger was the more pressing concern. Jin-woo continued to eat the purely spicy scallions, his sweat dripping onto the cave floor. He must have eaten a foot of the green stalks when he noticed that the more he sweat, the lighter and cleaner his body felt. His stomach finally full, Jin-woo turned to the towering scallions that cast a shadow over his resting spot and began snapping them off without mercy. It wasn't that he was taking out his anger over the lack of sweetness. Well... maybe a little. I was hopeful. He laid the harvested stalks in a patch of direct sunlight to dry. The scallions had delayed the start of his workday, not that it mattered. His work was simple: a brief watering of the crops, followed by long stretches of staring blankly at the hole in the ceiling. At least now, something had appeared to relieve the monotony. As he stared up at the distant light, he glanced back at the scallion patch. In the short time since he’d eaten, they seemed to have grown. “Do scallions usually grow this fast?” He even checked his smartphone, thinking it was just his imagination. But the screen confirmed it: the scallions were growing at a rate of ten centimeters per hour. It was an astonishing speed. Jin-woo, who had zero farming experience, still knew this was impossible. “Is it because they were grown in the tower?” It was the only explanation. They were just normal scallions he’d bought from a market. If the seeds had truly been for a plant that grew ten centimeters an hour, they would have been worth their weight in gold. “But there’s no growth from these guys.” Jin-woo glanced at the spots where he’d planted the cherry tomatoes and sweet potatoes. If the soil was the cause of this miraculous growth, then everything should be thriving. The sweet potato patch, however, showed no change. “Is this soil only good for scallions?” Suspicious, he leaned in for a closer look. The soil over the sweet potatoes was flat and undisturbed, but the earth where he’d planted the cherry tomatoes seemed to be bulging slightly. Jin-woo laid flat on the ground, his eyes level with the dirt, and stared intently at the small mounds. A tiny green stem, crowned with a shiny yellow seed-head, shyly pushed its way through the dirt. Then another, and another. Fifty-two sprouts in total. Jin-woo watched them for a long time, a sense of pride swelling in his chest. Just seeing these little plants he’d nurtured himself grow so well gave him a profound feeling of accomplishment. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Jin-woo welcomed the morning of his sixth day. He had spent all of yesterday just watching the cherry tomato sprouts. They didn't grow at the absurd pace of the scallions, but watching their slow, steady progress made him feel full even without eating. He rose lightly from his spot on the cave floor. His body felt lighter every day. At first, he’d assumed it was just the accumulated fatigue from his old life finally fading away, but now he was beginning to wonder if it was something more. “Let’s see. Have our sprouts grown much?” Before even washing his face or thinking about breakfast, Jin-woo hurried to check on his cherry tomatoes. He was dying to see how much they had grown overnight. The tips of the sprouts, their greenish-yellow heads, had begun to split open. But a dark shadow was cast over them. The scallions had already grown back to his full height, blocking the precious light that should have been reaching the tiny sprouts. Jin-woo mercilessly broke off the offending scallion leaves. With the patch cleared, he hurried to the pond. He quickly washed his face, then filled a water bottle and a plastic container to water the soil around the cherry tomato sprouts, as well as the scallion and sweet potato fields. “I don’t hate you, you know.” He gave the scallions an especially generous drink. When he finished, his stomach rumbled, demanding payment for his labor. “Time for breakfast.” Jin-woo picked up one of the scallions he’d just harvested and put it in his mouth. After a full day of eating nothing but scallion leaves, he’d found they satisfied his hunger surprisingly well. His stomach didn’t feel empty, and his energy levels were stable. It almost felt as if he were absorbing proper carbohydrates. And, most importantly, they were plentiful. Growing about 180 centimeters a day, the supply was so abundant it was almost difficult to manage. For now, I need to dry them well and store them. It seemed unlikely the scallions would suddenly stop their miraculous growth, but Jin-woo decided to prepare for the unexpected anyway. Life was unpredictable. Who could have ever imagined he’d end up stranded in a place like this? He decided to plant the rest of the cherry tomatoes and sweet potatoes to ensure a more varied food supply in the future. Jin-woo dug into the soil with his hands, carefully planting the last of his seeds and tubers. “Grow big and strong.” He gave them a good watering, murmuring words of encouragement, before settling onto his designated seat—a flat, sun-warmed rock. A sense of accomplishment washed over him. The blue sky visible through the ceiling hole was clear and beautiful. The human heart is a fickle thing, he thought. The same view that had felt suffocating just yesterday now seemed pleasant and serene. It occurred to him then that he’d spent days just staring at the sky. “I never had time to look at the sky when I was at the office… I’m living a good life.” The feeling was short-lived. “Still, something’s missing. If only I had a coffee…” A sudden, sharp craving for an iced Americano with an extra shot hit him. He missed his city life. As Jin-woo sat reminiscing, a notification popped up on his phone: the battery had dropped below twenty percent. He’d kept the screen on low-power mode and only checked it when necessary, but he couldn’t stop the battery from draining completely. “Let’s use this for now.” Jin-woo opened his laptop and pressed the power button. The phone was more useful in the long run—it used less power and served as his only clock—so keeping it charged was the priority. The laptop screen flared to life, displaying the last thing he’d been working on: an Hanseong Docs spreadsheet. It was an estimate for a client, one he hadn't finished at the office and had intended to complete at home. