Shadows stretched ominously around us as we peeked out from the infirmary door, our heads positioned one above the other, a comical scene of earnest caution. Baek carried me on his back, the hard contours of his body offering a rough comfort.

"The coast seems clear," he whispered, taking light steps down the frigid metal hallway, the cold air stinging my exposed skin.

"Wait," I murmured back, "I need to go to the mailroom first."

His brows furrowed in the darkness, "Why?"

"Insurance," I said confidently.

Moments later, we found ourselves in the cavernous belly of the mailroom, surrounded by towering piles of boxes and packages. The massive mail truck sat, its mouth agape, an artery of boxes and sacks outlining a narrow path through the middle. 

As Baek crept along the singular path with me on his back, my eyes caught a black walkie-talkie sitting on a box too high for Baek to see. Before I could say anything however, Baek gently lowered me onto a cardboard box beside the truck.

Awkwardly, I tried to lift my jacket and shirt, but the pain shooting through me stopped me. "Baek," I whimpered, gritting my teeth against the surges of pain, "help lift up my shirt."

"What?" His gaze fell on me, confused.

"I have letters." I managed to reply.

With a swift movement, he pulled up my shirt. I could feel the heat of his embarrassment on my skin, but then the cold air blew it away. Baek turned his head upwards, avoiding me at all costs. How considerate, I tease in my head. 

I unstrapped the musty rag that was tightly bound to my stomach, revealing a thick stack of origami envelopes, carefully crafted from pages of my notebook. There were no stamps or addresses, only large handwritten pleas for help. 

"HELP ME. I AM TRAPPED," each one read.

 I had over fifty of them, each echoing the same desperate message.

Baek’s gaze shifted between me and the letters. "What are these?"

"I'm going to send them out," I explained, pushing some of the envelopes into a sack and handing Baek a handful. "Help me out."

Without a word, Baek clambered into the back of the truck and began scattering the letters amongst the boxes and bags. They seemed to dissolve into the piles of mail.

"What's in them?" Baek asked.

"Letters explaining our situation," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "Our names, our ages... I also mentioned Siwoo."

"I see," he responded, his voice faint.

I hesitated, then added, "I also put in a picture of the two of us..."

Our exchange was cut short as a siren cut through the stillness of the facility. The world turned a stark, menacing red as warning lights began to flash throughout the mailroom.

"We gotta go," Baek said, hoisting me onto his back once more.

"Wait!" I called out, reaching out for a walkie-talkie that sat atop one of the boxes. Showing it to Baek, he merely nodded, understanding instantly the unspoken necessity of my action.

Baek moved quickly, his pace steady as he navigated down the long, desolate corridor. A small exit loomed at the end, its seeming insignificance belying the freedom it promised.

"We're safe, for now," Baek reassured me as the murmur of footsteps and voices echoed ominously through the halls. "I never see anyone use this door."

Once we reached the door, he gently set me down. I looked up at the black metal door, feeling almost as if I were looking back at the Gate. A subtle draft swept under the door hinge and I felt a chilling cold. 

Baek gripped the handle. I could almost hear the sizzle of melting ice. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip and using his entire body, he turned it. The door groaned with relief as it swung open and a flurry of snow rushed at my face. Squinting through the biting ice, I was greeted by a wall of white. 

"It's a blizzard," I gasped, shielding my face from the chill.

Despite the harsh conditions, Baek crouched down next to me, motioning for me to get onto his back. "Let's go," he urged.

"But you don’t have a jacket!" I protested, eyeing his thin black sweater and cargo pants. The ensemble hardly seemed enough to brave the blizzard outside.

Baek's response was simple, "It’s okay."

The echoing voices and footsteps in the distance grew louder, more distinct. Swallowing down my concerns, I clambered onto Baek’s back, trusting in his determination. Together, we stepped into the raging storm, the door closing with a muffled thud behind us.

Baek

The landscape unfurled before us as an overwhelming whiteness, an abstract painting bereft of color or depth. Our visibility was cut down to a measly few meters, with skeletal remnants of twigs and branches making momentary appearances from the icy void, only to be reabsorbed into it again. Through the blur of the snowstorm, I turned my head to double check Dahyun on my back only to see the contrast of her rosy cheeks and lips against the colorless backdrop. I need to find shelter for her fast. 

In the midst of the biting chill, I felt her slight form pressed into my back, her arms locked around me. I assume that her action was not only an attempt to stop from being blown away in the harsh winds, but also to share warmth– to provide some measure of comfort in the brutal cold. Although my childhood friend failed to transfer her thermal heat to me, it did elicit a peculiar sensation within me. I felt “warm”-- not physical, but emotional.

As I trudged on, the snow buffeted my face relentlessly, my pale synthetic skin serving as a harsh reminder of the limitations of my physical form in such an environment. I computed the decreasing temperature, the intensity of the wind, and the potential threats it posed to Dahyun. Analyzing our current state, I maintained my focus on the navigational task at hand, processing the rapidly changing data from our surroundings and adjusting our trajectory accordingly. Amidst the blur of the blizzard, I continued to maintain my protective hold on Dahyun, determined to keep her safe in the face of the storm. I felt her chin rub against my sweater as she looked around.

