5. The People with Nowhere to Return (1) Chicago

Reality had the power to bring almost any resolve to its knees. Realizing this was as brief as the time it took the teleporter to bring me here. After a slight nausea, I arrived in Chicago. Immediately, a bone-chilling cold enveloped me. My skin tightened from the dryness. Teleporting here was successful, but alas, arriving on the rooftop was a mistake. There was no visible door to enter the building. Moreover, I was sinking deep into the snow, losing my balance.

Struggling to stand, I surveyed the surroundings. The gray snow was piled as high as the rooftop's railing. Only where the solar panels were, the snow's height differed, the scene was surprisingly uniform, like a freshly opened cup of ice cream.

Chicago was dawn-like, bluish, but the cold was fierce enough to crack skin and feel like your nose might fall off. I crawled through the snow towards the railing. I needed to get inside, but if there were too many people, teleportation wasn't an option. Even in this strange world, the sight of someone suddenly appearing out of thin air was beyond odd.

Peeking cautiously, I checked around the building. However, no sign of people was evident. That meant it was unlikely many people were inside. Still, there could be someone inside... First, I needed to survive, so I hurriedly activated the teleporter and headed inside the building.

***

Our university's research building had a beautiful rooftop garden, filled with fruit trees and herbs. It was a time when the day, sky, and wind flowed according to the seasons. The hibernation biology research team, including myself, often basked in the sun there. It was a rare peace for us graduate students.

Jin-ah got a job before B. When B was still waiting for the next opportunity, he first opened up to me. It was autumn, in the rooftop garden.

"Do you know what I heard the most growing up?"

Senior, sitting on the bench, sipped his iced Americano.

"What is it?"

I sat on the stone floor, stretching my legs out.

"People would say, 'You're so lucky.'"

"Isn't that out of envy?"

"Well, before I entered elementary school, we had a ski lift accident where my parents died. It was a big news story, but I was too young to remember... Anyway, I was hospitalized for a long time due to multiple fractures. After discharge, my aunt raised me. But it was strange; wherever I went, people knew about me. Friends at school, relatives, even strangers would say, 'Hey, you had that accident, right? How tough it must be for you,' then eventually, they'd always end up talking about money. Saying things like, 'You'll get your parents' death insurance when you're an adult. It's a lot of money, others can't earn that in years, you're lucky.' They thought they were comforting me."

"How could they say that..."

"Unbelievable, right? But people who say that don't even realize it's wrong. They say it so casually. In high school, I got so angry at these comments, I once snapped back, calling them psychopaths for talking about insurance money over my dead parents. After that, strange rumors started. Parents called the school, demanding my transfer, accusing me of having mental issues and blaming my upbringing without parents."

B shook his head. I had no idea about this tragedy or the pain he suffered from people afterward.

"So, did you transfer, senior?"

"No, I didn't. My aunt and uncle came to school. You know what they did? They asked the teacher what wrong I had done. They defended me, saying those who teased me were at fault, not me. It was so reassuring. Thanks to them, I finished school strongly."

B sipped his Americano, the coffee level quickly dropped to half in the clear tumbler.

"Coming to university, all the pent-up feelings crumbled. But you know, when you're upset, you can usually label it, right? Like, being mad because group project members bailed, or sad because you can't afford food, or annoyed because it's raining and you don't have an umbrella. But I couldn't understand why I was depressed, couldn't label it. Just felt like... I had nowhere to return. Animals have an instinct to return home, but I didn't know where to return, it drove me crazy."

B's coffee was almost gone. I couldn't imagine him being sad, having never seen anything like it.

"Are you okay now?"

"I'm totally fine."

"How did you overcome it?"

"Jin-ah."

I had forgotten that most of B's stories ended with Jin-ah. I was caught off-guard and then refocused.

"When I entered the graduate school and met my lab mates for the first time, I saw Jin-ah and immediately thought."

"What did you think?"

"Ah, I've finally returned. I've found my way back home."

"But returning means going back to where you were. You said it was your first time meeting Jin-ah."

"Yeah. But it felt like we had been separated for centuries and finally reunited. Strangely welcoming, as if I had seen someone I parted with hundreds of years ago. Jin-ah is pregnant, Hee-jae."

Startled, I jumped up and congratulated him. Seeing his happiness, I felt joy too.

The following summer, their baby, So-hee, was born. Looking through the nursery window, the baby, held by a nurse and smiling broadly, seemed to hold all the wonders of the world. I couldn't even imagine what the parents must feel.

Then, B whispered to So-hee, a voice she would never hear.

"You've worked hard to return. Welcome."

I felt like I understood the meaning of those words.

***

Before I knew it, I was inside the building. Thankfully, there were no people around, and the cold was less severe, but it was too dark to see anything. A few LED lights on the walls were on, but insufficient to clearly see inside.

I turned on the light on my wrist and started scanning around. On one side of the hallway were arched windows, and on the other, identically styled doors, spaced apart with metallic decorations resembling celestial bodies and spacecraft. At the end of the corridor, the words "Aerospace Engineering" hung above a large screen that displayed nothing.

The pearl-infused floor sparkled under the light. Under normal circumstances, students and professors would be bustling over it. But now, it was scattered like golden sand, and darkness seeped into the emptiness.

It was too early to be disappointed. I hadn't explored the whole building yet. Heading towards a small auditorium in the distance, I thought I saw stairs nearby. Walking down the corridor, I heard the sound of a chair dragging on the floor and something hitting with a thunk. Hallucination, ghost, or someone there? I hoped for the latter.

Bracing myself, I called out in English.

"Who's there? Is anyone there? Excuse me."

I moved the light frantically left and right, repeating the words. My voice echoed back in the empty space. Then, from somewhere, a louder, clearer thunk.

"Who's there? Please respond. Please."

The sound without words made me think it might not be a person. Scared, I slowed my pace. Just then, the door in front of the auditorium creaked open. A man in a suit with a black woolen long coat stood holding the doorknob, staring at me. He had streaks of white in his hair and a brown mustache.

"What are you doing here?"

He asked, one hand in his coat pocket, which seemed threatening. The clicking sound of metal made me think he might have a gun. Before he could act, I quickly raised my arms.

"Don't shoot. I came looking for someone. Kim Sun... no, Wes Miller. Do you know him? He graduated from this school a few years ago."

It was frustrating that this was all I could say about Sun-woo. As I pondered what else to say, the man took his hand out of his pocket. The mention of Wes Miller seemed to ease him. I slowly lowered my arms.

"What's your relation to Wes?"

He asked. His question sounded like he knew Sun-woo well. Wondering what to say to hear more about Sun-woo, I lied,

"I'm his wife. Wes's wife."

I shone the light on my face, trembling both in my hand and the light from the lie. I hoped he wouldn't notice my discomfort.

"Come in. It's cold outside."

He led me into a lit space inside.