Chapter 2

Episode 2: Survival (Part 2)

Living alone often means facing countless choices, both big and small, at every turn in life.

What's for dinner tonight? How will I shop for groceries tomorrow? Should I just order delivery? The decisions seem endless.

The simplest solution is to order delivery, but it's not always the most cost-effective. Cooking at home is cheaper, but it can be a hassle.

That's where ramen comes in—the perfect balance of affordability and simplicity. I rummaged through my kitchen cupboard and pulled out a pack of spicy ramen to soothe my stressed-out mind.

Ramen held a special place in my heart, especially during my time enduring the harsh conditions of the Korean peninsula. It was a comfort in times of uncertainty and danger.

I filled a pot with water and set it on the stove, preparing to indulge in a bowl of spicy noodles. As the water heated up, I gathered ingredients—eggs, peppers, green onions, and, of course, two packs of ramen.

"The golden rule of ramen: two packs per person."

Some might argue for a smaller portion to watch their diet, but in my kitchen, such logic didn't hold water. Whether you're ravenous or just peckish, two packs of ramen are non-negotiable.

On the battlefield, a single cup of ramen sufficed, but at home, where I no longer had to fear enemy fire, anything less than two packs was unacceptable.

In no time, I had a steaming bowl of ramen before me, topped with sliced peppers and green onions. The spicy aroma filled the air, awakening my senses.

Ramen may seem like a simple dish, but its innate eroticism is undeniable. Only those in the top 1% of solo-living scholars can resist its seductive allure.

With a hearty slurp, I dug into the noodles, savoring the burst of flavor with each bite. It was a far cry from the crispy fried chicken I had initially craved, but in that moment, I couldn't imagine anything more satisfying.

As I savored every mouthful, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the delivery driver's blunder. In hindsight, perhaps missing out on chicken was a blessing in disguise.

But as I finished my meal and turned my attention to the news, the gravity of the situation became apparent. Chaos was spreading, and Seoul was at the epicenter of it all.

As I scrolled through community sites, I found myself caught up in the madness, eager to join the fray. But just as I prepared to post a proof shot of my well-stocked basement, the unthinkable happened—the site crashed due to server overload.

In an instant, my plans were dashed, leaving me feeling frustrated and disappointed.

In times of crisis, even the simplest pleasures become a luxury. And as the chaos unfolded around me, I couldn't help but wonder what other challenges lay ahead in this new world.