"Lower your head," I urged Dahyun, who was nestled securely against my back. I was aware of her confusion and fear. Her inquisitive mind always wanted to see, to know, and to comprehend.

"But—"

"Trust me," I cut her off before she could object further. A part of my programming analyzed her compliance as an indication of her faith in me, a trust that I intended to justify. As instructed, she nestled her face further into my back, seeming to take solace in my presence.

The journey was taxing and every step through the knee-deep snow required more energy than the previous one. My motor functions and the durability of my material structure were pushed to their limits. Yet, the safety of Dahyun was paramount, overruling all other factors.

Eventually, we stumbled upon a shallow cave, a refuge from the turbulent storm. I carefully placed Dahyun against the back wall, the furthest point from the entrance and away from the cold that was relentlessly trying to intrude. The soft soil was undisturbed before we wandered in, and the ceiling was low enough to prevent stray flurries from blowing in. 

"We should be safe here for now," I informed her, my voice stuttering through chattering teeth. Wait– chattering? Am I actually cold? Or is it just a mimicry of human behavior? I did feel a sharp sting from the frozen air, and my body was quite uncomfortable, but would I actually perish if I stayed in this condition? Nonetheless, my movements were stiff as I attempted to dust off the accumulated snow from my clothes and hair.

The temperature in the cave was still too low for Dahyun's fragile human body. Especially considering the fact that she’s still recovering from her leg injury. But my childhood friend was strong, her mind keen and determined to survive. 

Dahyun pulled out her knife and flint from her pockets, intending to start a fire. Gosh, she is always carrying something dangerous. But her movements were more rigid than mine. I observed her trembling finger, pale red and turning blue, as they tried to strike the flint with her knife. 

I extended my hand to her. She looked at me with snot dripping from her nose, then gingerly placed the flint and knife in my hand. My fingers weren’t much better though. With effort, I wrapped my hands around the knife’s handle and struck the flint. Sparks flew from the impact, igniting some kindling and twigs that we had piled up. 

“Wait, the smoke,” Dahyun croaked through her chattering teeth. 

“Shit.”

How could I miss that? I looked up and brushed my palm against the ceiling. It was made of the same soft soil as the ground, but there were roots. Perfect. 

“Watch out,” I told Dahyun, and proceeded to carefully dig a hole into the ceiling. We appeared to be underneath a tree, as the roots were able to keep the soil together and prevent the cave from collapsing in on itself. Because of this reassurance, I could afford to be a bit more rash and dig faster. Within a couple minutes, I made a good sized hole for the smoke from the now-growing fire to escape through.

Dahyun

By nightfall, the blizzard outside continued its ruthless dance, the wind's eerie howls echoing through the cave. But inside, the fire burned brightly, casting dancing shadows on the rocky walls and warding off the worst of the cold. Gradually, my shivering ceased, replaced by a gnawing hunger, my empty stomach voicing its protest loudly in the quiet confines of the cave.

As the wind outside shrieked a harsh melody, the silence inside our makeshift sanctuary was pierced only by the gentle crackling of the flames. From his cargo pockets, Baek produced a half-eaten apple, extending it to me with an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is all I have."

"No, no, it's yours," I protested, shaking my head in refusal. But he was insistent.

"You need it more," Baek said, his tone final. I relented, taking a bite from the apple before handing it back to him. 

“No, I don’t need it.”

I looked at the fruit in my hands. “You… don’t need to eat?”

“Well I’ve never tried not eating, so I don’t know.”

It made sense. I sometimes forget that Baek isn’t “alive” like I am. I forget that Baek is only a robot. But what about the times when we ate together. He would groan and say he’s hungry, even getting angry at me for being late to lunch or dinner. Was that a lie? Did he pretend to be that way so that I would eat?

Out of the blue, Baek said, "I'm sorry." His voice held a somber note that surprised me.

"Don't apologize," I responded, trying to keep my voice light. I take another bite of the apple. It tasted good.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "I'm sorry about everything. About Papa... and this." He gestured around, indicating the barren, cold wilderness that had become our temporary refuge. "And about me."

My heart ached at his words, the raw guilt in his voice. "Don't apologize," I reiterated, "It's not your fault. Papa– Siwoo was never there for me. He never helped me when I was sick or hurt. He never played or laughed with me. But you did. I'm happy you're here with me now."

He inched closer to me, his side pressing gently against mine. "For warmth," Baek explained. I leaned into him, seeking solace in his warmth.

I took the final bite of the apple, my stomach barely full, and sighed. 

"Everything was a lie," I murmured, the bitter truth settling heavily in my chest. 

“I’m sorry.” Baek's soft apology whispered in the wind, a faint echo in the stillness.