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jin-woo closed the window. He didn’t even bother saving. Though he’d spent days on that estimate, he felt no regret. Besides, it was far too late now. “Someone else will do it.” He felt a brief pang of pity for whoever had to take over his work, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Jin-woo connected his phone to the laptop to charge, then switched the laptop to its own low-power mode to conserve its battery. While his phone charged, he went back to watching the cherry tomato sprouts. No matter how many times he looked, the sight filled him with a quiet joy. He was lost in observing them when a drop of water landed on his head. “What? Is it raining?” Even as he said it, Jin-woo knew that was impossible. The tower always had clear weather. Could it be a monster?! Goosebumps prickled his skin as he imagined some great beast drooling down on him from above. Jin-woo hastily tilted his head back and looked up. Framed in the hole in the ceiling was a small white rabbit, its nose twitching as it stared down, a trail of drool dripping from its mouth. Is that a monster, too? Jin-woo was still wondering if the rabbit was some kind of ferocious beast when their eyes met. The rabbit let out a cute, high-pitched cry and leaped from the hole. Instinctively, Jin-woo reached out to catch the falling creature, monster or not. But the rabbit expertly adjusted its trajectory mid-air with a flick of its long ears, neatly avoiding Jin-woo’s grasp. It landed with both feet on his shoulder, using him as a springboard to bounce safely to the ground. Jin-woo was left with his hand outstretched, feeling utterly foolish. The rabbit cautiously approached him, walking on two legs. It raised a trembling paw and pointed directly at the pile of harvested scallions. It then looked back at him, nodding its head vigorously, a desperate plea for approval shining in its dark eyes. Seeing it walk upright confirmed it was no ordinary rabbit. Jin-woo broke off a whole scallion leaf and offered it to the creature. Without hesitation, the rabbit took the offering and began to eat. While it was occupied, Jin-woo snapped off the rest of the overgrown scallions. He decided on a new routine: he would harvest them once at 6 AM and again at 2 PM, ensuring his cherry tomato sprouts received enough sun. The rabbit was still munching away happily. So far, it had eaten a piece about the length of his finger. Jin-woo watched it for a moment, then turned his gaze back to his precious sprouts. The tips of the cherry tomato seedlings were gradually opening. Soon, they would have leaves. Some time passed. He heard a soft sound beside him and looked over to see the rabbit had fallen asleep, its belly full. Its gentle snores were surprisingly cute. As if sensing his gaze, the rabbit’s eyes shot open. It shook its head, trying to clear the sleepiness. With a powerful little chirp, it sprang to its feet. Clutching a fresh scallion in one paw, the rabbit scrambled back up the wall and into the hole with surprising ease. Before disappearing, it turned and bowed its head deeply to Jin-woo in a clear gesture of thanks. So you just eat and run, huh? Despite the thought, Jin-woo raised a hand and waved. It had been a brief, strange, but pleasant encounter. The rabbit vanished from sight. Even though it had only been for a moment, the cave suddenly felt much emptier. Jin-woo pushed the feeling of loneliness aside and focused again on his cherry tomato seedlings. In the time he’d been distracted, the tiny plants had gathered their strength. As if they knew he was waiting, the sprouts began to unfold one by one, each revealing two bright, delicate green leaves. The sight of that new, vibrant life emerging was wondrous. His evening alarm rang. Tonight, however, he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to stay awake and watch his seedlings grow. Jin-woo woke to something lightly tapping his cheek. When he opened his eyes, he saw the rabbit from yesterday, slapping his cheek with its soft paw to wake him. “Umm, what time is it?” Jin-woo checked his phone. It was an hour before his usual wake-up time. “And what’s with your outfit?” The rabbit was wearing a tiny straw hat with two holes cut out for its long ears. In one paw, it held a small watering can. Another cry, this one slightly different, echoed in the cave. Jin-woo looked towards the sound and saw a second, more slender rabbit standing nearby. This one was wearing a little apron. The new rabbit met Jin-woo’s gaze and gave him a polite, formal bow. “What is going on here?” Day seven of being lost had begun. Jin-woo was up a little early, and it seemed a rabbit couple had moved into the cave.

Chapter 3: A Taste of Fire